Read Online The Bad Boy's Baby (Hope Springs) by Cindi Madsen - Free Book Online Page B

grinding, as his truck occasionally needed to be convinced to shift, but she didn’t seem to have trouble.
    Then she pulled away and he was left with a two-year-old little princess and the pressure to not swear, not screw this up, and keep her safe, suddenly overwhelming now that he had to shoulder it alone.
    What the hell was I thinking?

Chapter Eight
    Cam zipped up Zoey’s jacket and exhaled every ounce of oxygen from his lungs before sucking in a deep breath, the way he used to before he was about to charge into somewhere dangerous. Which was silly. This was just a few hours alone with his daughter, not enemy territory.
    “Mommy,” Zoey whimpered again and pointed toward the door.
    “I’m going to take you home and then we’ll watch Frozen . How does that sound?”
    Her eyes lit up, but her lower lip remained out, refusing to totally give up on the pout.
    When he moved to pick her up, she shook her head, and the whimpering turned to crying as she backed away. He held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t pick you up. But you need to follow me, okay?”
    “Why?”
    “So I can take you home. We’ll watch Frozen and eat Lucky Charms and then your mom will come home.”
    He could see the wheels turning, and when he opened the door, she slowly walked outside, bracing her hand on the frame as she stepped onto the porch. It wasn’t a very big step, but her little legs made it seem as if it were built for a giant.
    So bribery works—good to know. He eyed the lights of the former B and B, considering asking Quinn for help to get through the rest of the night, but again, he’d committed, and he didn’t want Emma to think he couldn’t follow through. Their relationship was strained as it was, although the lighter moments—like when she’d bumped her hip into his and called him soldier—made him forget all of the complications and the many reasons he shouldn’t flirt with Emma Walker.
    He debated locking up, then decided he should, even if it was a safe area and there wasn’t much to steal.
    By the time he spun back around, Zoey was no longer on the porch. His pulse skyrocketed, and he rushed down the stairs calling her name. He saw her blond curls and heard her giggle. A large but shallow puddle had formed in the spot where he’d hosed off Heath’s motorcycle—he’d borrowed it for a quick trip to the reservoir and it’d ended up coated in mud—and of course Zoey had managed to find it and jump right in the middle of it. The bottom of her pink pants disappeared into the water, and murky brown droplets ran down her bare arms and clung to the pink froofy skirt. Her discarded jacket floated along the surface of the puddle.
    “Zoey, you need to get out of that pud—”
    She jumped again, squealing as the water splashed up. Even though it’d been a warmer day, with the sun down, it had to be in the low forties. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t freezing.
    She probably is, she just doesn’t care because there’s mud and water.
    When he moved toward her, she jumped again, sending muddy water everywhere, including onto him.
    He squatted down, retrieved her jacket, and gestured her closer. “Okay, you had your fun. Now come here.”
    She shook her head. He started around the puddle to pick her up, but she just moved to the other side. Outsmarted by a two-year-old, but not for long—looked like he was going to get muddy and wet, too. He charged into the puddle and scooped her up. Her muddy shoes smeared across his shirt, and cold water seeped through the fabric.
    Zoey started crying, and when she couldn’t be talked out of it, he tossed her in the air—just a few inches—and caught her. They both froze for a second, as if they weren’t sure what to make of the move, but then a smile spread across her face. So he did it again, a little higher this time, and she giggled, clapped, and said, “Again!”
    She must’ve gotten the thrill-seeking gene from my side of the family. He and Heath were always challenging