Page 68 of Broken Daddy

Nate is working shirtless, bent over another spec sheet. A dull pencil is slotted behind his ear, a freshly sharpened one in his hand as he jots down some kind of list.

“Hey.”

I make an effort to say it quietly, but Nate still jumps. He turns and I can’t help my gaze dragging down his bare chest to that V-cut at his waist, the chiseled lines leading down into his dark jeans.

My eyes hit his work boots and I swallow. Am I really stillthisattracted to him, or is it pregnancy hormones?

“Hey. You surprised me.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just—what’s that?”

The drawing on the work bench catches my attention. Nate moves to the side so I can see it. His shoulders stiffen. “It’s a gift. For a family member.”

The strained way he says it has me curious. I know he and Chris have argued, and I haven’t tried to eavesdrop, but the two of them have such strong, deep voices. It’s hard not to overhear…so I know something about a DNA test happened recently.

Did the Sharpe brothers discover an unknown relative?

As a product of the foster care system, that piques my curiosity. But it isn’t my place to ask, so I take in the drawing—some kind of hope chest, intricately carved along the front—and I hum in appreciation.

Slowly, Nathan’s shoulders relax. When he starts breathing in a calmer rhythm, I decide to broach the subject.

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

He frowns at the professional bent to my tone. A businessman himself, Nathan probably knows this conversation might lead somewhere a little tense.

I can’t imagine why he’d want to keep me here, though. He’s done more than enough hiring me for the summer, letting me stay in the house with that psycho out there, and even driving me to my OB-GYN appointment.

Really, I couldn’t ask for more.

“Sure. Here.”

He leads me farther into the barn, where I haven’t been before. For the first time, I notice what I thought was a stall is actually an office. The door is still a half door, bottom only, but a desk lamp bathes the comfortable space in a glow. There’s a leather couch along the far wall, a desk, computer, and a chair.

There’s even a photo of Nathan, Eva, and a dark-haired woman who must be Julia on the wall just over his desk.

He gestures toward the couch, but I end up staying near the door and leaning against the wall. Shoving my hair out of my face, I try to keep a neutral expression when Nathan sighs.

“It’s bad, whatever it is, isn’t it?”

A forced brightness in my voice, I say, “Not at all! Actually, I got some really great news.”

His brows furrow immediately. “About the baby?”

Does he always worry this much? It wouldn’t surprise me; he’s as brooding as those storm clouds outside.

“No…well, it kind of involves the baby. But it’s not from the doctor’s office or anything.” I rush the reassurance out as Nate sits down, moving the chair closer.

We’re only a few feet apart. He’s eye level with my chest, and all of a sudden, I imagine climbing into his lap. Scratching this itch that’s been keeping me up late at night as I twist and turn in the very bed he had me in that time we…

Blinking the thought away, I try to focus on the task at hand.

“I might have an offer on the table for work soon.”

His brow lifts, green eyes genuinely interested.

“Really? Back in the restaurant industry?”

With a nod, I explain, “It’s with a top restaurant, actually. I’d have a shot at another Michelin star.”

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