Lynda Sandoval - Daddy on Demand / Déjà You - Daddy on Demand / Déjà You

He arrived at the condo with a big sack of Chinese takeout. Sabrina was nowhere to be seen, so he set down the bag and pulled at his tie as he cautiously ventured through the hall. He would have called out to her, but if she was napping from all of her work and emotional upheaval, he wouldn’t want to wake her. Instead he found Sabrina on a stepladder draping yards of orange, lavender, pink and sage chiffon off the ceiling fan and fastening them to the four corners of the room.

“Good grief, woman, this is supposed to be an upgraded nursery, not a harem.”

With a yelp, Sabrina came off the ladder and would have tumbled back into one of the two dressers bookending either side of the doorway if Collin didn’t catch her by her trim waist and help her back upright. She then slapped him with her ponytail as she whirled around to face him.

“Oh, no,” she gasped. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Ruefully rubbing his cheek, he quipped, “Was it something I said?”

“You’re early.” She checked her watch and frowned. “Very early. Didn’t you tell me that you had some function this evening?”

“It’s a good thing I changed my mind about attending or you’d have a concussion or worse.”

“I wouldn’t have fallen if you’d announced yourself.”

“What, in my own house?” He wagged his right index finger at her pert nose. “I don’t think I like the idea of you on a ladder with no one about, either. Where did you get it? I certainly don’t own one.”

“From the custodian, Mr. Salazar. Very nice man. He wanted to do this for me, but he had his hands full replacing bulbs in the lobby.” Sabrina gestured to her handiwork. “Do you really hate it?

Collin saw that the beds and other furnishings had arrived, and that sometime thereafter, she’d been out and had purchased a happy orange twin bedspread, one in purple and throw rugs in lavender, and embroidered throw pillows with bangles and mirrors and beads. Posters of Disney heroines adorned the walls.

“Who said anything about hate? It’s just—different. It’s definitely bright.” He looked from poster to poster. “I’m not sure how much use they’ll have for stories about mermaids and princesses at MIT. You do realize they know their numbers to twenty and can identify their names when they see them? They’re learning to write them now. I believe calculus is scheduled to start next week.”

“They can go back to being overachievers when their mommy returns. For now we’re immersing them in storytelling and the art of using your imagination.”

Amused, Collin watched her stretch to reach for the pink light bulbs on one of the dressers and felt his blood heat several degrees as her periwinkle sweater pulled across the gentle mounds of her breasts. “I certainly get that.”

“Don’t worry, I cleared it with Cassidy.” Sabrina stretched her arms this time to encompass the room. “And look, I’m making this as easy for you as I can. No pink walls to paint over after they return home, no cutesy wallpaper or painted murals.”

As she started up the ladder again, Collin stayed her. “Have you eaten today?”

Her eyes lowered, she said, “Sure. I found some crackers in the pantry, and I admit I helped myself to the cheese you had in the refrigerator.”

“All that?” He took the bulbs from her and put them back on the dresser. “Enough for today. I don’t need you falling off the ladder again, this time from hunger.” He took her by her elbow and directed her down the hall. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Two nights in a row? That’s not necessary.”

“Frugal little thing. For your information, I brought back takeout. There’s a nice bottle of Shiraz in the red section of the cooler that should accompany it well.”

Visibly touched, Sabrina said, “That was thoughtful of you.”

“You are literally saving my sanity. The least I can do is keep you alive.”

Sabrina’s brief laugh ended in a groan. “There’s no danger in that. My brothers will tell you that they had to fight for their share of food at our table when we were growing up.”

“Being a brother myself, I can assure you that we can be thoughtless lugs, when we aren’t outright pigs.” Collin stopped at the dining-room table and pulled out a chair for her. “Now this is an order. Sit and I will serve tonight.”

Sabrina balked. “I’m not in any condition to sit at this table. Couldn’t we sit at the kitchen counter on the bar stools?”

“Grand idea.” Inclining his head, he led the way, ditched his tie and suit jacket over one of the four bar stools, then drew out another for her. Once he had her seated, he collected two long-stemmed wineglasses from a cupboard and the wine. “Do you like Shiraz?”

“I had it once and honestly couldn’t tell the difference between it and the other red. I don’t remember what that was.”

“Bet it was a Syrah. Sometimes even I can’t tell the difference, but then Syrahs are sometimes marketed as Shiraz. It’s a dark-skinned grape with a history that goes back to the BCs. Do you like Asian food?”

“Almost all. Particularly Thai.”

“I will bring that next time. This time it’s Chinese.”

Collin enjoyed her politeness mixed with irrepressible honesty. She made him happy that he’d come home. She made him want to hug her with her youthful eagerness to please, seasoned with an instinct to stand her ground when the situation mattered. Refreshing, that was the word. She looked and was the genuine article. It didn’t hurt that her eyes matched the color of her sweater, although it was too long and hid her cute bottom, particularly in those slim-fitting jeans. He made the right choice to come home instead of slumming about tonight with people who were more acquaintances than friends, and who relentlessly altered their opinions to gain favor.

He knew she watched with studentlike attentiveness as he used the latest in cork-removal technology to open the bottle. “This is a client’s latest invention. I think our ads are three times better than the product.”

“I remember you always made a point to test the quality and value of the item you were being asked to market. Not all of your people did that.”

“Their success ratio exposes them sooner or later, and they move on. Jacobs left shortly after you did.”

Sabrina gasped. “You knew?”

Pouring, Collin nodded. “I knew.”

“I’m so glad. It had bothered me. I’d wake up at night wanting to write you an anonymous note to expose what a sloppy businessman he was.”

“Not handwritten, I presume? You didn’t believe me when I told you that you had the loveliest penmanship I’d seen in years.” Noting her cheeks blooming even as he touched his glass to hers, he changed the subject. “So the delivery went smoothly? You’re pleased with the furniture?”

“Yes and the men were happy to come to somewhere so elegant. Tony, the supervisor, said they’d never delivered bunk beds to anything higher than two floors.”

Collin barely swallowed his first sip of wine before something struck him. “How did you tip them?”

Sabrina shrugged. “I used what I had on hand.”

And would probably never ask to be reimbursed. “I’m so sorry.” He immediately reached for his coat and drew out his billfold.

“It’s not necessary.”

He drew out everything in his wallet and set it on the counter. “Household money. Nothing comes out of your salary. Put it wherever is most convenient for you to access. We’ll talk later about whether it’s more comfortable for you to buy groceries with the credit card or with cash.”

“Thank you. I’ll bring you receipts.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Well, I’ll keep a ledger and it will be here in the kitchen for you to review whenever you want to.”