Page 19 of Scouting the Single Dad

“Welcome to Star Lake. I’m sorry.” I wince. “Sorry, I said that part already. I’m still sorry. And also welcome.”

Stop talking, Layla.

His expression doesn’t change.

He rescues another pumpkin with his foot and looks around him at the debris on the asphalt. “Where do you want these?”

“Back in the truck bed, please.” My voice sounds normal at the same time my brain is busy cataloging: deep, sexy voice; gravelly; could read a phone book and I would listen all damn day. “I’ll, um—” I point at the fallen hay bale and promptly rap my knuckles on the tailgate. “Ow. We can—yep—put them there, and you can pull around me, and I’ll just, um. Clean up.”

I force my hand to behave. “I’m Layla, by the way. Annabelle McBride’s friend.”

“Hayes,” he says, short. The name lands like a weight on the asphalt. He jerks his chin toward the girl. “Benny.”

His daughter is as adorable as she looked in the few photos I found online, and no—I was not being creepy about it! They were there when I was searching for information on him, and, well. She’s sunshine and rainbows.

“Question,” Benny begins, bright as a siren. “Does that truck have a name?”

“Yes,” I say. “Bluebell—but only when she behaves. Today she’s on probation, so she gets no name.”

Benny nods, solemn. “Justice. Any pets?” she fires off.

“Uh, no.”

I glance at Hayes. He’s busy sending his kid the universal dad look that means wrap it up. “Benny—now is not the time.”

I wonder what that means as I reach for the end of a hay bale; it resists, too heavy for me to lift on my own. Hayes takes the other end without commentary. We lift in tandem. His forearms flex, and why am I noticing forearms?

Be professional!

The bale slides back into the bed of the truck, where it belongs. Then I reach for a hand-painted Pies! Axes! Hay! sign that took four hours to paint, steadying it and accidentally tipping it within an inch of his shoulder.

“Please don’t,” he says, not unkind, not kind—not exactly. He’s just very done with me. “It looks heavy.”

Because it is.

A gourd resists the top of my boot like it has an appointment it’s late for, and Benny ninja-scoops it up, tucks it into her hoodie pocket, and whispers, “You’re safe now, Kevin.” She looks up. “Follow-ups: Favorite pie? Do you like corgis?”

“Apple,” I answer, thankful for solvable problems. “Pro-corgi, pro–British family. Love a good London moment.”

“Elite,” the girl declares, shooting me a pleased grin. “Dad, she’s our people.”

Hayes doesn’t react. He’s scanning the lane, every line of him reading get the kid inside as I spot a man raising his phone, drawn by the celebrity scooping up hay in his midst.

“Hey, hello?” I call out to him and lift a palm at the same time to stop him. “The pumpkins are public,” I call, friendly. “Kids are private—ask first. Thanks!”

I turn back to Hayes and his daughter as his gaze flicks over me, gracing me with a small nod that says thanks without wasting a syllable.

Hayes shuts the tailgate, using the limp rubber bungee cord to hold it closed, yanking it around a metal hook, testing the latch. Pulling.

“Phew! Okay, all secure.” Relieved, I brush the errant straw off my sleeves. “I’m so glad you’re here. I cannot thank you enough, and I imagine that you’d love a hot shower.” I give them my friendliest smile, pointing toward the entrance of the lodge. “Check-in desk is through those doors—they’re already waiting with keys and your VIP pass. There shouldn’t be anything you have to pay for this weekend.”

I clear my throat. “Once again, I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I’ll finish cleaning all this up, you two go inside and get settled.”

Instead of taking the easy out, he moves. “We’ll help,” he says. “We don’t leave messes.”

Benny nods. “I’m excellent at picking things up.”

“It’s misting,” I protest weakly, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my wrist. My mascara is almost certainly on a slow migration south. I probably look like a less cute version of Alice Cooper, and if you don’t know who that is, it’s worth a google. “You’ve had a travel day. Go be warm.”