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  HOME REPAIR AND ROMANCE

  Keagan’s ladder leaned against the roof of the front porch. When he saw her, he called, “The paint’s already dry up here. If you bring me the shutters you painted, I’ll put them up at the two windows.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up and almost ran to the barn. He’d asked her, not one of the others, to help him. She hurried to grab a pair of shutters. When she got back, he’d come down for them and jammed a screwdriver and screws in his jeans pocket. Then he scurried up to the porch roof and stood on that to work. Karli squirmed. The porch roof slanted downward and didn’t look safe to her.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  He gave her a look. “I’ve been balancing on a ladder to paint the peaks all day. I think I’ll survive this.”

  She went to get the shutters for the second window and climbed a few rungs to hand them to him. Once he’d finished installing them, he started down. He’d reached the ground when Karli noticed someone’s paint brush lying on the roof. She scrambled up the ladder to reach it and then carefully retraced her steps. Before she reached the bottom, though, two strong hands lifted her and set her on the ground. Keagan’s touch sent heat through her fleece hoodie.

  She turned and found herself toe to toe with him. His solid chest was eye level. She looked up at his strong jawline, his lips. She sucked in her breath and tilted her head, staring up into his cobalt-blue eyes. She could smell his scent—clean and manly. His gaze burned with intensity. Her lips parted. One more inch and she’d be pressing against him…

  Special Delivery

  A Mill Pond romance

  Judi Lynn

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Judith Post

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: November 2018

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0139-9

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0139-1

  First Print Edition: November 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0140-5

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0140-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Books by Judi Lynn

  COOKING UP TROUBLE

  OPPOSITES DISTRACT

  LOVE ON TAP

  SPICING THINGS UP

  FIRST KISS, ON THE HOUSE

  SPECIAL DELIVERY

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Chapter 1

  The house looked deserted, but Karli Redding knocked on her grandfather’s door. Maybe the mean old coot had been carted off to a nursing home during the night and no one told them. He was lucky the house was still standing. It looked worse than the last time she was here. When was that? Ten, fifteen years ago? Its roof looked new, but paint peeled on the clapboards. The porch sagged where a column had rotted, and tall, dead weeds choked the yard.

  She pulled her jacket closer. The air had a bite to it. When she exhaled, her breath misted, but it could be worse for the first of November. She knocked again, waited, and turned to leave, then decided she’d better call Mom first and check in. “I’m in Mill Pond. The place looks deserted. No one answered the door.”

  “Dad can’t get around much anymore,” her mother warned. “He’s pretty much confined to his bed or wheelchair. Just knock and let yourself in. That’s what everyone does, according to Keagan’s phone call. Keagan was going to meet you there. Maybe he got hung up and is running a little late.”

  It was the first time Mom had given her a name. “Who’s Keagan?”

  “He lives on the farm next to Dad’s. I’d have come to deal with this, but I’m in the middle of a project at work.”

  Yeah, right. That’s what Mom kept saying. Not that Karli blamed her. Mom was a strong woman, and she’d overcome a lot, but memories of living with her dad still haunted her. No one wanted to be around him, and Mom couldn’t make herself come back to face him again. Axel could make a saint want to strangle him. Thankfully, Karli had only seen him on rare visits when she was young. More than enough. Not so much that she couldn’t do what needed to be done. It would be easier for her than Mom and she was between traveling nurse jobs. Not that she’d meant to spend her time off dealing with a pain-in-the-ass geriatric.

  Karli took a deep breath, bracing herself. What a depressing place! The farm fields spread as far as she could see, all of them neglected. The barn’s roof needed to be repaired. It had taken all the determination she had to return to Mill Pond. No wonder her mom couldn’t force herself to. Only bitter memories clung to this place. Mom had gotten out of town as soon as she finished high school and only drove back for visits until her youngest brother finally graduated and fled his parents, too. Axel Crupe was eighty-three years old now, and he hadn’t improved with age. As far as anyone knew, he had no friends. His wife, Eloise, had given him twelve children, and Karli’s mother could only remember her as pale and pregnant.

  “She flinched a lot,” Mom said, “because Dad liked to backhand her.”

  “Why did she stay with him?” Karli could hardly remember her grandmother. She’d died five years ago, but Karli had no clear memory of her. When the family visited Mill Pond, Eloise sank into the background, unremarkable and easily forgotten, never calling attention to herself. Maybe after having a dozen children, it took all of the oomph out of you. That, and living with Axel.

  Her mother sighed. “I don’t think Mom was too bright, and she was easily intimidated.”

  “A wimp.”

  “A sad shade of a woman,” her mother corrected.

  Understandable. Axel was a banty rooster with an attitude. Karli knocked on the door with more force, ready to push it open, when a tall, lean man cracked it wide for her. She stepped back and stared. Not hard on the eyes.

