“And Haley was a princess?”
“Haley was about the same trouble as the three of you combined, and yes, she is and always has been the princess of the family. But that,” Margaret said with a pointed look at Dylan, “wasn’t due to me or your father. That girl was spoiled rotten by you and your brothers.”
Yeah, well, true enough. Haley’s entrance into the Foster family had been met with spectacular awe, enormous love and fierce loyalty from each of the Foster brothers. She was theirs to care for, to protect, to teach and to guide. Reid, Dylan and Cole had taken their role as her big brothers to heart. They still did. Probably always would.
It was, Dylan realized with some shock, a type of affection not so different from what he’d just experienced with Henry in his arms, hearing his high-pitched, happy-as-all-get-out giggles. But that was an emotion typically only connected with family.
Certainly not with strangers.
Loud warning bells went off in Dylan’s head, which he flat-out ignored. Henry was a cute kid, and really, who didn’t enjoy the sound of a child’s laugh? Dylan closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. He’d shared a fun moment with Henry. That was it.
“Are you feeling okay?” Suddenly, his mother’s cool palm was pressed tight against his forehead. “No fever, but you’re paler than normal.”
“I’m fine.” Dylan opened his eyes and smiled. “Promise. Just tired.”
“Hmm. If you say so.”
“I do.” Though he’d be better once he got everything back on track. He’d start with the junkyard. “I need to make a quick phone call. Can you help Henry with breakfast?”
“Of course.” Margaret retreated a few inches and gave him another once-over before focusing on Henry. “Pancakes or waffles? Which do you think is the most smile-worthy?”
“Waffles!” Henry said without a second’s hesitation. “With blueberries and syrup and lots and lots of whippy cream and bacon. I love... I mean, Mommy loves bacon!”
“Excellent choices, but maybe we’ll go light on the whippy cream,” Margaret said, pulling on an apron and tying the straps around her waist. “Let’s grab a chair and move it to the sink, and you can be a big help by cleaning the blueberries. I’ll show you how.”
Dylan made his way toward the main restaurant and bar area, waiting until the last possible second before exiting the kitchen to say, “I should only be a few minutes. And later this morning, if we can get everyone over here, I’d like to set up a family meeting.”
“It’s already set,” Margaret said, her voice a tad too bubbly for Dylan’s peace of mind. “Everyone will be here shortly, so don’t go running off anywhere.”
Her statement made him pause. “Why’d you call everyone so fast?”
“It isn’t every day that you invite perfect strangers to stay the night, now, is it? Seemed unusual enough to merit a discussion. Apparently, I was correct.”
“Right. Well...okay, then. Thanks.” With that, he left the kitchen and approached the bar, his brain on high alert. His mother’s intuition was an unexplainable phenomenon that, at times, drove him and the rest of his siblings nuts. She knew her kids well.
If she tuned in to his—what should he call it? Interest?—in Chelsea, she wouldn’t leave well enough alone. She would butt into not only his business—in her own sweet, graceful and kind way, of course—but Chelsea’s, as well. If his brothers and sister sensed the same, his predictable and simple life would cease to exist.
They had each behaved more than a little crazily when it came to winning over their respective significant others. Between the three of them, there had been one outlandish scheme after another. Cole’s pretend, completely fictionalized girlfriend to make Rachel jealous. Haley’s sneaky maneuvers to capture Gavin’s attention. And Reid...well, he’d gone all out and planned an entire wedding when Daisy hadn’t even agreed to marry him.
Well, he’d make darn sure there wasn’t anything for his family to sense. His life was great just the way it was, and he didn’t see why that had to change.
If, for some ridiculous reason, when all was said and done, his interest in Chelsea didn’t abate, what then? Dylan’s heart rammed hard in his chest and sweat beaded on the back of his neck. He didn’t know. Didn’t want to know, either.
He simply wouldn’t go there again. Preferably with anyone, but absolutely not with a woman who could tie him into such tight knots so early in the game.
* * *
Later that morning, Chelsea stood outside in the cold bite of the wind and tried her best to mask her disappointment when the man from the junkyard offered her $350 for the Malibu. She’d hoped to get closer to five hundred, but really, any additional cash in her pocket gave her options that her broken-down, expensive-to-repair car did not.
