Dylan's Daddy Dilemma (The Colorado Fosters Book 04) Read Free

already recognized, made him think she was in some sort of a jam. Not that he should care one way or the other. Not his business. “Coffee it is, then. How do you take it?”
    “Cream, no sugar.”
    “Kitchen is busy, so the wait might be slightly longer than normal,” he said. “I’ll have someone bring a bread basket, free of charge, to compensate.”
    “That isn’t necessary.”
    “Nope, it isn’t. But it’s what we do.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away before he could offer her a free meal to boot. Because dammit, that was what he wanted to do, and the want made no sense. He did not swoop in to save damsels in distress. Not anymore. Not for a long, long time. Besides which, maybe she really wasn’t that hungry or in a jam.
    Maybe, for once, he’d completely misinterpreted the signals.
    * * *
    “This is
so
good,” Henry said, dipping the very last French fry into a shallow bowl of ranch dressing. “I like our fresh start so far.” Squinting his eyes, he quickly revised his statement by saying “Now that we’re done driving, I mean.”
    “We are definitely done driving, sweetheart.” Chelsea tore off a piece of bread and chewed it slowly. She had been hungry, but Henry’s meal, her coffee, plus the tip was already more than she could afford. So despite her earlier refusal, she was grateful for the bread.
    Oh, they still had half a jar of peanut bar and a loaf of bread in the car, along with packages of crackers and cereal bars and a few juice boxes. She wouldn’t have actually starved without the bread basket, but she likely wouldn’t have allowed herself to dip into their food supply again until the morning. After all, she didn’t know how long it would have to last.
    While Henry had eaten his burger, she’d gathered the stray dollars from her coat pocket and the loose change from the bottom of her purse. Now, at least, she had a total. They had forty-seven dollars and seventy-two cents to work with. That was it. And when she paid their bill here, she’d have thirty-seven dollars and twenty-two cents left.
    She might have to swallow her pride and reach out for help. Her choices were few. Lindsay, maybe, if Chelsea could contact her sister without her husband’s knowledge. Risky, though. Kirk was a carbon copy of their father—a guy who believed women existed for the sole purpose of doing a man’s bidding—and he controlled nearly every aspect of Lindsay’s life. Because Chelsea recognized this about Kirk and had attempted to talk her sister out of marrying him, Kirk did everything possible to keep the sisters apart.
    Mostly, he’d managed to do so. For whatever reason, her sister refused to see the truth. Even so, she loved Chelsea. She’d send whatever money she could, but Chelsea did not want to cause more problems. Better for everyone involved if she kept her sister out of this mess.
    That left Melissa. A friend, but not a close one. Chelsea’s fault, as she never allowed anyone to get too close, but Melissa had always been kind. They’d both worked as waitresses, usually on the same shift at an all-night diner, and less than two weeks ago, Melissa had hugged Chelsea and asked her to keep in touch. A kind woman, yes, but how could she ask for assistance from another single mother who was already fighting to make ends meet?
    Melissa would likely try to help, but knowing her circumstances meant that Chelsea shouldn’t ask. Sighing, she shook her head. No, it meant she
wouldn’t
. The decision had zip to do with pride. She’d gotten herself into this situation; she’d have to find a path through to the other side. Without calling on her sister or Melissa.
    And that put her exactly where she’d started, where she’d purposely put herself time and again: alone. Without a safety net or a solitary person to lean on, or even a plan B.
    For the first time in a long while, Chelsea wished she hadn’t built such a solid, impenetrable wall around herself and that