That’s why I don’t panic when she huffs out a frustrated breath, shifts the little girl in her arms, and says, “Well you should start trying to remember, because this is your daughter.”
2
Ruth
This is not going the way I expected.
I assumed Tucker Bradshaw would be horrified by my arrival. Shocked to discover a woman claiming to be the mother of his child standing on the doorstep of his mansion first thing in the morning. I figured he would at least be a little panicked. Concerned at the possibility he might have a daughter he knows nothing about.
But Tucker Bradshaw is none of those things. He’s not horrified. Certainly not panicked. And the look on his face is anything but shocked.
The man is actually smiling at me. Grinning from ear to ear like he’s happy to see me.
And what a grin it is. Perfect teeth, full lips, a dimple in one cheek… There’s no question about how Tucker ended up with the reputation he has. I imagine panties have a hard time maintaining their position in his presence.
Not mine though. My panties will be staying firmly in place. Probably forever, since taking them off is what got me where I am now.
Still grinning, Tucker sweeps an arm into his home while taking a step back. “Why don’t you come inside? No reason to stand out there like some sort of stranger.” He gives me a wink. “Especially since you’re sure we’re not strangers.”
Is he… Is he flirting with me?
No. Can’t be. That would be terrible. Worse than terrible.
It would mean the plan I hoped was the answer to my problems isn’t as fail-proof as I thought. Could even end up being the worst decision I’ve made.
Which is really saying something.
But I’m in too deep to turn back now. Nodding my head, I take a deep breath and cross the threshold, tucking Birdie a little closer as I take in the sprawling expanse of the structure he calls home.
The place is beyond huge and clearly custom. From the richly stained hardwood floors to the soaring ceilings, everything about it is perfectly crafted. There’s intricate crown molding and baseboards. Built-in shelving and cabinets line at least one wall of every room I pass. The kitchen is a masterpiece all by itself, with a gigantic island, cupboards that stretch high enough I would need a ladder to reach inside, and two sinks.
I don’t know why in the world someone would need a second sink in the kitchen, but apparently Tucker does. He also knows looks aren’t everything, because not only is his home aesthetically pleasing, it smells delicious. A cozy, warm scent floats through the air, reminding me of the high-end hotel where I work.
Usedto work. Right up until the man trying to ruin my life made sure I lost my job and every friend I thought I had.
I knew Tucker Bradshaw was wealthy, but this is insane. I can’t even imagine how much money went into building this place. It makes the apartment I’m in the process of packing up look like a closet.
It also gives me hope that maybe I haven’t screwed up asmuch as I initially thought. It’s possible he simply didn’t want me standing on the porch where someone could see me, and brought me in here to make an offer I can’t refuse.
Literally. I cannot refuse it. It’s what’s going to keep me and my daughter safe. It’s how we’re going to start over. It’s what will make it possible for me to give Birdie a happy life.
Just like my mother gave me.
“You want something to drink?” Tucker opens a cabinet door, and I nearly gasp when it’s actually a refrigerator. “I’ve got water, milk, and orange juice.” He turns to flash me a grin over one broad shoulder. “It’s a little early for beer or gin, but I won’t judge you.”
He probably should, but not due to the timing of any alcohol consumption. Judgment should be handed down because I came here planning to essentially extort a man who’s being weirdly nice to me.
It’s nothing personal. Desperate times simply call for desperate measures.
And I am desperate. Desperate enough to claim I slept with the youngest Bradshaw brother.
To be fair, I’m probably one of the few women in the area whohasn’tslept with him, so how bad is it really? Odds are, he does have a kid out there somewhere.
It’s just not mine.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” Birdie starts to shift on my hip, flailing her little legs because she’s tired of being carried. Or more accurately, tired of being restrained.
My daughter is a handful. She’s curious and fearless and full of energy and excitement. Regardless of how she came into my life, I honestly can’t imagine it without her. Sometimes I wish she could find just a little bit of patience, though. Times like right now. Because I am one hundred percent positive Tucker does not want my little tornado tearing through his luxury home.
