The Baby Arrangement

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  His gut was telling him that it couldn’t be possible for him to have a daughter. However, in the right light, if the child would look up and shove some of the stringy, black hair from her eyes, Ethan might concede that she somewhat resembled his French grandmother.

  To be fair to Chantal, he had to admit he hadn’t exactly kept track of every person he’d ever slept with over the years, but certainly he would’ve remembered if he’d gotten someone pregnant. Wouldn’t he?

  The girl made a sniffing sound, as though her nose was running, but she still didn’t raise her head or look in his direction.

  Shame flooded through him at the realization that he’d never even thought to ask her if she was okay. Or to try and put the child at ease. He opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t command his tongue to form any words and ended up snapping it closed again. Damn. He was already proving himself to be a crappy father.

  Clearing his throat, he reminded himself that he was once a member of an elite Special Forces team and had encountered dangers far graver than an eleven-year-old landing on his doorstep. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Ethan.”

  “I know,” the girl whispered, then wrapped a scrawny arm around her waist. It was then that he noticed she wasn’t even wearing a sweater, let alone a coat.

  “Why don’t you come inside, Trina? It’s freezing out here.”

  The girl eventually lifted her face and his lungs seized. Her eyes weren’t wide with fear, as Ethan would’ve expected. Nor were they filled with humiliation or hurt, which would’ve been understandable given the way her mother had just dumped her here. Instead, they were completely without expression. Witnessing their empty depths would’ve been downright spooky if he hadn’t recognized that same look in his own eyes the night after his last covert ops assignment. Or recognized the identical sapphire-blue color that ran rampant in the Renault family.

  Trina didn’t decline his invitation, but she wasn’t exactly quick to make a decision either. She had to be equally as afraid of him as he was of her. Stranger danger and all that. She must’ve heard her mother announce that he was her father, but that didn’t mean she necessarily believed it. Well, that made two of them.

  Being careful not to touch her as he stepped around her shivering form, Ethan held open the door, hoping that the heat coming from his apartment would be more inviting than the ugly used furniture inside. He was about to go into the kitchen and grab his cell phone to call for backup when finally, with an apprehensive look cast in Ethan’s direction, her feet shuffled toward him.

  Trina gave him a measured glance before swooping low to grab her purple T-shirt and shoving it back into her grocery bag. She held the recovered belongings close to her chest, as though they were some sort of shield that could protect her from him.

  “Are you hungry?” Ethan asked. He left the front door wide-open as he walked toward the kitchen, not wanting her to feel trapped. Would she follow? Or would she run off, just as her mother had?

  “Kinda,” Trina replied, her voice again no louder than a whisper. She was on the thin side and he wondered when she’d had her last meal.

  Ethan stared at his bare counters, knowing full well the only thing he could offer the girl right now would be a mug of triple-brewed dark roast.

  “I...uh...wasn’t exactly expecting company.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I usually eat breakfast at the café across the street.”

  Trina tilted her head at him, her blue eyes still empty, her arms still clutched tightly to her in apprehension. If she was truly his daughter, Ethan wanted to do the right thing by her. He just wasn’t convinced that taking care of her all by himself would be the right thing.

  He really could use some direction here. This town was bursting with know-it-all busybodies who had opinions on everything from which colors to paint the historical homes to who should play point guard for the high school basketball team. Unfortunately, none of those people were currently inside his apartment.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Ethan said, but Trina’s blank expression didn’t waver. “I’m going to grab my coat and, uh, something for you to put on to keep warm, and we’ll go across the street and grab a hot breakfast.”

  Surely someone over at the Cowgirl Up Café would have an idea of what he should do with the girl.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, walking down the hallway toward his bedroom. As he looked at the few clothes hanging in his closet, he wondered if Trina would still be standing in his living room when he came out. Or had she already made a run for it the second he turned his back? It was what he would’ve done in her situation.

  But she was right where he’d left her when he returned with a fleece-lined hooded sweatshirt branded with the eagle and trident logo. “Here, this is the best I could come up with. But we’re not going very far.”

  She had to drop her bag on the scuffed dining room table to take the sweatshirt from him. He sat at one of the cheap pine chairs to pull on his work boots, trying not to notice the way Trina kept having to push the sleeves up her arms to keep her hands from getting drowned by the heavy material of the borrowed sweatshirt.

  Locking the front door behind him, Ethan realized that Trina was very careful not to get in front of him. She would only follow after he’d already passed. Whenever his team had infiltrated compounds and taken captives or brought in noncombatants for questioning, they’d been trained to always stay behind the enemy—to never turn their backs on a potential threat.