Fact, yes, but losing the Malibu still stung.
Blinking back tears, she accepted the money the man counted into the palm of her hand. Now she and Henry were left with nothing but their clothes and the sparse personal belongings they’d brought with them. Some toys and books for Henry and a few—very few—pieces of memorabilia that held special meaning for Chelsea. Her son’s baby blanket and the sleeper he’d worn home from the hospital, a couple of photo albums and, finally, her grandmother Sophia’s recipe cards. The rest had been tossed or given to charity.
Earlier, after finding Henry preparing breakfast with Dylan’s mother, Chelsea and Dylan had brought the boxes and suitcases and Henry’s booster seat into the restaurant for safekeeping. Dylan had shared what had transpired that morning, and she had no memory of Henry waking her, so again, she was struck with that strange mix of gratitude and fear.
Gratitude that Dylan had heard Henry and had watched over him—heck, he and Margaret were watching him now while Chelsea dealt with this—and fear of what might have happened if he hadn’t. Truth was, she hadn’t slept that soundly in a very long time. Odd that she had relaxed enough to get any sleep, let alone in a new place with an unpredictable future facing her.
Even sharing breakfast with Dylan and his mother hadn’t been too awkward. Other than a few questions regarding Chelsea’s car, Margaret had kept the conversation to simple topics that involved Henry. Did he have a favorite toy? Had he learned the alphabet yet? Since he had, he then—naturally—had to prove so by reciting the letters. Not once, but twice.
Up until this very minute, Chelsea’s first morning in Steamboat Springs had gone as well as it possibly could. But selling her car was more difficult than she’d thought. Sighing, she stepped backward and watched as the man readied the vehicle to be towed. Failure, strong and consuming, slammed onto her shoulders. Where would she and her son sleep tonight? How many days or weeks or months would it take her to get them back on their feet?
Chelsea drew in a breath to steady herself and watched as the Malibu was hauled away. She waited until the truck and the car were completely out of sight before allowing herself one minute to feel the full weight of her emotions. Better here, alone, than inside and in front of Henry, who remained blissfully unaware of the shaky ground they now stood on.
Yesterday had been awful. And okay, she’d had other awful days and bounced back, but this felt scarier than anything they’d yet experienced. She didn’t have a home. Oh, God. Her son didn’t have a home. He didn’t have a bedroom or a bed or a place to store his books or toys. He didn’t have... Stop.
She’d had those things as a child, and she’d still been miserable. So, no, Henry might not have a bedroom or a bed right now, but he had her. And come hell or high water, she wouldn’t let him down. Straightening her spine—literally and figuratively—Chelsea wiped her eyes, shoved her fear and failure and panic into a corner, and headed for the restaurant.
Yesterday was over. Today would be better.
* * *
His family had shown up at the perfect time and for reasons unknown to him entered through the front of the restaurant. Haley, after learning the basic rundown from Dylan while their mother kept Henry occupied, had then
taken the boy to the other room so he could talk to everyone else. Fortunately, he hadn’t had to say much to get them on board.
The simple fact of keeping a mother and her young child off the streets had been more than enough, and a loose plan had been formed. Very loose and fairly flimsy, as far as plans went. Details still needed to be filled in and firmed, but it was better than nothing.
“Okay, she’s on her way back,” Dylan said, standing near the window.
“None of this might pan out,” Cole said. “I’m not entirely positive that Dee’s Deli even has an open position, and I have no idea where Chelsea and Henry might stay other than here or at a hotel. And this seems rushed, even to me. More time would be helpful.”
“Yup, it would. But we don’t have more time, and she won’t agree to stay here another night.” Dylan kept his eyes on Chelsea as she trekked through the parking lot. “A job comes first—the rest can follow. Reid? How fast can you find out if your pediatrician’s office is still hiring?”
“I’ll call Daisy when we’re done and see if she knows,” Reid said. “Cole’s right, though. A little more time would go a long way. To get to know Chelsea, for one thing. Easier to help her find a job if I can give her a personal recommendation.”
