Page 1 of Grumpy Single Dad

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MARIAH

When it rains nonstop for days, the last thing anyone wants is ice cream. But every few hours, someone braves the elements for delicious scoops of whatever my flavor of the day is. Unfortunately, the lights flickering warn me that the power is more likely to go out than another customer showing up for a creamy treat.

The storm is worsening, forcing me to close up earlier than I want. The stores around me have their gates drawn and windows shuttered. I don't want any damage to come to my ice cream parlor. It's best to get my generator up and running to keep my freezers running through the stormy night. Once I finish that, I'll follow suit in pulling down the gates to at least block the heavy winds from blowing anything through the shop's windows.

After several minutes of grunting and dragging my generator out of the storage closet, I manage to connect my appliances. However, the chimes ringing above the entryway startle me.

"Fuck," I whisper to myself. "I forgot to lock the front."

The wind blows the rain in varying directions as someone battles against it to keep my door open. My neck twists and cranes to get a glimpse between the crack of swinging doors that separate the kitchen from the front of the parlor.

Bright white lights hover over several four-top tables around the dining area of my shop. While I specialize in ice cream, I keep a few pastries and other dessert options to pair with my best-selling flavors.

Heavy winds push rain, leaves, and dirt onto my black and white tiled floors, along with two soaking-wet strangers. I take one last look around the kitchen before pushing through the swinging double doors to greet them.

"Hello?" A deeply masculine voice calls from just inside the doorway. His lips press into a thin line as soft brown eyes scan the surroundings.

There's another much younger, feminine voice whispering beside him. "See? I told you there wasn't anyone in here, Dad. No one wants ice cream on a day like this."

"Frankie, the door wouldn't be unlocked if there wasn't anyone here. Now, just sit tight." The man huffs as his wet footsteps approach the counter.

"Evening," I say with a smile. "It's kind of crazy out there. How can I help you?"

The smoldering scowl on this man’s face is attractive and menacing. I sense he’s more annoyed than dangerous, especially when I glance over his shoulder at the shivering little girl behind him. She has the same scowling brown eyes, so there’s no mistaking that they’re father and daughter.

His face is ripe with frustration as he says, "We just drove all the way from Whitewater Forest. The campgrounds are flooded out there?—"

"Because someone didn't even check the weather before dragging us out there," the little girl chides from behind him.

"That's enough, Francesca," her father replies sternly, forcing her to press her lips together. He returns his gaze to me. "I apologize for busting in here, but my car's making a noise. I think it just needs some oil, but I don't want to risk driving it back to Cincinnati like this. I don't want to be stranded with my daughter."

"I understand," I tell him.

For the first time since he approached the counter, his eyes soften as he looks at me. The feeling is mutual because his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders have my libido spiking like never before. I have to calm myself down, but I still can't help but toss my dark blonde hair over my shoulder, hopefully with a flirtatious glint in my eyes.

Thunder booms and lightning crashes, shaking the building and sending the man's daughter scurrying into his side. He instinctively wraps his arms around her and brings me back to reality, where I shouldn't flirt with this man in distress—a father just wanting to keep his daughter out of the rain.

"I'm Mariah Monroe. This is my shop, and while this may sound a bit out of left field, I have plans on staying at a cabin not too far from here. You two are more than welcome to join me. All the shops and businesses are closed up until tomorrow or at least until these storms pass."

"Miss Monroe?—"

"Please. You can call me Rye."

He smiles with a gentle nod. "Rye, thank you for your kindness. I don't want to put you out. Is there a hotel or something nearby? I haven't been through Mercy in forever. I thought they would have upgraded this town a bit by now. "

"Unfortunately, not. My sister's got a place that she turned into a retreat. That's about as close to a motel as this town's going to get."

A gruff exhale pushes out of his nostrils. "Any vacancies?”

"Not quite. As luck has it, she wanted me to test out the new cabins she put on the property. She didn't think the storms would roll in this fast. That's about the only place where you could book a room of any kind."

He grunts. "You said she's testing the cabins out?"

"Yeah, it's like a soft opening to see how customers would use them and how they last through a short stay. The storms actually come in handy as she gets to see how the new construction stands up to the weather. You guys are more than welcome to come with me. We can hunker down until the morning."

"Dad, let's just go. I don't want to sleep in the car," the little girl moans against him. She turns to look around the shop, and her brows knit together as she peers inside the display case. "Did you make all of these?"

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