Page 19 of Unlikely Guardian

Not really. Yes, Jason had legal custody, but he’d gotten that custody only because she hadn’t been able to care for her daughter.

Now, that had all changed.

Well, sort of.

Lilly gave herself an internal hard look similar to one she’d gotten from Jason, and she realized that their stalemate would soon turn into a huge problem. First of all, she wasn’t even sure she could totally revoke Jason’s custodial rights. Not without a long legal battle, anyway. During that time, her daughter would be pulled between the two of them.

But what was the alternative?

Shared custody?

Lilly could barely contain a laugh. The idea of Jason and her amicably sharing a child for, well, the rest of their lives seemed impossible. Heck, despite the danger and that now-infamous hug, they couldn’t stop snipping at each other for a fifteen-minute ride.

Yes, indeed. A huge problem.

Jason pulled into the driveway of a single-story, red-brick house with smoke-gray shutters. Modest, but pristine. Very much a family house in a family neighborhood. Unlike his former place in a singles-only apartment complex. He hadn’t lived there because he was a player, either. She remembered Greg explaining that with Jason’s shift work and late-night undercover duties, he preferred not to live next to families with children.

Times had certainly changed.

Lilly did a quick check in the vanity mirror on the visor to see if she looked as windblown as she felt. She did. Of course, it was hard to tell with her choppy hair gathered up into a ponytail. She wasn’t a vain person, but once things settled down, she’d be making an appointment with her hairdresser.

Jason got out, retrieved her wheelchair. She considered trying to walk on her own. Briefly considered it. But then decided that falling flat on her butt wouldn’t make a good impression on Megan or the nanny. So Lilly didn’t make even a grumble of a protest when Jason scooped her up into his arms and deposited her in the wheelchair.

“You’re angry,” she said, noting his expression.

“You’re right.”

Well, that anger would likely increase a hundredfold once she informed him about the discussion she’d had that morning with her attorney. Lilly was dreading what Jason and she would say to each other once he knew. And unfortunately, she would have to tell him soon—after she met her daughter.

She placed her hands on the wheels, but Jason took over that task, as well. Again, no protest from her. During the past two days she’d discovered she was lousy at steering the chair, too. Besides, he could get her there faster, and speed suddenly seemed to be a critical issue. She didn’t want to wait even a second longer to see Megan.

He pushed her up the flagstone walkway lined with Mexican heather. Actual flowers. Yep. She really was going to have to adjust the old mental image she had of Jason. She’d only known him as the brooding loner, rebel-with-a-cause for justice, who was married to the badge. This wasn’t the residence of a married-to-the-badge workaholic.

This was a home.

A home that Jason had created because of Megan.

That put a rather large knot in the pit of her stomach. This wasn’t a competition between Jason and her, but it sure felt like one.

And he clearly had the advantage.

All the vanilla-white plantation blinds in the front window were closed. Probably a security precaution. Lilly half expected the richly stained wooden front door to open to reveal Erica and Megan standing there, ready to greet her. That didn’t happen. Not only didn’t the door open, it was double locked. Jason used his key so they could go inside.

The security system immediately kicked in with a buzzing sound, and he entered the code on the keypad near the door to stop the alarm from engaging. With each of these mundane, necessary actions, her heart beat even faster.

He pushed her wheelchair into the foyer. “Erica?” he called.

Nothing. No response whatsoever. And for one brief, terrifying moment, Lilly considered that the possessive nanny had nabbed Megan and gone on the run rather than risk losing the child. But then she heard the sound. Or rather, she heard the three sounds that happened simultaneously. Jason’s cell phone rang, and there was a little high-pitched squeak, followed by a shuffle of movement.

Footsteps.

And there she was. The little girl responsible for the millions of butterflies in Lilly’s stomach.

Megan Maria Lawrence.

Her daughter came barreling out of the room to the right of the foyer. Not a steady barreling, either. Every step seemed awkward and off balance, but somehow, amazingly, she stayed on her feet and didn’t come to a stop until her gaze landed on Lilly.

Apparently sizing her up, Megan stood there dressed in pink overalls and a white cotton shirt with soft eyelet lace on the collar. Her auburn curls danced around her face.

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