A Father for Bella by Jill Weatherholt

Author:Jill Weatherholt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-05-03T18:01:51+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Early Saturday, Faith had to struggle to get Bella out of bed. After they’d come home from the father-daughter dance the previous night, Bella’s feet had never touched the ground. Reading her a bedtime story had been next to impossible, with the five-year-old full of tales of her and Joshua twirling on the dance floor. Faith’s heart had soared all evening as she’d watched her daughter. She’d never seen Bella so happy in her life.

As she wiped down the granite countertop, Faith peered out the window. The once-fat snowflakes were fine and coming down harder than when she’d dropped Bella off at the church earlier, to practice for the children’s play. Since the snow predictions were for little or no accumulation, Bella would stay at the church for several hours before Joy picked her up for a sleepover. This was perfect timing, giving Faith an opportunity to tackle the mound of paperwork she’d brought over from the inn.

Thirty minutes later, her stomach twisted when she spied Joshua walking up the snow-laden path toward the house. When he’d dropped her and Bella off last night, he’d said he’d be over to cook lunch around ten. Glancing at the clock on the stove, she saw he was right on the dot. Feeling a little uneasy about being alone with him after Bella’s remark wishing he were her daddy, she wondered if she should bring it up with him or not. She sucked in a deep breath when he softly knocked on the door.

Whish.

A strong, gusty wind ripped the doorknob from her grip and sent a blast of wet snow and ice into her face.

“Whew! It’s getting pretty nasty out there. This should be great for business.”

Of course, his mind was always on her inn. Why wouldn’t it be? She stepped aside and motioned him inside. Even with the strong winds, she couldn’t escape his sweet peppermint scent.

Plato zipped to the door, licking up the melted flakes dotting the hardwood.

Faith snapped her fingers and pointed toward the bed. “Plato, it’s okay, go lie down.”

She scurried over to the coffeepot while Joshua set three grocery bags on the table. “We’ve got a lot of cooking to do today,” Faith said as she removed two large mugs from the cherry cabinet and poured them each a cup of brew.

“The coffee smells great—thanks,” he said as he accepted her offering and took a slow sip.

“Do you want me to get the salad going while you prepare the casserole?” she offered, since she didn’t know the first thing about making any of the fancy dishes he’d suggested last night for today’s menu. Her specialty was baked mac and cheese. It had been one of Chris’s favorites.

Unloading the bags, he looked over. “Sounds good to me. I picked up a couple of cucumbers and tomatoes, as well as some Italian dressing.”

Thirty minutes later, the salad was made and the casserole bubbled inside the oven, filling the room with the aroma of garlic and oregano. They settled

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