Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  I’d quickly put the thought out of my head, however. I’d been able to bring them up so far without his help, and I knew that I could keep on doing it.

  The ingredients assembled on the counter, I set into work on the macaroni. My cooking itch was intense, and part of me wanted to go all in and do the five-cheese and breadcrumbs version. But the thought made me chuckle a little bit at trying to get toddlers who couldn’t even talk to appreciate the subtleties of Gouda.

  “Tell me again about that little project you have going,” said Mom as I prepared the food and flicked the oven on.

  “It’s more than a project,” I said. “It’s my only source of income.”

  “Huh? What about the money Mr. King left you?”

  “It’s still there, but the accountant his lawyer hired for me said that the more of the principal I can leave untouched, the more it’ll grow. So I needed to find some way to earn money without living off of what’s in the bank.”

  “I see. And you’ve got something on the internet that’ll let you do that?”

  “Yep,” I said. “A Taste of San Bravado. I get deliveries from some of the newest restaurants in town and leave reviews. I write it anonymously, so the restaurants don’t try harder when they see my order.”

  “Don’t most people want to hear about food how it actually comes in the restaurant?”

  “See, that’s what I thought too. And I figured I’d never be able to have a restaurant review guide since I can’t go anywhere with these four.”

  I assembled the mac, popped it into the oven, and shut the door, a gust of hot air shooting out as I did.

  “But think about it—how many times have you ordered food online or gotten it for take-out and you get home, all excited to eat, only for it to look like crap?”

  “More times than I can count,” she said.

  “So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m letting people know not only what food is good and what isn’t, but what places are going to serve you a meal that’s been rattling around some delivery guy’s car for an hour.”

  “That’s…actually a really good idea,” she said. “I mean, so many kids your age get food delivered now.”

  I chuckled. “Mom, I think you stop being a kid once you’ve had four of your own.”

  “Sorry, baby,” said Mom. “But you know you’ll always be a kid to me.”

  I stepped over to Mom and placed my hand on her shoulder, giving her an appreciative squeeze. “I know, Mom.”

  The kids were all happily in their highchairs, big-eyed expressions on their faces.

  “I think they can smell the food,” I said. “They’re excited.”

  “Hell, so am I,” said Mom. “I hope there’s enough for me.”

  “I always make plenty.”

  Mom flashed me a smile as she started getting the plates ready. “And what about your cooking?” she asked. “You’re so dang talented. I hate to think that you’re not sharing what you have with the world.”

  “I hate it, too,” I said. “But these guys are taking up about every bit of free time I have. I try and make a few dishes here and there and put them up on the website, but it’s mostly easy but tasty stuff for other moms to make. Don’t get me wrong—I love being able to help. But it’s not the same as being at Mr. King’s, the whole kitchen there for me to experiment however I wanted.”

  Mom looked away for a moment, clearly considering something.

  “What?” I asked. “You’ve got something on your mind.”

  “I was thinking that maybe you’re due for a day off,” she said. “You’ve been cooped up in the house with these kiddos for nearly a week.”

  She clapped her hands together. “How about this—if Isabella can stop by the house tomorrow in the morning for a little while, your father and I can watch the kids for the rest of the day. You can go out, do some shopping, grab a bite to eat, and then come back and have all the time in the world to do some cooking—real cooking.”

  Damn, that did sound really nice.

  “I can’t ask you guys to do that,” I said, shaking my head. “You two already spend so much time helping me out.”

  “Honey, we’re retired, and we have grandchildren. We’d live here if you wanted us to.”

  I thought the matter over for a moment or two.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “But only if you let me make you dinner after.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Mom said.

  The two of us finished getting lunch ready, and by the time the food was ready, the kids were good and hungry. We fed them together, making sure the crew didn’t make a macaroni mess.

  And as I cleaned up after, my mind raced with what I could do tomorrow with the whole day off.

  Chapter 25

  Chloe

  “Okay, you sure you’ve got everything?”

  Isabella was seated on the couch, two kids on both sides of her.

  “Just like I told you the other five times you asked, yes,” she said, flashing me a smile. “Now get out there and enjoy your day off, lady!”

  I grabbed my purse and threw it over my shoulder. But before I left, I had to say goodbye to the kids. I rushed over to Alfred and gave him a big wet kiss on the forehead.

  “Bye, baby.”

  Then Madeline.

  “And baby.”

  Then Sophia.

  “And baby.”

  Then Ethan.

  All of the kids laughed and cooed when I said my goodbyes.

  “Just remember the one stipulation to me staying over,” said Isabella, raising her finger.

  “Oh, don’t even worry about that,” I said. “I’ll make you the best damn meal of your life.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear,” said Isabella with a smile.

  I knew that if I stayed any longer, I wouldn’t want to leave the kids, so I rushed out the door. Soon I was back behind the wheel of my car, driving toward downtown San Bravado.

