Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies #9) - Laylah Roberts Page 0,9

the closet and just tried to settle her heartbeat.

First, she had to hide the rest of the tip she’d gotten tonight. It was always a risk, holding back some of her tips from her aunt. She didn’t tend to do it with her regulars, afraid her aunt would catch on. But when someone tipped a lot then she kept some of it back.

She wished she had enough that she could just leave. But she needed to be careful about this. Running was only going to work if she had some sort of plan in place.

Living here with Tiger and Saber wasn’t an option, though. Feeling ill, she drew out the hundred dollars she’d kept back and slid it into the trinket box she kept in the hole under the floorboards. It was the only thing she had left of her mother. The lining inside the box was loose. With hands that still shook, she tucked her money in there and hid the box again.

She knew exactly how much was in there. One thousand and forty-eight dollars. That was the result of years of scrimping. If she’d saved what her aunt gave her for working at the spa, she’d have more. However, after her aunt took out money for room and board, there wasn’t much left. Just enough to buy some eBooks to read and occasionally some clothes from Goodwill.

She’d protested once that she deserved more pay. Her aunt had slapped her and called her ungrateful. She’d gone into a rage that had terrified Marisol enough that she hadn’t said anything again. What choice did she really have? Stay and be treated like shit but have a job, a roof over her head and the medicine she needed. Or leave and be all alone, maybe end up on the streets.

She just needed a bit more time and a few more tips.

Disappointment flooded her. She actually liked it here. Living in a big city was hard for her. All the people and the noise. She liked the peace and quiet here.

But it was becoming more and more obvious that she had to go. Thankfully, it sounded like Saber and Tiger had their hands full for a bit longer.

Crawling out of the closet, she stood and grabbed the worn black bag that held her diabetic supplies out of her handbag. Carrying it into the bathroom, she washed her hands. All the bedrooms in this monstrous house had their own bathrooms. A prick of her finger to draw blood and the blood glucose meter told her what she’d suspected. It was low. She’d gone too long without eating.

She’d had Type One diabetes since she was thirteen. Managing her blood sugar levels would be much easier if she had a CPM monitor, but her aunt claimed her insurance wouldn’t pay for it. She grabbed a few glucose tabs from her bag and unwrapped them, popping them into her mouth.

Walking back into her bedroom, she sat on the bed, staring down at the eReader in her hand. Sadness flooded her. It felt like she’d lost an old friend. She wiped away a few tears. Today, she’d feel sorry for herself.

Tomorrow, she needed to figure out a way of saving herself.

4

Linc was cursing himself for not getting her number.

Or not giving her his. But then that had seemed too pushy. He hadn’t wanted her to think he was some weirdo. Even if he was at times.

You know where she works.

Right, I’m sure it’s every day that a cowboy strolls on in and asks for a manicure.

Idiot.

A cool wind whipped down the street. Shit. He hoped it was warmer for Clint and Charlie’s wedding tomorrow. He strode towards the diner, thinking he’d get some lunch before he attempted some shopping.

Gah. Shopping.

Up ahead he saw a small figure dressed only in a pair of black pants and a black shirt nearly collide with a lamp post. She pulled away at the last second, only to start tumbling back, tripping over her own feet. He quickly raced forward, and managed to grab hold of her before she landed on her butt, setting her on her feet.

“Whoa, there. You okay?” He turned her around, surprise filling him as he saw it was her.

He hadn’t recognized her in the shapeless, black clothing. Which he now realized was obviously a work uniform. There was an emblem on the top right-hand corner of the shirt.

“Marisol? Hey.”

Wow. That was smooth. Really smooth.

“It’s Linc,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “From last night. At Sanctuary