  The thought that his own daughter might view him as a threat made his stomach go sour, however, Ethan didn’t say anything as they walked down the steps to the alley and then through the narrow walkway that put them out on to Snowflake Boulevard. When they got on the main street of town, he glanced down the block toward the new public safety building that housed both the police department and the fire station. It would be so easy to lead Trina over there and drop her off. His mind calculated how long it would take him to leave her at the entrance and then hop into his secondhand truck and drive down the mountain to the Boise airport.

  How long would it take to leave this whole mess behind him?

  But he’d lived his life being on the move, alternating between taking on the most dangerous assignments to come through his unit and then drowning himself in a bottle to escape the unpleasantness of the world. The whole point of his leaving the Navy and relocating to Sugar Falls was so he could finally slow down, sober up and figure out what his next chapter would be.

  He just hadn’t expected fatherhood to be on the first page.

  * * *

  Monica Alvarez was balancing a tray of refilled salt and pepper shakers in one hand and a pot of decaf in the other when the tingling bell sounded above the saloon-style front doors of the Cowgirl Up Café. As a part-time waitress, early Wednesday mornings were usually her easiest shifts—most of the weekend tourists were long gone, replaced with only a handful of regulars lounging in their favorite booths, ordering their usuals, which she now had memorized. However, it wasn’t the blast of frigid air coming in from outside that made the welcoming smile fade from Monica’s lips.

  It wasn’t even the arrival of the hunky contractor who ordered the same exact breakfast—four scrambled egg whites, turkey sausage patties, sliced tomatoes and black coffee with a side of flirtatious banter—that made her pause. It was the unexpected appearance of a young girl cowering behind him that had stopped Monica in her tracks and caused the ceramic cowboy boot–shaped spice shakers on her tray to wobble.

  The first time she’d waited on Ethan Renault several months ago, she’d written him off as a harmless bad boy who would eventually give up once he figured out that she wasn’t interested in his type. Initially, it had been easy to brush off the sexy smirk and ignore the lazy way his thick-lashed eyes followed her as she messed up orders and proved herself to be an incompetent waitress.

 
But the man had been patient and stealthy and, occasionally, he’d even made her laugh. Last week, when she’d been at her real job, Ethan had come into the library and asked for a recommendation. Anyone who knew her understood that the best way to get Monica involved in a conversation was to talk about books. That’s how she related best to people, by understanding them as readers firsts. Knowing a person’s reading habits revealed so much, it was like a secret superpower that only librarians and booksellers possessed.

  She’d given him a copy of Rejection for Dummies and he’d happily taken it without batting his handsome blue eyes. Then, the first thing he’d told her Monday morning was that the book was okay, but that he was waiting for the movie. While Monica hadn’t had the time—or the desire—to date much since college, she’d had a feeling that his line was a lead-in and that Ethan would’ve asked her out to the movies if a very confused and agitated Gran hadn’t called the restaurant right then and needed Monica to come home to help find the cat that they didn’t own.

  Today, she’d been expecting him to pick up the flirtatious banter right where he’d left off and she’d even toyed around with the idea of accepting his offer—if he asked her out, anyway—because she could barely remember the last time she’d gotten out and had a little fun for herself.

  However, there was nothing jovial or flirty about the man right this second. In fact, the deep grooves along his brow and the hardened line of his jaw made him look like a completely different person—like he’d been hiding his true personality all along.

  With only two other occupied booths in the restaurant this early in the morning, there were half a dozen sets of eyes trained on the new arrivals. The curious stares coupled with the silence spoke volumes and reassured Monica that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that something was out of the ordinary.

  A prickling sensation made its way down the back of her neck and she cleared her throat. “Table for two?”

  “Uh...yeah,” he finally said, and glanced behind him at the girl. Ethan normally walked into the restaurant with a grin and a sense of purpose, saying hello to all the locals before grabbing his favorite seat at the end of the counter. Today, though, he didn’t make a move toward his usual spot despite the fact it was empty. He didn’t really move at all.

  “How about that table over there.” Monica used her chin to nod toward an empty corner booth that was on the opposite side of where the other diners were now blatantly staring at them.

  “Great,” Ethan replied, and began walking in that direction. He took a few steps, then paused and turned to the child. “Is this okay?”

  The girl’s only response was to follow behind him, her head not lifting. Something about the child tugged at Monica’s heart and reminded her of how shy and awkward she’d once been at that same age.

  Monica took the tray of shakers to the prep station and switched out the pot of decaf for regular coffee, since Ethan normally drank at least three cups.

  When she returned to their table, she passed them both laminated menus. Not that Ethan ever needed one, but something was definitely off about him this morning and she no longer knew what to expect. Using the same smile she used during the tiny tots reading circle at the library, she faced the girl and said, “Hi. I’m Monica.”

