Falling For The Single Dad. Lisa Carter

we can visit Turtle Mama tomorrow?”

      Who could say no to that face? Not him, that was for sure. Not about something so obviously important to her as Turtle Mama.

      His chest tightened. He hoped it was the turtle who was important to his daughter and not Dr. Caroline Duer. “I guess we can stop by.”

      Weston let go of his daughter’s hands. “But I don’t want you to get too attached to the turtle or the vet. When Turtle Mama gets better, she’s going back to where she belongs.”

      “I know, Daddy.” Izzie slid off the stool. “And the vet’s name is Caroline.” She busied herself setting out the napkins and silverware.

      “The vet will only be here through the summer.” Dr. Duer’s earlier courtesy call had been abrupt, brief and impersonal.

      He’d also made a few phone calls to a few of the older men in the CG Auxiliary who’d known the Duers and the prodigal Caroline for decades. “I don’t want you getting your feelings hurt. She’s a busy woman and by all accounts, not maternal—which means—”

      “I know what maternal means.” Izzie sniffed. “I think she’d make someone a nice mommy.”

      Eyes averted, she gave far more attention to facing the knives in just the right direction than knives deserved. “I think Caroline would make me a nice mommy,” she whispered.

      Weston reared. “Where in the world did you get that idea? I’m not looking for—”

      “Don’t you think Caroline is pretty, Daddy?” Izzie cocked her head and studied him.

      His thoughts about Caroline Duer shouldn’t be said out loud. Not to his daughter. Like how the sight of Caroline Duer did funny things to him.

      Nor how he’d found out the hard way beauty was only skin deep. That there were far more essential qualities to be prized.

      “She likes me, Daddy. I can tell. I think if you’d be nice to her, she’d like you, too.”

      He stalled. “I do think she’s very pretty,” he conceded. “But it takes more than pretty to make a family.” Or a mother.

      Weston turned to the range to flip the fritters. “We don’t have anything in common.”

      “You have me. You’d both have me.”

      He winced. If only that had been enough before. He’d never willingly put himself or his daughter through that kind of pain again. Help me, God. What do I say to her?

      “Don’t you want me to have a mommy again, Daddy?”

      He closed his eyes and leaned against the sink.

      “Don’t you want to have a wife to love us again?”

      What he’d not understood was how lonely his daughter was for a mother. He’d hoped and prayed he would be enough. His gut clenched. Yet again, he wasn’t enough for anyone. How could he explain he was trying to save Izzie from further pain?

      He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “I think a mommy and a wife would be a good thing, baby. Someday. But not Dr. Duer.”

      Izzie narrowed her eyes. “Who, then? And someday starts tomorrow, Daddy.”

      This daughter of his was way too smart to be nine. Way too smart to be his.

      Had the time come for him to rouse himself from his comfortable cocoon and return to the dating world? He glanced at his daughter. If for nothing else, then for Izzie’s sake. She deserved a mother’s love.

      Weston flopped the dish towel over Izzie’s head. “Right you are. First thing after breakfast tomorrow, we’ll head over to VIMS to check on Turtle Mama. And I’ll see what I can do about getting a date.”

      “It’d be fun to go with someone to the Wachapreague Fireman’s Carnival in a few weeks.” Izzie dragged the towel off her head. Her hair—Caroline Duer was right about that at least—was a mess. “But not a date with Caroline?”

      He shook his head. “Not with Caroline. We could never be more than friends, Monkey Girl.”

      And friends was stretching it. There were hidden depths to the aquatic vet. Jagged reefs submerged beneath her surface waiting to shipwreck the unwary. Caroline Duer wasn’t safe. To neither his daughter’s heart nor his.

      “Daddy!” she yelled. “The fritters are on fire!”

      Too late, he shut off the temperature gauge. He clanged a lid onto the frying pan and smothered the flames.

      A silence filled the air. As did the acrid fumes of burned seafood. Izzie’s stomach rumbled. He appreciated her not making a big deal out of his latest parenting fiasco.

      She took the keys off the nail beside the door. “Fried chicken from the Exmore Diner, Daddy?”

      He appreciated her not saying “again.” No two ways about it. His Izzie was a trouper.

      Weston took the dangling keys from her hand. “Sorry about this, Izz.”

      “No worries, Daddy.” She smiled. “I like restaurant food.”