Doorstep Daddy

Every day, Ellie was forced to make a choice, and inevitably, Sabrina was the loser, because in the end, what had to come first was paying for the roof over their heads, a roof she could barely afford on her own. She’d been trying so hard, and feeling like she’d failed every day. And now—

What was she going to do?

Lose her job?

Reality slammed into Ellie. Mrs. Winterberry wouldn’t be back for several days, at least. Ellie had no back-up plan—she’d had no time, in fact, to put one in place, and kept thinking tomorrow, tomorrow she’d find another sitter who could fill in if something like this arose.

Now that someday was here and Ellie was thrown into chaos. With Sabrina caught in the middle of the storm. Ellie buried her face in the sweet scent of that innocent, trusting face, a face that believed Ellie would do the right thing, would always keep the world on an even, perfect keel.

And once again, Ellie was alone, desperately navigating a rushing river with an oar-less boat.

How was she going to manage this? She clutched Sabrina tighter, trying to hold on to her emotions, her life, her sanity—and suddenly it all got away from her, escaping in a gush of tears as she realized Mrs. Winterberry’s absence meant one thing.

If Ellie Miller didn’t find a miracle in the next five minutes, she’d lose her job. And in the process, lose everything that mattered to her.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dalton stared at the woman and her kid, standing in his sacred space. He’d stalked up to his office, figuring they would find their own way back out the front door. After all, she’d let herself in, she could damned well let herself out. But no, she’d gone and followed him.

“You…you can’t walk away…I need help.”

And worse, she was crying.

“I need to work. And you need to go home.” He turned back to his computer. Pretended he didn’t see the tears. But they bothered him all the same. If there was one thing Dalton Scott couldn’t take, it was tears.

He stood in front of his desk for the second time that day as helpless as a fish on dry land, while Ellie Miller held her baby and cried.

“You’re right. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Exactly.” He sat down in his chair. Pulled his keyboard closer.

She didn’t leave. He could tell. Because he could still hear her crying.

“It’s just…”

He let out a long sigh and turned around. “Just what?”

“I…” She bit her lip. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Hire a babysitter.”

“I did. She’s not here.”

“Hire another one.” He turned back to his computer. Looked at the words on the screen. They were all horrible. Every last one of them. Dalton started hitting the backspace key. In the last hour, this book had multiplied badness.

“It’s not that easy.”

She was still here? He spun back toward the woman and her kid. “I’m trying to work here.”

Aw, damn, the tears were really pouring down her face. They’d made rivers on her cheeks. Even the kid was staring at him, as if saying what areyou going to do about this?

Well, he knew what he wasn’t going to do. He wasn’t going to let them stay here, in his office. This was his domain, and already Mrs. Winterberry had been here, disrupting his train of thought. He had enough problems writing, without adding these two into the mix.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” he said, practically shooing them out the door. “Get a cup of coffee or something.”

Why did he have to add that? His goal was to get them out the door, not serve hot beverages.

A moment later, though, the woman and her kid were in his living room. She lowered herself onto the leather seat, a whisper of relief flickering across her delicate features. She dropped the car seat to the floor, and propped the kid on her lap, holding the baby tight against her chest. Together, they looked like bedraggled street orphans. Dalton almost—almost—felt his heart going out to them.

Well, just for that he wouldn’t make any coffee. He dropped into the opposite armchair, watching the tears continue to stream down her face, still feeling about as comfortable as a porcupine in a roomful of balloons. He handed her a box of tissues from the endtable. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She paused, and then her big green eyes met his, watery lakes filled with an ocean of thoughts.

“Are you better now?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t seem it.” Man, he could have just let it go at her “yes,” but he seemed to have this overwhelming compunction to get involved today.

She glanced down at the tissue, clasped in front of her. “I can’t go back to work, not with Sabrina. And I can’t go home, because I can’t afford to call in sick until Mrs. Winterberry comes back. I’m barely paying my bills as it is. Without Mrs. Winterberry, I’m stuck and I don’t know what I’m going to do…” She started crying again, the tears falling in a slow stream, disappearing into the fuzz on her daughter’s head.

Did he have a “please pull at my heartstrings, I’ll help anyone today” sign in his front yard or something?

As much as Dalton wanted to tell her “too bad, lady, you’re on your own,” he couldn’t get the words out, not when he saw those tears, the slump in her shoulders, the despair on her face. He cleared his throat. “What you need is…”

Ellie looked up.

“Someone to watch the kid.”

“You would do that?” The hope that filled her face blossomed like a sunflower.

“I never said…”

“It would only be for a day or two.”

He put his hands up. “Lady, I have a job here. And it’s not going so well lately. Kids are an interruption—”

“I know, I know. I’ve tried working at home with her and it was so hard.”

Aw, that hope in her voice. He wanted to counteract it. Yell at her. Tell her he had his life just the way he liked it, thank you very much and get out of my house, but she was looking at him like he was her savior, and when he opened his mouth to say go home, find another option—

He couldn’t do it.