Claiming the Single Mom's Heart by Glynna Kaye Page A

parked outside his cabin, he paused to look at the rustic dwelling he called home. It was a relatively new cabin. Built in the late 1950s, a porch stretching across its width lent a homey look, as did half barrels of red geraniums squatting on either side of the steps. Grandma Jo’s touch. What would Sunshine and Tessa think of it?
    And why should he care?
    Once inside, he gave his surroundings a final inspection. He’d been up late last night after Sunshine’s call—vacuuming, straightening up in the living room, cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms. Making sure his clothes were gathered up from the floor and stowed neatly in closets and drawers. Opening windows to freshen things up.
    He didn’t often have company these days. Certainly not feminine company. He didn’t want Sunshine to think he was a total slob.
    He’d just hung his jacket on a peg near the front door when he heard the slamming of car doors. Female voices. Without thinking, he hastily checked his hair in an antique wall mirror in the entryway. Then, realizing what he was doing, he grimaced at himself and opened the door to welcome his guests.
    â€œGrady!” Tessa raced up the steps to give him a hug. Which was exactly the reason why this morning’s outing made him less than happy. He couldn’t get attached to Sunshine’s kid, nor her to him. It was one thing to pour his heart into his nieces and nephews, but past experience proved it was better to keep other people’s kids at a distance.
    Sunshine had told him last night that Tessa’s shoulder was sore, but she seemed to be doing okay today. No worse for the wear. When she released him, she peered around him into the cabin.
    â€œThis is where you live? Can I see inside?”
    â€œNow, Tessa—” Sunshine cast him an apologetic look.
    â€œNo problem. Come on in.” At least the house was relatively clean now. Smelled good. He stepped back and, wide-eyed, Tessa joined him to take in her surroundings.
    â€œOh, look, Mommy!” In a flash, she covered the ground between the entry and the far side of the living room, coming to stand beside an oversize wooden rocking horse. “Can I ride it?”
    â€œSure.” It was sturdy enough. He’d made it for Jasmine’s then-four-year-old daughter, Allyson, so she’d have something to play with when they visited. There was a swing out back, too, secured to a big oak branch.
    Why hadn’t he gotten rid of that stuff?
    â€œSorry to invade your space, Grady.” Sunshine stepped inside as well, looking around with as much interest as her daughter had. “This is nice. I love the open floor plan—how the staircase in the middle divides the front living area from the kitchen and dining room. It looks comfortable.”
    It did look nice, if he said so himself. The warmth of the wood. Sun streaming in the windows. “Well, any of the decorative stuff you can credit my sisters for. You’ve met Rio, who isn’t much into that, but the twins between Rio and me made sure I’m not living life with lawn chairs and a card table or a wall calendar as my only artwork.”
    â€œI noticed several of your photos here.” She inspected an enlargement of a doe and fawn, then looked back at him. “I’ve been giving some thought to your idea to incorporate a photography element at Hunter’s Hideaway. How you said you’re not sure where to start with a proposal. But I know exactly where you should start.”
    â€œYou do?” Not surprising. She had a reputation for always having an answer and insisting others go along with it.
    â€œIt starts by addressing the main issue your family will be thinking when you approach them about it. The same thing almost every person on the planet wonders when presented with a new proposition. What’s in it for me?”
    â€œI guess I need to figure that out, don’t I? I haven’t been free to invest as