Falling for the Single Dad Read Online Free Page A

God. Oh, God.
    Where was her purse? She fumbled for the tote bag in the passenger seat. The pills. It’d been so long since she’d relied on them.
    She hadn’t suffered an anxiety attack in several years. But with her so-called reunion facing her this morning, surely she’d had the foresight to tuck them inside her purse in case of an emergency.
    Digging around through the detritus that filled her life, she came up empty. She slammed her hands on the wheel. Of all the days not to...
    She breathed in through her mouth and exhaled through her nose in an exercise she’d learned from the counselor. And she repeated the Scriptures she’d memorized at the suggestion of a friend, a marine biologist working in the Bahamas.
    Until the dizziness passed. Until her vision cleared. Until the pain in her lungs subsided.
    Dripping with sweat, she took a few steadying breaths before shifting gears. Lesson learned. Despite the size of Kiptohanock, she’d avoid contact with her family.
    One summer. The two-month pilot program. She’d lie low. Something she was good at.
    And like Thomas Wolfe had said, you couldn’t ever go home again. Or at least, not her.
    * * *
    â€œDaddy! Come quick! Daddy!”
    Weston dropped the hammer and raced out of the former lightkeeper’s cottage. He ran toward the beach, where the incoming tide lapped against the shoreline. Where he’d left his nine-year-old daughter alone... The librarian pegged him rightly. He was a terrible father.
    â€œIsabelle!”
    Panting, he plowed his way to the top of the dune. “Answer me.” The fronds of sea oats danced—taunting him—in the afternoon breeze.
    On the beach below, she windmilled her arms to get his attention. He willed his heart to return to a semblance of normal. She’d gotten his attention, all right. He scrambled down the dune toward his daughter.
    She clutched the straw hat on her head. “Look, Daddy.” With her free hand, she gestured to a set of tracks stippling the sand from the base of the dunes to where they disappeared around the neck of the beach. “Turtle tracks.”
    Izzie bounced in her flip-flops, a redheaded pogo stick. “Maybe turtle eggs on our beach, too.” She clapped her hands together. The hat went flying.
    He sighed, and watched it blow out to sea.
    â€œWe could have babies. Just like Max.”
    His gaze flickered to his daughter. “If there are eggs, they won’t belong to us. Best thing we can do is leave them and their turtle mama alone.”
    Izzie’s face fell.
    He tickled her ribs. “Even Max will tell you to give new mamas a wide berth. They’re touchy. And ornery.”
    â€œWas Mama touchy and ornery with me?”
    â€œN-not when you were the most beautiful, wonderful baby who was ever born.” He nuzzled her cheek with the stubble of his jaw.
    â€œDaddy.” She giggled and pushed his shoulder. “You are so prickly.”
    He caught Izzie in his arms and gave her a bear hug. “Like a porcupine.”
    Laughing, Izzie wriggled free. “I’m gonna follow the tracks to the water.” She disappeared beyond the curve of the dune before he could formulate, much less express, a warning.
    One day she wouldn’t be so easily diverted from the rest of the story. And he could never tell Izzie the whole truth.
    Behind the dune, Izzie screamed. He jolted, his heart palpitating once more.
    â€œDaddy! Hurry...”
    Parenting—not unlike certain Coastie jobs—ought to come with hazard pay. Breaking into a loping run, he jogged around the point.
    He found Izzie at the edge of the surf, where the waves curled and skittered over her bare toes like a watery sand crab. She crouched beside a prehistoric-looking sea turtle. A metallic hook jutted from the creature’s neck.
    â€œIzzie, get back.” He waved his arm. “Injured animals are dangerous.”
    â€œThe turtle mama.” Izzie