Surprise Daddy Read online

  Surprise Daddy

  Nicole Snow

  Ice Lips Press

  Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First published in January, 2018.

  Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

  Please respect this author's hard work! No section of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. Exception for brief quotations used in reviews or promotions. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thanks!

  Cover Design – CoverLuv.

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  Note: This special edition includes the complete second chance romance, Marry Me Again. Surprise Daddy ends about halfway through. Enjoy!

  Contents

  Description

  1. Morning Glory (Sadie)

  2. Little Red Riding Hood (Marshal)

  3. Bossypants (Sadie)

  4. Lost Again (Marshal)

  5. Happy New Year (Sadie)

  6. Repercussions (Marshal)

  7. Cascade (Sadie)

  8. Inspiration (Marshal)

  9. Cast Aside (Sadie)

  10. Setup (Marshal)

  11. Gaps (Sadie)

  12. Growling Closer (Marshal)

  13. Guide the Way (Sadie)

  14. Common Ground (Marshal)

  15. Happily Ever One (Sadie)

  Marry Me Again

  Description

  1. Love at First Tease (Kara)

  2. Happily Never After (Ryan)

  3. Red on White (Kara)

  4. Celebration (Ryan)

  5. Vicious Cycle (Kara)

  6. Peephole (Ryan)

  7. Shaken (Kara)

  8. Shocked (Ryan)

  9. Reset (Kara)

  10. Morning, Noon, and Night (Ryan)

  11. Rekindled (Kara)

  12. Just Breathe (Ryan)

  13. Hard Won (Kara)

  Thanks!

  Description

  I KNEW BETTER. MY HEART DOESN'T CARE...

  This wasn't supposed to happen.

  Marshal Howard is a death wish wrapped in mystery. Over six feet of hulking muscle that screams leave me the hell alone. Cold, rude, insanely overprotective single dad.

  Everyone in our little town warned me to stay far, far away. I didn't listen.

  I answered the Castoff's nanny ad because no one else would.

  I got too close.

  I saw through his vicious reputation.

  I found the impossible.

  A call to reckless nights entangled and on fire. My destroyer in every kiss. A man who's turning my heart inside out, making me a fool.

  So what if his pillow talk tears the stars from the sky and lays them in my trembling fingers? I haven't lost my mind.

  If it was just the bad blood with him and my family, maybe we'd work through this. Maybe we'd find paradise. Just me, him, and that adorable little girl.

  But surprises come in threes. Like the lines on the pregnancy test.

  How do I love this beast and have his baby when Fate keeps giving us a big fat middle finger?

  1

  Morning Glory (Sadie)

  It's too early in the morning to be up close and personal with stark raving crazy.

  But it's not like time itself, or anything, ever mattered to him.

  I knew something was up as soon as the whispers started. First Dr. Cartwright, wearing a sour smirk as he stepped up to June's desk. “Get the Howard girl's results in quickly, please. I'd love to get him the hell out of my office ASAP.”

  “On it!” June, our lab admin, smiled sweetly, acknowledging the order on her screen for a blood test with a nod. Apparently, this isn't the first time they've had to deal with him, or else she's really good at hiding her panic. “Ladies, look alive for this one! Did ya'll hear? It's Marshal again.”

  Her soft Missouri drawl rolls over the cubicle to the table I'm sitting at with Quinn, helping her re-stock today's supplies. “Sure did, Junie! One blood test for the world's last living Neanderthal. Shame we're out of tranquilizers.”

  Quinn gives me a sideways look, her eyes narrowed. “You ready to have some fun today, kiddo? Out of the frying pan and into the fire...but that's how we learn, right? God, I hope you find a good place to stick him on the first try.”

  Before I can open my mouth to answer, June appears around the corner, her eyes wide as she taps her long fingernails against the low divider wall. “Actually, it's for his little girl. She's a total sweetheart, as long as you don't set off Papa Bear.”

  “Papa Bear?” I blink, echoing the phrase. She can't be serious.

  I don't think I've ever heard a more endearing term for the strange, scary, hyper-aggressive whirlwind known as Marshal Howard.

  It's too cute. Too endearing. Not at all fitting for the angry disgrace everyone in Port Eagle calls the Castoff when he's not in earshot – and sometimes when he is.

  June never answers. The phone at her desk rings, its deafening sound sending her running.

  It's just me, my nerves, and Quinn humming quietly with her back to me. I try not to dwell on the hulking problem due any minute.

  God, I hope he doesn't recognize my name. I carefully remove the student badge with my name, pulling it off my scrubs and tucking it into my pocket. After his thing with my brother, Jackson, several years ago...

  No. Don't do this, I tell myself. Quinn knows her stuff. Treat it like a routine procedure, and you'll be fine.

  Quinn reaches over, grasps my hand, and beams. “Don't worry, doll. You'll do fine. I had a guy with veins like tree roots on my first rodeo. Must've stabbed him half to death before I struck red.” She sticks out her tongue.

  Hardly reassuring. “Yeah, well, I've never done a kid before.”

  Much less a child whose father is a volcano wrapped in pure muscle.

