Dylan's Daddy Dilemma (The Colorado Fosters Book 04) (13 page)

She moaned—a light, airy, barely there type of sound—and his blood grew hotter. His desire became more profound. His need more desperate. Spreading his palms on the small of her back, he pressed her slender body tighter to his and deepened the kiss. All the while wishing they were somewhere else. Somewhere more private. Somewhere they couldn’t be interrupted and he could pull her sweater off over her head and feel the heat of her bare skin against his.

“Dylan,” she mumbled, breaking their contact. Her hand went to her hip. “I’m vibrating.”

Odd way to describe the sensations the kiss had brought forth, and that she’d done so without batting an eyelash made him chuckle. “Vibrating, huh? I’d say that’s a good thing.”

A fiery blush trickled into her cheeks. She pulled her cell from the pocket of her jeans. “I meant...um...yes, that, too, but I have a phone call.” Glancing at the display, her brows rose in confusion. “I should... I need to take this. Can you go see what Henry’s up to?”

He nodded and pivoted, curious as to who was on the phone that required privacy but not overly concerned. His thoughts were too focused on that kiss. And what it had done to him.

Just as he stepped into the hallway and was about to close the door, Chelsea said, “Joel? Why are you calling me now, after so inexcusably long, and how did you get this number?”

In a New York minute, every ounce of desire evaporated. Who was Joel, and what had kept him from contacting her for so inexcusably long, and why was he phoning her now? And was that surprised tremble he’d heard in Chelsea’s voice the happy, relieved type of shock or did it fall more onto the annoyed, I-don’t-ever-want-to-hear-from-you-again side?

Questions he didn’t have the answers for. However, he sensed this Joel person was important. Whether of the good or bad variety remained to be seen, but Dylan’s brain was already sending him all sorts of danger signals.

Hell. A red flag. Now. Just as he was beginning to relax.

Chapter Ten

C
helsea’s first week of employment passed in a smooth and efficient fashion, mostly due to Haley’s decision to start off at a slow pace. Meaning, the majority of those initial twenty-some hours of on-the-job training were all about the basics of how the camp operated.

Details such as when the camp was open—every other week from October through December and February though early April, since the camp’s program met the state’s criteria for alternative learning, and then again in the summer, between mid-June and the end of August—the criteria Gavin and Haley used to select which boys would form each group, and finally, the various activities and skills the boys were introduced to during the three sessions, many of which were based on the season.

And Chelsea was grateful, not only for the intended practical purpose of easing into her new responsibilities, but also for hanging on to her sanity. Too many distractions and concerns were already circling her brain. Kissing Dylan, for one. The phone call from Joel, for another. And yes, her son’s ever-growing bond with Dylan.

Rounding out those issues were her still-important goals of proving her worth to Gavin and Haley and, of course, planning for the future. So, yes, she appreciated that Haley hadn’t tossed her into the deep end right off the bat.

But now they were midway through week two, and none of Chelsea’s distractions or concerns had disappeared. Or even lightened. While she hadn’t spent as much time with Dylan the past week and a half as she had the first, he’d still been around fairly often. And no, they hadn’t kissed again, but there was this...electricity between them that couldn’t be denied.

At least, not by her.

Dylan’s warmth and camaraderie toward Henry hadn’t changed one iota, which was good. Amazing and wonderful. Toward Chelsea, though, he wasn’t as...oh, hell, she didn’t know the word. He was still friendly. He still smiled and teased and seemed interested in getting to know her. There was just this edge to his personality she hadn’t seen before. As though he was watching and waiting for her to do or say something, or turn into a completely different person, or...again, she couldn’t put her finger on what.

It bothered her, though, whatever it was. Even if it shouldn’t.

Joel’s phone call had come at the worst possible moment, and frankly, she hadn’t had her wits about her to have that conversation then. And when Dylan asked who had been on the phone, she’d told him it was a wrong number. She just wasn’t prepared to share certain details of her life, and yes, that included the man who’d abandoned her and her son.

The second Joel had mentioned he was calling about Henry, she’d put him off with the promise that she’d get back to him in a few days. As of now, she hadn’t had the strength to do so, and she wasn’t sure if she should even bother to make the attempt.

For one, Joel’s name was not on Henry’s birth certificate. Therefore, unless Joel took her to court to change the status quo, and was actually able to do so, he had zero legal rights. And so far as she was concerned, he’d lost his automatic biological rights by vanishing into thin air, without offering any emotional or financial support to his son.

On the other hand, if by some miracle Joel had become a better person and sincerely wanted to be a real father, then wasn’t she just hurting Henry by keeping them apart? God. She didn’t know. Was afraid to speculate in either direction. And mostly, she just hoped Joel would disappear into the ether for a second time. Unfortunately, she had the nagging, sickening foreboding that he wasn’t done with whatever he’d started.

