Doorstep Daddy

by Shirley Jump

  “No, I meant, why are you working so hard to get me to fall in love with you, if you have no intentions of loving me back?”

  The words hung between them as heavy as cannonballs. Dalton placed his menu on the table and slid it to the side. “I’m not trying to do that, Ellie.”

  “Then what is all this—” she waved at the wine, the candle, the velvet curtains “—about?”

  “A nice night out. A nice dinner.”

  She had to stop fooling herself, stop getting wrapped up in all these fancy details, and be real about what this was tonight. “A pity date for the single mom.”

  “No, of course not.”

  She leaned forward. “Come on, Dalton, don’t patronize me. I get it, okay? You don’t have to sit here and pretend to be all into me, and into this night. We both know how it’s going to end.”

  “Ellie…”

  “You’re going to go back to your life alone. And I’m going to go back to mine.” Ellie drew in a breath, and pushed the words past her throat. Past the limo, the roses and the champagne. “I can’t afford to fall for you, Dalton. I can’t do that to my daughter or to myself because I know how it feels to lose someone. So don’t waste this—” once again, she waved at the table and the romantic fixings “—on me, when you could use it on a woman who doesn’t come with so many strings.” She grabbed her purse and stood, her heart breaking as she did. “Thank you, though.”

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  “Because for a minute there, you made me remember what it was like to be a woman again. And made me realize there’s hope for me to have a life down the road. Life with a man who wants what I want.” Her gaze met his, and all those kisses, all those times he’d taken her hand, all those smiles, sank to the bottom of her stomach. “I wished that had been you and I’m sorry that it wasn’t. Good night, Dalton. Best of luck with your book.”

  Then she turned and left, before she could change her mind. And make a mistake she’d regret for not just tonight.

  But years to come.

  After Ellie paid the taxi driver, she rang Mrs. Winterberry’s doorbell, and steeled herself for the lecture that was sure to come. True to form, Mrs. Winterberry gave Ellie a frown when she opened the door. Sabrina lay on the floor in Mrs. Winterberry’s living room, wagging a rattle back and forth. “Where’s Dalton? Why are you back so soon?”

  “I missed Sabrina,” Ellie said as she entered the house and dropped onto the floor beside her daughter. Bri looked up at her mother and smiled, dropping the rattle and reaching instead for Ellie’s finger, holding tight, as if she didn’t want to let her mother leave again. “Isn’t that reason enough to come home early?”

  “Not when you’re supposed to be out enjoying yourself. And especially not when you left here in a limousine and returned in a taxi.”

  Ellie cursed the large picture window at the front of Mrs. Winterberry’s house, and the older woman’s tendency to watch the comings and goings of everyone in the neighborhood. “I appreciate you offering to watch Sabrina tonight, Mrs. Winterberry, but Dalton and I…we’re not really dating material.”

  Mrs. Winterberry placed a glass of lemonade on the coffee table near Ellie, then sat across from her in one of the ornate brocade armchairs. “And why exactly is that?”

  Ellie sighed. “It’s complicated. Suffice to say, we want two different things.”

  “Or maybe you just think you do.”

  “We’ve talked about it. He doesn’t want to get married or have kids. He’s very definite about that.”

  Mrs. Winterberry waved a hand. “Men. They never know what they want. You need to tell him what he wants.”

  Ellie chuckled. “I get the feeling Dalton is not the kind of man you can tell anything to.”

  The older woman considered those words for a moment, while she sipped some lemonade. “Perhaps. But still, I think he’ll come around.”

  Sabrina began to blow bubbles and kick, then make herself laugh by her antics. Ellie chuckled, and brushed a kiss over her baby’s forehead. “I don’t have time for that. Sabrina’s my sole agenda.”

  Mrs. Winterberry placed her glass on the endtable and leaned forward, her face somber. “You make a child your whole world, Ellie, and then one day, you wake up, and the child’s grown up and your world is empty.”

  Ellie glanced at Sabrina, at eight months old, still so needy and demanding. “I’m a long way from that, Mrs. Winterberry.”

  “Those years go faster than you think, my dear.”