  The child lifted her face and Monica gasped at the resemblance to Ethan. Their mouths were the same shape and their chins shared matching dimples. If the girl’s stringy hair was washed and brushed, it would likely be the exact inky-black shade as Ethan’s, as well. Yet, it was the bottomless sapphire-blue eyes that were the dead giveaway.

  They were definitely related.

  That didn’t make sense, though. Monica could’ve sworn that she’d once overheard him bragging about being single and carefree. Plus, she was positive that he’d told Freckles, the owner of the café, that his mom died when he was a boy and his father had passed away a few years ago and he didn’t have any other family.

  So then where had this child come from?

  If Freckles hadn’t taken the morning off, the nosy older woman would’ve been asking all kinds of questions, like whether this was the girl’s first time in Sugar Falls and how long was she visiting. Unfortunately, Monica wasn’t quite as smooth when it came to starting conversations with the customers. Sure, she liked listening to people talk and picking up information here and there, but she didn’t have that ability of asking the right kinds of questions to illicit much more than a two-or three-word response. Unless it was about their favorite books.

  But a million questions were floating through her head as she stared at the child, who was having trouble keeping her hands pushed through the sleeves of the man-size sweatshirt she’d obviously borrowed from Ethan.

  There was still snow outside this time of year. Where was the girl’s jacket?

  Monica turned over Ethan’s mug and poured him a steaming cup of coffee, but he avoided eye contact so she couldn’t read any clues on his normally friendly face. Turning to the girl, she said, “It’s pretty cold this morning. How about some hot chocolate?”

  The girl’s eyes grew wide, and for an instant, an almost...craving expression flashed across her face, as though she’d never wanted anything more. Yet, her only reply was to study Ethan with a guarded look.

  “Do you like hot chocolate?” Ethan asked her, and the girl nodded slowly. “Then hot chocolate it is.” He turned to Monica. “This is Trina. We’re still...uh...getting to know each other.”

  A chill spread through Monica, making her skin prickle with unease. Stumbling backward, she retreated to the prep station behind the counter. She fumbled with the bottle of chocolate sauce several times as she thought about Ethan’s odd response. How did he not know the girl before now? They were clearly related.

  Monica caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Trina dart into the hallway leading toward the restrooms. A hissing sound, followed by a blast of steam, drew her attention back to the complex frothing machine her boss had installed a few weeks ago and she barely got the thing shut off in time to prevent the hot milk from splattering everywhere. Monica cupped the warm mug in her trembling hands as she quickly walked to the table where Ethan was now sitting alone.

  She needed to hurry if she wanted to talk to him before Trina returned from the restroom. Out of all the questions she wanted answered, the first one that came tumbling out of her mouth was, “Is she yours?”

  Monica winced at her own words, her whisper-soft tone not making the personal question sound any less rude.

  But Ethan either hadn’t been bothered or he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the impolite tone. He shrugged his shoulders, the expression on his face almost trancelike. “That’s what her mother said when she left her on my front porch this morning.”

  “What do you mean, her mother left her on your front porch?” Monica had to brace her hand on the cowhide printed backrest of the booth. She was no longer whispering, drawing the curious stares from the other side of the restaurant.

  “She knocked on my door this morning. I didn’t even recognize her.”

  “Trina?” Disgust rose in Monica’s throat. How had the man not recognized his own daughter?

  “No. Her mom. I guess we dated in high school and...” Ethan gave another shrug and it was all she could do not to grab two fistfuls of his plaid work shirt and shake the rounded muscles of his shoulders.

  “You guess?” Monica swallowed a lump of annoyance. She wasn’t only ticked off with his answer, she was angry with herself. Disappointed at how easily she’d been blinded by her building attraction to a man who didn’t seem to know anything about his own daughter—including her existence. “So where is her mother now?”

  “Her mother?” His brows formed a V and Monica rolled her eyes in frustration. She could handle Ethan easily enough when he was being a charming flirt, or even when he professed to b
e interested in her tongue-in-cheek book recommendations. However, if he was hoping this whole confused pretense would draw her sympathy, he was sorely mistaken.

  “Yes. The person you dated back in high school? The mother of your child?”

  “Right. Chantal drove off. She said she wasn’t any good at being a mom and threw Trina’s bag of clothes at me, telling me it was my turn to step up.”

  There was nothing more reprehensible than a man who didn’t take care of his responsibilities. No amount of sex appeal or charm could make up for a lack of character. Her own father had been the same way and Monica shuddered at how close she’d come to falling under Ethan’s spell.

  At how close she’d come to repeating her own mother’s same mistakes.

  Copyright © 2019 by Christy Jeffries

  ISBN-13: 9781488041853

  The Baby Arrangement

  Copyright © 2019 by TTQ Books LLC

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