Читать книгу Temporary Dad - Laura Marie Altom - Страница 9

Waaaaaaaaaaaa! Waa huh waaaaaaaaahh!

Sitting in a cozy rattan chair on the patio of her new condo, Annie Harnesberry looked up from the August issue of Budget Decorating and frowned.

Waaaaaaa!

Granted, she wasn’t a mother herself, but she’d been a preschool teacher for the past seven years, so that did lend her a certain credibility where children were concerned. Not to mention the fact that she’d spent the past two years falling for Conner and his five cuties. Considering how badly he’d hurt her, the man must have a PhD in breaking hearts.

Baby Sarah had only been nine months old when Conner brought his second-youngest, three-year-old Clara, to the school where Annie used to teach.

Their initial attraction had been undeniable—Annie’s affinity for Clara and Baby Sarah, that is.

The two blue-eyed blondes were heart-stealers.

Kind of like their father, who’d gradually made Annie believe he’d loved her and not her knack for taking care of his children.

The man had emotionally devastated her when, instead of offering her a ring on Valentine’s Day, he’d offered her a position as his live-in nanny—right before showing off the diamond solitaire he was giving the next female on his night’s agenda.

Jade.

His future bride.

Trouble was, Jade didn’t much care for the patter of little feet—hence Conner’s sudden need for a nanny. But beyond that, he explained that the exotic brunette was one hot ticket. Us all living together’ll be like a big, happy family, don’tcha think?

Waaaaa ha waaaah!

Annie sighed.

Whoever was in charge of that poor, pitiful wailer in the condo across the breezeway from hers ought to do something to calm the infant. Never had she heard so much commotion. Was the poor thing sick?

She plucked a dead leaf from the pot of red impatiens gracing the center of her patio table, then returned to her article on glazing. She’d love to try this new technique in the guest bath that was tucked under the stairs.

Maybe in burgundy?

Or gold?

Something rich and decadent—like the decorating equivalent of a spoonful of hot fudge.

The house she’d grown up in had been painted top to bottom, inside and out, in vibrant jewel tones. She’d lived with her grandparents, since her mom and dad were engineers who traveled abroad so often that once she’d become school-age, it had been impractical for her to go with them. Her second place of residence—never could she call it a home—had been painted mashed-potato beige. This was the house she’d shared with her ex-husband, Troy, a man so abusive he made Conner look like a saint. Lodging number three, the apartment she’d run to after leaving her ex, had been a step up from mashed potatoes, seeing how it’d been painted creamed-corn yellow.

This condo was her fourth abode, and this time, she was determined to get not only the décor right, but her life. As much as she loved spending five days a week around primary colors and Sesame Street wallpaper, in her free time, she craved more grown-up surroundings.

Waaaaa waaaa waaaaa!

Waa huh waaaa!

Waaaaaaaaa!

Annie slapped the magazine back onto her knees.

Something about the sound of that baby’s crying wasn’t right.

Was there more than one?

Definitely two.

Maybe even three.

But she’d moved in a couple of weeks earlier and hadn’t heard a peep or seen signs of any infant in the complex—let alone three. That was partially why she’d chosen this unit over the one beside the river, which had much better views of the town of Pecan, Oklahoma’s renowned pecan groves.

The problem with the other place, the one with the view, was that it catered to families, and after saying tearful goodbyes to Baby Sarah and Clara and their two older brothers and sister, not to mention their father, the last thing Annie wanted in a new home was children.

Conner had packed up his kids, along with his gorgeous new wife and Scandinavian nanny, moving them all to Atlanta. The children were just as confused by the sudden appearance of Jade in their father’s life as Annie had been. She sent them birthday cards and letters, but it wasn’t the same. She missed them. Which was why she’d left her hometown of Bartlesville for Pecan. Because she’d resigned herself to mothering only the kids at work.

Conner was her second rotten experience with a man. And with trying to be part of a big, boisterous family. She sure didn’t want any daily reminders of her latest relationship disaster.

No more haunting memories of running errands with the kids at Wal-Mart or QuikTrip or the grocery store. No more lurching heart every time she saw a car that reminded her of Conner’s silver Beemer on Bartlesville’s main drag.