  The doorbell rang. Mrs. Winterberry rose, a smile racing across her face. “My, my, I wonder who that is.” She crossed to the door and opened it, then turned to Ellie. “Look who’s come to visit, Ellie. It’s Dalton. Looking for you.”

  How convenient. Mrs. Winterberry probably sent Dalton a telepathic message to come right over. Ellie wouldn’t put it past her—her neighbor seemed intent on making sure everyone on the block had a happy ending. Ellie gathered Sabrina’s diaper bag, slung it on her shoulder, then picked up the baby and got to her feet. “I’m going to take her home now,” she said, ignoring Dalton’s arrival. “Thank you for watching Sabrina, Mrs. Winterberry. It was nice to get out for a little while.”

  “Anytime, dear.”

  “Ellie, I want to talk to you,” Dalton said.

  “I’m going home,” she stressed, then brushed past him, heading out the door and down the porch steps. On her shoulder, Sabrina strained, trying to reach for Dalton.

  Ellie ignored it all, and just kept going, cutting across the street, digging her house keys out of the front pocket of the diaper bag as she walked. Night had begun to fall, bathing the street in a deep purple glow. Parents were calling their kids to come in, couples were sitting on their front porches, enjoying one last cup of coffee and conversation, while others took the dog on an evening stroll around the block.

  “You’re just going to walk away?” Dalton said, keeping up with her.

  “I already said everything I had to say back in the restaurant.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Dalton said. “Then you left before I got a chance to respond.”

  “You’ve made your feelings clear, Dalton. I’m not going to waste my time, or yours.” On her hip, Sabrina was bouncing up and down, trying to reach for Dalton. He wasn’t helping the matter by wiggling a finger at her. Ellie inserted her key into the lock, opened her door, and entered her small Cape-style house, hoping that would be the hint Dalton needed to leave.

  But instead he followed her.

  Fine. If he insisted on coming with her, then he’d have to be part of the evening routine. She dropped the diaper bag by the door, then headed for the changing table. Let him see what it was like to be part of life with baby—after all the playtime was over. That would drive Dalton back home.

  After all, anytime he had to get too close to Bri, she noticed that was when Dalton made the most of inserting personal space—i.e., he got the heck out of there with some excuse or another.

  “Are you going to talk to me?”

  “Nope. I’m going to give my daughter a bath and get her ready for bed, then do the same for me.”

  Instead of going anywhere, he shrugged. “Fine. Then I’ll help.”

  “Suit yourself. But you’ll probably end up with a wet suit, and drool on your shoulder.”

  “I have other suits. And I know a good drycleaner.”

  They weren’t talking about baby baths. Or bedtimes. Or anything of the sort. And both of them knew it. They were still carrying on the conversation from the restaurant. Ellie was telling him in no uncertain terms this is my life, like it or not, and Dalton was playing the game that he wanted to be a part of it.

  Well, Ellie wasn’t buying a word of it.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She slipped off her sweater, then brought Sabrina over to the small changing table in the corner. There, she stripped the baby down to her diaper—something that absolutely delighted Bri, who laughed and bounced—then walked into the kit
chen. Unlike Dalton’s house, Ellie’s was tiny, with all five rooms running right on top of each other.

  A few minutes later, she had one side of the kitchen sink filled with warm water, and a naked Sabrina sitting in the silver basin, splashing happily while Ellie wiped her with a soap-soaked washcloth. Dalton took a few steps back. “You weren’t kidding about the wet part.”

  Ellie laughed. “She loves her baths.”

  “I can see that.” But still, Dalton stayed, even moving back within splashing distance. He bent over and picked up a toy Bri had dropped, and handed it to her, giving the plastic elephant a squeeze as he did. The toy’s spout released a stream of water, delighting Sabrina, who let out a giggle. She smacked the water, sending a wave over the sink.

  And right onto Dalton’s shoes.

  “I owe you for that, kid,” Dalton said, and gave the elephant another squeeze. It sprayed her a second time. “Whoo-hee.”

  Sabrina laughed, sputtering when some of the water hit her face, and waited for him to do it again. He obliged her, twice more, even as she laughed and splashed him back.

  Ellie watched in amazement. This was so not going according to plan. Dalton was playing with Sabrina? Remaining in the kitchen? Getting wet on purpose?

