Adrian’s offer was too good to refuse.

One, his reasoning made sense. What I was doing—or not doing—was not working. And I was extremely open to suggestions at this point. I would have tried an exorcism if the person who had knocked had been a priest instead of a hotshot attorney.

Two, the man had too much to lose to do something stupid.

This was a guy who made it into the Star Tribune at least once a month for his legal prowess. I knew this because every time he did, Yoga Lady in 303 sent me a link along with twenty heart-eye emojis. I think she had a Google Alert set up. She was practically his stalker.

Adrian was like me. He had a reputation and a public persona to safeguard. Murdering Grace and me would be highly out of character and really bad for business. Plus, he thought he was in an apartment full of cameras—which he wasn’t—but he didn’t know that.

And lastly? Nobody was coming to rescue me. No one else was banging my door down to help me in my seventh level of hell. And I needed that shower. Bad. I just needed to wash off the barf and the sweat and change out of pants that didn’t have baby pee on them. And Grace needed someone to hold her while I did it. Every time I tried putting her down she started crying so hard she looked like she was going to explode.

All I needed was five minutes. Just five short minutes. Maybe it would help—and if it didn’t, at least I’d be in a better headspace to keep dealing with the screaming because as it stood, I was two seconds away from a complete mental breakdown.

I stripped and washed myself like I was being timed for speed. Approximately four minutes after I’d gotten in the shower—which was by far the best, if not the shortest, one of my life—I turned off the water to get out, and I was met by eerie, cold silence.

My heart plummeted.

Oh my God.

Something was wrong.

I wrapped a towel around me so fast I almost slid on the tile.

What had I been thinking? I didn’t know this man. I mean I did, but I didn’t. What if he kidnapped her? Dropped her off the balcony? What if he was a perfectly normal guy who had been on the verge of a psychotic break and the crying had pushed him over the edge and now he’d shaken her to death? I was so stupid!

I threw the bathroom door open, braced for Lord knows what, and froze.

Adrian was lying across the sofa in my dim living room, head on a throw pillow with a finger pressed to his lips. Grace was nestled in the crook of his arm on her back, and she was sleeping.

I just stood there gawking at him. I couldn’t even believe it. I had to tiptoe over to them dripping wet to see it close up.

What was this sorcery? How did he do it? The man was like a baby whisperer or something. Grace cooed softly in her sleep, and I had to clutch a hand over my heart.

There must be a primal internal switch that flips when you see a man take care of a child, because I swear I fell a little bit in love right there. I mean, the guy was gorgeous without this witchcraft, but now? Holy shit.

I was sopping wet, just staring at him. When I didn’t move to go, he blinked at me and made a small shooing motion. I blushed, forcing myself to go back to the bathroom to get dressed.

When I returned, working my hair into a damp braid, Grace hadn’t moved. I stood next to the sofa twisting an elastic around my hair.

“All done?” he whispered.

I nodded and leaned down to pick her up.

God, he smelled good. Something sleepy and warm and masculine rolled off him. Clean cotton and testosterone.

I lifted Grace into my arms and prayed that she wouldn’t wake up and start crying again when I put her in her crib.

She didn’t.

When I turned back to Adrian to thank him, he was already walking to the door. He stopped and wrestled my garbage from the kitchen trash can, carried it with him, and without another word, he was gone.

I pushed the bangs off my forehead with a palm. Oh. My. God.

I needed to make a video. Now.

The last two weeks had been a content desert. My YouTube channel had gone completely dark. I’d had to lay off my entire production team for this hiatus. Only my cameraman, Malcolm, was still on the payroll. Not only was I not making any money, I was also letting down my subscribers on top of it all. But I’d had nothing to talk about.

Being a stay-at-home mommy isn’t exactly exciting. I’d had a video chat with Malcolm yesterday to discuss segments I could do from home. They were all pretty lame. Mostly beauty tutorials. Me trying crazy mud masks and dying my hair random colors. A vlog of me opening fan mail. Boring.

But this…

I grabbed my laptop and tiptoed to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet seat and titled the video “Hot Guy Tames My Baby.” I didn’t bother to blow out my hair or do my makeup. I liked my content to be authentic. I took a deep breath and hit Record.

“Hi, all! Look, I’m alive!” I gave the screen a wave. “Well, it’s been an interesting two weeks here. I’ve been getting your concerned emails. Thank you for worrying about me, guys. And yes, I bailed on the L.A. conference last week. I know a lot of you were disappointed and I’m so, so sorry. If you bought a ticket to see me, send a picture of it and your address to Malcolm at the email here.” I put my finger up above my head where Malcolm would make an email address pop up. “And I’ll have him send you a signed picture of me. I know it’s not quite as good as the real thing, but I promise you I had a good reason.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering where I went. As you can see from the title of my entry, I have a baby! Surprise! Are you surprised? Because I know I was.” I tilted my head and gave the camera crazy eyes.

“Somebody I care about was expecting. Three weeks ago, she had a healthy baby girl. Then two weeks ago she dropped the baby off with me so she could run to the store for something, and she never came back.

“Grace’s mom is unfortunately not in the best place right now. Grace’s dad isn’t in the picture, so I am now the temporary guardian of a newborn I have no idea how to take care of. Needless to say, the trip I planned to Mexico for my Christmas segment in three weeks is now canceled and instead we’ll all be exploring the exciting eight hundred square feet of my studio apartment for a while.”

I sat there for a heartbeat before continuing to let this all settle in.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering how the hot guy comes into it. So it’s just after four in the morning here and I was up with my little angel. We were on about a million hours straight of unabridged crying. Both of us,” I added. “And my next-door neighbor knocked on my door to ask if I needed help.