Doorstep Daddy

At a stoplight, she dialed Mrs. Winterberry’s cell phone number. “Mrs. Winterberry, thank God I reached you.”

“Ellie! I’m so sorry I had to run out today. Don’t you worry, Dalton Scott is a great babysitter. He comes from a family of twelve, you know. He’s got lots of baby experience.”

A whoosh of relief escaped Ellie. “Good.”

“You didn’t think I’d leave your baby with just anyone, did you?”

“Of course not.”

Mrs. Winterberry laughed. “He’s a very nice man, you know. A very nice man.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“He’d be nice for you. It’s time you moved on, dear. Dealt with…well, dealt with losing your husband. I know, because I lost my Walter and it was the hardest thing I ever went through. You have a little one to think of. You need a man in your life, not just for you, but for that precious baby.”

It was a familiar discussion. One Ellie had had a hundred times with her neighbor. But what Viola didn’t understand was that moving on after Cameron’s death involved a lot more than just dating a new guy. “Mrs. Winterberry, I don’t have time—”

“No better time than now,” she interrupted. “Well, dear. I have to get back to my sister. She’s in rough shape but she’ll be okay.”

“Oh, Mrs. Winterberry. I’m so sorry.”

“I probably have to stay a couple days. Maybe longer. I hate to leave you in a lurch, but—”

“Don’t worry. Stay as long as you need. Take care of your sister. I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll call you tomorrow. Give that little girl a kiss for me.”

Ellie promised to do so, then hung up. She gripped the steering wheel and prayed for strength for the days ahead. Without Mrs. Winterberry’s kindness, wisdom—and most importantly, her second set of hands—Ellie would be lost.

Stress doubled in Ellie’s gut. She could tick the worries off, worries that had multiplied minute-by-minute in the months since she’d been widowed. Being a single mom. Paying the bills, the mortgage, a mortgage she’d taken on when there’d been two incomes, and been left to pay with one. Raising her child alone, juggling late-night feedings and diaper changes, while still managing to get to work, and be a star performer eight to ten hours a day. At the same time, the even-more-powerful desire to be a star mom. To give her all to her daughter, who needed her, and depended on her for everything. Every morning, Ellie woke up to trusting blue eyes that believed in Ellie to be a supermom, who could do it all.

And here, Ellie felt like she was barely balancing any of it.

Finally, she pulled onto her street. She parked haphazardly against the sidewalk opposite to her house, then paused outside the two houses. 527 or 529?

She should have asked Mrs. Winterberry. Damn.

The crying answered the question for her. She could hear her daughter’s cries through the open windows of 529, a massive two-story contemporary with a brick front she had noticed from time to time. A beautiful house, one of the nicest in the neighborhood. Ellie pressed the doorbell, then rapped on the oak door, resisting the urge to just barge in.

No answer. Sabrina kept crying.

Anxiety pattered in Ellie’s chest. She rang the bell a second time, then knocked again, harder, more urgent this time. “Dalton? It’s Ellie Miller. Mrs. Winterberry left Sabrina here, and I’m her—”

“Go away. I’m busy.”

Sabrina cried louder.

Oh God. Was she hurt? What kind of guy was he? Despite Mrs. Winterberry’s endorsement, he sounded grumpy. A horrible babysitter. Ellie turned the handle, said a silent prayer it would open, and—

It did.

Throwing Ellie into sheer chaos. Sabrina crying, squirming, in her car seat. The scent of a dirty diaper filling the room like it had exploded, and taken no prisoners in doing so. And at the far end of the room, one hand pinching his nose, the other holding aforementioned diaper in the manner usually reserved for toxic waste, a tall, dark-haired man with a scowl.

“What are you doing to my baby?”

From far across the room, he stepped on a trash can pedal, tossed the diaper inside, then, once the can slammed shut, turned to her, his scowl deepening. “What am I doing? What is she doing is more like it. That kid should come with a condemned sign.”