  “Do you want to take over?” Ellie asked.

  “Take over?”

  “Yeah, with bathing her. I forgot to get a towel and—”

  “Oh no, no. You do the bath.” He grinned. “Baby rules, remember?”

  “Baby rules?”

  “You were the one holding her when you put her in the sink.”

  Ellie laughed. “Not fair.”

  Dalton took a step closer to Ellie. “I distinctly remember someone else not playing fair a couple days ago. Now I’m soaked,” he gestured toward his wet chest, “so I’ll go get the towel.”

  Good. Maybe now that Dalton’s clothes were wet, he’d leave and she wouldn’t have to tell him all over again why they were wrong for each other. Nor would she have to keep wondering why Dalton could have such a good time playing with Sabrina yet claim he’d make such terrible father material.

  “The towels are in the—” Ellie cut off the sentence as she watched Dalton take off his jacket and hang it on a chair. Oh my. He’d looked good in a T-shirt. Incredible bare-chested. And now, in a wet dress shirt, he looked plain sexy.

  “Where are the towels?” Dalton asked.

  “Uh…” Ellie focused, holding Sabrina with one hand, while the baby continued her two-handed homemade water fountain. “In the closet by my bedroom upstairs. First door on the right.”

  “I’ll be back in a second. Before she soaks you, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  Walking through Ellie’s house alone gave Dalton an intimate portrait of the woman who had thus far only been inside his house. She had a comfortable house, a very cozy environment. If she lived with him, he realized, this was what his house would look like. Instead of all the hulking male furniture in leather and dark woods, he’d see more of these light tones, soft fabrics and pastel walls.

  At the top of the stairs, he reached for the knob to the linen closet, then pivoted, peeking into Ellie’s bedroom. He knew he should stay out of the room, and stay in the hall, but before he could turn back to the closet, he found himself stepping into the bedroom, picturing her in the space.

  Big fluffy yellow gingham pillows. A white comforter thick enough to swallow a man. And a bed that looked as inviting as a deep, dark lake at the end of a very hot day.

  That was Ellie Miller’s bedroom. The space, decorated with white maple furniture and a single puffy armchair, surrounded Dalton with a sense of comfort he hadn’t found in years, if ever. He had the sudden urge to do one of two things—

  Turn around and flee.

  And turn around, bring Ellie upstairs and lay her in that bed, and never ever leave this room again.

  “Dalton?” she called from downstairs. “Do you have that towel yet?”

  “Coming right down.” He spun on his heel, leaving the gingham behind. But wishing, in an odd way that he didn’t have to.

  Ellie had done this on purpose, Dalton decided.

  She’d left him to zipper the kid into this sleeper pajama thing, which was pretty much akin to trying to wrestle a snake into a bag. Supposedly, Ellie had had a pressing load of laundry to start, and she’d asked Dalton to do the jammie thing. He’d thought that would be easier than laundry.

  Yeah. Not.

  It took a good five minutes before he had the squirming baby inside the fuzzy pink pajamas, and the top flap snapped in place. Then he picked Sabrina up, and put her on the blanket Ellie had spread out on the floor. “You could have warned me,” he said when Ellie returned.

  “Warned you what?”

  “That this pajama thing wasn’t easy. At all.” He sat back on the floor and looked at Ellie, who had plopped a basket of laundry beside her chair. “And that you were going to run out on me tonight.”

  Silence fell across the room. She ignored him, and instead picked up a towel and folded it. On the floor, the baby kicked her feet up and down.

  “Are you done avoiding me, so that we can finally talk about this?”

  “I don’t see why,” Ellie said. “Like I said before, you want something different from what I want. What’s the point in taking this any further, Dalton? I’m not going to waste my time falling for a man who only wants me for one thing.” Her clear green eyes met his. The fire that had ignited between them on that first day sparked in her gaze. “We can’t keep playing this game.”

  “No, we can’t.” Although he wanted to keep kissing her, didn’t want to stop seeing her, where else was this going to go? It wasn’t fair to Ellie, or to Sabrina. But Dalton didn’t want to be fair. He wanted it all, damn it. To hell with the consequences.

