Margie stepped down off the ladder and frowned up at him. “Well, you better be. Why else would I have you staying here, except to give you two time to get to know each other? But if you don’t even know, then this is just awful, and my plan won’t work.”
Her plan? Sensing trouble—a whole lot of trouble—Tom came down the ladder and faced the tiny but formidable Margie Alcott. “And what plan is that?”
“Now you’re talking.” All smiles, Margie snatched up a clean rag from the workbench and held it out to him.
“Thanks.” Tom took it and tossed the screwdriver back into the opened tool chest. Using the rag to wipe the grease off his hands, he then repeated, “And what plan is that?”
“The one where you and Darcy get married.”
Tom’s hands stilled. So did his breathing. “Me and Darcy? We get married…in your plan?”
“Well, of course. How many times do I have to tell you? That’s the reason you’re here—so you can be close to her. And so she can see that you’re the man for her.”
“Well, I am flattered. And I do have my own feelings about Darcy, which is why I agreed to stick around. But, now that I think about it, I don’t think your daughter wants a man in her life right now.”
Margie waved that away. “Oh, pooh. Of course she does. She just doesn’t know it. Besides, everyone knows the cure for falling out of the saddle is to get back on the horse. You’re a cowboy. You ought to know that.”
Tom had no idea how to answer that. Or if there was even anything there to be answered.
But Margie again took up the slack. “Now, wait just a minute. You didn’t really believe what I said the other evening about you staying out here for my sake, now did you?” Margie pulled herself up to her full height…of about five feet two inches. “You think I’m in the habit of taking in every stray cowboy that drives by? I’m not that kind of a woman.”
“Hold on. I never thought you were. But I don’t think your daughter is, either. And no matter how I might feel about this situation—and by the way, you haven’t even asked me how I feel.”
“I know how you feel. But go ahead…tell me. How do you feel?”
Feeling devilish, Tom frowned. “I don’t know.”
Margie gasped. “You don’t? You really don’t?”
“Well, maybe I do.”
“Maybe you do…good? Or maybe you do…bad?” Tom thought about that…and felt the butterflies start up in his stomach. There was no sense teasing Margie. He grinned down at her. “Good.”
Excited again, Margie gripped his hand. “Oh, Tom, I’m so—”
“Hold on, again.” Tom covered her hand with his. “As I was saying, I suspect your daughter might have something to say about your plan, don’t you think?”
Margie instantly retrieved her hand and waved it at him. “I don’t have to think. I know. Just like I knew with you the first time I saw you.”
“Now, Margie, how can you know? Maybe you can guess—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean…I know what she thinks. Because I just asked her…after I told her.”
Tom’s insides chilled. “Told her what?”
Margie looked everywhere but at him. “My plan. Well, I said it was your plan, too. Otherwise, she might not go along with it so readily. Or at all.”
Frozen in place, Tom stared at the sweetly insane woman in front of him. “Look at me, Margie.” She did, her brown eyes wide and guileless. Tom wasn’t the least bit fooled. “You told Darcy…that I’m staying here at your place?—” Margie nodded. “—in the hopes of…making her fall in love with me?” She kept nodding. “So we can get married?” Another nod…and a beatific smile. “And you told her I’m in on this plan of yours?”
“Well, of course, I did. Because you are in on the plan. Honey, you’re the other half of it.”
“Oh, hell.” He meant that. He stared at the closed door of the house—and then down at Margie the Destroyer. Only then did he take note of the big fabric purse and the car keys she’d pulled out of it. “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me here with her.”
“Why, I sure am.” Margie Alcott grinned and stepped around him. “You two need to chat…son.”
Son? Tom pivoted to see her retreat. “Wait a minute, Margie. What did she say when you told her about this plan of…ours?”
Margie rattled her car keys over her head. “She said plenty. Go ask her.”
Ask her? Son of a gun. Tom ran a hand over his mouth. Speaking of guns…he called after Margie, “Well, at least tell me this—is she armed?”
