Page 40 of Sexy Bad Daddy

“We loved the sandwiches we had here yesterday,” I call out to the man, who’s still shaking his head.

“You can get them at the bar,” he says, stabbing his finger with more fervor.

“Okay, okay.” I raise my hands in surrender as my phone vibrates in my purse. It’s a text from Garrett. He’s drawn number twelve, which means we don’t have a lot of time to make our way to the first hole to watch him tee off.

“Come on, Erin,” Abby says, and I let her drag me down the path running along the back of the building. “Can we sit at the bar?” she asks when we reach the door and she tugs it open. I glance up at the length of mahogany wood separating us from a dark-haired woman with her back to us, stacking glasses on shelves above a sink.

“If they card you, say you left your ID in the car,” I reply, which causes her to giggle as we make our way to two empty stools.

The bartender whips around like she’s heard a gunshot, and her eyes widen as she stares at us. More specifically, at Abby. Uh-oh. Is this a groupie? Somebody who saw one of the pics Callum has been steadily feeding to the media to keep them happy and at the same time counteract Garrett’s playboy image?

“On second thought, maybe we should wait,” I say, grabbing Abby’s hand. We’ve had a few interactions with fans who tried to grill her for information about her dad. Garrett was furious and wanted to immediately hire a security detail to follow us around, but I talked him out of it. Those fans hadn’t been obnoxious, and they’d backed off as soon as I asked them to.

“Abby?” The bartender whispers her name, and Abby glances at her, furrowing her brow like she’s trying to place the woman.

“Mommy?”

What? Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Oh. Shit.

Abby’s mom? I study her face for a few seconds before she hurries to the end of the bar where there’s an opening so she can reach us. And I see it. The slant of Abby’s eyes. The color is all Garrett, but that slight lift at the outside, that’s the same as this woman. Her mouth, too, is the same. And her hair, although to be fair, Garrett has dark hair, too. But his is wavy, and Abby and this woman both have bone-straight strands.

I’m frozen in place as she crouches down in front of Abby. I’d say she’s my age, maybe a little older. Pretty, although the lines on her face tell me bartending is significantly harder than nannying.

She reaches out and tentatively touches Abby’s face while blinking against tears I can see welling around her eyelashes. The child glances up at me, like she wants my permission to interact, and I want to cry myself. I should whisk her away, head straight to the airport, get her home to a place where I know I can protect her from the heartbreak that will likely come of this meeting. Suddenly, that turkey and Swiss croissant sounds terrible, and surely, we would have time to get a sausage biscuit from McDonald’s.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” the woman says. She swipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, sugar, it’s so good to see you again. I—I never thought I would.” She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob, while Abby inches closer to me, holding my hand in a death grip.

Okay, I admit it, I’ve given plenty of thought to why Abby’s mother might have handed over full custody of the child Garrett hadn’t even known he had. I’ve always assumed she was a druggie or that rare form of human being who has no capacity to love anyone, not even her own offspring.

I never imagined she was a bartender at a country club who would start crying the moment she saw her child again. She gave her up—willingly. Not only that, but she didn’t even tell Garrett she’d gotten pregnant with his kid until Abby was two years old.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” Abby’s tiny voice makes my own eyes begin to water. I glance around, looking for someone who might resemble security. With our executive passes and our connection to Garrett, I should be able to find an escort who will get us the hell out of this situation.

The woman cups Abby’s cheek. “I wanted to, sugar. I really did. I can’t tell you how much it broke my heart to let you go. But it looks like you have a good life. You’re happy, right? Your daddy’s treating you all right?”

Abby nods.

“And this lady. This is your nanny?”

How does she know that? Oh wait, Garrett’s a celebrity in the circles in which this woman works.

Abby bobs her head again. “We’re going to watch Daddy golf today.”

“I saw he was on the roster. I never imagined he’d bring you with him.”

Did Garrett know she would be here? Why in God’s name would he bring us along to this tournament, out of the thirty or so he participates in every year? What the hell was he thinking?

After another moment, she straightens and shifts her attention to me. “I’m Morgan Mathern. Um, Abby’s mom. In case you didn’t, you know, get it.” She thrusts her hand at me and I actually consider not shaking, but social graces force me to slide my hand into hers. Her skin’s rough and dry, and her nails are short and unpainted. Probably not atypical of someone who schleps drinks for a living.

“I think I’ve managed to put two and two together. I’m Erin Sanders. Like you said, Abby’s nanny.”

She pulls her hand away and stuffs both into the back pockets of her khaki skirt. Her gaze darts around the room. “Y’all want to come sit at the bar? I’ll get you something to drink.”

“Chocolate milk,” Abby pipes up, and Morgan smiles through her tears.

“Still your favorite drink, huh?”

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