Page 19 of His Surrender

The weirdest part?

It’s right next to Dean’s.

He said it would make the middle-of-the-night feedings easier if we were both close to Liana’s nursery, which we are apparently going to start having her use next week.

She’s been sleeping in a bassinet next to Dean’s bed.

Logically, it makes perfect sense.

Unfortunately, logic isn’t the part of my brain currently in charge.

Because all I can think about is the fact that Dean Ledger is sleeping on the other side of that wall.

I close my eyes and groan.

Seriously, Aubrey?

You’re here to help take care of his daughter.

Not fantasize about your teenage crush.

Good to know fifteen-year-old me is apparently alive and well.

After I finish unpacking, I realize I can’t hide in my room all night.

As tempting as that sounds, I have to rip the Band-Aid off eventually.

I’m going to be living with this man for the foreseeable future. The sooner I stop feeling like an awkward houseguest, tiptoeing around his penthouse, the better.

Besides … I’m not here because of Dean. I’m here because of Liana.

The sweetest little girl I’ve ever met.

Her bright blue eyes are a perfect match to her dad’s, though somehow, they seem even bigger, framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. She has a head full of dark hair, warm olive skin, and the kind of tiny gummy smile that makes it impossible not to smile back.

I’ve only known her for a few hours, but I’m already completely smitten.

Maybe that’s because babies have a way of wrapping people around their tiny fingers without even trying.

Or maybe it’s because every time I look at her, I see a little girl who had her whole world turned upside down before she was old enough to understand it.

Whatever the reason, I already know one thing.

If I’m going to be living here, I’m going to love that little girl like she’s family.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I smooth my hands down the front of my T-shirt before opening my bedroom door.

The penthouse is quiet.

I follow the faint glow of the kitchen lights and round the corner just as Dean reaches into a cabinet above the counter. Liana lets out a fussy cry from the bouncer beside him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, grabbing a bottle from the drying rack. “I’m almost done.”

I pause in the doorway, watching him.

He’s changed into a pair of gray athletic shorts and a T-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. He looks exhausted, but there’s something oddly comforting about seeing him in such an ordinary moment.

Not billionaire Dean.