Dylan's Daddy Dilemma (The Colorado Fosters Book 04) by Tracy Madison Read Free Book Online

don’t like it when she cries.”
    Emotion clogged Chelsea’s throat. She hadn’t realized Henry had heard her crying.
    Dylan blinked once, twice. “I don’t like it when my mom cries, either. So you’re welcome, Henry. I’m glad I can help. And don’t give up on camping just yet. It can be fun when the weather is nice and you have a warm sleeping bag and a campfire to roast marshmallows.”
    “That would be fun,” Henry said, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe you can take me and Mommy camping sometime? I don’t think she’d know how to make a campfire.”
    “Oh, I think I could figure it out,” Chelsea said, feeling the very real need for solitude. To think. To rest. To gather her bearings. She looked at Dylan and moved her lips into some semblance of a smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice firm. “But I can take it from here.”
    She led Henry in the direction of the room Dylan had said they could sleep in, and just as she opened the door, she heard him say, “You’re welcome, Chelsea.”
    And strangely, even with the turmoil of the day and her extreme unease at accepting help from anyone, let alone a man she’d only just met, the sound of Dylan’s voice in that second added a level of comfort, of safety, into her swirling emotions. There was something about him that tugged at her sensibilities, made her want to lean into him and...just let him take care of all the messy details. And how screwed up was that?
    She was fine on her own. Well, mostly fine.
    The last thing she needed in her complicated life was another complication. Even so, as she made up the sofas with the blankets and pillows she found in the closet, she remembered her earlier wish—to have allowed just one trustworthy person into her life—and she couldn’t help but wonder if she let her guard down enough, if maybe Dylan would prove to be that person.
    Unlikely—because, as he’d so plainly said, he was only doing what any decent person would do—but it was a nice thought. Nice and...hopeful. And right now she’d take any bit of hope she could find. She’d wanted, had prayed, for a new fresh start to present itself.
    Perhaps this night, her car’s demise and trusting in Dylan’s words and accepting his help—for tonight
only
—was the beginning of a better life. For her and for Henry. Perhaps.
    If not, well, she’d gone down that road plenty. It was familiar, if not friendly, ground.
    * * *
    Yawning, Dylan attempted for what had to be the hundredth time to find a comfortable way to sleep while stretched out between two straight-backed, hard-as-a-rock meeting-table chairs. He carefully maneuvered his arm behind his head to function as a cushion and at the same time flexed his legs to try loosening his tight muscles.
    Bad idea. The movement was enough to overturn the chair his feet rested on, and in three seconds flat, he’d toppled to the floor. He pulled himself to a sitting position and pressed his forehead against his knees. Nope. Using those chairs as a bed couldn’t be done.
    Not by him, at any rate.
    If he’d had his wits about him, he’d have grabbed a blanket and a pillow before Chelsea and Henry had turned in for the night. Now their door was closed and he guessed—based on Chelsea’s earlier concerns—locked tight. At this point, he’d be fortunate to grab a meager four hours of shut-eye, let alone the nine he’d originally hoped for.
    Hell. Luck had nothing to do with it. Even if he somehow managed to contort his body in such a way to relax enough to fall asleep, thoughts of the woman and her child in the next room would keep him awake. Standing, he shoved the chairs back into their normal positions and went to the fridge for a bottle of water. He’d gone without sleep before—he’d get by.
    Unscrewing the cap, he took a long swig and considered his options. Morning would come fast. He was supposed to clock in at the sporting-goods store by twelve, where he’d work until four. Then he’d stop by Reid and