Temporary Dad

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

“How come?”

“I’d rather spend the fifty dollars a month on decorating supplies.”

He smiled. “I knew I liked you. Finally, a woman who actually prefers an activity to talking.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like to talk.” She winked. “I just don’t want my conversations to cost more per year than a custom-upholstered sofa and love seat.”

Chapter Four

It was nine the next morning before they finally pulled onto Highway 75 leading out of Pecan and into Tulsa where they’d catch Highway 412. Annie had talked Jed into taking a nap that’d thankfully turned into a decent night’s rest. Meanwhile, she’d run to the store for a more realistic stock of formula, diapers and diaper wipes, and also managed to grab a little shut-eye for herself while the babies were sleeping.

During her brief time away from Jed’s formidable appeal—not to mention that of his niece and nephews—she’d given herself a nice, long pep talk.

Jed was just her neighbor.

And yeah, he was gorgeous, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was falling for him. She was a big girl. So why was she so confused? Why did she feel that by agreeing to what should be nothing more than a brief road trip, she was essentially giving away her heart?

Could it be because that heart of yours hums whenever the guy’s within three feet?

Annie cracked open the map. “Want me to find some shortcuts?”

Both hands on his sister’s minivan wheel, Jed shook his head. “I’m an interstate kind of guy. I see no reason to tempt fate.”

“Oh.” She slipped off her sandals and propped her bare feet on the dash. Admiring her fresh pedicure, she said, “Don’t you just love this shade of pink? The silver sparkles look like there’s a party on my toes.” She glanced his way and caught him rolling his eyes.

Eyebrows raised, he asked, “Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get your dirty feet all over the clean dash. I just dusted it this morning.”

“My feet aren’t dirty—or dusty.” She twisted in the seat to display her soles for inspection. “See?”

Barely ten minutes into the trip and the woman nearly had him crashing the car! Jed cleared his throat, thankful for that keep your eyes on the road rule, otherwise, he’d be sorely tempted to take the bottoms of those squeaky-clean feet and—

Nope.

Not going there.

This was a family trip.

G-rated all the way.

For an instant, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Did she have any idea that when she’d raised her feet for inspection, she’d also raised the frayed bottoms of her jean shorts? The sweet curve of her behind had him thinking anything but sweet thoughts!

He tightened his grip on the wheel.

“Tell me about Ditch,” the constant temptation sitting beside him said.

He was grateful for the change of topic. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“For starters—” she hiked her feet back onto the dash “—please tell me that isn’t his real name.”

“Nah. We used to take walks down our dirt road, and every time we heard the tiniest little noise, he’d hit the ditch, sure it was a bear.”

She crinkled her nose.

Was it wrong of him that such a simple thing gave him such a peculiar thrill?

“If it had been a bear,” she said, “why did he think getting in the ditch was going to keep it away?”

Jed laughed. “Good question, which is why the other kids and I gave him such a hard time.”

“Poor guy. Did he ever—”

Waaaaahuh!

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked one of the boys. “Already needing a snack?” She took a pre-warmed bottle from an insulated bag, tested the formula’s temperature on her wrist, then offered it to Jed’s nephew, who promptly batted it away. “I’ll take that to mean he’s not hungry,” she said.

Waaaaaaahuh!

Waaaaaaa!

Great. Now Pia had joined in.

“Good Lord,” Jed said. “We haven’t even made it to Tulsa and already they’re crying? I thought babies liked car rides?”

“Most do,” she said above the racket, “but I guess these guys are the exception. Well, except for Richard. He’s sound asleep.”

“How do you know that’s Rich?”

“Technically, I don’t. But he has slightly thicker eyebrows than his brother, so that helps me tell them apart.”

Sure. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Jed sighed.

“What? You think I’m making that up?”

“When we make our first stop in Kansas, I’ll take a look.”

“Kansas? I hate to burst your bubble there, but judging by the howling, we’re going to have to stop way before we even reach the Kansas Turnpike.”

“The hell we will.” And to prove it, Jed stepped on the gas.

FIVE MILES DOWN the road at a run-down picnic stop where hot, dry wind rustled scattered litter on the ground, Jed scowled.

All three babies wailed.