Читать книгу Drive-By Daddy - Cheryl Anne Porter - Страница 13

WITH TWO PILLOWS fluffed behind her, Darcy tugged her hospital robe and then the covers around her. She smoothed the sheets as best she could, given her remaining soreness. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming. She folded her hands in her lap, looked toward the doorway, and pasted a smile on her face. And waited.

The curtains. Darcy’s eyes widened guiltily. The curtains were still yanked closed. Dear God. She just knew he’d seen her standing there at the window, watching him. Great. Did she have time to hobble over there and open them before he—she turned back to the doorway. Her breath caught, her heart thumped excitedly.

There he stood.

Well, she assumed it was him in the doorway. All she could see was a white Stetson, a body comprised of flowers and balloons and streamers, and then long legs encased in denims…and dusty boots. The flowers parted. It was him. “Howdy, Darcy.”

Her belly twitched. Smile, Darcy. She smiled…acted nonchalant, pleasantly surprised. “Why, hello. How nice to see you. What beautiful flowers those are.” And groaned inside. Could I sound more like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood? My, what big flowers you have. Come in, dearie, and let me gobble you up. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Or ever again.

Just as she feared, his gaze riveted on the closed curtains. “You weren’t? You sure about that?”

Only through sheer will did Darcy’s smile and her gaze remain steady. At least with the curtains drawn he couldn’t so readily see the heated blush blooming on her features. Speaking of blooms… “Oh. Come in. Please. Set down your load—the flowers. I mean the flowers.”

He did. He came in, put the flowers on the bedside tray stand and pushed the wheeled cart aside. “You’ll need a vase for those roses, I suspect. I should have thought of that.”

“No problem,” Darcy chirped. She grabbed her pitcher of ice water from the nightstand next to her and held it out. “Here. Put them in here.”

His blue eyes mirrored his uncertainty. “You sure? What if you want a drink of water?”

“Oh, well, I’ll just have rosewater, I guess.” Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He unwrapped the roses, handling them awkwardly. “I’ve never done this before.” He plunked them in the ice water. Then those blue eyes narrowed in her direction. “You okay, Darcy? You sound a little hyper.”

“Hormones,” she blurted. And wanted to bite her tongue off.

He nodded, completely calm and accepting. “I expect so.” Then he gestured to the tacky molded-plastic chair beside the bed, as much as asking her permission to sit down. “You mind?”

“No. Please do. You made all this effort. You may as well sit a while.”

And then he did, removing his Stetson, running a long-fingered hand through his black hair…Darcy watched, remembering how comforting and reassuring those hands were. Then, perching his Stetson atop his bent knee, he met her gaze. Darcy swallowed. “I hope you like roses. I didn’t know—”

“The roses.” She put a hand to her bosom. “Of course. I love roses. They’re wonderful. Thank you. And the baby spray. It’s beautiful. All those balloons and streamers. I don’t know what to say.”

His frowning expression considered the circus-in-a-ceramic-cradle on the bedside tray with the ice-watered roses. “Neither do I, mostly.” Then he swung his attention back to her. “I’m not doing this very well, am I? Let me start over. Uhm, how are you today?”

Darcy, who thought he was doing just fine, didn’t like herself any better for being so excited that he was here. After all, wasn’t she through with men? He was just being nice, given the unusual circumstances under which their lives had collided, and wasn’t the least bit interested in her, nor her in him, despite the flowers and this visit. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m fine.”

He nodded, looking around the flower-littered room. “Looks like you have a heap of thoughtful friends and family. That’s nice.”

“Oh. Those. Well, my mother does. I don’t live here anymore.” She then remembered she did live here. “Well, I mean I do. For now. I’m just visiting.” Visiting? She’d be here for a little over a year before she went back to Baltimore and to teaching. “Well, more than visiting, I suppose.” She realized she was babbling. “And you? How about you?”

“I don’t live here, either. I’m just visiting.”

That wasn’t what she meant, but still Darcy nodded. “You’re from Montana. Yes. I remember.” Could this be more awkward? Sure, it could. Some nurse could come in about now and want to check her sutures. “So. How are things in Montana?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

Silence. She smiled at him, wiggled her toes, and fiddled with her fingers. The man has seen me naked. And not in a good way. He smiled back, looked her up and down as she sat there in her hospital bed. And no doubt remembered he’d seen her naked. “So,” Darcy blurted. “What is your name? That has been the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question around here today.”

