Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(26)

Hardy chuckled. Easing my head back, he looked into my reddened eyes. "You look like hell," he said frankly. "Are you sick or just tired?"

"Tired," I croaked.

He smoothed my hair back. "Go lie down," he said.

It sounded so good, and so impossible, that I had to set my jaw against another flurry of sobs. "I can't...the baby...the math test..."

"Go lie down." he repeated gently. "I'll wake you in an hour."

"But—"

"Don't argue." He nudged me in the direction of the bedroom. "Go on."

The feeling of relinquishing responsibility to someone else, letting him take control, was a relief beyond words. I found myself trudging to my bedroom as if wading through quicksand, and collapsed to the bed. My bruised mind insisted I shouldn't have dumped my burden on Hardy. At the very least I should have explained about how to fill the formula bottles and where the diapers and wipes were. But as soon as my head sank into the pillow, I fell asleep.

It seemed that scarcely five minutes had passed before I felt Hardy's hand on my shoulder.

Groaning. I shifted to look at him with a bleary stare. Every nerve in my body screamed in protest at the necessity of waking up. "It's been an hour," he whispered. He looked so fresh and self-possessed, radiating vitality as he bent over me. He seemed to have such inexhaustible strength, and I wished I could have just a little of it. "I'm going to help you study," he said. "I'm great at math."

I replied with the surliness of a punished child. "Don't bother. I'm beyond help."

"No you're not," he said. "By the time I'm finished with you. you'll know everything

you need to know."

Realizing the trailer was quiet—too quiet—I raised my head. "Where's the baby?" "She's with Hannah and my mother. They're looking after her for a couple of hours." "They...they...but they can't!" The thought of my fractious baby sister in the care of

Miss Judie "spare the rod. spoil the child" Gates was enough to give me a heart attack. I lurched to a sitting position.

"Sure they can," Hardy said. "I dropped Carrington off with the diaper bag and two bottles of formula. She'll be fine." He grinned at my expression. "Don't worry. Liberty. One afternoon with my mother is not going to kill her."

I'm ashamed to admit it took some coaxing and even a threat or two before Hardy could get me to leave the bed. No doubt, I thought sourly, he was far more accustomed to talking girls into bed rather than getting them out. Staggering to the table, I plonked down on the chair. A pile of books, a stack of graph paper, and three freshly sharpened pencils were laid out neatly before me. Hardy went into the kitchenette and returned with a cup of heavily creamed and sugared coffee. My mother was a coffee drinker, but I couldn't stand the stuff.

"I don't like coffee," I said crabbily.

"You do tonight," he said. "Start drinking."

The combination of caffeine, quiet, and Hardy's ruthless patience began to work magic on me. He went down the study list methodically, unraveling problems so I could understand how they worked, answering the same questions over and over. I learned more in one afternoon than I had in weeks of math class. Gradually the mass of concepts I had found so overwhelming became more understandable.

Midway through, Hardy took a break to make a couple of phone calls. The first was for a large pepperoni pizza that would be delivered within forty-five minutes. The second call was a lot more interesting. I huddled over a book and a piece of graph paper, pretending to be absorbed in a logarithm while Hardy wandered to the main room and spoke in low tones.

"...can't make it tonight. No, I'm sure." He paused, while the person on the other end ofthe line replied. "No, I can't explain," he said. "It's important...have to take my word for it..." There must have been some complaints, because he said a few more things that sounded soothing, and said "sweetheart" a couple of times.

Finishing the call, Hardy returned to me with a carefully blank expression. I knew I should have felt guilty for interrupting his plans for the evening, especially since they had involved a girlfriend. But I didn't. I acknowledged privately that I was a low and petty person, because I couldn't have been more delighted with how things were turning out.

As the math study continued we sat with our heads close together. We were coccooned in the trailer while darkness unfolded outside. It seemed odd not to have the baby nearby, but it was a relief too.

When the pizza arrived we ate it quickly, folding the steaming triangles to contain the gooey strings of cheese. "So..." Hardy said a little too casually, "you still going out with Gill Mincey?"

I hadn't spoken to Gill in months, not because of any animosity, but because our fragile connection had dissolved as soon as summer had started. I shook my head in answer. "No, he's just a friend now. What about you? Are you going with someone?"

"No one special." Hardy took a swallow of iced tea and stared at me thoughtfully. "Liberty...have you talked to your mom about the amount of time you're spending with the baby?"

"What do you mean?"

He gave me a chiding glance. "You know what I mean. All this babysitting. Waking up with her every night. She seems more like your baby than your baby sister. It's a lot for you to handle. You need time for yourself.. .have fun.. .go out with friends. And boyfriends." He reached out and touched the side of my face, his thumb brushing the pinkening crest of my cheek. "You look so tired." he whispered. "It makes me want to—" He stopped and bit back the words.