Page 17 of Daddy By Design

I glanced through our gorgeous window before I walked in the front door to make sure there were no surprise clients inside. A quick swell of pride hit me at our logo etched in the glass. Classy and strong with a touch of feminine, thanks to the mix of traditional and script fonts. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on one’s glass full mentality—there was no one inside other than TJ and Shelby.

Quickly, I slipped through the door and tried to rush for my office.

“What the hell happened to you?” TJ’s deep and authoritative voice boomed.

I winced. “You’ll never believe it.”

“With you, we will. You might be our problem solver, but it’s mostly because you always back into some sort of drama. What happened this time? Freak hurricane?”

“Har-har.” I slumped into a chair at the conference table. “Ow.”

Shelby disappeared into our breakroom and came back out with our first aid kit—pink, of course. Couldn’t have a plain one. This one was filled by our resident mother with all the things we needed for bumps, cuts, scrapes, as well as meds for any and all versions of headache, cramps, allergies, or sickness. Shelby was a thorough one.

She sat next to me, took one look, and cracked one of the quick acting ice packs. “Honestly, what happened? Do we need to go to the clinic?”

That was Shelby—cool and calm in the face of a crisis, but I did see the worry in her eyes.

I patted her arm. “I’m okay.”

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded and started ripping open bandages. “Do we need to bury a body?”

I laughed. “Not yet. That remains to be seen. So, remember my truck guy?”

“Little Dick?” TJ grinned as she pulled a chair over so the three of us formed a little triangle. “I feel there’s a story time upon us.” She gathered her feet under her and sat crisscrossed in the wide, comfortable chair.

Shelby gave her sharp look.

“I haven’t been to a work site. Boots are clean, Ma.”

“They’re never clean.”

Shelby put a towel on the desk and unscrewed the cap on a brown bottle that would make me very unhappy in a second. Resigned to my fate, I set my arm on top of the thick black towel.

TJ rolled her eyes and her Timberlands thudded to the floor, then she crossed her legs normally and leaned in. “Now give me the story.”

I hissed as Shelby poured peroxide onto my worst cut. “Ouch.”

“At least you don’t need stitches, but this is going to be sore.”

I looked away from the disinfectant bubbles going wild on my skin. Ugh. “That was the worst of them. So, I went out to my house to clear my head.”

Shelby narrowed her eyes. “Not surprising with all you’ve had going on this week.”

I gave a gusty sigh. “That’s the truth. Ouch, dammit, Shel.”

“I gotta get it clean. Stop wiggling.”

Distracting myself with thoughts of my favorite house, I closed my eyes against the blood. It didn’t make me faint or anything, but I didn’t need to see how badly I was banged up. Of course that opened me up to a flashback of all that wood and stone coming at me.

“So, truck guy bought my house.”

“What?” TJ clapped and gave a gusty cackle. “That’s so rich.”

I opened one eye.

“Sorry, sorry. Go on.” TJ sat back, her lips twitching against a smile.

“I saw the sold sign and heard someone demolishing the back of the house. If the shock of finding out my house was sold wasn’t enough, I ran around the back to see this behemoth of a man whacking at the posts of the porch with a sledgehammer.”

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