Page 124 of Challenged by the Single Dad

When she arrived and parked her car at the hostel, Hawke was outside, up on the roof—with a support rope around his waist, thankfully—on his knees, cleaning the gutters.

He was already soaked from the rain and it seemed like the moment he tossed leaves and gunk out of the gutter, the wind just tossed more right back in.

“Hawke!” she yelled, shielding her eyes from the rain as she glanced up at him. “I’m here early.”

He waved with one gloved hand and smiled through the deluge.

“Is there someone around in case you fall?”

He nodded and pointed toward the back of the building. Hopefully that meant that someone was outside and would hear Hawke’s cries for help. Because she wasn’t sure she would hear them from inside the hostel.

An extra-strong gust nearly knocked her off her feet, so she quickly waved at him again and headed up the steps to the front door.

The place was quiet.

Really quiet.

Assessing the guest list revealed that they were slower than they’d been since she started working there. Only three guests were booked in, when they had a whopping sixty available beds.

And she knew those three guests. They’d been staying there for a few weeks now and were really great. There hadn’t been any new reservations when she was there on Saturday, but that didn’t always mean anything. A lot of people, even in this day and age, preferred to take their chances and just show up with hopes that a room was available.

That was not how she operated, but if it worked for others, who was she to judge?

But the fact that the same three guests were their only guests was worrisome.

Would Hawke have to close if business didn’t pick up?

She quickly changed out of her yoga gear and into some comfortable clothes. Her belly also rumbled with hunger, so she made some quick oatmeal from the continental breakfast bar—grabbing a banana and some yogurt to go with it.

Then she took a seat at the desk and prepared herself for complete and utter mind-numbing boredom.

Hawke came inside about an hour later, absolutely drenched, and with bright red fingers. Even though he’d worn work gloves, they were no match for that cold wind and rain.

She leaped up from her seat and went to help him. “Where’d your helper go?” She held his jacket for him so he could peel out of it.

He gave her a funny look. “What helper?”

“I yelled up at you and asked if you had anybody around in case you fell.”

Shivering, he shook his head, sending water droplets flying everywhere. “Oh. No. I thought you asked if I was almost done. I said I still had the other side to do.”

His jacket had done its very best to keep him dry, but it was ultimately no match for that much rain, and his dark-gray Henley stuck to his ripped body like a second skin. Without hesitation, he reached behind and yanked off the shirt at the back of his collar. His dark jeans were also plastered to his body, showcasing very thick thighs.

Chloe’s pregnancy hormones, and unruly libido gave her an electric shock and she quickly averted her eyes. “I’ll run these to the dryer in the back,” she said, picking up the wet shirt and jacket and scurrying off to the area where they washed the bedding and had extra linens and towels.

Her life right now was already super complicated with Dom and this baby in her belly, she didn’t need to add indecent thoughts about Hawke to her pregnancy-muddled brain. Besides, he was not her type. Her hormones were just doing all the thinking for her. And what woman wasn’t attracted to a nice set of chiseled washboard abs?

She took a couple of deep breaths after loading Hawke’s stuff into the dryer and turning it on. She could do this. Shewoulddo this.

She was with Dom—for who knew how long—and she was committed to him. Her hand rested over her lower stomach. She was committed to this baby. However long it decided to grow inside of her.

“Hey, Chloe?” Hawke called from the front lobby.

Another deep breath, and she pasted on a big smile and walked jovially back out. “What’s up?”

He had on a fresh, dry, black T-shirt—though it was still impossibly tight—and held his phone in his meaty palm. “I just got a message from the station. A tree fell on Keturah Katz’s house. We’ve gotta go help her. Are you going to be okay here?”

“Aren’t I always?”

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