  He nodded a welcome. “You must be Karli. Your mom said you’d come to help settle things with Axel. I couldn’t come to the door earlier. I was helping him back in bed after changing his sheets.” Karli raised her brows and he said, “They weren’t wet, but he ate crackers and they were full of crumbs.”

  The house had that old-people smell. Keagan acted immune to it. He didn’t look like someone who’d live in Mill Pond. He wore his golden-brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail. Looked artistic. Of course, plenty of artists owned shops in town. At least, that’s what she’d heard. Her family never stopped by any of them, but that’s why tourists came here. She stared, riveted by his cobalt-blue eyes and long lashes; hardly even noticed the puckered skin and scars on the left side of his face.

 
He shrugged. “When I was a kid, I pulled a pan of boiling water off the stove when my mom wasn’t looking. It takes people a while to get used to how I look.”

  She blinked. “I was staring at your eyes. They’re beautiful.”

  His lips curved in a smile. “Mom said your mother was short and plump with straight, blonde hair. Not a bit like you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Was that an innocent comment? A compliment? Men noticed her coloring—thick, black masses of long, curly hair and brown eyes. She was a little overweight and didn’t give a damn. If a man wanted a model, he was sniffing after the wrong girl. Most men didn’t seem to mind.

  She looked him up and down. Khakis instead of jeans. A thermal shirt that showed off his muscles. The man seemed awfully secure in his own skin. “Are you the Keagan my mom talked about?”

  “Yup, that’s me. Mill Pond’s mailman. I know everyone in the area, and I notice changes when they happen. Axel hadn’t emptied his mailbox for a few days, so I decided to check on him. Just down with the flu, thank God, but his stove was on. It’s a good thing no pot was on the burner. I don’t know the last time anyone’s mowed the yard. He’s reaching a point where he shouldn’t be alone, so I called your mom.”

  A gravelly voice called from the back of the house. “Damn you, boy! Couldn’t you just mind your own business? Leave me in peace?”

  Keagan looked amused. “Sure, if I didn’t bring you groceries once a week and watch your house fall down around your ears.” He turned to Karli. “Don’t let the old man fool you. He’s like a kid. He has supersonic ears. I’ve found his stove on three times when I arrived, and the man doesn’t even cook.”

  He was talking her language now. As a nurse, she liked assessments and specifics. “Hopefully, I can set up some kind of home care for him. If that’s not enough, I’ll help him choose a good nursing center.”

  Keagan raised an eyebrow, doubtful. “He’s never made anything easy. You’ll be lucky if he cooperates with you.”

  No matter. “If worse comes to worse, I’ll have to call in health services, but thanks for alerting us to the problem.”

  He laughed. “I deliver mail. I’m Mill Pond’s watchdog.” He opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come on in.”

  She crossed the threshold and stopped. Good grief. The inside of the house was worse than the outside. The rooms she could see looked as though no one had set foot in them for years. No one had dusted in a decade and cobwebs hung from corners. It smelled musty, and a faint scent of urine drifted from a back room.

  Keagan pressed his lips in a grimace. “It’s not pretty. A woman comes in to clean his room every other week, but he won’t let her touch anything else. I fetch groceries for him when he needs them, but I think he stopped cooking a while ago. The only empty containers I’ve seen in the trash lately held applesauce, cottage cheese, and Ensure.”

  Karli turned a serious gaze on him. “You’re awfully nice to a mean old man.”

  The voice called again. “Mean, huh? Which one of Donna’s miserable kids did she send? She was too much of a chicken shit to come herself.”

  Karli was glad she could spare her mom this. She could have dealt with it, but thankfully, Mom had put her growing up pains behind her. Why stir them up again?

  “I don’t see any other kids lining up to rescue you!” Karli followed the voice toward the back room—a depressing journey. The kitchen had worn linoleum flooring and a grease covered, four-burner stove. Flies buzzed around an open can of peaches. She shook her head. “Can he get around?”

  Keagan nodded. “Everything’s set up for his wheelchair, but he’s moving less and less these days.”

  * * * *

  Keagan kept walking until they stepped into a three-season room. Axel sat nearly upright in a hospital bed, cranked so that he could see out the windows. He had on stained pajamas, and his steel-gray hair hadn’t been washed. A black garbage can sat close by, and the corner of an adult diaper drooped over its edge.

  “For God’s sake, shut the damn thing!” Keagan cracked the lid and let the diaper slide inside, then quickly shut it.

  Axel looked a lot like she remembered him—average height, lots of long, messy, gray hair, and a stubbly chin. But his shoulders were stooped, his frame withered, and his legs thin and frail. Age was taking its toll.

  He glared at her. “I don’t need to be rescued!”

  “The hell you don’t. You need to be hosed down—and with lots of soap.” She looked at Keagan. “Does he ever wash?”

