Page 45 of More Than a Helping Hand

“Thanks.” He tucks the controllers into the cabinet. “I’ll let my dad know.”

We load up in the truck, and before I make it to the clinic, Bailey has the thousand-yard-stare happening. She works and plays hard when she stays at the ranch, and it’s not a surprise that she’s tired.

When we pull up outside the double doors of the clinic, I shoot off a text to Primrose.

Me:Right outside.

She hurries out a minute later and opens the back door. “I’m so sorry, Bailey.”

“That’s okay, Mom. I had fun at the ranch.”

Primrose smiles, but exhaustion radiates off her. “I’m glad. Be good for Anderson, okay? Brush your teeth and crawl in bed. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

Bailey opens her arms to give her mom a hug. “Can DeeDee read me a story?”

Primrose nods. “If he wants to, he can.”

I don’t even pretend that I’m not watching the entire interaction in the rearview mirror.

After closing the back door, Primrose comes to my window. “Here are the keys. I have a second set that I’ve been meaning to give to Parker. So lock yourself in, and if you fall asleep, I won’t be stranded outside. Thank you for this.”

“I’m happy to help. And the chances of my falling asleep on your couch are pretty good.”

“We’ll chat when I get home.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Bye, Mom!” Bailey waves as we pull away, then covers her yawn. “Can I stay up when we get home? I’m not tired.”

“I think after getting ready for bed and reading a book, you’ll probably be getting sleepy.”

Fifteen minutes later, I carry a sleeping Bailey into the apartment. After laying her in bed, I slip off her shoes, then pull the covers over her.

Bailey doesn’t look like Brooke, but being around this little girl brings up so many memories. I stroke Bailey’s hair and whisper, “Good night, Munchkin.”

In the living room, I kick off my boots and drop onto the couch. If I turn on the TV, maybe I can stay awake until Primrose gets home.

CHAPTER17

PRIMROSE

Long after my shift was supposed to end, I’m walking into my apartment. The TV is on, and Anderson is awkwardly stretched out on my couch. The side of his face is plastered to a throw pillow, and legs are hanging off the last cushion.

Quietly, I set my purse on the table and tiptoe to the couch. I’m too tired to sort through my emotions right now, but the dangerous combination of gratitude and attraction has me wanting to throw caution to the wind. Would it be bad to let Bailey know we are dating?

Then I think of the look on her face when that door slammed after Derek stormed out. While most of me wants to believe Anderson isn’t capable of behaving like Derek, I can’t take that chance. I never want to see that look on Bailey’s face again.

As much as I hate waking the man, he’ll be sore if I leave him here, and if Bailey wakes up and finds him in my bed—even if I’m on the couch—who knows what she’ll say or who she’ll tell. The least I can do is make it a pleasant wake-up.

I lean over him and press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, just above his whiskers.

An arm snakes around my waist, and in a second, I’m on top of him.

“Hey.” He grins. “Your couch is comfy. But small.”

“I thought you were asleep.” Instead of pushing off him, I rest my head on his chest, hoping Bailey doesn’t choose now to walk out here.

Seemingly telepathic, he shifts me off him and sits up. “I was, but then a beautiful princess kissed me and—poof—I woke up.”

---