Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Lucie was bubbly and sweet.
She had an obsession with baking. A temperamental cat. And a penchant for getting into trouble.
She was everything he shouldn't be interested in.
Yet he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her...
Warning: Contains a grumpy, protective Daddy. Personally, that's my favorite kind.
Please note that this was originally published in the Dirty Daddies 2021 Anthology and hasn't been changed.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
“Who the hell are you?”
Lucie smiled, ignoring the grouchy greeting. “Hi, I’m Lucie Starr.”
The enormous man standing in the doorway of the cabin stared down at her from his intimidating height. At only five foot two, she was used to everyone being taller than her, but this man had to have at least a foot on her.
Not everyone was a morning person, although she had waited until after nine to pop over.
That was a reasonable hour, right? But maybe not to the dark-haired man scowling down at her. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. With his plaid shirt and long beard, he was totally pulling off the sexy lumberjack look.
She nearly fanned herself.
That he was scowling at her like she was dog poo he’d stepped in should have turned her off.
Should have.
However, Lucie wasn’t deterred by his frown or surly tone.
“I’m your neighbor,” she said when he didn’t say anything else. She resisted the urge to wipe her face. She’d checked before leaving the house and she was pretty sure she was presentable. Even her sweater was on the right way, which was a bonus for her.
“I live just over at that house.” Their houses were nestled back from the road amongst the trees, but you could clearly see her house peeking through the trees.
He grunted.
Okay, then.
She held up the plate of snickerdoodles. “I made these for you. A welcome to the neighborhood. I mean, I’m not sure you can call it a neighborhood when there are only five houses along this road. We live in the middle of nowhere, don’t we? I kind of like it, though. Nice and quiet.”
“It was.”
Was he implying that it wasn’t quiet because of her? Her smile drooped slightly. Okay, he could be grouchy, but there wasn’t any need to be mean.
“Well, sorry to disturb you. Just wanted to say hi and bring you these.” She held them out.
He kept his arms crossed. The rejection made the back of her throat burn.
Kill them with kindness, Lucie.
She still remembered her gran telling her that when some of the girls at school had been picking on her because she’d been a late developer.
So all she did was widen her smile and set the plate down on his porch. She guessed she wasn’t going to be invited inside for tea and cookies.
Damn, she missed Charlotte, the woman who had lived in the cabin before him. She’d been close to Lucie’s age, funny and friendly. But she’d returned home to London to look after her mother, who was ill.
“Bye then. Be seeing you.” She waved and took off, moving her short legs as fast as they’d go.
When she got home, Princess Pickles looked up from where she was sleeping on the sofa. A loud meow informed Lucie that she was very annoyed to be woken her from her thirteen-hour catnap.
“Princess Pickles, the new neighbor is . . .” Grumpy, sexy, a little bit mean. All of those would apply. “Interesting.”
Yeah. Interesting was about right. Shaking her head, she pushed him out of her mind as she sat at the dining table. Time to get back work. There were bills to pay, and she was behind on her work after helping Charlotte pack up her stuff. Not that she was complaining. Lucie would always drop everything in order to help a friend. Heck, even someone she didn’t like much.
Now, whether she’d help the grouchy lumberjack next door, well, that was debatable.
Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she would. That’s what neighbors did. Even if their neighbors weren’t particularly nice.
Later that afternoon, when she returned from checking the mail, she found a full plate of snickerdoodles on her porch.
Kill them with kindness, Lucie.
Or, failing that, maybe just kill them.
Lucie turned the key again.
Nothing.
Tears welled. She wouldn’t cry. What would crying get her? Nothing at all. Crying wouldn’t make the truck start. Crying wouldn’t pay her electric bill or buy her food or bring her a magic flying carpet.
Man, that would be cool if it could, though.
Letting out a deep breath, she calmed herself.
Think, Lucie. Think.
Sure, Queenie was about twenty years old, had originally been her grandpa’s, and likely should have been retired five years ago. But she was usually always reliable.
Well, mostly, she was reliable.
Last time Queenie had been at the mechanic’s, he’d told her that the old truck was going to need some work that would likely cost more than it was worth. But Lucie’s bank account wasn’t quite up to that challenge yet. So, currently, she was using the power of hope and prayer to ensure that Queenie kept running.
It had been working pretty well, actually. Until now.
“Come on, Queenie. We have to take this jewelry into town. I just need you to work for one more day. Well, another week or month would be even better. How about six months, then I’ll get you fixed? Just please work.”