Page 66 of Daddy's Unexpected Gift

I kept the novel next to me so I would remember to check it out before I left. In the book, the sassy, quirky heroine ran her own business, and of course, the hot, shirtless yard guy working on her elderly neighbor’s house ended up being the neighbor’s hot grandson and the sassy heroine’s direct business competitor.

I couldn’t wait to see how they worked things out and realized they would be even more successful by merging the businesses. If only real life worked out so easily. I didn’t run a business, and I had a degree that was pretty much geared toward working in the public sector. But I wanted to afford rent and my car payments. That's how I ended up with a private agency. They simply paid better.

The same three jobs that I applied for the previous week were recommended to me again. This was frustrating. I either was going to have to search for a job outside of my training and interests or I was going to have to consider locations other than Dallas.

I had spent my entire life looking forward to moving to Dallas when I grew up. I wanted to be in Dallas over any other city in Texas. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I didn’t want to be in Amarillo. And I really didn’t want to relocate to Houston.

I spent as much time as I could on the computer before my stomach decided to betray me once more. I accepted defeat, checked out the book, and headed back to the apartment. There was some woman there who hadn’t been there earlier. Another new roomie.

She stepped out of my room. “You wouldn’t mind switching rooms with me, would you? This one is?—”

“What are you doing in my room?” I demanded.

“I was just looking around. They said another temp was staying here. But I like this room better,” she said, pointing into my bedroom.

I let out a long sigh.

“That’s my room. I’m not switching.”

“You aren’t very hospitable,” she complained.

I walked past her and into my room. “You’re right, I’m not. Complain to whoever you need to, but this is my room. I was here first, and I’ll be here after you leave.” I closed the door behind me.

I didn’t even get her name that first night. She watched TV entirely too loudly, but I had my revenge. The tacos I had for dinner staged another revolt, and I spent most of the night throwing up. I know she heard me because she complained about it.

In the morning, I texted my boss to explain why I would be late. Food poisoning. I waited until after my roommate left to shower and get ready for work. She left the bathroom a mess. Her makeup and feminine hygiene products were everywhere. She must have never lived with a roommate before.

So far, she was a nightmare, and I didn’t even know her name.

I tried to neatly move her things aside so I could use the sink. I didn’t want her blaming me if her makeup got ruined. I picked up the box of tampons and stopped. Tampons. How had I not needed to buy any of these since I had been in Amarillo?

I tried to calculate when my period was. I couldn’t remember last month. I thought I was due for one the week I moved. But… No, it was just stress messing with my body.

But I had been throwing up off and on for at least two weeks now. There was no way I kept getting food poisoning from the taco truck. Their food was too good. If it was bad, I wouldn’t crave it so much.

I set the box down on the counter.

I had cravings.

Oh, shit. I was going to need to be even later for work. I had to go buy a pregnancy test and cross my fingers that I failed it.

35

STERLING

A week later…

“This place is a dump,” I said as I pulled into the apartment complex where Cecelia was living. I pulled the SUV over into a guest parking space and checked the address the PI texted to me.

It was the right place. Apartment 3A, ground floor, back. The complex was one of those made up of several long two-story buildings arranged in a U-shape. There were two clusters of those, making up two public courtyards. Apartments lined the inner side of the U, and some were located along the outside. The walkways and stairs were along the outside of her building.

I navigated the car around the side of the building where her apartment should be. I recognized her car and parked next to it. I unfastened Georgie’s car seat and carried it with me. She was asleep. It had been a long ride.

I spent most of the time talking to her, letting her know what we were up to. I had continued to talk, mostly to myself but out loud, even after I knew she had fallen asleep.

I found apartment 3A and knocked. I stepped back so that if Cecelia looked out the window or through a peephole in the door, she would be able to see me clearly. Nerves I hadn’t expected or experienced in a very long time made me antsy.

The door opened. A woman with a purse hooked over her shoulder answered the door. She was dressed to go clubbing in a short form-fitting dress and towering heels. Her hair was slicked back, and her jewelry was oversized. She started when she first saw me, then she scanned me up and down like she was checking me out. “Who are you?” She leaned against the open doorjamb.

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