Dylan's Daddy Dilemma

“I... No, not looking for you. I thought I’d get a bottle of water, but I didn’t expect to see you up here. I guess I thought you’d go downstairs or—” She broke off, bit her bottom lip. “Dumb assumption to have. Why would you leave us alone when I could be a thief or—”

“An ax murderer?” Dylan asked in dry humor. “Sorry, but I don’t believe we have even one ax on the premises. And if you’re a thief, you can’t be that great at your job.”

“Is that so? What makes you say that?”

“Let’s start with the look of that car out there.”

“Perhaps I’m an excellent thief and my car is a...um...cover.” A soft, sleepy smile appeared. And she went from cute to beautiful. Breathtakingly so. “To hide my true, nefarious intent and the fact that I have oodles of diamonds and gold nuggets hidden away in the trunk.”

“Diamonds and gold nuggets? Good to know. We won’t just fix your car tomorrow, we’ll buy you a new one. Something more appropriate for a nefarious diamond-and-gold-nugget thief.”

“I...” Pushing away from the door frame, she approached the kitchenette. “If I can’t afford a hotel room, I certainly can’t afford whatever repairs that car needs. I was thinking of trying to sell it to a junkyard. Maybe I can get a couple hundred bucks.”

“I already guessed you didn’t have the finances for the tow or the repairs, so I thought I’d front you the money. It’s no trouble.” Dylan swallowed another gulp of water, curious as to what type of damsel in distress she actually was. Would she put up all sorts of arguments before giving in and accepting his help? Or would she be like Elise and not even bother with the pretense, smile sweetly and thank him for his kindness? Or would she have an entirely different type of reaction? “You can pay me back after you get home and settled. There isn’t any rush.”

She stopped her forward motion and frowned. Shook her head as if she had water stuck in her ears after a long dip in the pool. “What did you just say?”

Okay, then. A different type of reaction. He repeated his words, verbatim. And waited with interest to see what road she’d take them down next.

“Thank you, but no,” she said. Her eyes, her voice—everything about her—were cool and crisp and matter-of-fact. He’d irritated her? Yup, that he had, and his interest increased. Tenfold. “The truth is, I have more use of a couple hundred bucks in my wallet than I do with that car and owing you who knows how much money. So, again, thank you but no.”

She meant her words. And that told Dylan a hell of a lot about her character. More, probably, than she’d like him to know. Still didn’t mean he trusted her or wanted her to stick around. Only once had a woman affected him in as strong and intense a fashion as this woman. He’d fallen for Elise, hard. And look where that path had taken him?

“That’s fine,” he said, opening the fridge and tossing her a bottle of water. She caught it easily. “I’ll help you with that in the morning and, once you have the cash, drive you over to the bus station. If I run out of time, someone in my family will be happy to help.”

“Why, you’re just full of helpful suggestions, aren’t you?”

“Trying, I guess,” he said, watching her carefully. She wasn’t just irritated, she was...well, fuming would be the right description. “Something wrong with that?”

“No.” She sucked in a large breath, held it and then let it out with a loud whoosh of air. “Yes, actually. Yes, there is something wrong with that.”

“Care to explain?”

“Just that...you don’t know me and I don’t know you. It isn’t your call what I do next,” she said, her words coming at a fast clip, as if she was afraid common sense would reel them back in. “I am very appreciative of your assistance tonight, but when morning comes, I’ll go about my business and leave you to yours. So, no, I won’t be requiring a ride to the bus station from you or your family. I don’t even need to go to the bus 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 (#ulink_75217463-df8c-5f4a-8559-109b301c484d)

The sound of a door thudding shut followed by short, quick footsteps scampering across the hardwood floor woke Dylan with nearly the same effectiveness as a shotgun blast. Well, to say he’d been fast asleep would be an overstatement. Fitfully dozing, perhaps.

Squinting open one eye, he saw Henry, who was clothed in the brightest fire-engine-red pajamas Dylan had ever seen, approach the minifridge. Assuming the boy would grab a bottle of water and return to the other room, Dylan closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

What had he gotten himself into? How in the hell was he going to create a brand-new fresh start for a vulnerable, stubborn woman and her feisty child?

It was a helluva lot. More than he’d originally realized when he’d arrived at the harebrained scheme a few short hours ago. Chelsea required a job, a place to live, child care for Henry and, unless the prior three were within walking distance of each other, reliable transportation until she could afford to buy another car.

Again, he considered the simplest action: leaving her to her own devices and going on his merry way as if they’d never met. And once again the tension in his gut told him—in no uncertain terms—that he couldn’t. Nope, she was not his logical responsibility. That was fact. Yet fate had seen to it that she’d walked into his family’s restaurant, that her car had broken down in their parking lot and that he’d been the Foster to find her.

Sensible didn’t have a foothold in the equation.

Urgency to get started overtook his body’s desire to sleep, but Henry hadn’t yet returned to his mother. Once he did, Dylan would go downstairs and call the junkyard, see about getting someone over here within the next few hours. Then he’d check in with his family to see if they had any ideas, and if all went well, he’d soon have the beginnings of a plan in place.