Ellie shot him a horrified glare, then hurried over to Sabrina, unclipping the safety belt before taking her out of the seat, and brought the baby to her chest. The scent of baby powder met Ellie’s nostrils, sweet and pure. Ellie held her daughter tight, the warm, familiar body fitting perfectly into her arms. “Momma’s here, sweetheart, Momma’s here.”

Having her child against Ellie felt like coming home. As if the world had been careening out of control all day, and suddenly everything had been righted again. Ellie let out a breath, her nerves no longer strung as tight as piano wire.

And every time, Ellie expected Bri to simply melt into her mother’s touch, to calm gently. Coo and gurgle, like other babies. Be happy, content, like a commercial for motherhood, just like Ellie had dreamed during her pregnancy. But it never seemed to work that way.

As usual, Sabrina didn’t calm down. She kept on crying, the volume rising, rather than lowering. Ellie did everything the books and Mrs. Winterberry had recommended. Rubbed Bri’s back. Whispered in her ear. Started to pace. The baby, still worked up, continued to squirm and kick against Ellie’s midsection. Clearly, being in the hands of another hadn’t made Sabrina happy.

Ellie tried not to take the cries personally, but still…

She did.

“Come on, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Sabrina didn’t agree. Her feet kicked. Her fists curled into tight circles. Her mouth opened and closed, letting out cry after cry. Ellie walked back and forth, circling the burgundy leather sofa, her high heels sinking into the plush carpet, creating a rippled path in Dalton’s living room.

And still Sabrina didn’t quiet. “Shh,” Ellie soothed, nearly on the verge of tears herself. She tried so hard to be a good mother and still she had yet to connect, to get the baby to be happy. Was it because she was working too much? Because she came home too tired at the end of the day? Or was she simply a terrible mother? “Shh.”

“Can’t you get her to be quiet?” Dalton finished washing his hands, then exited the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder and onto the counter as he did.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Ellie said, and kept pacing.

“By the way, even though I’ve seen you across the street, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Dalton Scott,” he said, extending a hand. “Reluctant temporary babysitter.”

Ellie shifted Sabrina to the opposite shoulder, hoping that would help. It didn’t. “Ellie Miller. Thanks for watching her.” She let out a gust. “I apologize for being hard on you earlier. I know how difficult it can be to balance a million things at once, especially with an eight-month-old. The diapers, the crying. It can get to the best of us, even me.”

“Yeah. Well, don’t ask me to do it again.” He gestured toward the baby with his head. “Unless you send earplugs.”

“Sorry. She’s not usually this difficult.” Well, maybe not for other people. Either way, Ellie wasn’t telling the truth and showing herself to be Completely Awful Mom of the Year. Ellie again changed Sabrina’s position, but if anything that made the cries intensify. Ellie drew in a breath, trying to work up some more patience into a day that had already been extra frustrating. “Come on, baby, calm down. Okay?” Sabrina kept on crying, nearly squirming out of Ellie’s arms.

“Hey, you,” Dalton said, putting his face in near to Sabrina’s, his voice low, stern. No-nonsense. Ellie turned her focus away from him, trying not to notice the intensity of his blue eyes, the deep waves of his dark hair. The muted notes of his cologne. He said it again, a third time, each time waiting for a break in the baby’s cries. “Cut that out.”

Sabrina turned and looked at him. Then, to Ellie’s surprise, she snarfled, then paused, her chest still heaving, like she was about to burst into tears again. But didn’t.

“That’s right. We talked about this, didn’t we?” he went on. “None of that—not in my house.”

Ellie stared at him. A feeling of hurt filled her chest. He had done what she, as Sabrina’s mother, had not been able to do. In seconds. With a few words. And here she’d practically stood on her head, and gotten nowhere.

She was Bri’s mother, she was supposed to have a natural touch with her own baby. And here came this guy, a total stranger, who presto-whammo, calmed Bri with a few words and a look?

