Surprise Baby for my Billionaire Boss
Logan
New Digs
“I gotcha!”
Rose squeals with laughter as I reach inside her hiding place behind a big cardboard box to tickle her in the ribs.
“I gotcha,” I repeat, joining in her laughter. I can’t think of a sweeter sound on earth as a little girl’s bright giggle—especially when it’s my own little girl doing the giggling. She jumps up and dashes across the hardwood floor to dive behind another box as if I won’t find her there.
“Uh-oh, where’s Rose? I can’t see her!” I tease, crawling across the floor on my hands and knees toward the new box. “But I can smell her…” I sniff the air exaggeratedly since she’s asked me to pretend to be a dog in our little game of hide and seek.
Muffled laughter echoes from behind the box. She hasn’t quite figured out that the point of hide and seek is NOT to be found, but where’s the fun in that? Sniff, sniff… I crawl closer, slapping my hands loudly on the wooden floor to announce my presence. I poke my nose around the corner of the box.
“There she is!” I yell.
Rose scrambles out the opposite side, but I quickly stand and grab her as she tries to make for the kitchen. I swing her up into my arms as she laughs.
“Doggie got me again!” she squeals. I lick the side of her face and make mock panting noises, which elicits even more screams and giggles from her.
She’s been asking if we can get a puppy, but with the move and the busy summer season, I can’t make her any promises. I have enough to worry about just taking care of her and my growing construction business, never mind dealing with a barking bundle of energy that needs housetraining. Rose is all the energy I can handle right now, so she’ll have to make do with a pretend doggie, aka Daddy.
“I want a puppy,” she says for at least the third time today.
“What? You don’t like this puppy?” I ask, faking a canine-sounding whimper.
“Noooo… a real puppy, Daddy!”
I give up the dog act and offer a smile along with the age-old parent line of “no” veiled in “maybe”.
“We’ll see, Rosebud. We’ll see. Do you think a puppy would like our new house?” I ask, turning a one-eighty with her in my arms before setting her down again.
“Yes!” she yells and starts off at a run, making a circular lap from the living room, through the kitchen, the hallway and back again. “He can run around like this! I like our new house!” Her brunette hair fans out behind her as she races past, and I worry she’ll trip or run into something with all our belongings stacked everywhere. I only had time to set up the beds last night, so today is earmarked for major unpacking.
It’s Monday, but I’ve told my crew not to expect me back for a few days. Although we’ve only moved ten miles across town, it feels like worlds apart from my cramped condo. The construction industry has picked up in the Phoenix area over the last year and the time felt right to buy something new and bigger. Rose wouldn’t stay little forever, and this three bedroom split-level with the big backyard is just what we both need. A bit of a fixer-upper, but that’s right up my alley, too. Being closer to my mother Lila’s place in Tempe is an added bonus so that she can see Rose more often; but since she still works full time and she and I are still repairing our rocky relationship, I’ll need to find a day care nearby soon. Right now my world is pretty much defined by these two women and my job, and they’re all I need.
“Whoa there, Rosebud,” I say as she careens toward me on her latest lap. I scoop her up mid-stride. “No running in the house, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies, out of breath. “I’m hungry.”
I have to laugh at how kids can change direction in a split-second.
“Shall we make some lunch?” I ask. Rose nods emphatically, and as I turn toward the kitchen I remember there’s not much in the fridge or the cupboards. A trip to McDonald’s crosses my mind when the front doorbell rings. Rose’s eyes light up. I match her pop-eyed look of surprise. “Who could that be?” I can’t imagine who’d be calling on us when we’ve only been here less than twenty-four hours.
I walk to the door balancing Rose on my hip. With no peephole to peer through, I have to take my chances and swing open the solid, wood paneled door to greet our visitor. On the porch stands a stunning blonde woman, holding a wicker tray filled with muffins. They look fresh from the oven, and I can practically smell the raspberries baked into them, but fresh doesn’t begin to describe the lovely creature brandishing the treats.
Her long hair glows in a gold halo from the sunlight overhead. Her sleeveless top reveals slender shoulders and shapely arms. Her pouty, bow-shaped lips are the shade of raspberries too and look just as sweet. Her blue eyes match the desert sky behind her, and my roving gaze passes over her generous mounds of breast and down to the curvy, smooth expanse of thigh below the hem of her shorts.
“Hi, I’m Quinn VanderKemp, I live next door. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
Wow. Some welcome! A pretty girl that looks as good to eat as the baked offering in her hands. I’d shut away my appetite for women for so long I’d forgotten what hunger felt like. This vision in shorts had all my taste buds firing.
“Hi!” Rose says, breaking my stupefied silence.
“Hello, Quinn,” I finally say. “That’s so kind of you, thank you. I’m Logan Brenner, and this is my daughter Rose.”
“Pleased to meet you. I saw you moving in yesterday and figured you probably hadn’t gotten a chance to hit the market yet, so I brought these over,” she says with a smile that lights up my porch as well as my neglected privates.
“What kind?” Rose asks, pointing to the tray.