Page 8 of A Baby for the Billionaire Cowboy

“Okay, I made you an account.” He rolled his chair back toward her desk. “The password is password, so change it right away. Did Mama have you fill out any paperwork?”

“Not yet.” Daisy woke up the computer, signed in, and changed her password. She seemed to know what she was doing so far.

“I imagine we need a W-2 and all that.”

“I’ll get one online.” In a couple of minutes, she’d downloaded the form, filled in the PDF, and signed it electronically. Xander looked over her shoulder. Legal name Daisy Mae Anderson. Daisy Mae. Desiree. Close enough for him to get them confused hearing it once. This was the girl from the fundraiser for sure.

She turned toward him. “Do you want me to print it or email it to you?”

Xander gulped. Now that he knew, he could see that girl in this one. That was nearly three months ago, so she was already pregnant then. He hadn’t been able to tell, but he’d thought she was tired and aching and upset about something.

“Um.” He scrambled to follow her question. “We have a shared folder. You can drop it there.” He gave her instructions as she brought it up.

“Oh, I see what programs you use.” She shifted in her chair, trying to get close enough to type easily with her belly blocking her from scooting all the way forward. “This isn’t the accounting software I’ve used, but I imagine it’s similar.”

“Why don’t you take some time and get familiar with it.” Xander edged his chair back toward his desk. He’d had all he could handle for the moment. “Take a break whenever you want. Help yourself to coffee—no, we only have caffeinated. Not that I’m trying to tell you what you should—anyway, there’s a big selection of tea and some cold drinks in the fridge. The iced tea in the pitcher also has caffeine. Just for your information. I’m not saying you can’t have any.”

She was laughing at him. “Thanks. Believe me, I’m used to getting told exactly what I’m allowed to eat, drink, and do from living with Auntie Rhonda.”

“Well, not here. Here you do whatever you want.” He nodded to show he meant it. “Go into the reading room—that’s what we call the little room with the sofa—and put your feet up if you need a break. Anything you need, just say so. Or don’t even say anything, just do what you want.”

Her expression firmed. “What I need is a job, and I’ll be the best worker you’ve ever seen.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but she’d already returned her attention to the computer. Besides, she seemed determined. Another person who didn’t like to take charity, maybe. Well, if they were kind and kept encouraging her to rest and take care of herself, maybe in a week or two she’d know they meant it. She’d know they weren’t like whoever sent her off to live with Rhonda Gillespie—he shuddered at the thought. She was safe here. Mama had claimed her, so she was one of theirs now. Maybe Xander didn’t know how to take care of a young pregnant woman the way he knew how to take care of rabbits and chickens and horses and cows, but he’d learn. He’d figure it out.

Chapter Four

Daisy went throughthe accounting program, using the help menu as needed to figure out the differences between this one and what she’d used before.

How lowering that Xander hadn’t even recognized her. Hardly surprising though. She’d been as glamorous as she’d ever been in her life on her ill-fated wedding day. Now, at thirty weeks pregnant, she was well on her way to looking like a hippo in a flowered tent.

She didn’t have long to prove herself in the office before she’d have to take time off for the birth and recovery. She couldn’t expect the Tomlinsons to pay her during that time, but maybe they’d let her stay in the house even if she wasn’t working those weeks. Would they let her give birth there? Daisy had found a doula she liked, so the plan was for a home birth, but that might be too much to ask from her employers. Although they did have a ranch, so birth wouldn’t be quite so shocking to them.

Auntie Rhonda had already declared herself Daisy’s birth partner and clearly expected to be with her during the delivery. It might even be comforting, in an odd way, to have her aunt bellowing at her to buck up and stop whining, because Rhonda had never cried during any of her births or miscarriages. Well, maybe not comforting. Bracing, perhaps, like the shock of jumping into a cold lake, so one’s nerves vanished with the desperate desire to simply keep breathing.

She tried not to think of William. Most people would say he had a right to be there at his baby’s birth, and to help decide that baby’s future. After all, he was the child’s father, and she was the one that ran away. But the idea of seeing William again, having him in her life, filled her with sick dread. She couldn’t bear the thought of coparenting with him, of having to talk to him weekly for years, even if it was best for the child, and she didn’t think it was. Since she’d been away from William’s daily influence, Daisy could think back on everything he’d said and done, and she’d grown to despise him.

She’d done some research and at first been relieved to read that unmarried fathers have no parental rights in Texas. But that information had quickly been followed by how men could go to court with a paternity suit and win visitation rights. A judge very well might decide in favor of the thirty-year-old man who owned his own business and had wanted to marry. She couldn’t let him take her baby. Better to hand her baby over to a stranger and disappear. But as the baby grew inside her, something else was growing—a sense that she could do this, she could be a good mother, if only people would give her a chance. And now she had one.

Daisy would have to be strong enough and smart enough to prove herself and keep this job and figure out how to make sure William couldn’t touch her child. Which meant she needed to stop panicking and focus on her work.

She glanced at Xander. Clearly his mother hadn’t told him ahead of time that she’d hired Daisy. He’d been nice enough, but nervous and awkward, and he didn’t seem to believe she was actually there to work. He must’ve taken one look at her and decided she was a young fool who got knocked up by some jerk and had no job skills or desire to be useful. Well, the first part of that was true, but she’d prove him wrong on the second half.

Of course, now she desperately needed to pee. That seemed to happen about every half hour these days. How was she supposed to look like a good employee if she was constantly racing back and forth to the bathroom? Ava would understand, since she’d had four children herself, but would Xander?

If that weren’t bad enough, her feet itched. She slipped off her sandals, the only shoes that fit her swollen feet, and scratched one foot with the other. At least she could hide them under the desk and maybe no one would notice. So far she hadn’t had to deal with hemorrhoids, thank goodness, although now that she was thinking about the possibility, her rear itched.

It’s only in your mind.

She gave her head a little shake and focused back on the computer.

Nope. She had to get to the restroom now.

She shoved her feet into her sandals and pushed back her chair. Xander didn’t glance her way as he typed at his computer, so she scurried out without an explanation. No doubt he’d figure it out when the bathroom door closed behind her, if he even noticed she’d moved.

As usual of late, she didn’t have to pee nearly as much as her bladder was telling her she did. She patted her belly. “You in there. Stop pressing on all my organs!” She sighed. “Not your fault. Maybe if I had the ‘good childbearing hips’ Auntie Rhonda brags about, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

She redid her ponytail and patted her face with a damp paper towel. They might be heading toward autumn, but right now it was awfully hot and humid, especially when she waddled around in a hurry.

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