Page 18 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

“Don’t forget about breakfast in the morning.” Dad reminds me as he walks past my open office door.

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave an arm. “My alarm is set.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Night,” I call out as he disappears.

Dad went all out getting the house ready for me.

I don’t remember what he used to use this room for, but it’s the perfect at-home office now.

The walls are a rich forest green; the wood floors are worn but smooth, like the rest of the house, and tucked under the window, looking out at the forest behind the house, is a beautiful desk—handmade by my father.

There’s also a matching bookshelf, a pink office chair—which hasn’t been my favorite color since I was seven, but it’s the thought that counts—and a cute Tiffany-style lamp on the corner of the desk.

Oh, and we can’t forget about the printer-scanner, which is on a little side table tucked into the corner.

All in all, it’s a cute and functional office.

I put my headphones back on and hit play, ready to finish the last five minutes of this YouTube tutorial.

My business administration degree is helping a little, but had I known I’d end up here, doing this, I would’ve gone to school to become a web developer.

As it is, I’ll probably have to hire someone to design a whole new website. But I’ve managed to make some decent upgrades already.

And the branding could probably use an overhaul.

The name, Joe’s Custom Furniture, is lame, but accurate. And Dad’s managed to take some great photos of his finished pieces, so I have a surprising amount to work with.

Considering it’s Friday night and I’ve only been at it for one week, I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job.

The video continues, demonstrating how to use the automated tracking software for shipping orders, and by the time the tutorial is done, I accept I’ll need to watch it again on Monday. Because my mind has strayed.

Strayed to the one topic that keeps pulling my attention.

Luther .

I can’t stop thinking about him.

And I can’t stop wondering if it’s a good or terrible idea to try to sneak away to the Inn this weekend.

Closing my laptop, I push back from the desk.

I turn the lights off as I exit the room, then head down the hall to my bedroom.

Dad’s bedroom, with an attached bathroom, is on the opposite side of the house. With the combined kitchen, living, and dining room between us.

My side of the house has a short hall with the office first, then the guest bathroom, a.k.a. my bathroom, then my bedroom. So basically, I have my own wing of the house.

It’s about as ideal a layout as I could ask for.

I wasn’t lying. I did set my alarm for tomorrow morning, but I’m not thrilled about it.

Which makes me feel like an asshole, because Dad has been nothing but accommodating.

But I’m not interested in getting up early to have breakfast with him and his old man bestie before they go out fishing for the day.

I want to sleep in.

I want to spend my Saturday rotting in bed.

But I’ll get up, and I’ll make the pancakes, because I know it’s important to my dad.

And it’ll be fine. I’m great at first impressions and can small talk with the best of them.

Fingers crossed this Rocky guy isn’t a bore.