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

Daisy’s place to check in on his sister-in-law and his four-month-old niece and nephew, Charlotte and Alexander.
    Twins. Who would’ve guessed?
    Not Reid. Apparently, the sight of two babies on the ultrasound monitor had thrown Dylan’s typically stoic older brother into a state of near collapse. Or, as Daisy had explained, “His face turned white and he almost fainted in shock.”
    Hard to imagine, that. But Reid’s job as a ski patroller, along with the help he provided the family’s businesses, meant extralong, exhausting hours during the winter season. Since September, Dylan—well, all of the Fosters, really—had taken to dropping in on a daily basis. First to keep Daisy company—and appease Reid’s concerns, which had grown at the same rate as the size of Daisy’s stomach—in the last months of her pregnancy, and now to lend a hand. And Dylan enjoyed hanging with Daisy and helping with the babies.
    Well, okay, he wasn’t all that fond of spit-up. Or changing diapers. But the rest of it was good. Family, in Dylan’s estimation, was all that really mattered.
    After his stint there, he’d return to the pub by seven to tend the bar. Another long day awaited him, and this one he’d have to tackle with limited energy. Easier knowing it was the last crazy day of the season and that he’d then have more than enough hours to refuel.
    Without thought, he tipped his head toward the room Chelsea and Henry slept in and mentally added them to his to-do list for the day. That car would have to be towed, and hopefully repaired, early enough so they could be on their way. They
had
to be on their way, quick-like, before he gave in to the impulse to fix not only her car, but her life.
    Henry’s words rang in Dylan’s ears.
She’d cried.
And at some point they hadn’t owned beds, so they’d slept in a fort. Of course, that could mean something as simple as they’d just moved and their furniture had yet to be delivered. Could mean that.
    But he didn’t think it did.
    Closing his eyes, Dylan mentally replayed everything he’d seen and heard since Chelsea had first walked into Foster’s. Her body language, her words—what she’d admitted to and what she hadn’t, what he could only speculate on—the fear and desperation he’d recognized in her expression and the bits of information that Henry had inadvertently shared.
    He’d already pieced together enough, even before finding her stranded in her car, to realize she was in a jam. Until this minute, though, he’d categorized her current predicament as a momentary spell of bad luck. Most people had family and friends to rely on in such moments, to get them through to better days. While he hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought, somewhere in his brain he’d assumed she had the same and that when she returned home—wherever home was—she’d have that support. But dammit, his gut told him that wasn’t the case.
    And if so, what was he to do about that?
    The sound of a door opening, followed by a quick gasp of surprise, interrupted his thought process. When he looked, he saw the woman herself, plastered against the door frame, wearing a long pink T-shirt and loose, candy-cane-striped pajama bottoms. Tension tightened her mouth, and all he wanted to do was make her smile.
    “It occurs to me,” he said with what he hoped was a friendly, not-threatening-at-all tenor, “that I’ve yet to learn your last name. You know mine, but in case you forgot, it’s Foster.”
    “Oh. Um...our last name is Bell,” she said, her voice holding that husky, barely awake quality. Also, though, a thread of wariness. “Chelsea and Henry Bell.”
    “Nice to officially meet you, Chelsea Bell,” Dylan said, curious if a Mr. Bell existed somewhere or if Chelsea had simply never married and Henry had her name. Dammit. He shouldn’t care. “Something wake you or were you looking for me?”
    “I... No, not looking for you. I thought I’d get a bottle of water, but I didn’t