Dylan's Daddy Dilemma
Hero Needed! When Dylan Foster finds Chelsea Bell and her four-year-old son, Henry, sleeping in their car in the parking lot of his restaurant, he knows he has to help. Once they’re back on their feet, he’ll send them on their way and continue on his own, just as he likes it.Chelsea’s used to protecting Henry alone, but she’s grateful for the help offered by her kind-eyed host. And, when Henry’s father arrives and Dylan steps in, Chelsea realises that, for once, having a hero around is no bad thing. They’ve both been badly burnt… but learning to trust each other could open a world of possibilities.
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âYou should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. For both of us.â
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 triedâoh, he triedânot to make her and her son his responsibility.
Because nothing had changed there, either. They werenât.
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 couldnât, though.
Just couldnât.
Swearing quietly, he finished off his water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. Heâd see what he could do about giving Chelsea and Henry Bell their new âfresh start,â but without her knowledge. And once they were adequately settled, heâd 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 couldnât happen.
Wouldnât. Happen. No way in hell.
* * *
The Colorado Fosters: Theyâd do anything for each other ⦠and for love!
TRACY MADISON is an award-winning author who makes her home in northwestern Ohio. As a wife and a mother, her days are filled with love, laughter and many cups of coffee. She often spends her nights awake and at the keyboard, bringing her characters to life and leading them toward their well-deserved happily-ever-afters, one word at a time. Tracy loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at [email protected].
To my darling, sweet Arabella, whose smile outshines the sun.
Contents
Now what? Defeated and drained, Chelsea Bell tugged on her four-year-old sonâs hand and led them toward the battered, almost-out-of-gas Chevy Malibu that had brought them the 260-plus miles from Pueblo to Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
Henry didnât ask why they were returning to the car, just shuffled alongside her, his spare body bowed against the chilly wind. Surprising, really, when just minutes ago sheâd promised that they were done driving for a while, and that this beautiful A-frame house with its amazing mountain views was their newâalbeit, temporaryâhome.
The house-sitting job had been exactly what she needed for a fresh start. A roof over their heads and decent pay for close to five months meant sheâd have plenty of time to locate permanent employment and a small, affordable place to live when the seasonal gig ended in September. Unfortunately, seconds after knocking on the front door, sheâd learned that theyâd come all this way for nothing. The job was gone, given to someone else.
A solid portion of bad luck, timing and her own poor judgment were to blame.
First, her car had malfunctioned, requiring last-minute repairs the mechanic had deemed nothing more than Band-Aids. Heâd strongly suggested she junk the car and put her money toward something newer. Of course, she couldnât afford newer, so sheâd gone with the short-term fix and used a chunk of her not-so-healthy savings in the process.
Then Henry had awakened with the flu on the day they were supposed to leave, delaying them further. Sheâd called her would-be employers twice before her pay-as-you-go phone had run out of minutes, had left messages but hadnât actually spoken with them. And seeing how sheâd spent so much to fix her car and didnât trust it wouldnât break down again, sheâd decided to conserve her drastically dwindling funds rather than adding more minutes.
She should have bought the minutes, because when the home owners attempted to reach her and found her phone out of service, theyâd assumed sheâd bailed. A logical assumption under the circumstances, and one she likely would have made in a similar situation. Understanding the whys, however, didnât change her current predicament one iota.
There were no two ways about it. She was good and stuck.
Shivering as much from her jagged emotions as the cold, late-winter weather, Chelsea opened the door to the backseat. âHop in, kid,â she said in as cheery a voice as she could muster. âSeems our plans have changed. How does dinner sound? I bet youâre hungry.â
âI thought we were staying here.â Henry crawled into the safety booster seat and tiredly rubbed his eyes. Unlike most kids, he never slept well in the car, so the long drive had worn him out. Her, too, but sheâd grown accustomed to exhaustion. âI donât wanna drive anymore.â
âWeâre not going far,â she promised. âI saw several restaurants in the center of town. I was thinking we could stop for burgers and fries.â After buckling him in, she tousled the top of his sandy-brown-covered head. âUnless youâd rather have another peanut-butter sandwich?â