She needed a fresh start in the kind of charming small town that Conner wouldn’t lower himself to step foot in.

Annie looked at her magazine.

Glazing.

All she needed to feel better about her whole situation was time and a can or two of paint.

Waa huh waaaaaaa!

Annie frowned again.

No good parent would just leave an infant crying like this. What was going on? Could the baby’s mom or dad be hurt?

Wrinkling her nose, nibbling the tip of her pinkie finger, Annie put her magazine on the table and peered over the wrought-iron rail encircling her patio.

A cool breeze ruffled her short, blond curls, carrying with it the homey scent of fresh bread baking at the town’s largest factory, a mile or so away. She had yet to taste Finnegan’s Pecan Wheatberry bread, but it was supposedly to die for.

Normally at this time of year in Oklahoma, she’d be inside cozied up to a blasting central AC vent. Due to last night’s rain, the day wasn’t typical August fare, but tinged with an enticing fall preview.

Waaaaaaaa!

Annie popped the latch on her patio gate, creeping across grass not quite green or brown, but a weary shade somewhere in between.

The birdbath left behind by the condo’s last owner had gone dry. She’d have to remember to fill it the next time she dowsed her impatiens and marigolds.

Waaaaaa!

She crept farther across the shared lawn, stepping onto the weathered brick breezeway she shared with the as-yet-unseen owner of the unit across from hers.

The condo complex’s clubhouse manager—Veronica, a bubbly redhead with a penchant for eighties rock and yogurt—said a bachelor fireman lived there.

Judging by the dead azalea bushes on either side of his front door, Annie hoped the guy was better at watering burning buildings than poor, thirsty plants.

Waaa huhhh waaa!

She took another nibble on her pinkie.

Looked at the fireman’s door, then her own.

Whatever was going on in there probably wasn’t any of her business.

Her friends said she spent too much time worrying about other folks’ problems and not enough on her own. But really, besides her broken heart, what problems did she have?

Okay, sure, she got lonely now that she lived an hour south of her grandmother. And her parents’ current gig in a remote province of China meant she rarely got to talk to them. But other than that, she had it pretty good, and—

Waaaaaaa!

Call her a busybody, but enough was enough.

She couldn’t bear standing around listening to a helpless baby cry—maybe even more than one helpless baby.

Her first knock on the bachelor fireman’s door was gentle. Ladylike. That of a concerned neighbor.

When it didn’t work, she gave the door a few hard thuds.

She was just about to investigate the patio when the door flew open. “Patti? Where the—oh. Sorry. Thought you were my sister.”

Annie gaped.

What else could she do faced with the handsomest man she’d ever seen—hugging not one baby, not two babies, but three? Each red faced and screaming. Triplets?

On teacher autopilot, she reached for the most miserable-looking one, automatically cradling the poor, trembling thing against her left shoulder.

“Hi,” she said, lightly jiggling the baby while at the same time smoothing her fingers down the back of her head—her judging by the pink terry-cloth pjs. “I’m your new neighbor, Annie Harnesberry. I don’t mean to be nosy, but it sounded like you might need help.”

The guy sort-of laughed, showing lots of white teeth. “Yeah. My, um, little sis left me with these guys over twenty-six hours ago. She was supposed to be back at two yesterday afternoon, but—”

Annie’s triplet had calmed, so she brushed past her neighbor to place the child gingerly in a pink bunny-covered car seat. Then she took another of his screaming babies for herself.

“Don’t mean to be pushy,” she said, “and please, go on with your story about your sister, but occupational hazard—I just can’t stand hearing a child cry.”

“Me, too,” he said, wincing when the baby he held launched a whole new set of screams. “I’m a fireman. Jed Hale. What do you do?” He awkwardly held out his hand for her to shake.

“I’m a preschool teacher now, but used to work with infants in a day care. I ran a pretty tight nursery.” She winked. “No crying allowed on my watch.”

“Admirable.” He grinned, and his boyish-yet-all-man charm warmed Annie to her toes.