“I gathered as much from the crowd at the nurses’ station. It’s Elliott. Tom Elliott. Pleased to meet you, Darcy Alcott.” He stretched forward in the chair and offered his hand to her.

Inordinately pleased—he’d gone to the trouble, obviously, of finding out her last name—Darcy leaned over the slightest bit and took his hand, shaking it, feeling warm, firm flesh and the not-unpleasant roughness of calluses. A working man’s hands. A far cry from the softness of any self-centered, lying, cheating professor types she might know. “Very pleased to meet you, Tom. Now I can quit calling you the Lone Ranger.”

He chuckled…and her heart tripped over itself—and tried to jump right out of her chest so it could tackle him and lay a big smooch on his mouth…for starters. “Yeah. I got that at the nurses’ station, too.”

Darcy blinked. “You did? You got—” Darcy! Knock it off. He doesn’t mean he got smooched at the nurses’ station. Pay attention. She discreetly cleared her throat…and forged ahead. “Uhm, did you get to see the baby? I mean today. I know you saw her yesterday. Heck, you were the first one in the world to see her.”

His smile brightened. “I hadn’t thought about that. But no, I haven’t seen her yet. I came straight to your room. I couldn’t wait to see you. Her. You.” His smile faltered, his eyes widened…as if he’d just revealed too much. Darcy felt her mouth dry. “So,” he continued. “How is she? That navel get cleaned up okay?”

Still wide-eyed with wonder—he couldn’t wait to see her?—she nodded. “Uhm, yes. Dr. Harkness said you did a fine job, too. He was quite impressed with that knot you tied.”

“Yeah? That’s a good knot, all right.” Silence. “Well, since we’re on the subject of names…what did you name your daughter?”

Darcy’s insides melted. She took a deep breath, and confessed, “Her name is Montana Skye. Sky with an E.”

“It is?” A smile as big as all outdoors claimed his features. He sat back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be. Montana Skye. With an E. That’s about the best name I think I’ve ever heard. It’s perfect for such a pretty baby, too.”

Darcy’s cheeks heated up under his compliments. “I thought it was the least I could do, given your help. I didn’t know how else to repay you. And I thought I’d never see you again to say thank-you. So I…” She exhaled and just sat there, staring at her fingers. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He shifted in the chair and leaned forward, plopped his Stetson at the foot of her bed. From under her eyelashes, Darcy stared at him, noting his intense blue-eyed gaze. “I don’t mind at all, Darcy. In fact, I’m honored. I’m just pleased I could help. And that everything turned out so well.”

“Me, too.” And then she had nothing else to say. Nothing that could keep him here and talking. Which was crazy because all she really wanted was for him to go away. Because he filled this room with his presence—and made her feel small and warm and safe. All the things she couldn’t afford to feel. He was from Montana. And she and her daughter would be living in Baltimore. No chance of a relationship there. Not that she wanted one anyway.

“I noticed,” he said suddenly…and a little too loudly, “on the drive out here from Phoenix, that your car wasn’t beside the road. I guess someone took care of that for you?”

“Yes. My mother had it towed in. It’s at the garage now.” Her mother. Dear God. “Oh, no. I need to warn you about something.”

He sat up, alert, questioning. “What’s that?”

“My mother. She’s trying to find you.”

He looked askance at her. “And yet, here I am.”

“I know. But she doesn’t know that. And she has your stuff. But not your name.”

His frown intensified. “I don’t know what—”

“That book of matches. The blanket. And your pocket knife.”

Suddenly, understanding showed in his expression. “She does? That’s good. I realized this morning that I didn’t have my knife. I figured it’d dropped out of the truck in all the excitement. But it’s mighty nice of your mother to try to get it back to me. I appreciate that.”

Darcy shook her head. “No. It’s not nice. She’s not looking for you in a good way. Trust me. She’s like a bloodhound. In fact, she set Johnny Smith on you. And he’s a real bloodhound.”

“Someone named a bloodhound Johnny Smith?”

The man wasn’t getting any of this. “No. He’s a policeman,” Darcy explained. “He just looks like a bloodhound.”

“I see.” But his bewildered expression said he didn’t. “Why would your mother set a policeman on me?”

“Well, not set one on you, I guess. You didn’t do anything wrong. She means it in a good way.”

“A second ago you said it was in a bad way.”

“Well, a good way for her. But bad for you and me.”

He stared intently at Darcy. “Now it’s you and me. Bad how?”