  “Everybody has their first complainy-pants,” she says, her not-so-lovely term for the difficult patients. “Consider yourself lucky you're getting broken in early, Sadie.”

  Oh, I try.

  Swiveling my chair around to my desk, I sift through supplies. At least we're well stocked with cartoon character Band-Aids and plenty of numbing agents. Quinn continues humming along to the low Christmas music piping through the building's speakers.

  I'm sweating like a dog. It's only my second week of on-the-job training. I always figured I'd hit a few landmines along the way to my phlebotomy certificate and a job that pays more than minimum wage, but damn, the freaking Castoff? So soon?

  It's too quiet in the lab. My pen sounds like a branch snapping when it rolls off my desk and smacks the floor. Quinn is still humming, softer now.

  I haven't been this anxious in my life. Which is ridiculous, considering the last year, leaving college early to deal with mom.

  I look up just as Quinn's sing-song melody comes to a dead stop. She's listening to the new conversation in the waiting room.

  He's here, growling his first words at June. “You ready for us yet, or what? Don't want to keep her here any longer than I need to.”

  “Sir, if you'll just take a seat for five or ten, I'm sure our techs will be with you shortly.” I recognize June's tone. It's the same she uses with Doc Cartwright whenever he calls up in a panic over a lipid panel he forgot to order.

  “You're not listening. Look at her. My girl's anxious. That's not good for anybody. I want this fucking done now.”

  Quinn and I share a look. Then we hear June sigh over the music. “You're luc
ky I'm a sucker for kids and the clinic ain't too busy. Hold on a sec.”

  I hold my breath, waiting. She pokes her face around the corner, giving us both a knowing look. “We good, or should I tell Papa Bear to scarf a chill pill?”

  Quinn's eyes shift my way. “Sadie?”

  Ugh. It's now, or never.

  “Ready,” I say, nodding, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Tell him he's welcome to come in.”

  The world goes freakishly silent again. June steps out and mumbles a few words to our little patient and big daddy. I study Quinn listening, just like me, his heavy footsteps coming closer, scraping the floor.

  I try to remember the million things and then some I've heard about the man our town calls the Castoff.

  He's cold.

  He's dangerous.

  He's crazy.

  He's an asshole, and also a hell of a mechanic.

  He's six feet something of pure muscle, ink, and hot rage.

  He gives what little warmth he has left in his snowball heart to his little girl.

  Supposedly.

  He's infamous.

  He freaked out and punched my older brother in the face in the middle of the town's Fourth of July parade.

  He's...holy shit, he's here. Standing right in front of me.

  And he's handsome, too. As sinfully gorgeous as any man with his sterling blue eyes, scowling jaw, and roughed up five o'clock shadow can be at nine o'clock in the morning.

  “Come in, have a seat, and we'll take her from here, sir!” Quinn smiles, reaching for the tiny hand belonging to the adorable little creature next to him. Marshal gives her a death glare before slowly passing his daughter over, and – Jesus – is that a growl lingering low in his throat?

  “It's okay, honeybee. It'll be over soon. Just listen and be brave,” he tells her, following her across our space.

  “Hi, sweetie!” I try to be nice without looking fake, showing my biggest pearly grin. Quinn helps the little girl into the seat in front of me.

  I touch her arm and immediately notice the heat through my glove. Fever. “Oh my, you're burning up. Promise I'll make this fast, okay?”

  I'm up. I grab my supplies and go to work.

  One step at a time. Mechanical. Just like I learned in class, taking extra care to rub extra numbing agent on her arm.

  She inhales sharply as I tie the rubber band, grab my vacutainer with the long-tipped needle, and slide it into the tube.

  Papa Bear speaks again, his voice a low boom. “Eyes on me, honeybee. Daddy's got you. This won't hurt for long. She'll make it fast if she knows what's good for her.”

  Don't look at him.

  Easier said than done with his eyes blazing into my soul, but I do my damnedest not to return Papa Bear's angry glance. He stands on her other side, her free hand in his, possibly the most freakish contrast between big crazy and tiny innocence ever.

  Everyone watches me except the little girl. I can't blame Quinn. She signs off on the trainee worksheet with my hours and a performance review, bringing me closer to my certificate.

  I'm always being tested.

  I can't screw this up.

  “Okay, sweetie,” I whisper softly, feeling for a vein one last time. “There. Big breath, please.”

  I wait for her little lungs to fill before I prick her skin.

  She's amazingly well behaved as the small tube slowly turns red. The draw lasts somewhere between thirty seconds and a minute. I'm grateful every second I don't have to deal with a scared, shrieking child. I got lucky.

  I ease the needle out, apply gauze, and top it with a grinning cartoon cat bandage. “Feel better soon. We'll have the results over to the doctor, quick as we can.” I look up, acknowledging the beast next to her directly for the first time.

  “Take your time. Just do it right,” he rumbles.

  Huh? Not the response I was expecting. Neither is the look he's giving me.

  I can't decide whether the Papa Bear moniker actually fits. Sure, he's huge and over-protective. But the blue eyes piercing through me are more like a wolf's.

