that he’d been killed.”
“Michael’s death must have broken your father’s heart,” she said, unable to imagine the degree of desperation Brad’s father had to have reached to take such a drastic stand. To lose his son without making amends had to have been crushing.
“I’m sure it affected him more than he let show.” Raising one dark eyebrow, Brad gave her a pointed look. “But don’t get the idea that Robert Price would have handled it any other way. You know how he is about appearances. Sadie wouldn’t have made the decision to move to Houston when she got pregnant with the twins if she hadn’t been worried about our father’s disapproval.”
Abby had been in Seattle at the time, working at the web development company she and one of her college friends had started right after graduation. It wasn’t until she sold her interest in the highly successful venture and moved back to Royal to marry Richard that she learned the story behind Sadie’s move.
“I’m glad she decided to return to Royal,” Abby said sincerely. “If she hadn’t, she and Rick might not have run into each other.”
Brad’s sister had become pregnant after one night with Rick Pruitt, just before the dashing Marine had been deployed to the Middle East. Losing touch, it wasn’t until some three years later that they were reunited when they ran into each other at the TCC clubhouse. Now they were happily married, raising their adorable two-year-old twin daughters and looking forward to a bright future together.
“Dad mellowed over the years and was pleased about her and the girls moving back, so it all worked out for the best.” Brad glanced at the video monitor he still held. “Do you think Sunnie will be all right? She cried awfully hard there for a while.”
“Babies do that.” Abby couldn’t help but be a bit amused. She had never seen Brad Price look more unsure of himself, and she found it oddly fascinating. “I think she’ll be fine, Brad. Really.”
“I hope that’s the case,” he said, placing the monitor on the end table beside his chair.
“This afternoon you mentioned that you don’t intend to hire a nanny,” she said, when he glanced at the monitor again as if needing to reassure himself that the baby was all right. “Having help might give you a bit more peace of mind about caring for her.”
“I’m not entirely certain that handing Sunnie’s care over to someone else would be in her best interest,” he said, surprising her. His expression told her that he had given the matter a considerable amount of thought.
“You’re going to try to do this on your own?” She hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous, but men with the kind of fortune Bradford Price had amassed hired help to take care of their children, even if they were married.
“Yes, I am,” he answered decisively. He sat forward, propping his forearms on his knees, and stared down at his hands as if trying to put his reasoning into words. “This isn’t about me or my comfort. This is about Sunnie. In her short little life, she’s been abandoned by her mother, used as a pawn in a blackmail scheme and passed from one stranger to another. She hasn’t really had the chance to bond with anyone.” His tone took on a hard edge. “She deserves a hell of a lot better than that.”
Abby couldn’t have agreed more. Sunnie had been the result of Michael Price’s only night with an unscrupulous woman who, after giving birth, had tried using her infant daughter at the request of a dangerous drug lord to extort money from the Price family. They had sent blackmail notes to Brad, as well as a few other TCC members, telling each of them they were the father in an effort to get as much money as they could. He had correctly assumed they’d be too embarrassed to reveal to each other that they were being blackmailed. But when Brad and the other men who had received notes refused to pay, the career criminal had given up on his scheme and the mother abandoned the baby on the doorstep of the club with a note pinned to her blanket, declaring Brad was Sunnie’s father. A DNA test proved that there was indeed a genetic link, but when Zeke Travers tracked down the baby’s mother, she admitted that it was Michael Price and not Brad who had fathered Sunnie. Whether it was due to a sense of obligation to his late brother or the fact that Sunnie had captured his heart, Brad had taken responsibility for her and started the adoption process.
“I applaud your dedication,” she said, choosing her words carefully. He was trying so hard to do the right thing for Sunnie, she certainly didn’t want to discourage him. “But don’t you think it would be wise to have a little help? At least until you become more accustomed to caring for her by yourself?”
“She’s had so many people come and go in her life, I want her to know that I’m not just another person taking care of her until the next one comes along.” He shrugged. “I want her to know early on that I’m always going to be here for her. That’s why I’m working from home for the next six months.”
“You’re serious,” she said softly, in total awe of the lengths he was willing to go to for the baby girl.
“Very. My assistant is running the day to day operation at the firm and forwarding anything she can’t handle through email and faxes. After Sunnie’s first birthday, I’ll see how things are going and make my decision whether to continue working from home or go back into the office.”
Abby had gained a newfound respect for Brad when she heard he was taking on the responsibility of raising Sunnie as his own, but that admiration had just gone up a good ten notches. She knew a lot of men with his wealth and position in the business community who wouldn’t even consider going to such lengths for their own children, let alone a niece or nephew they were adopting.
The contrast between Bradford Price, the playboy financial genius, and Brad Price, the dedicated new daddy, was disconcerting and Abby needed time to assimilate and understand the two sides of his personality. It had been much easier to view him as her lifelong rival and fierce opponent in the race for the TCC presidency than it was to see him as the down-to-earth, caring man she had seen over the course of the day.
Needing to put distance between them, she made a show of checking her watch as she rose from the couch. “I should go. I have to get up early tomorrow to help Summer Franklin with the charity drive.”
“In other words, you’re going to put those god-awful pink flamingos in some poor unsuspecting soul’s front yard, so he’ll have to donate money to the Helping Hands Women’s Shelter to get rid of them,” Brad said, getting up to walk her to the door.
“It’s for a good cause,” Abby defended.
“I’m not saying it isn’t.” Brad laughed. “But pink flamingos? Seriously, couldn’t they come up with something a lot more attractive and a little less tasteless?”
She picked up her coat and purse as they passed the bench in the hall. “If they were attractive, people might not be as eager to get rid of them and donate less.”
“I guess you have a point,” he conceded. “But do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” she asked as he took her coat from her and held it while she put it on.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “When you drive by my place, keep on going,” he said, grinning. “I’ll send in a donation just to keep from having to look at them.” Before she realized what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close for a hug. “Thank you again for helping me out with Sunnie this morning and then again this evening. I really appreciate it, darlin’.”
For
