Dylan's Daddy Dilemma (The Colorado Fosters Book 04) by Tracy Madison
Authors: Tracy Madison
Ads: Link
station.”
Ah, hell. “You’re planning on staying, then?”
“I’m planning on staying,” she confirmed, losing her steam. She stared at her toes—which were painted a dark shade of purple—and exhaled, brought her gaze back to his. “I told Henry this was our fresh start at a brand-new life, and I am not going to disappoint him again.”
And double hell.
“You don’t have a job,” he said, stating the obvious. “Or a place to live.”
“I’ll find both. And until I do—” she lifted her chin in stubborn hope “—I’ll find one of those cheap motels and pray I get enough from selling the Malibu to see us through.”
Before he could stop himself, before his logic kicked in and squelched that damn desire to protect, defend and take care of, he heard himself saying, “If you’re dead and determined to stay, we’ll figure out something better than a cheap motel. And once I talk to my family, we might be able to scrounge up some work. On a temporary basis, that is.”
Dark blue eyes blinked in surprise and emotion.
Sappy
emotion. She looked away, off to his left, and a tremble coursed through her body. “I’ve never met a man like you, but as shockingly kind as your offer is, this time I’ll have to say no.”
“You said no about sleeping here and changed your mind.”
“I did. Because of Henry.”
“Who is still in the picture, unless he jumped out the window and ran away?”
She looked at him then, all soft and vulnerable and...beautiful. It took every ounce of willpower not to walk the few inches between them, pull her into his arms and promise her that everything would be fine. Better than fine. That she didn’t have to worry.
Fortunately, he ignored that instinct and waited her out.
“I can take care of my son,” she said. “I have since the day he was born, without anyone swooping in to help or fix my problems.”
And wasn’t that a damn shame? He shook off the thought and shrugged. “Not swooping,” he said. “Just extending a hand, but as you said, it’s your call.”
“That’s right. And...and I have a plan.”
He didn’t state the numerous flaws her plan held. Such as, even if she located employment right off the bat, she wouldn’t receive an actual paycheck for two weeks. Maybe longer. And the cheapest not-a-dump motel in town that he knew of—even with the less expensive off-season rates that would start in a few days—hovered around the fifty-dollar-per-night range. Supposing she got five hundred dollars for her car, and he thought that was the most the junkyard paid, she’d only have enough funds for a week.
But he didn’t point out any of these facts. Instead, he gave her a short nod and said, “You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. For both of us.”
Chelsea opened her mouth as if to say more, but closed it just as fast. Another visible tremble swept through her slender body before she disappeared behind the safety of her closed door. Dylan stood there and tried—oh, he tried—not to make her and her son his responsibility.
Because nothing had changed there, either. They weren’t.
She was in a tough predicament, yes, but she had refused his help. That should be enough to allow him to walk away without feeling any residual guilt. He couldn’t, though.
Just couldn’t.
Swearing quietly, he finished off his water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. He’d see what he could do about giving Chelsea and Henry Bell their new fresh start, but without her knowledge. And once they were adequately settled, he’d put both of them out of his head and wipe his hands of the whole ordeal.
Before his Foster DNA kicked in again and had him doing something even more insane. Like falling in love with both mother and son. Nope. That couldn’t happen.
Wouldn’t. Happen. No way in hell.
Chapter Four
T he sound of a door thudding shut followed by short, quick footsteps scampering across the hardwood floor woke Dylan with nearly the
Ah, hell. “You’re planning on staying, then?”
“I’m planning on staying,” she confirmed, losing her steam. She stared at her toes—which were painted a dark shade of purple—and exhaled, brought her gaze back to his. “I told Henry this was our fresh start at a brand-new life, and I am not going to disappoint him again.”
And double hell.
“You don’t have a job,” he said, stating the obvious. “Or a place to live.”
“I’ll find both. And until I do—” she lifted her chin in stubborn hope “—I’ll find one of those cheap motels and pray I get enough from selling the Malibu to see us through.”
Before he could stop himself, before his logic kicked in and squelched that damn desire to protect, defend and take care of, he heard himself saying, “If you’re dead and determined to stay, we’ll figure out something better than a cheap motel. And once I talk to my family, we might be able to scrounge up some work. On a temporary basis, that is.”
Dark blue eyes blinked in surprise and emotion.
Sappy
emotion. She looked away, off to his left, and a tremble coursed through her body. “I’ve never met a man like you, but as shockingly kind as your offer is, this time I’ll have to say no.”
“You said no about sleeping here and changed your mind.”
“I did. Because of Henry.”
“Who is still in the picture, unless he jumped out the window and ran away?”
She looked at him then, all soft and vulnerable and...beautiful. It took every ounce of willpower not to walk the few inches between them, pull her into his arms and promise her that everything would be fine. Better than fine. That she didn’t have to worry.
Fortunately, he ignored that instinct and waited her out.
“I can take care of my son,” she said. “I have since the day he was born, without anyone swooping in to help or fix my problems.”
And wasn’t that a damn shame? He shook off the thought and shrugged. “Not swooping,” he said. “Just extending a hand, but as you said, it’s your call.”
“That’s right. And...and I have a plan.”
He didn’t state the numerous flaws her plan held. Such as, even if she located employment right off the bat, she wouldn’t receive an actual paycheck for two weeks. Maybe longer. And the cheapest not-a-dump motel in town that he knew of—even with the less expensive off-season rates that would start in a few days—hovered around the fifty-dollar-per-night range. Supposing she got five hundred dollars for her car, and he thought that was the most the junkyard paid, she’d only have enough funds for a week.
But he didn’t point out any of these facts. Instead, he gave her a short nod and said, “You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. For both of us.”
Chelsea opened her mouth as if to say more, but closed it just as fast. Another visible tremble swept through her slender body before she disappeared behind the safety of her closed door. Dylan stood there and tried—oh, he tried—not to make her and her son his responsibility.
Because nothing had changed there, either. They weren’t.
She was in a tough predicament, yes, but she had refused his help. That should be enough to allow him to walk away without feeling any residual guilt. He couldn’t, though.
Just couldn’t.
Swearing quietly, he finished off his water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. He’d see what he could do about giving Chelsea and Henry Bell their new fresh start, but without her knowledge. And once they were adequately settled, he’d put both of them out of his head and wipe his hands of the whole ordeal.
Before his Foster DNA kicked in again and had him doing something even more insane. Like falling in love with both mother and son. Nope. That couldn’t happen.
Wouldn’t. Happen. No way in hell.
Chapter Four
T he sound of a door thudding shut followed by short, quick footsteps scampering across the hardwood floor woke Dylan with nearly the
Similar Books