  A fearsome, all alpha, take-no-crap-from-anyone pack leader.

  “Nice job, honeybee. We'll make cookies once you're feeling better. Chocolate chip.” He lifts her up and pecks a quick kiss on her forehead.

  Next to me, Quinn is completely melting, going doe-eyed. I don't know what the hell I'm feeling.

  It's surreal watching the local freak being all tender and lovey-dovey. Maybe my ovaries are just cold, or I'm in too dark a place to be easily impressed. Who is he fooling, anyway?

  “First time she didn't cry. Congratulations, Red.” His otherworldly gaze pins me against my seat.

  “For real?” I hate how it rushes out, a hushed whisper, like I'm flattered by his praise. “Well, thank you.”

  I won't let the compliment go to my head. I don't care how good he looks or how civil he thinks he's being.

  Then his eyes grow colder. “You misunderstood. I'm saying it's a goddamned miracle she didn't cry after your hack job. I've seen medics in combat zones with steadier hands than yours.”

  “Sir, she's a student,” Quinn cuts in, a nervous blush on her cheeks. I can't tell if she's shocked or furious. “Watched her myself the entire time, and her procedure was well within standard parameters. I apologize sincerely for any discomfort, but –“

  “But nothing. We're done. When did I ask for an apology? I don't have time to sit around all day waiting for the Doc to give her a damn prescription, and I definitely don't have time for bruised egos.” He barely acknowledges her, shifting his gaze back to me, harsher than ever. “Work on your technique if you're looking to stay for the long haul.”

  My mouth drops open. I'm shocked, appalled, and a dozen kinds of offended.

  Just like that, Papa Bear is gone, carrying the sweet thing on his shoulder through the office divider opening that's barely big enough for his shoulders.

  “Holy shit. The nerve!” Quinn's voice cracks. She snatches the tube from my hand and carries it over to her end of the room for analysis, shaking her head. “I'll go straight to management. Someone needs to put that asshole in his place, keep him away from here. He can go to Davenport next time he needs a checkup. We're not his doormats.”

  It's tempting. Very, very tempting, but then I remember how far Davenport is, especially in the winter when the winds do whiteout like second nature on the Iowa roads.

  Banning him from the clinic will just inconvenience the little girl, who's far more likely to need our services than Mr. Crass-hole.

  “Let's just drop it, okay?” I'm smiling by the time Quinn whips around, popping a stick of gum into her mouth, chewing her irritation away. “It could've been worse, I mean. Mia was a total doll and the procedure was fine. I'm just glad he didn't stick around longer.“

  “Mr. Howard, no soliciting! It's clinic policy. Hey, wait!” June's voice rings out behind us, loudly, and we hear her chair sliding as she stands up frantically.

  Silence. Quinn rolls her eyes, turning back to her screen. “Suit yourself. You're a nicer person than I'd be, Sadie, but I can't hold that against you. Why don't you take five or ten and go see what else the idiot did? I've got the sample.”

  “Fine.” A break is actually what I need.

  I don't realize I'm holding my breath, hoping the asshole is really gone, until I'm next to June. She's next to the table in the waiting area, plucking a pile of torn white paper scraps off a business magazine, muttering to herself. “Nanny, my sweet tush. You're the one who needs the babysitter, you big, pissed off, stupid lug of a –“

  “What'd he do now?”

  June turns, startled by my appearance. I smile an apology and hold out my hand while she pushes the mess of papers into my palm. “I told him this isn't the place to leave his junk lying around. Of course, he can't be bothered to even have a professional looking card made.”

  I flick my fingers over the torn scraps. They all have the same four words written on them with a
phone number in his blocky, crabbed script. Even his handwriting is threatening.

  NANNY WANTED.

  CALL MARSHAL.

  There's a phone number underneath.

  “Take them to the trash, will you? Before the doctor comes in to debrief. I can't have him seeing this. Last time Ms. Myers left a couple papers about her bake sale, I never heard the end of it.”

  I nod, crumpling the dozen or so uneven white scraps in my palm. I leave June alone at her desk and step into the hall. I'm just in time to flatten myself against the wall before a frowning Cartwright passes, without so much as a good morning.

  The figure turning down the hall, heading out to the reception area and then to the parking lot, is the reason why.

  Against my better instinct, I follow, stopping just around the bend, staring out the frosted glass.

  It's absurd, really. But maybe I'm worried for the little girl, or part of me just wants to know what turns a man into an antisocial buffalo.

  The Castoff stands there with his daughter, kneeling down, fixing her coat. He double-checks her mittens and then plants another kiss on her forehead through the hoodie, giving the clinic behind him the stink eye one last time.

  Our eyes meet.

  I look away.

  Seething blood crashes against my ears, drowning out this weird, mysterious piece of the world I can't quite make sense of. The Castoff, Papa Bear, Marshal the Crass-hole is gone the next time I find the courage to look through the glass. I catch a flash of his SUV rolling by, big and black and loud, cleaner than it should be for a man who lives off the grid, deep in the woods by the bluffs.