She soon calmed the second baby, then put him—judging by his blue terry-cloth pjs—alongside his sister in a blue giraffe-upholstered carrier.

She took the remaining infant in her arms, and, like magic, after a few jiggles he fell into a deep sleep.

“Wow,” the boy’s uncle said with a look of awe. “How’d you do that?”

Annie shrugged, easing the last snoozing triplet into his seat. “Practice. My major was premed with a minor in child development. Seems like I spent half my college career in the campus nursery studying infants. They’re fascinating.”

He leaned against the open door. “Sounds pretty bookish for a preschool teacher. I didn’t even know you had to go to college for that—I mean, not that you shouldn’t have to, but—”

“I know what you mean. I always wanted to be a child psychiatrist. Not sure why. Just one of those things.” She didn’t have a clue why she was standing here in this stranger’s home, spilling her guts about stuff she hadn’t thought of in years. Reddening, she said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble—or barge in. Now that you’ve got everything under control, I’ll just mosey off to my magazine.” She backed out of his condo and hooked her thumb toward her patio. Whew.

The man’s eyes were gorgeous. Brown shot with the same flecks of gold she’d like on her bathroom walls. Opulent and rich and definitely all grown-up. As yummy as that spoonful of hot fudge swirled with caramel! The decorating version of course…

Although she wasn’t in the market for a man herself, should she try fixing him up with one of the other teachers at her school?

“Don’t leave,” Jed said, hating the needy whine in his tone. He’d always prided himself on never needing anyone, but this woman he didn’t just need, he had to have. He had no idea what magic she’d used to zonk out his niece and nephews. However, if his sister didn’t arrive to claim her offspring in the next thirty seconds, it’d be a pretty safe bet he’d need Annie’s special brand of baby tranquilizer all over again. “Really, stay,” he said, urging her inside. “I’ve been meaning to bring over a frozen pizza or something. You know, do the whole Welcome Wagon neighbor thing. But we’ve had some guys out sick and on vacation, so I’ve been pulling double shifts.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I’m due back in a few hours, but my sis should be here way before then.”

Now who was the one rambling?

Jed could’ve kicked himself for going on and on. Not only did he have a desperate need for this woman, but now that he’d been standing next to her for a good fifteen minutes, he was starting to admire more than her babysitting skills.

She was cute.

Hot in a G-rated sort of way.

Loopy blond curls kissed her shoulders and neck. A curve-hugging white T-shirt gave tantalizing peeks at cleavage and a great, all-over tan. And seeing how she was now up to a PG-13, how about those great legs in the jean shorts?

Damn.

Not too long, not too short. Just right for—

Waaaaaaaaa!

Triple damn.

He sure loved Patti’s little critters, but they were in serious need of a few lessons on how not to screw up Uncle Jed’s chances with his hot new neighbor.

“He’s probably hungry,” she said, marching over to the carrier and picking up his squalling nephew. “Got any bottles?”

Her lips. Man. When she talked they did this funny little curvy thing at the corners. Made him want to hear her talk about something other than babies. Where she’d moved from and where she one day wanted to go. Why she’d wanted to be a child psychiatrist but ended up teaching preschool.

“Jed?” Annie grinned. “You okay? If you’d just point the way to the bottles, I’ll go ahead and feed this guy while you take a breather.”

“I’m good,” he said with a shake of his head. “The bottles are in here.”

He led her to the kitchen. A tight, beige-walled cell of a room he usually avoided by eating at the station or feasting on takeout in front of the TV.

He took a bottle from the fridge, then turned to the woman behind him. “Want me to nuke it?”

She grimaced, kissing his nephew on top of his head. “It’s probably best to put the bottle in a bowl of hot water, otherwise it gets too hot.”

“Oh.”

She headed toward the sink.

Speaking of hot…

Nudging on the faucet, she asked, “Got any big bowls?”

Jed retrieved the only bowl he owned—a promotional Budweiser Super Bowl VIII popcorn dish he’d won playing sports trivia down at his friend’s bar. “This work?”

She eyed it for a second, then said, “Um, sure.”