  My hand reached by instinct for the radio, but I stopped before turning it on. I was so used to the sounds of kids that the silence, the sweet, still silence was all I really wanted. I drove slowly toward downtown, not even really sure where I was going to go. Shopping for my meal tonight was on the agenda, but until then I had the whole day to myself.

  It was almost overwhelming. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the corner of one of my trashy books sticking out of my purse. It’d been at the bottom of my bag, and seeing it made me realize that ’it had been forever since I’d been able to go to Blue Line Coffee to enjoy something hot while knocking out a few pages of a good—or not so good—book.

  I drove down to the neighborhood, found a spot, and was soon at the counter at Blue Line. The place was as cozy and inviting as ever, and the hour meant that my usual seat was open. Latte in hand, I sat down in my spot, took a sip, and let myself relax.

  The day was beautiful, the coffee was delicious, and everything seemed to be perfect. A little bit of guilt sat heavy in my belly at leaving the kids for most of the day, but Isabella and my parents were right—I deserved a break. Besides, I’d have the whole other half of the day to see the quads before dinnertime.

  A broad smile spread across my face as I thought about cooking tonight. I hadn’t been able to cut loose in the kitchen for so long that it sounded more appealing than a weekend on the beach. My mind raced with possibilities of what I could make, each of them seeming so delicious and enticing that I couldn’t stand it.

  My eyes closed, I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present moment. Time to relax and read.

  Right as I opened my book to the page that I’d dog-eared so many months ago, however, the door to the coffee shop swung open. I normally wouldn’t have paid any attention to people coming and going, but something about this person’s figure and walk struck me as…familiar.

  So, I looked up. And when I realized who it was, I gasped, nearly dropping my coffee all over my lap.

  Jordan.

  I took in a quick gasp of air and tur
ned my now-wide eyes back to my book, the words blurry on the page. My heart beat faster than I’d ever felt it beat before, and I could already feel a bit of sweat form on my forehead.

  “Holy shit, holy shit,” I said under my breath.

  It was him. The father of my children, the man who’d loved me and left me, was there in the coffee shop, no more than twenty feet away from me.

  I had no idea what to do. Torn between talking to him and hoping he didn’t notice me, I settled on shoving my face into my book, my mind racing.

  I watched from behind the pages as he went to the counter and bought his coffee. When he turned to come back my way, I ducked behind the book again, my eyes focused on the dog-eared page.

  “Chloe?” came a voice from above me, a voice that I recognized right away. “Is that you?”

  Damn.

  I glanced up, and sure enough, there was Jordan. He stood over me with a smile on his face that was uncharacteristically warm, not the cocky, smart-ass smile that I’d seen so many times before. He was dressed in a sharp, white button-down shirt, dark slacks, and pair of dress shoes that I could tell were expensive.

  “Jordan?” I said, pretending that I was surprised to see him, that I hadn’t spent the last few minutes freaking out.

  “Come up here,” he said. “Give me a hug.”

  Without thinking, I stood and gave him a brief, quick hug, the kind where you stick your hips back as far as you can.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked. “It’s been so long.”

  “Um, sure,” I said, hurriedly sitting back down and brushing my hair behind my ears. “Have a seat.”

  Jordan plopped down into the chair across from me like he didn’t have a care in the world. Once seated, he looked around, his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee.

  “Wow,” he said. “Isn’t this the spot where you and I had our coffee date way back when? That time we went out for seafood afterward?”

  “Yep,” I said, my tone curt.

  “Wow,” he said. “Small world that I’d see you here, right in the same place.”

  “Well, this is where I sit if I’m here. So if you happen to bump into me here, this is where I’d be.”

  There was a sharpness to my tone, but Jordan either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He went right on talking, that same smile still on his face.

  “I can’t believe I’m seeing you after so long. You have to tell me everything that you’ve been up to.”

  There was one thing I’d been up to since I’d seen Jordan. Well, four of them, to be precise. But there was no way that I was about to tell him about the kids.

  “Oh, not much,” I said, looking away.

  “Oh, come on,” he said, reaching forward and touching me on the knee. “It’s been almost two years! Surely you’ve been getting up to at least something exciting.”

  “Nope,” I said. “Just the same boring life I’ve always had.”

  Then I turned my gaze back to his, my hand moving his hand off my knee.

  “And I would ask you what you’ve been getting up to,” I said, recalling the internet tabloids that had his face all over them. “But you’ve been making quite a name for yourself in New York.”

  He tilted his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I suppose you could say that,” he said. “The company my partners and I started has really taken off. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

  “Great,” I said. “I’m glad that’s all working out for you.”

  His brow crinkled a bit, and it appeared by this point he was getting the hint that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

  But before he could respond, I shot out the question that had been boiling in my mind since I’d laid eyes on him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He looked confused.

  “Getting a coffee, same as you,” he said.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being a smartass or if he really didn’t understand why his being here in San Bravado was out of the ordinary.