Darcy put her hands to her steadily warming cheeks. “I am so embarrassed.” She plopped her hands down to her lap. “Okay. Here we go. First things first. Despite all my babbling here, I’m a college professor. A little over a year ago I earned my doctorate in English Lit. I teach in Baltimore. I’m here with my mother until I’m back on my feet. And I’m what you’d call an unwed mother.”

He nodded…calm, accepting. “Congratulations. About your doctorate, I mean. About the other…well, I thought something like that was going on, from the things you said yesterday.”

Darcy recalled yesterday’s labor-and-delivery tirade and nodded. “Yes. I said a lot of things, didn’t I? And I apologize.”

“It’s okay. Hormones, like you said. My sister’s had five kids. I know a little bit about that.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Five?” As he nodded his confirmation, her sore, sore, sore nether regions were screaming Never again. “Anyway, the you and me part,” she continued. “Mother believes that my baby needs a father.”

“Aah.” He firmed his lips together, and glanced around the room as if trying to figure out where the closest exit was.

That hurt. But Darcy couldn’t really blame him. After all, the man had no responsibility here, no relationship with her. So why else would he feel anything but trapped? But still, the last time she’d seen a similar expression, it had been on Hank’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant. It was just too funny, the effect she had on men. “Don’t worry. Montana already has a father. One who’s not the least bit interested in her. Or in me, either. Which is how I want it, believe me. But nevertheless, she has a father. You’re safe.”

He stared at her. Seconds ticked by on the clock mounted on the wall behind him. His expression never changed. Darcy swallowed, felt too warm. And then too cold. Finally, he said, “I wasn’t thinking that at all. Actually I was thinking of a man who didn’t live up to his responsibilities. Still that was quite a speech.”

Darcy raised her chin. “All that lecturing I do, no doubt.”

“I suppose. But I guess it’s my turn to spill my guts, right?”

Feeling a bit defensive, Darcy shrugged. “Sure. Why not? We’re all friends here.”

His eyebrows raised. “I sure hope we are, Darcy.

I’d like that. But it’s your call.”

His expression radiated sincerity. And intelligence. And kindness. Three things Darcy liked in people but pretty much hadn’t encountered in the men she’d chosen to have relationships with in the past. Which, she suddenly realized, said more about her than it did the men. She quirked her mouth and brushed her annoyingly curly hair back from her face. “We are, Tom. We’re friends. Someone just needs to knock this chip off my shoulder, I guess.”

He smiled. “It’s not as bad as all that, Darcy. I imagine you’re scared right now, maybe a little unsure of things. You’ve been through a hell of a lot, it sounds like. I can’t blame you for being a little wary.”

Darcy stared at this Tom Elliott, more and more convinced he was some wonderfully put-together animated robot programmed to say everything a woman wanted to hear. She felt certain she could go to a toy store and find a whole row of Tom Elliott look-alikes in bright, shiny packages. If she did, she intended to buy one for every female friend she had. “Are you always this wonderful?” she asked.

He shrugged and looked embarrassed. “No. Not usually. In fact,” he said, “I expect there are some lawyers and land brokers over in Phoenix who are tacking up Wanted posters of me this minute.”

“Really? Who’d you kill?”

He grinned. “Nobody yet. I’m down here on my late grandfather’s business. He owned—and now I do—a piece of land outside of Phoenix that some developers are interested in. I’ve been looking it over.” He sat up straighter and pointed at her. “As a matter of fact, I’d been looking at it when I came across you yesterday.”

“Well, thank God for your grandfather and his land, then. Or I’d have been scorpion bait. But you must have been really lost because Phoenix is a pretty good ride from here.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’d already found the land. I just wanted to take a look around a little farther out, maybe see why my granddad had hung on to it for so long. Periodically he’d have to make a trip down here and deal with some paperwork. So did my father. It was always a hassle for them. And now, it is for me, too.”

Darcy could see where this was going. “So you’re thinking if you unload this land, you won’t have to come back here, right?”

His gaze met hers and held. He nodded. “Pretty much. Yeah. This is my last trip here. If I sell it.”

“I see.” Darcy suddenly felt like crying. She’d never see him again. And that bothered her. Because she felt herself really starting to like this man—this man who’d delivered another man’s baby and saved her life. “So,” she said out loud, struggling to sound conversational, “is that why they’re taking out Wanted posters on you? You won’t sell?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “No. I’ll sell it. Just not at their price. I’m sticking around a while, letting them stew some. See how bad they want it.”

