Lone Star Millionaire by Susan Mallery Page B

He made the mistake of shaking his head and had to swallow a groan. The pounding by his temples was rhythmic—keeping time with his heartbeat. A nice steady thunk, thunk, thunk, at about sixty beats per minute. He felt clammy and his skin was one size too small. He didn’t want to think about the army currently camping on his tongue.
    â€œMrs. Sellis didn’t like me to eat too much. She said food was expensive. Is it going to be like that here?”
    There was a note of worry in her voice. Cal forced himself to ignore his symptoms and look at his daughter. Before he could answer, she squared her shoulders and shrugged.
    â€œI don’t give a damn,” she said. “I don’t need you, you know. I can run away from this place, just like I ran away from hers.”
    â€œTell you what, kid,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm, knowing giving into irritation would only make the hangover worse. “You stop swearing and I’ll make sure you get enough to eat. We’ll go to the grocery store as soon as Sabrina arrives.”
    She eyed him mistrustfully. He had the feeling he was being measured against some invisible benchmark, and he knew in his gut he was going to come up short.
    He waited for her to ask the inevitable “And if I don’t?” for which he had no answer. But she didn’t. She shrugged again, as if to say it didn’t matter to her, then shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
    Cal inhaled the scent of coffee and realized the pot was full enough for him to pour a cup. He’d just taken his first healing sip when Sabrina breezed into the kitchen.
    â€œâ€™Morning, all,” she called in a bright, cheery, migraine-inducing voice. She looked at him and came to a stop. “You look—”
    He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t say it. Please. I know how I look. I feel worse, okay?”
    â€œYou earned it, Cal. You know better than that.”
    â€œI know.” But even as he said it, some of the pain in his head receded. He had a feeling it had more to do with Sabrina’s arrival than the miracle worked by coffee. “You brought luggage, didn’t you?”
    â€œOf course. I already put it in the other guest room.” She crossed to the table and sat across from Anastasia. “’Morning,” she said. “How’d you sleep?”
    â€œFine.” The preteen didn’t bother looking up from her cereal.
    â€œI hope you checked the dump date on the milk,” Sabrina said. “Your dad isn’t one for keeping many groceries around. He eats out a lot, but I guess that’s going to change.”
    Anastasia didn’t respond. Cal figured the only reason he wasn’t being called the bastard who wasn’t her father was because of the promise of food. He supposed he should feel some small sense of victory, but he didn’t. No child should understand what it was like to be hungry.
    Sabrina was unaffected by the silence. She tucked her short red hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “You look much better than you did yesterday. Did you sleep well?”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œThe clothes seem to be okay. They’re a little big, but when you gain a couple of pounds, they should fit. We’ll stop by the mall, too, later today to fill out your wardrobe.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    Sabrina glanced at Cal. “So what’s the deal? You’re deducting a dime from her allowance for every word she speaks?”
    â€œNo, but I did ask her to stop swearing.”
    Sabrina’s blue eyes twinkled, although her expressionstayed serious. “Maybe she doesn’t know any other words. It could have been the school system.”
    Anastasia rolled her eyes. “I know plenty of words. I just don’t want to talk to you. Why is that a big deal?”
    â€œOh, it’s not, I guess,” Sabrina said. “I understand why you want to be sullen. After