  Then he glanced at the book in my hands, chuckling to himself.

  “I see that your taste in literature hasn’t changed.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said. “What are you doing here, in the city?”

  Jordan sat back in his chair.

  “I do own a home here, you know,” he said. “It’s not like we bumped into each other in Alaska or something.”

  “But I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since you left for New York after Christmas way back when, after…the last time we talked. And now you’re here in San Bravado, happening to bump into me?”

  Jordan raised his hands in defeat.

  “Okay,” he said. “You got me. Sure, I’ve been meaning to come back to the city for a while, but I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had the time. Anyway, I was at a party for my company’s anniversary a bit ago, and I met someone who’s a chef at one of the biggest restaurants in the city. That got me thinking about you, and I decided coming back to see how you were doing would be a great idea.”

  “You’re kidding me,” I said. “You left the city after being a total drunken jackass to me, and now, after almost two years, you jet back here to say ‘what’s up’?’”

  Jordan sighed.

  “You…stuck with me, Chloe,” he said. “Like no other woman has before or has since. You made a mark on me that I can’t ignore anymore, and I know that I’d kick myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least try to see you again.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. This was all too much. I shot out of my seat and glared at Jordan hard.

  “I wish I could say it was nice to see you, but that hasn’t really been the case. Have fun in San Bravado. It’s perfect beach weather if you’re looking for something to do, asshole.”

  I grabbed my purse and book and stormed out of there.

  Once back in my car, I noticed that my hands were shaking. Tears formed in my eyes.

  Everything had gotten more complicated, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

  Chapter 26

  Chloe

  I awoke the next morning totally shaken. The encounter with Jordan had jangled my nerves; it wasn’t until I’d been able to lose myself in cooking that I’d been able to focus on anything other than how mad I was that he’d show up all casual-like, hoping to put everything behind us over a freaking coffee.

  And he didn’t even apologize. Sure, he was clearly not cool with what he’d done, but the words “I’m sorry” never left his mouth. Maybe despite how much he’d grown in being his own man, he was still a selfish little man-child.

  After wrapping a robe around my body, I checked in on the quads. They were all sleeping peacefully, and I made the sensible decision not to wake them—a morning of quiet was exactly what I needed.

  Once down in the kitchen, I put some coffee on and opened the fridge, which was stuffed full of taco fixings from the meal I’d made for everyone last night. It had been a big hit, and I was pleased to see that my carnitas-making skills hadn’t gotten rusty. I took a bit of meat from the bowl and tossed it back.

  Mmm, still savory and delicious even cold in the morning.

  The coffee pot hissed, letting me know it was done. I’d only managed to pour myself a cup when a knock sounded from the front door. The sound was so surprising that I nearly dropped my cup of coffee.

  Who would be knocking? I wasn’t expecting anyone, and if it was my parents or Isabella or Amy, they surely would’ve called first. I took a quick sip of my coffee, letting it warm me up before I headed to the front door.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Delivery for Chloe Sanderson,” came a man’s voice on the other side.

  A delivery? I wasn’t expecting anything.

  Suspicious, I opened the door and peeked through the crack. Sure enough, a uniformed deliveryman was on the porch, a large white box in his hands. I pulled the door open the rest of the way.

  “Hi,” I sa
id. “I’m Chloe Sanderson.”

  “Morning!” he said, his voice bright and chipper. “I’m with Bloom Flower Company. I have a delivery for you from Jordan King. If you can sign here, I’ll come in and set up the bouquet for you.”

  Jordan, sending flowers. Oldest trick in the book. I took the electronic signature pad that the deliveryman held out to me and jotted my name down.

  “Come on in,” I said.

  The man flashed me a smile before stepping inside. He had two boxes, actually, the white box and a square one under his arm.

  “Table fine?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  He opened the boxes and went to work. The square box held a gorgeous vase of white glass, which the deliveryman set in the middle of the table after filling it with water. Once that was in place, he carefully opened the white box as though it contained a precious antique. Inside was a colorful, gorgeous arrangement of flowers that caused me to gasp as soon as I laid eyes on them.

  The deliveryman arranged them with expert skill and speed, and by the time he was done, the arrangement was simply breathtaking.

  “Mr. King also gave me a note to deliver with the flowers.”

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, white envelope, my name on the front in gorgeous handwriting.

  I took the envelope and quickly opened it. Realizing that the delivery man was still there, I stopped, grabbed a tip from my purse, and bid him farewell.

  “Enjoy!” he said as he stepped out of the house, taking the boxes and shutting the door behind him.

  Silence returned to the house as soon as the deliveryman left. My back against the front door, my eyes fixed on the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to make of them. Sure, they were beautiful. But what, exactly, Jordan was trying to say was unclear.

  I reached into the opened envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Just like the front of the envelope, the words were written in gorgeous handwriting.

  I took a deep breath and began reading.

  Chloe,