“She’s a good person and she needs a job. So, I don’t know, do it for me.”
“And you know she’s a good person how?” the patriarch of the family, Paul, asked. “Don’t get me wrong, son, we should do what is reasonable, but you’ve only known this woman for a few hours. Not hardly long enough to ask your brothers to put their word on the line.”
Frustrated, though unsure why—his father’s assessment matched his own brand of logic, after all—Dylan faced his family. Cole and Reid were standing near the door to the bar area, while his parents were at the table. “Because I... It’s one of those things, Dad. I just know. I’m supposed to do this.” Then, looking at his mother, he said, “You met her. What do you think?”
“I like her,” she said. “She seems lost right now, but perfectly sane and capable. And I’m pleased that you feel so strongly about helping her, which we will. But really, all we have to do is point her in the right direction. If the deli or the doctor’s office is hiring, take her to those places. Chelsea will either have the experience to merit an interview or she won’t.”
Yet again, the logic was sound, but Dylan’s frustration didn’t ease. That woman—Chelsea Bell—was getting to him, both her and her child, and he wanted to do more than merely send them in the right direction and hope they were okay. He wanted them to be set.
But okay, a ridiculous way to feel. Especially so fast.
“Right. That’s all I meant.” Another quick look out the window showed that Chelsea was nearing the door. “Why don’t you guys check in on Haley and Henry? Once I warn Chelsea you’re all here, I’ll bring her in for introductions.”
“You seem tense, Dylan,” Cole said, barely hiding his grin. “Makes me wonder if there’s something else we should know before meeting Chelsea?”
Cripes. “Like what? I have a busy day. I’m supposed to be at the sporting-goods store by twelve and at Reid’s by four-thirty. I’m juggling my responsibilities with trying to help Chelsea, and time is running short. That’s it.”
“The store will manage without you today,” Cole said. “Do what you need to do.”
“And if you can’t be at my place this afternoon, Daisy will understand,” Reid said without hesitation. “But something seems to be bothering you. Worries me, Dylan, since the way you’re behaving now is similar to when you—”
“Stop. Please,” Dylan said before Reid uttered Elise’s name. His mother’s intuition seemed to be spreading, and that was not a good sign. “I don’t want to add to Chelsea’s discomfort by having her walk into a room filled with strangers. So, vamoose already, okay?”
Paul, who’d watched the back-and-forth with a fair amount of interest, stood. “Move it,” he said to Reid and Cole. “No sense in arguing. We’ve agreed to help, and that’s that. Whatever else you want to know, you can ask later.”
Clamping his jaw shut, as if physically restraining himself from saying more, Reid nodded and exited the room, with Cole and their parents right behind him.
Three seconds later, Chelsea walked in.
Chapter Five
“You okay?” Dylan asked the instant the door closed behind Chelsea. She turned, and there he was, strong and tall and far too appealing for a man she’d only just met. He smiled and butterflies dipped and bobbed in her stomach, adding to her nerves. “That had to be tough, selling your car. Brave, too, though. I’m sorry you had to make such a choice.”
“Brave? Not hardly. It was the right choice.”
“Just because something is right doesn’t mean it’s easy.” He leaned against the wall, his arms angled over his chest, and looked her straight in the eyes. It was disconcerting. And more than a little intense. “You can argue if you want, but it won’t change my mind.”
Blinking to break the contact, she said, “Then I’ll change the subject. Thank you for watching Henry. I hope he behaved and didn’t cause too much trouble.”
“Nah. He wasn’t any trouble at all.” Dylan nodded toward the main area of the restaurant. “My family is here, and Haley sort of fell under your son’s spell. She wants to spend the day with him, thought she’d take him to her place. If you’re okay with the idea, naturally, but she—”
“Wait. Just wait a minute,” Chelsea interjected, taken off guard. “Why would your sister want to babysit a kid she barely knows? That seems odd.”
“Not odd at all. Haley loves kids. In fact,” Dylan said with a shrug, “she and her fiancé run a camp for foster children. The last group of boys left a week ago and the next won’t be here until a little closer to summer. I think the place feels empty to her now.”