  The baby started her word-song again, working her way through all her sounds, while she kicked her feet and swung her fists. “Ba-ba-ba. Mu-mu-mumma.”

  The soft smile stole across Ellie’s face again, the one that hit Dalton in the gut every single time. Ellie put down the towel and knelt by her baby. “Say Momma, Bri. Say Momma.”

  Sabrina kicked and squealed. “Momma, momma, momma.”

  Ellie beamed and looked up at Dalton, the joy on her face wide and explosive. “She said it. She said it.” Ellie picked up the baby and held her to her chest, burying her face in Sabrina’s, nuzzling the baby’s neck. “Oh, good girl, Sabrina, good girl.”

  Dalton tried to work a smile to his face, to share in Ellie’s joy, but something leaden had fallen to his gut. It had been a wonderful moment, an amazing moment.

  A family moment.

  And Dalton had never felt more outside the family than he did right then. And never wanted more to be a part of it. As weird as that was.

  This was what Ellie was talking about. This was why she had walked away in the restaurant. Because he only wanted to be involved with her for the sugar on top, and not to be involved with the web of this—

  The family. The Momma moments.

  He thought of his own son, living with someone else, strangers somewhere in another part of the country, no longer a baby, of course. Dalton had missed the Momma day. Missed the first steps. The first teeth. Missed all of that. By choice.

  Had he made the right decision?

  He watched Ellie’s face now, saw her heart soar as Sabrina repeated the word again, and felt his own chest crack.

  Sabrina squirmed around in Ellie’s arms. She bounced up and down, using Ellie’s arms for leverage, and looked at Dalton. “Da-da-da.”

  Ellie looked at Dalton.

  Dalton stared at Ellie.

  “Did she just say what I thought she said?” Ellie asked.

  “Nah,” Dalton said. “I don’t think so.”

  Sabrina bounced some more. Waved a fist around. “Da-da-da.”

  Dalton’s heart wedged in his throat. He’d definitely heard that this time.

  Sabrina had looked right at him
and called him Dada. Maybe she didn’t mean it, maybe she didn’t understand it, but there it was. The one word he’d never heard from his own child, had come from Ellie’s baby.

  Dada.

  For a second, he forgot that he didn’t want this. Forgot that he had vowed to stay away, to keep himself above all these connections. The word echoed in his head, in Sabrina’s soft little sing-song. Joy broke inside his chest, a flock of birds taking flight. Dalton wanted to capture this moment, to hold it tight and never let it go.

  Dada.

  A smile worked its way to Dalton’s face and he stared at Sabrina, dumbfounded and utterly captivated by a pair of big blue eyes, two rosy cheeks and one word.

  Dada.

  “I guess she sees you as…” Ellie paused. “Her father. I mean, you’ve been around her more than any other man has and well, she just kind of naturally thought…”

  “Yeah.” Dalton cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess she does.”

  But he wasn’t Sabrina’s father, was he? He could get as caught up in this moment as he wanted, but when it came down to the cold, hard facts, Dalton wasn’t Sabrina’s father and he shouldn’t be playing a game he couldn’t finish. Dalton got to his feet, backing up and putting distance between himself and the whole scene. “I better leave.”

  Ellie rose, too, Sabrina still balanced on her hip. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  She narrowed the gap between them, her gaze meeting his, sparking with a challenge, refusing to let him escape this time. “Ever since I met you, Dalton, all you’ve wanted to do is put distance between me and my daughter. It’s like you’re terrified of getting close to the baby. Not to mention me. You’ll kiss me. You’ll flirt with me, but you won’t have a relationship with me or with Bri. Why?”

  “I’m just not good with kids.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’ve seen you with Bri. You’re awesome with her. And I saw your face just now. You…well, you love her. But you won’t get close.” She sighed and put the baby back on the floor, handing Sabrina her pacifier and a toy, then went to Dalton. She laid a hand on his arm, her touch soft, concerned. There. “What happened to you, Dalton, to make you this way? Because I know something did. I see it in your writing. It’s as if you’re leaving something out. Like there’s a wall up, a line you won’t cross. Why? What’s made you so afraid of getting close to people, not just in real life, but on paper, too?”