  “I help him in the shower every Sunday and lay out clean clothes for him.”

  “You go above and beyond duty. Why bother with him?”

  The man shrugged. “We’re neighbors. My folks live on the next farm, and I help out during the busy seasons. Besides, Mill Pond takes care of its own. Well, everyone but Axel. He never won any kindness awards.”

  Karli looked around. “Why is he back here? This is a three-season porch, isn’t it?”

  “He likes looking outside. It’s glassed in and comfortable, at least, until winter. That way, he has a view, and he’s close to a bathroom.”

  Not that he seemed to use it. “Does he change his own diapers?”

  “Yup, and he makes it to the toilet for number twos.” Keagan sounded so matter-of-fact, it surprised Karli.

  “You’ve been through this before,” she guessed.

  “My grandmother lived with us for a few months before she passed.”

  That explained it. If Karli remembered correctly, there were five big bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. When she stopped to think about that—a dozen kids and their parents in a two-bathroom house—she cringed.

  Axel narrowed his eyes, studying her, and frowned. “Which kid are you?”

  “Karli, Donna’s older daughter.”

  He sniffed. “Your mom couldn’t have a boy. Just two silly girls. Weak.”

  “Women are every bit as strong as men, so shut it.”

  Axel’s lips turned down. “Are you sassing me, girl?”

  “Maybe. I sure don’t agree with you.”

  He moved slightly and winced, then rubbed his butt. “I think I’m gettin’ another bedsore. It’s starting to seep.”

  Every nurse’s nightmare. She went to lift his light blanket to check on him, and he reached forward, grabbed her skin, and twisted it, hard. She remembered that from when she was little. He’d pinch her until she cried. Without thinking, she pinched him back, harder, and he yelped. Not a smart thing to do. She was a nurse. If he reported her, she’d be in trouble. But he didn’t know that, and she’d be damned if he’d ever pinch her again. She held up a finger to get his attention. “Don’t ever hurt me again. I don’t like you, and I don’t have to be here, but you’re going to let me help you, whether you want it or not.”

  He looked stunned.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Do you have a bedsore or not?”

  He shook his head.

  Keagan threw back his head and laughed. “You deserved that, old coot! You’d better be on your best manners. I don’t think you’re going to be able to bully your granddaughter.”

  Axel’s shoulders stiffened and he turned away from them to look out the window.

  Keagan shook his head. “What now? I doubt you want to stay in this place tonight. This is the only room that’s tolerable—barely. What’s your next move?”

  “I saw a motel closer to town. I’ll try to get a room there, then come here early tomorrow morning and clean some place to stay in. I brought an air mattress, in case. I’ll set that up. There’s no way I’m using one of the beds.”

  Keagan gave a small nod of approval. “My mom’s going to send over a casserole tomorrow to get you started. I’ll drop it off when I deliver the mail.”

  “Thank you.”

  He grinned. “You won’t believe me, but Mil
l Pond’s a pretty friendly place except for him. Here.” He opened his cell phone and punched in the name of the local motel. “Nick and Meg own it. I hope they have an open room.”

  She was in luck. When she handed his phone back to him, she looked surprised. “They only had one vacancy tonight. They’re full for the rest of the week.”

  “Tourists. Mill Pond is a happening place. You’re lucky it’s not leaf season. We’re mobbed when people come to the National Forest to see the trees in their glory.” Keagan grabbed an empty carton of microwaved mac ‘n cheese off Axel’s TV tray and carried it to the kitchen to throw away. “Good luck with everything. If you need something, holler.” He gave her his cell phone number.

  She watched him drive away, then went to make a slow inspection of the house. The refrigerator was clean inside, stocked with Axel’s Ensure and cottage cheese. As for the rest of the house, she might as well have signed up to be a charwoman. She returned to the back room and noticed the TV remote on Axel’s cluttered tray. The house might be ready to fall around his ears, but the flat screen mounted across from his bed took up most of the wall.

  He glared at her. “The sooner you leave, the better.”

  “Then find a nice nursing home, and I’m out of here.”

  “Never gonna happen.”

  She smiled. “Then it sucks to be you. Until you show me that you can take care of yourself, I’m going to be in your business.”

  His hand shot out to pinch her again, and she raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead. Make my day.” A Clint Eastwood quote, but appropriate. He folded his arms over his chest, and she said, “Let’s get you cleaned up before I go to the motel.”

  “Keagan takes care of that.”

  “It looks like you need to be washed again.”

  “That’s not gonna happen. No woman’s touching nothing of mine.”

  “I’m a nurse.”

  “You’re a girl.”

  She could argue, but he wouldn’t change his mind. He’d been living alone and taking care of himself this long. Another day wouldn’t matter. She started for the front door. “See you tomorrow.”