INSIDE, ALREADY dressed herself and just stepping out of the private bath attached to her bedroom, Darcy was armed with her freshly bathed daughter. The infant’s damp and curling dark hair stood straight up…like baby-monkey fuzz, Darcy decided, her heart swelling with love for her tiny, helpless child. For her part, Montana stared wide-eyed at the world. No doubt, she was just glad to see it. Obviously, that whole notion of a sponge bath—with only her nervous mother in attendance and not Grandma’s steadying hand there for help—had given her a lot to think about.
Crossing her bedroom, making for the twin bed where she’d already lain out everything she’d need to dress Montana, Darcy looked over to see Tom, uncustomarily dusty and greasy, already standing in the opened doorway to her bedroom. Her heart jumped over itself…and pitter-pattered sadly, given what her mother’d told her only a bit ago about his plans—that he was leaving tomorrow, that he’d confessed to Margie that he had a girlfriend up in Billings and needed to get home. Darcy somehow managed to keep all that off her face as she said, “Hi. You startled me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
His words were a slow drawl that skittered over Darcy’s flesh. Somehow, there seemed to be so much more packed into his simple words than what he actually said. With their every exchange, she felt more and more aware of the undercurrent of want and need between them, one that tugged her relentlessly in his direction. She’d thought that he felt it, too. But she supposed now that she’d been wrong.
Forcing her gaze away from his blue eyes, she took in his appearance. “It’s a little different to see you like this. You’re always so neat.”
A frown crossed his face. “I am?”
“You are. At least, all the times I’ve seen you.”
He nodded, thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess that’s true enough. Back home, I’m usually a lot dirtier than this.”
Back home. Where you’ll be headed tomorrow. To that woman. Darcy couldn’t even call him a two-timer, since she didn’t have, or want, a relationship with him. But she could call him a liar—he’d told her he had no one back home. Darcy’s chin came up defensively…jealously. “I can see that. I guess you don’t have to dress up for cattle…or for anyone else.”
He shrugged, his gaze never leaving her face. “That’s true enough.”
Darcy found, despite everything she’d just learned, she couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop wanting him. “So,” she said, for the sake of the conversation, “what does Mother have you doing?”
Silence met her question…silence and a serious stare packing a huge undercurrent. “You mean just now? Or in the larger sense?”
“Well, just now, I suppose. I didn’t know there was a larger sense.”
“Okay. I just installed an automatic garage-door opener.” He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, good. Thank you. We need one.”
“That’s what your mama said. I’m happy to oblige.”
Are you?…Darcy wanted to yell. You make me care, when I never wanted to, and then you up and leave—for another woman you said you didn’t have? You call that obliging? Hurting inside, but denying it, and still somehow maintaining an air of outward calm, Darcy gently laid her daughter on the twin bed, again marked Tom’s steady stare, and swiped at her nose. “What? Is there something on my nose?”
Tom shook his head. “No. There’s nothing on your nose. You’
re fine.”
“Oh, I am, huh?” Darcy wouldn’t even look at him as she tucked her long hair behind her ears and then unwrapped the towel from around her baby. I’m so fine that you can’t wait to leave tomorrow. You give up your hotel room, come out here and sleep one room away from me. You’re here morning, noon, and night—for two days. I’m just starting to really care about you, and then you leave for another woman—after installing a garage-door opener. Fine. She leaned over Montana, quickly and gently diapering her daughter before the baby caught a chill. “That’s one man’s opinion, I suppose. About my being fine, that is.”
“It’s probably all men’s opinions, where you’re concerned.”
Darcy made a scoffing sound. “I hardly think so.”
“I don’t.”
Fighting for calm—she didn’t want to communicate her agitation to the baby and make her cry—Darcy did the simplest thing she could. She remained quiet, essentially ignoring Tom as she dressed Montana in a clean infant gown and then wrapped her in a cotton receiving blanket. Only then, when she could pick her baby up again and settle her in her arms, did she turn to him. He’d remained as silent as she had. “Tom, is there something specific on your mind?”