What did that say about Ellie? Had it gotten to the point where Sabrina was closer to her sitters than her own mother?

Was this the price she paid for working too much?

“You got her to stop crying,” Ellie said.

“I didn’t get her to do anything. I just told her to quit.” He scowled again—Ellie didn’t think the man had another facial gesture—and turned away. “Now that she has, you both can get out of my hair. And I can get back to work.”

Then he turned on his heel, and marched up the stairs. A second later, a door slammed upstairs.

Ellie’s jaw dropped. How rude.

She didn’t need his attitude, and Sabrina definitely didn’t need to be around such a disagreeable human being. Ellie grabbed the car seat and started to reach for the diaper bag. Then she stopped.

Where was she going to go? Back to work, Sabrina in tow?

That would never work. She’d tried that— once—when Mrs. Winterberry had been sick, and it had been a disaster. Sabrina was like any baby—needy and demanding—and bringing her into the chaotic, busy environment of Revved Up Productions just added to the office zoo. Lincoln, the epitome of stress, had become even more stressed, and nearly fired her on the spot. And now that Sabrina was starting to crawl, taking her to work would be an epic disaster.

Working at home didn’t fare much better. Every time a call came in, Sabrina would inevitably need a bottle, a diaper change or rocking at the same time. A screaming baby and a phone call—not a good mix.

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 are you 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.

“Really, you’d be helping me so much. I can’t even begin to—”

“Then don’t,” he interrupted. If she started to thank him one more time, he’d tell her no. He hadn’t even agreed to watching her kid, had he? No. He was going to tell her to find someone else. Yes. That’s what he’d do. He had a book to finish. A career to salvage. He didn’t need a baby underfoot, and he’d tell her so. Right now. “If I watched your kid for a couple days it would be a complete in—”

She sprang out of the chair and crossed to him, as if she might hug him. “Oh, thank you! You saved—”

“Will you stop thanking me?”

What the hell did he just do? And worse, what did he just say?

Oh, he was stuck now. She already assumed he was going to watch the kid. What was he going to do? Tell her no? And start the waterworks up again?

Quickly, he turned and headed toward his kitchen, away from this new burst of emotion, and most of all, the potential for a hug from her and the kid. She’d taken his words and assumed he said yes and now he was in a mess. A mess of his own making.

From his own stupid words. Apparently, his lack of writing ability extended to his verbal ability, too.

“I’m going to make some lunch,” he called over his shoulder. “You, ah, want some?”

It was a lame change of subject. An escape, really. But suddenly he’d had to get away from those eyes, from that burst of joy on her face. It had been so powerful, so…

Trusting.

As if she’d just put her whole world in his palms.

She had no idea what she was doing. And he should have thought before he’d opened his big, idiot mouth.

He didn’t want a kid in his house. Definitely didn’t need a kid in his house. He’d almost had this one out the door and here he’d accidentally invited it to stay for a couple of days by not saying what he’d meant to say fast enough. And all because she’d started crying. He was definitely getting soft. Maybe if he got in the kitchen, he could make her a ham sandwich and in the meantime, come up with a way to get out of this deal. A way to soften the blow of saying, hey, I changed my mind. Find another neighbor.

Clearly not reading his mind—or his need for space—Ellie trotted right along behind him and into the kitchen, the kid in her arms. “I’m so glad you offered to watch her. I really am desperate. My job is—”

“I don’t need to hear the details.” He opened the fridge, ducked his head inside, trying to head off further personal information.

She was a hard woman to ignore, and not just because she kept on following him. Dalton had no idea how he had missed this particular neighbor. Well, being a hermit for the last three months didn’t help, but still, he had to have been blind not to notice this curvy brunette, with her vivid green eyes and full crimson mouth.

A mouth that wouldn’t quit bugging him.