And no, she hadn’t heard from Joel again. That could have something to do with her decision to keep her cell off and only turn it on to check messages. So far, no messages from him—either text or voice—though she did have one from Lindsay a few nights ago.
Kirk
had given Joel her phone number, and Lindsay had apologized profusely, but that didn’t really help the situation. Worse, the chance now existed that Joel might know where she lived, so—

“You’re somewhere else today, aren’t you?” Haley asked. They were currently ensconced in a small office on the ground floor of the farmhouse, and Haley had just opened what appeared to be a financial spreadsheet. “Hope it’s somewhere beautiful. Like Fiji or the Bahamas.”

“Sorry, Haley. I am somewhere else today, but maybe I should refocus my daydreams,” Chelsea said lightly. “And pretend I’m on a beach with an umbrella drink.”

“So you were daydreaming, huh? Anything to do with my one remaining single brother?”

“Dylan’s great for Henry,” she said, pointedly ignoring Haley’s underlying question. “He has a way with kids and Henry’s responded well to his attention. Well, also to Gavin’s.”

At the moment, Gavin had Henry somewhere on the property, under the guise of requiring help with cleaning up some of the debris—since a lot of the snow had melted—from the campsites they’d be using once summer got under way.

“Gavin enjoys spending time with Henry,” Haley said. “He told me last night that Henry was asking him about hot-air balloons and how he knew he wanted to marry me.”

Chelsea laughed. “Henry has a...let’s call it a thirst for knowledge.” Inside, though, she wondered if her son was still thinking about Sophia and the small size of their family. If so, it meant her little boy was wanting more than she had the power to give him. The thought weighed on her, adding to the already potent mix of her jumbled emotions.
Not now.
She was supposed to be working. “Speaking of knowledge, this spreadsheet appears to be a budget for the camp?”

The other woman didn’t respond, just watched her with those steady brown-green eyes, as if waiting for Chelsea to say more. When she didn’t, Haley sighed and got back to business.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Though this information is used for the budget.” She ran her finger along the bottom of the screen. “There are four separate sheets in this workbook. Three of them detail the different types of funding we receive, and the fourth is a compilation of the totals from each. At the moment, we receive money from a few state and federal sources, donations from fund-raising and marketing efforts and...well, contributions from my family.”

“Okay, I think I’m with you so far.”

“Good. What I want to show you is how to handle the money as it comes in, how to identify the source—especially if it’s from one of our marketing or fund-raising campaigns, so we know what’s working and how well—and how to enter the information on these spreadsheets.”

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Chelsea nodded. “I hope I catch on fast. I’d hate to make a mistake while you guys are gone.”

“You won’t, because you’re going to have plenty of practice, and it isn’t like we receive tons of checks every day.” Haley opened a fat file folder. “These are copies of checks we’ve already processed, from...oh, the past six months or so. I thought we’d pretend they’re new and I’ll show you step by step what needs to be done. Once you have the hang of it, you can go through the rest on your own.”

They worked side by side for the next hour before Chelsea felt confident enough to continue without Haley’s guidance. None of what she’d learned was overly difficult, but it did require strict attention to detail. Which turned out to be exactly what she needed.

Time zipped by, and before too long, Gavin and Henry had returned. She took a break to get Henry situated with a snack and a television program. He had a new list of questions from his outing with Gavin, which she answered, and after hugs and kisses, she returned to the office.

Gavin was sitting on the edge of Haley’s desk, and they appeared to be in deep conversation. Not wanting to intrude, Chelsea started to back out of the room. Gavin motioned her to join them. “Come in, Chelsea. We’re just wrapping up the wedding details.”

“Wrapping up? I didn’t realize you’d started.”

“Told you we wanted this simple,” Haley said with a wide, happy grin. “Counting my family, Gavin’s mom, you and Henry, and a few of our friends, we’re talking a total of—if they all show—twenty guests. Small and fun and so, so easy to plan.”

“Have you decided how you’re going to get everyone here?” Chelsea retook her chair at the desk. She hadn’t expected to be invited to the wedding, but she was pleased to hear that she and Henry were included. It made her feel accepted. “And is there anything I can do to help?”

“We were just talking about those very things,” Haley said. “Both of them, in fact. As to the first, I think we’re just going to send invitations to a barbecue, but with a line of text that says there’s a special reason for the gathering. That should bring most of the people we want here.”

“Ah...are you guys sure you’re set on this surprise wedding theme?” Personally, Chelsea loved the idea, but she knew Dylan still had his doubts. And honestly, if Haley was worried about people attending because they didn’t know, then maybe they should reconsider.

“Oh, we’re sure,” Gavin said. “If we let this slip, the guys will insist on having a bachelor party, and the girls will just have to throw a bridal shower, and there’ll be wedding registries to complete and we’ll be running around like crazy people when all we need is a party.”

