Drive-By Daddy: Drive-By Daddy / Calamity Jo

“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.