Darcy didn’t know what to think. Well, she knew what she should be thinking. She should be hoping they made a counteroffer today, one he could accept and so he would leave. Because here she was…liking him. Really liking him. He needed to go away—and now. But that wasn’t what she was thinking. She wanted him to stay. And that wasn’t good. Or even logical.

Then she thought of something else, something she hadn’t considered before. As she watched him, he reached into his white and starched Western-style shirt and pulled out two tiny envelopes. Before he could make his intentions known, Darcy blurted her belated thought. “Are you married?”

Tom Elliott froze, his hand poised in midair. Sober as a rodeo judge, he assured her, “No, ma’am. Why do you ask?”

You heard the man, Darcy—why’d you ask? “Well, I was just wondering, with all this latitude you have about staying here or going home whenever you choose…I wondered if there was someone…waiting, is all.” Lame, lame, lame.

Cool as a mountain breeze, his neutral expression never changing, he handed her the tiny envelopes. “I meant to give you these earlier. They go with the flowers.”

Darcy reached for the envelopes. His hand closed over hers making her mouth go dry. “And no, there’s nobody waiting. Just some cattle and several thousand acres of land.”

Darcy swallowed, then smiled…lopsidedly. “Oh. Thanks. For the cards. Not the explanation. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I—”

“I wanted to.” With that, he released her hand and sat back.

He wanted to? What does that mean? Why did he want to? Is he interested? Darcy did her best to keep her expression in check as she opened the first little envelope. She could see him watching her…and wondered what he was thinking. She sure wasn’t anything to look at. No makeup. In a hospital gown and robe. Her hair a fright. Her body wrung out from delivering a baby. Why, it was a wonder the man hadn’t run for the hills already.

Then, as the silence stretched out, Darcy concentrated on reading each card. Finally, she looked up, grinning. “Thank you, again. And Montana’s card…that’s cute. The Lone Ranger and Silver. I like that.”

His face actually reddened. He shifted in his chair and tried to look tough. But he failed—miserably. “It was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t. I think it’s cute.”

“It was stupid.”

“Seriously. It’s not. It’s cute.”

“Yeah? I’m not usually so…” He seemed to be casting about for the right word.

“Stupid?” Darcy finished for him, the conspiratorial grin she wore letting him know she was joking.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I deserved that.”

Darcy shook her head. The man was perfect. And would make some deserving woman a wonderful husband. Some unknown and deserving woman up in Montana…whom Darcy already hated. But that reminded her… “Hey, you want to see Montana?”

His grin died. “I already have. I live there.”

“What?” Then she realized his mistake. “No. Montana Skye. Remember? My baby. You know…the one you delivered?”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, hell. There’s that stupid gene again.” Then he sat forward and braced his hands on his knees. “Yeah. I’d love to see how that little lady cleaned up.”

“Okay. We’ll have to go down to the nursery.” Self-consciously, she started getting off the bed, realizing she was out of shape, her ankles were still swollen and she really looked a fright. She’d probably put the man off sex for the rest of his life. Why hadn’t she shaved her legs the other day?

Tom Elliott jumped up, coming to her bedside and gently gripping her arm. “Here. Let me help you. You got your land legs yet?”

His touch ignited her heart. And a few other related parts. “Yeah,” Darcy said around her bottom lip…which she was biting in penance for that momentary burst of lust as her intense soreness fairly shrieked here’s why you don’t need to be thinking about sex right now. “My slippers. Can you put them right there—” He moved them in place and she slipped them on her feet. “Thanks.”

She stood slowly and carefully, holding on to his rock-solid arm with one hand as she used her other to straighten out her gown and robe. His other hand covered hers on his arm.

It was a small gesture, but one so intensely intimate—especially here in the maternity ward—that Darcy looked up at him, felt her aloneness, and struggled with tears. As she straightened her robe and tried to cover her roiling emotions, she quipped, “I guess it’s a little late for me to stand on decorum with you, isn’t it?”

He reached out, wiping at a tear that spilled over. “You just had something on your face,” he said, covering for her. Then, he ran his booted toe dramatically over the flooring. “You say this is decorum we’re standing on? And here I thought it was linoleum.”

The man was killing her. Darcy fought to mortar up the bricks in her emotional wall that he kept knocking down with every kind word and thoughtful gesture. She just couldn’t feel this way toward him. She just couldn’t.

Then he winked at her and set them in motion…slow motion…as they headed for the opened doorway. “Come on, Darcy. Keep me from getting homesick. Show me a little bit of Montana Skye.”