OVER AN HOUR LATER, Annie had fed and diapered the infant trio. Jed had confirmed her earlier assumption of their being triplets. The five-month-old girl was named Pia, and the boys, Richard and Ronnie. Jed explained earlier that morning, he’d lost the ribbon bracelets his sister kept on the boys to help tell them apart, so now he wasn’t sure who was who.

“Man,” he said, arching back his head with a yawn. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. When Patti finally shows up, she’s going to catch heat the likes of which she hasn’t felt since I caught her smoking in church.”

“Bit of a wild child, was she?” Annie asked, as she fastened the last snap on Pia’s pink jammies. She found a tiny pink Velcro bow stuck to the terry cloth, pulled it off, and attached it to the baby girl’s thin tufts of hair.

He laughed. “That’s an understatement. The happiest day of my life was when she said her I Dos to Howie. Finally, I thought, she’s someone else’s responsibility.”

“You been looking after her for a while?”

“Yeah. Our folks died my freshman year of college. Patti was okay as a kid, but once she hit her teens, she was nothing but trouble. She started pulling all this rebellion crap. Smoking. Drinking. Exclusively dating guys whose gene pools were only half-full. Most times, I knew she must have still been upset about Mom and Dad. But then there were other times I swear she did every bit of it just to piss me—” He winced. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Annie said, hugging the sleeping beauty to her chest.

“So lately,” he said, “she’s been kind of depressed. Howie—her husband, my savior—got laid off from his job here in Pecan, so he took a new one that has him traveling out east a lot. The company won’t pay for the whole family to relocate, so until he can find something closer to home, this is what he’s doing to pay the bills. Patti hasn’t handled it all that well. Before this happened with Howie, she’d been a bit shaky on the whole motherhood thing—not that she hasn’t done a great job. It’s just that she gets pretty frazzled.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Annie said, starting to share Jed’s concern for his sister, this precious infant’s mother. She stroked Pia’s downy-soft hair and breathed in her innocence and lotion.

“Anyway, that’s why I offered to watch these guys for her. I figured she could use a little break, but her being gone overnight…” He shook his head. “I never agreed to that. I’ve checked her house, called her neighbors and friends. Mrs. Clancy on the end of her block saw her tear out of her driveway yesterday about twelve-thirty in my truck. Since I can only fit one baby seat in my truck, she probably thought it best to leave me with the Baby Mobile. No one’s seen her since.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

The muted sound of a running vacuum came from next door.

“When she was younger,” he said, “she ran away a few times. I’m scared she’s choosing that way out again. But it could be something else. Something bad…”

The vacuum went off.

Annie leaned forward, her stomach queasy. “Have you called the police or tried getting in touch with Howie?”

He shrugged, then pushed himself up from the sofa and began to pace. “I’ve got a couple friends down at the police station, so I’ve been calling them like every hour. They’ve entered my plates and Patti’s vitals into the national missing persons base. Anyway, the cavalry’s been called, but they keep telling me the same thing. Wait. She’ll come home. There’s been no sign of trouble. Odds are, with Patti’s history of running, the stress of the babies probably got to be too much for her and she just took off.”

“And her husband? Did you ever get hold of him?”

“Nope. His cell keeps forwarding to voice messaging—same as his office phone. Apparently, not a single real live person answers the phone at that high-tech fortress where he works. I’d go to see him, but he’s out in Virginia somewhere.”

“Sorry,” Annie said. “Wish there was something I could do.”

“You’ve already helped,” he said. He shot a glance at his nephews. “Sometimes when these guys—and girl—start on a crying jag, I get panicky. Maybe my sister felt the same and split.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “She just left her babies?”

“I don’t want to think that of her, but what other explanation is there? I mean, if there was an emergency or something, wouldn’t she have called?”

“I’d think so, but what if she can’t?”

“Oh, come on.” He stopped pacing and thumped the heel of his hand against a pasta-colored wall. A snow-capped mountain landscape rattled in its chrome frame. “In this day and age, I’ll bet you can’t give me one good reason why a person couldn’t call.”

Annie wanted to blurt dozens of comforting reasons, but how could she when Jed was right?