Stephanie Dees - The Dad Next Door

A Place to Call Home

Lawman Joe Sheehan is desperate to bond with the daughter he’s just discovered he has. But as a virtual stranger to twelve-year-old Amelia, the task seems impossible. Until Claire Conley moves to town. A social worker renovating a mansion into a foster home, Claire is the first person to get through to Amelia. Falling for the single dad was not on Claire’s to-do list. But with Joe and Amelia around, the house finally starts to feel like home. Claire’s ready to fight to convince Joe that together they’ve done more than fix a house…they’ve built a family.

A splash and a scream echoed off the main house.

He ran toward the pond as Claire surfaced, spluttering and laughing.

“Come on in.”

He gave her his best “you’ve got to be kidding me” look.

Laughing, she splashed him. “It’s just a little cold water.”

Joe took a deep breath and dived in, surfacing beside her.

“Are you worried about the meeting?” he asked when his breath had regulated.

“Yes.”

“Don’t give up. I don’t know if you’re that good with all kids, but if it wasn’t for you, Amelia and I would still be deadlocked in the silent treatment.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I needed the reminder of why it’s so important.”

“I have the feeling that you’re too stubborn to give up, anyway.”

“Oh, you do know how to sweet-talk me, Joe Sheehan.” She clambered out of the pond.

As he watched her, he realized he really liked her and he hadn’t felt that way about someone in a long time. The doors to his heart had been firmly closed. Seemed now there was just a crack in the door, enough to think…maybe.

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for spending some time in Red Hill Springs, Alabama! The name of my fictional small town is inspired by real-life springs, where the waters have been flowing—and providing respite and relief for weary travelers—for hundreds of years.

Each of the Sheehan siblings is facing challenges, but through faith and with love, they will learn that sometimes broken dreams lead to family blessings. If you liked The Dad Next Door, please join me back in Red Hill Springs in October for the next book in the Family Blessings series.

I’d love to hear from you! I can be reached at my website, stephaniedees.com, or via email at steph@stephaniedees.com.

Stephanie Dees

Award-winning author STEPHANIE DEES lives in small-town Alabama with her pastor husband and two youngest children. A Southern girl through and through, she loves sweet tea, SEC football, corn on the cob and air-conditioning. For further information, please visit her website at stephaniedees.com.

The Dad Next Door

Stephanie Dees

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Yet still I dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning.

—Lamentations 3:21–23

For Melissa Endlich and Melissa Jeglinski

Thanks for keeping the faith.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Claire Conley stood on the overgrown lawn—the Alabama humidity wilting her hair, flies circling—as she confronted her legacy. The antebellum plantation house she’d inherited from her father looked nothing like the pictures the lawyer had sent her. Well, to be fair, there was a porch. And it did have huge columns. But that was where the similarity ended. What had looked like pristine white paint in the photo was gray and peeling. The yard was a tangle of weeds.

Tears stung in her eyes. She’d sold everything she owned and driven fourteen hours on coffee and adrenaline, dreams buzzing in her head. For this?

This worn-out, falling-down piece of...history?

She tried to push the long, shaking sob back to where it came from and failed. She didn’t know what she’d been hoping. Her biological father had never given her a thing. This was just more of the same.

She didn’t hear the truck coming up the drive until the door slammed behind her. She spun around.

He looked hard. Hard muscles, hard expression, head shaved military style, a shadow of stubble along his jaw. A hint of a dimple creased his face, but she couldn’t see his eyes.

Those were covered with silver aviator glasses.

She was suddenly, painfully, aware of the fact that she’d chosen to stay on the road instead of stopping to eat in Somewhere, Georgia, and had the evidence of it smeared on her comfiest—threadbare—jeans.

“I’m looking for Claire Conley.” He didn’t raise his voice, but still, it carried.

She nodded, not sure she could speak around the lump in her throat. “That would be me.”

“I’m Joe Sheehan.” The guy walked closer and dug into his jeans pocket, coming up with a key. “Your father’s attorney asked me to give this to you. He’s out of town for a few weeks.”

She narrowed her eyes, big-city self-preservation kicking in. “You local law enforcement?”

“I’m a cop, but not in Red Hill Springs. My mom owns the diner and the attorney asked me to meet you.”

“You sure he didn’t skip town because he was afraid to face me?”

“I’m sorry?” The hand holding the key dropped a bit and the look on his face changed from friendly to concerned. “Is everything okay?”

She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out. The internet told her cleansing breaths were supposed to be calming. Not so much. “Yes, it’s fine. I’m fine. I was just expecting the house to be in a little better condition. I’m opening... I have plans for this place.”

Joe looked skeptical. “Yeah? Bed-and-breakfast?”

“Kind of. You know, my pastor back in North Carolina tells me brokenness is a good thing.” She stared at the house, her voice trailing off. If that was true, she was golden. She’d been wrecked when her fiancé ditched her, but thought she could get past it. Her mother’s death from cancer had gutted her. And when her job with the county ended, she figured God was trying to tell her something.

Joe rubbed his shoulder. “I’m not sure about it being a good thing, but I think things that are broken can be fixed. At least I hope so.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe this old place could be renovated. She didn’t know if there was enough glue in the world to hold her life together, but she was going to give it a try. Her hard-won optimism resurfaced, at least briefly.

Claire mentally calculated what remained in her bank account, and...the moment of optimism was gone. “I don’t know if I can do this. I have six months of living expenses and what’s left of my mom’s life insurance to get this place running.”

Joe stepped closer. “Maybe you should go inside?”

She closed her eyes, realizing she’d been spilling her guts to a literal stranger. And why? Because she got the sense that he understood what rebuilding a home—a life—would cost her?

“I’ve heard it was a real showplace at one time.” Joe climbed the steps to the porch.