Page 146 of Daddy By Design

“I haven’t had an idea since well before the accident.” I was ready to throw the storage unit into the damn lake just so I didn’t have to think about it.

“If this place doesn’t bring it back, nothing will.”

I was quite sure that nothing would.

I got to my feet and dusted off the sand. “Just use the card you’ve been using for supplies for your room. I hear they feed you well there too.”

“Think a little surf and turf is calling my name.”

I shook my head. Archer had no problem spending my money. The kicker was, he had plenty, but the asshole was forever busting my balls.

The crew had broken down for the day, and it was quiet. I took a few minutes to walk around and check in on the basement pour. It would take quite a while to cure, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about critters trying to get into my damn house. The front porch was just about done.

Archer had been working on the domed archway. He’d matched it to the Gothic style and modernized it just a little. Streamlined a few elements since the lake effect battered the house with both snow and ice in the winters. Not to mention the ever-present humidity.

The door was on order and would be in around the same time as the windows, so the front of the house would be done before September.

After the roof was done, then we’d build out the Widow’s Walk so it was safe to look out at night.

I wondered if Harriette had spent time up there. If Archer hadn’t been fucking with me, it sounded as if he’d found one of the journals like Dahlia had. Seemed like there was more story to tell when it came to our resident ghost.

I caught a shadow in the window of the tower room. Would she be happy with a baby in the house finally?

I guess we’d find out.

Satisfied that things were as in order as possible, I headed back to the Airstream. This whole chaotic renovation thing made me itchy as hell, but I knew it would be worth it in the end.

I climbed the few stairs inside, and Gizmo scampered out to meet me. “Where’s your mama?”

Gizmo chirped at me and wound around my ankles.

“Still sleeping?”

He sat down and pawed at the air with another series of chirps. And that would be the feed me language. Then again, Gizmo was always looking for food.

I opened up his preferred can of the week. Ever-changing diet for this one, but at the moment, he seemed to be happy with Chicken Delight or whatever it was called. I scooped out a full can since we’d been distracted, and I wasn’t sure he’d gotten a full helping today.

Not that the tubby cat was starving in any way.

I gave him a long stroke down his back, then I checked on Dahlia. She was curled onto her side, her dark hair spread out on my gray sheets, out for the count. She probably needed to eat, but I didn’t want to wake her. I stopped in for a shower, then I climbed in beside her.

She might still be mad at me, but her body knew what it wanted. She turned in her sleep and found me, laying her head on my bare chest.

For now, that was enough.

THIRTY

Sleeping in a king-sized bed was a novelty I could get used to. Especially when my cat slept above my head and a warm, half-naked guy was beside me.

I vaguely remembered curling into him, but the lure of sleep had been far too strong, and I’d slept right through until dawn.

Now Nolan was in his usual climber’s pose. This time, his arm was under my pillow as if he was reaching for me in his sleep.

It was a rarity for him to be comfortable enough to leave off a shirt. I had to admit he’d surprised the hell out of me when he’d whipped off the shirt during his...confession?

Maybe that was a dramatic word for it, but he’d literally stripped himself bare for me.

There was far more pain wrapped up in him than I’d even first imagined. It had taken everything in me not to wrap myself around him and beg him to stop telling me about him being alone in his workshop.

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