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

“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.”

4

“OH, LOOK…there she is. She’s so tiny and pink and sweet. I just love her so much.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Tom smiled at the pride evident in Darcy’s voice and longing expression. She’d make a great mother, he could tell. She had all the right attributes, ones he could admire. He felt qualified to draw that conclusion, too. After all, he’d observed Darcy with the baby from the first moment the little girl had come into the world. “She sure is a pretty little thing, with all that dark hair.”

Darcy sighed. “I know.” Then she leaned in toward him and whispered, “I think she’s the prettiest baby in the whole nursery, don’t you?”

Delighted with her whimsy, Tom whispered right back. “I sure do. I also think she’s the only baby in the whole nursery.”

Darcy gave a mock what-do-you-know roll of her eyes as she turned to once again stare longingly through the thick glass that separated her from her baby. “You do think she’s pretty, though, right?”

Tom turned his gaze from the pink-blanket-wrapped baby in the clear plastic crib to Darcy. Memorizing her profile, he said, “I think she’s beautiful.”

A big smile on her face, Darcy turned his way. “Yes, she—”

She caught him staring at her. He didn’t look away. He probably should have, he knew, but he didn’t. It was too late now. Darcy’s expression sobered, and became one of awareness. Intense awareness. She looked away first, lowering her brown-eyed gaze to the windowsill, where she rubbed a finger along its narrow ledge. Instantly, Tom felt bad. He’d embarrassed her. That hadn’t been his intention. “Darcy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. It’s okay.” She met his gaze. “Really. I thought it was…nice that you’d look at me that way.”

Tom tried for humor to cover this embarrassing moment of possibly unrequited attraction. “Nice, huh? The next thing I know, you’ll just want to be my friend. And then I’ll have to go out and shoot myself.”

“Gosh, I hope not. Think of how bad I’d feel.”

How nice of her…and how noncommital. Tom decided he was right—she wasn’t attracted to him. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest fool. Could he have made her any more uncomfortable? “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything like that, Darcy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t be coming on to a woman who only yesterday—”

“No. It’s fine. Seriously. I’m very flattered.”

That only made him feel worse. “Great. I flattered you.” Tom shook his head. “I need to stick with horses and cattle. Or maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’ve been around them too long, and I don’t know how to talk to a woman—”

Darcy pressed her hand against Tom’s lips, cutting off his words. “Hold on a minute, will you? Quit beating yourself up.” When Tom nodded, she took her hand away and smoothed it through her black hair. “I just meant I can’t believe you’d find me…attractive, is all. For heaven’s sake, look at me in this hospital garb. I must look a fright.”

“A fright?” Intensely relieved—all she’d been worried about was her appearance when here he’d been kicking himself for thinking he had his wires crossed—Tom folded his arms together over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Not at all. Like I said, you’re beautiful.”

She smiled and still managed to look embarrassed. “Must be that new-mother glow, then.”

“Could be. But I doubt if that’s all it is.”

The wide-eyed, vulnerable look she sent him said she wanted to believe him…but couldn’t. Tom thought he understood, given her new single-mother status. The woman had enough on her plate without him adding to her woes. But still, and feeling disappointed somehow, as if the one moment in time for them to connect had slipped away, Tom silently watched her settle her gaze on the sleeping baby in the nursery. “Anyway, I think she looks like me.”

Still leaning against the wall, Tom turned to stare through the glass with her. “I guess I’d have to agree with you since her father’s not around for me to know what he looks like.”

The words were out before he could stop them.

Darcy jerked and Tom wanted to kick himself. Why had he brought up that man—the gutless son-of-a-gun who wouldn’t even acknowledge his own flesh and blood? Tom shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t believe his own stupidity. “Again, Darcy—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something that jackass stupid.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting used to it.” Then her eyes went big and round. “You know…everyone asks about my husband, what does he do, is he proud.” She looked down. “Things like that.” Then she raised her head and, dry-eyed, met his gaze. “So, it’s okay. Really.”

“No, it isn’t. How many times have I had to apologize to you already?”

She shrugged. “Almost as many as I’ve had to with you.”

“Well, thank God.” Tom offered a shy smile. “Want to start over—again?”

Her expression brightened. “Sure.”

Encouraged, Tom stuck his hand out for her to shake. “Howdy, ma’am. My name is Tom Harrison Elliott. From outside of Billings, Montana. My friends call me The Lone Ranger.”

Darcy laughed…a warm, throaty sound that went all over Tom…and grasped his hand. “Hi. Pleased to meet you. My name is Darcy Jean Alcott. From Buck-eye, Arizona. My friends call me Damsel in Distress.”

“Is that so? Well, Damsel, that’s a mighty fine baby girl you have yourself there.” Without releasing Darcy’s hand, which felt small and warm clasped within his, Tom nodded toward Montana Skye, who was now awake and crying heartily.

Darcy instantly sobered, pulling her hand away. A uniformed nurse came out of a backroom inside the small nursery and hurried over to pick up the baby and soothe her. Next to Tom, Darcy pressed herself against the glass and made a mewling sound that said she wanted to hold her child herself. Tom’s heart went out to her, but he didn’t know what to do. Just then, the nurse looked up and saw them there. Immediately she came to the window with the baby and held her up, so they could see her. Tom felt pride well in his chest and sudden emotion clog his throat. The redfaced baby’s clenched fists shook with her squalling displeasure.

Darcy grabbed Tom’s sleeve. “What’s wrong with her?”

Tom covered her hand with his own. “I don’t rightly know, Darcy. But the nurse doesn’t look too worried. See? She’s smiling. It must be okay, then, wouldn’t you think?”

Darcy relaxed her grip on his sleeve. “I guess you’re right.” She slipped her hand out from under his and stuffed it in her robe pocket. Then she turned her frightened gaze his way. “What am I going to do in a day or two when you’re not around to tell me these things?”

Tom put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll do fine, Darcy. It’ll all come to you. You’ll see. A mother’s instinct, they say.”