“I’m a producer for a new TV show for Channel 77, and the demands on my time right now are incredible. Missing a day of work is out of the question. In fact—” she flung out her wrist and looked at her watch “—I need to get out of here before my boss has a coronary. But before I go, I really want to ask a few more questions. An interview, of sorts.”

“Now you want to interview me? I already watched your kid. She came back to you intact, fed, and clean, didn’t she?”

Ellie ignored that credential. “What do you do for a living? Are you available from eight to six every day? If this is going to interfere with your job, I’ll need to make some arrangements.”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a writer. I work here. It’s a pretty flexible job.”

The kid perked up in the woman’s arms. Apparently, the job impressed the under-one-year-old set.

“You must be doing pretty well. I mean, you have a really nice house.”

He scowled. “Maybe I have a wealthy patron to support me.” She didn’t need to know how he’d started out as a successful writer, hitting the top of the charts, then slammed into a major block and plummeted to the bottom. Or how he’d spent the last year struggling to whip this latest opus into an acceptable form. How he’d sweated over every word, every page, and still ended up ripping out seventy percent of what he’d written. Because this book, just like the last few, was lacking the one element his editor had been on his back to add—

Emotion.

She smiled. “Will you still be able to balance your writing with watching my daughter? I don’t want to take away from your work.” She shifted the baby, who was watching him as intently as a puppy hoping to get lucky with a crumb. What was it with this kid? He seemed to have some kind of mesmerizing effect on it.

Must be the stranger thing. She didn’t know him, ergo, she just stared. Like he was a shiny new toy.

“I’m…stuck right now. I have time to watch a kid.” No, he wanted to scream at himself. He did not have time to watch a kid. But then again, this woman did need help. And it hadn’t been so awful this morning. Maybe he could suck it up for a few more hours, until she found some other neighbor to take on her and her baby. If he was lucky, the kid would nap the whole time.

“Stuck?” Her brows lifted in a question. “What do you mean?”

He pushed off from the counter and took a step closer to her. “Listen, this isn’t about my book writing skills. I offered to help you out and watch your kid. That’s all.”

Okay, Dalton. So much for saying you changed your mind.

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s just, as a new mother, I tend to get pretty overprotective, which means I also get really personal. So I’m sorry if I asked too many questions. I just want to make sure that if she cries or needs something, you’ll be there.”

“Beck and call guy, that’s me.” The words were meant to reassure Ellie, but in the back of his head, he wondered what he was getting himself into. Taking care of a baby all day?

Him?

He had his life just the way he liked it. Alone, and quiet. He didn’t need a kid around.

But this woman clearly needed someone to help her out—and it wouldn’t kill him to be a nice guy for twenty-four hours. Would it?

Ellie shifted the baby to the other hip. The kid protested the move with a series of cries. Ellie rubbed her back, peppered kisses across her forehead, and Sabrina quieted. She laid her head on Ellie’s shoulder, her eyes beginning to shut. A surge of something Dalton refused to name rose in his chest—a feeling from long ago, one he’d pushed away.

At the same time, Ellie’s cell phone began to ring. She dug it out of her pocket, let out a gust, muted the phone, then stuffed it back. As soon as she did, it started ringing again, which made the baby give up on the sleeping thing. Ellie brushed her bangs out of her face, then fished the phone out one more time and answered it. “Hi, Lincoln,” she said, continuing to rub the kid’s back with the other hand—making the whole balancing act look way too complicated to Dalton. The baby started to whine, so Ellie tried a pacifier that was attached to the kid by a clip and a ribbon, but the kid spat it back. Ellie returned to the back rub, but this time, the circular motion’s magic failed. “Yes, I’m on my way. Of course I have available child care. I just had to stop by for a—” She paused. “I know, I know this meeting’s important. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be—” An embarrassed smile took over her face. “He hung up. He’s a little tense.”

Lincoln. A boyfriend? Boss?

Husband?

The kid voiced a protest, as if she understood what the cell phone’s ring meant.