“I see.” She tried to gather her thoughts, tried to put her finger on what bothered her the most about this offer, and the best she came up with was “While that must be terrific for the kids, having a camp like that, Henry isn’t a foster child. He also isn’t Haley’s responsibility. So, I’m guessing you asked her to babysit, and the only reason—”
“Whoa,” Dylan said, holding up a hand. “Stop for a second and take a breath.” She pressed her lips together and waited, but tapped her toe to show her impatience. “Did I say that Henry was a foster child or that I believe he is Haley’s responsibility?”
“No. But you seem to think that I’m the sort of mother who will pawn her child off on a stranger, and that’s not the type of parent I am.” Irritation darkened her voice. She had always seen to Henry’s welfare, which was why she had to get out of here. A job was not going to miraculously fall into her hands. “I take care of my son.”
“If I somehow implied you didn’t, I apologize.” Again, Dylan’s gaze hit her head-on. Again, her stomach dipped and bobbed. “But why are you so defensive? Are you in some type of trouble, Chelsea? Is someone, like Henry’s father, looking for you? If so, maybe I can—”
“What? Help?” Forget irritation. True-blue anger took center stage. Still, she kept her voice calm. Even. “Henry’s father isn’t in the picture. And you already know I’m in trouble. I’m without a job or a place to live.” One breath in, another out. “Instead of working on those issues, I’m stuck standing here, being questioned about areas of my life that are none of your concern.”
“Right. I know you came here for a job that no longer exists. I don’t know why or what happened, but I suppose if you felt like telling me, you would.” He waited, as if he thought she’d fill in the blanks. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat. “Also, you’re not stuck standing here. The door’s over there. Feel free to walk through it anytime you please. And I’m sorry for mentioning Henry’s father. You’re correct. Your personal life isn’t my business.”
“That’s right. It isn’t,” she said, appreciating his apology but not ready to let go of her temper. “And while I am gratefu
l for all of your assistance, it’s time for me and Henry to leave.”
“And go where?”
“A motel,” she said, hating the idea. Well, she hated all of this. The uncertainty and the unknowns. “I’ll just need to see the phone book again, to figure out which one is closest.”
“So you can walk there, with all your stuff and Henry?”
“Why not?” Doing so wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get the job done. Even if that meant making several trips to and from the restaurant. With Henry. In the still-cold, windy weather.
“That’s certainly one possibility, but will you hear me out first?” Dylan asked quietly, in such a tone that she’d be hard-pressed not to agree. “Please?”
And darn it, the please finished the job. She gave a short nod.
“It’s like this.” He spoke fast, as if worried she’d change her mind. “Haley and Henry were hanging out. She mentioned the camp. He asked a few questions about what the boys did while they were there, and he got all pumped over the idea of learning how to raise a tent. My sister offered to teach him, if you gave your permission. That’s it, Chelsea.”
She took in a lungful of air and gave herself a few seconds to regain her equilibrium. His explanation made sense, and she had no doubt that her son had, indeed, gone over the moon at the idea of learning how to put up a tent. But neither of those facts changed her decision.
“Then I’m sorry, too, for overreacting,” she said. “I’ve been off-kilter since losing my job, and you keep surprising me. But I can’t let Haley babysit Henry.”
“Why not?” Dylan countered. “Wouldn’t it be easier to job hunt and locate living arrangements without Henry tagging along?”
Logically, yes. Emotionally? Not at all. “You and your sister seem very nice, but I don’t really know either of you,” she said. “And I’m too uncomfortable with having my son somewhere I’ve never been, with someone I don’t really know. That has to make sense to you.”
“It does. Completely,” he said, without missing a beat. “How about a compromise? Take an hour to go to Haley’s with me, see how you feel then. If you become more comfortable, I’ll drive you to your motel and wherever else you want to go. If you’re not, then I’ll do the same, we’ll just take Henry with us. Either way, you won’t lose any time, since I’ll play chauffeur.”
Dylan's Daddy Dilemma (The Colorado Fosters Book 04) Page 6