“Exactly. And that is where your other question comes into play.” Oh, no. Unless Chelsea was mistaken, an entirely devilish gleam had entered Haley’s gaze. “I need your help,” Haley said. “Well, yours and Dylan’s, since you’re the only two who know.”

“What do you need?”

“Brace yourself, Chelsea,” Gavin said. “Because I doubt you’ll be expecting this.”

“Hush, you.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” With that, he stood from the desk and walked to the door. “I think I’ll just check in on Henry, see how he’s doing right about now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Chelsea said, “What is it you want me and Dylan to do that you can’t do yourself?”

“Get my mother’s wedding dress without her knowledge.” A flash of humor crossed Haley’s face. “I went to her house yesterday, when she and Dad were at the pub, and looked through every one of their closets. The storage space under the stairs, too. Couldn’t find it anywhere, and I have no idea where else to look. So, since I can’t exactly ask her myself, I need you and Dylan to figure out where the gown is. And get it.”

Chelsea blinked. “Oh. Is that all?”

“Yep!” Haley said, her tone overly bright. “Should be a piece of cake, so long as you two can find where she’s keeping the darn thing. And Gavin and I will watch Henry whenever you and Dylan decide to give this a shot. Will you try?”

“Um...have you talked with Dylan about this yet?”

“Nope, but he’ll do it,” Haley said with confidence. “He might balk at first, express again how I should just tell Mom, but he won’t say no.”

Chelsea bit her lip in thought. Might be fun, going on a mission with Dylan, and she couldn’t deny the appeal of spending time alone with him.

“So long as Dylan is willing, I’m in. But if we have to straight out ask your mom where the dress is, I can’t conceive of an excuse that will keep your name out of it.”

“Thank you! I’m sure you two will be able to come up with a perfectly believable reason.” Satisfaction simmered in Haley’s voice. “Once you put your heads together, that is.”

“We’re supposed to do something tomorrow afternoon with Henry,” Chelsea murmured. “If you get Dylan’s agreement by then, we can probably discuss some ideas while we’re out.”

“Terrific!” Winding a long chunk of hair around her finger, she said, “And I have this feeling that you two will make the perfect team. My feelings are rarely ever wrong.”

Another imagined double entendre or an actual one? “You are solely referring to the wedding dress heist, correct? Because that sort of sounded as if—”

“Why, what else would I be talking about?” Haley interjected with a sweet, entirely innocent smile. Sweet, yes. Innocent? Chelsea didn’t think so. “Oh! Are you and my brother becoming romantically involved? Gavin and I have a bet going on you two, because I’ve wondered. I’m for it, in case you’re curious.”

A bet? Lovely. “Sorry, Haley, but Dylan and I aren’t romantically involved.” Not a fib. One kiss did not a relationship make. “I’d back out of the bet if I were you.”

She gave Chelsea a long, uncomfortable and appraising once-over before shaking her head. “Nope, I don’t believe I will. As I said, I’m rarely wrong on these types of matters. We’ll just see how this turns out, and... I know! You can join the bet, if you want.”

The thought was so ludicrous, so entirely inappropriate, Chelsea burst into laughter. Big, breath-stealing gulps of laughter, which then, without any warning and almost instantly, became big, breath-stealing sobs that tore from her chest with such strength, such ferocity, it hurt. Out of nowhere, the stress, pressure, worries and fears from the past few weeks—hell, probably the past few years, and then some—bundled together and...exploded.

And once the tears started, they refused to stop.

“I—I’m sorry,” Chelsea said through the gust of overpowering emotion. She sucked in air, tried to calm herself and failed. “I don’t kn-know why this is happening right now.”

Haley vaulted from her chair and closed the office door, which gave Chelsea more privacy, and then knelt next to her. She rubbed Chelsea’s arm and in a soothing voice said, “Because whatever garbage you have bottled up inside has decided it needs to come out. So, let it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed over. Nothing to feel bad about. Just let it out.”

And so she did. She hadn’t cried—
really
cried—in front of another person in years. Not since her grandmother’s funeral, when she raged at the bright yellow sun and the robin’s-egg-blue sky and the freshly cut green grass and the fragrant blossoming flowers. How could the world smell so pretty, be so lovely and fresh and
normal
, when Chelsea had lost the only person who’d loved her for
her
, just as she was? Unfair, yes, but also terribly and undeniably cruel.

Since then, she’d kept the worst, the most painful of her tears private.

But today, she cried. Hard and heavy, gut-wrenching tears, and she did so for a long, long while. Haley stayed right beside her. She seemed to know that talking—even the consoling and kind words she could, probably would, say—would increase Chelsea’s discomfort. And strangely, somewhere in the middle of the outburst, Chelsea began to welcome Haley’s silent vigil, rather than feel embarrassed. She began to find solace in the other woman’s company.