He pulled away from the jamb. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from doing something?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I just…well, it’s the way you’re looking at me. As if you have something to say that you don’t want to. Or as if you’re waiting for me to say something you don’t want to hear. I don’t know which.” Well, there. She’d brought it up. Now he could say I have to get a shower and pack because I’m leaving tomorrow—after driving into your life and delivering your child and then giving her my name and setting her up a trust fund that leaves you both fabulously wealthy—or did for a few days since you said you didn’t want it and so I changed it. And oh, by the way, I really do have a woman up in Montana. He could say all that.
But he didn’t. He didn’t say a thing. Darcy exhaled and, without looking away from him, put Montana to her shoulder and kissed her daughter’s sweet-smelling little head. “Well?”
“I don’t blame you for being mad, Darcy. You have every right to be.”
Darcy froze. Did he know that her mother had told Darcy the truth? That had to be it. Darcy swallowed the gathering emotion in her throat and told herself she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she loved the man. “Mad? Why would I be mad? You don’t owe me anything.”
“I didn’t think I did, either. I never looked at it as owing you anything.”
Well, that hurt. “Well then, good.” Darcy struggled not to show a thing on her face as she cradled Montana and stared at Tom…and waited.
After a moment, he said, “I thought you’d have something more to say to me.”
“You did? Like what?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
Darcy quirked her mouth. “Boy, we’re getting nowhere fast. I’ll give you a clue, if you’ll give me one.”
Tom ran a hand through his hair. “All right. Your mother.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Great. I already said I was clueless. And now you want me to figure out what she’s up to?”
“No. I guess I’m just waiting for your reaction to her telling you about her grand plan for the two of us.”
That stopped her. “The two of us? You and her? Or me and you? And what grand plan?”
Tom stared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t.”
“I’ll be damned. Darcy, are you saying your mother didn’t come in here this morning, while I was out working in the garage, and tell you that she—?” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I’ll be damned, Darcy. She didn’t tell you anything, did she?”
“Oh, she told me a lot.” Pride kicked in and Darcy raised her chin. “About the woman you love up in Billings.”
Tom looked stunned. “What? A woman up in Billings? And I’m supposed to love her?”
Her eyes widening, Darcy’s heart thudded dully in her chest. “You don’t?”
Now Tom chuckled. “Hell, no. I don’t know her, so how can I love her?”
“Well, that would make it hard.”
“I can’t believe your mother told you that. That little stinker. She set us both up. She thought I’d come in here and spill my guts and that you’d be jealous and—” He stopped. “You were, weren’t you?”
Darcy’s mouth dried. She licked at her lips. “I was what?”
“Jealous…when you thought I had a woman up in Billings.”
Darcy looked everywhere but at him.… “First tell me what you were supposed to come in here and spill your guts about to me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so. You first.”
Darcy’s gaze met Tom’s…and held. She wanted so much to tell him—Tell him what exactly, Darcy? That you think you might care about him, but you don’t know, so could he stick around until you make up your mind sometime in the next several months? Oh, this was so silly. They were all adults here. Except for Montana. “Just tell me this much…are you leaving tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Do you want me to?”
Darcy exhaled. Confession time. And time to test her convictions. If she said no…then she had to admit, even to herself, that she cared. If she said yes…well, darn it, he’d leave. And just thinking about how she’d feel if he was gone told her everything she needed to know. Well, that made it simple, then, didn’t it? Darcy slumped and, exposing her vulnerability, whispered, “I don’t want you to leave, Tom. I wish I did. But I don’t.”
Tom’s silence again met her words. Darcy was almost afraid to look up. She hadn’t exactly given him a ringing endorsement. Finally, she chanced a glance at him. “Well?”
“You wish you did but you don’t? What does that mean?”
Darcy exhaled, glanced down at Montana, and saw she was asleep. “Let me lay her down first and then we’ll talk, okay?”
“All right. I’ll get a quick shower and meet you in the living room.”
Darcy nodded her agreement, started to turn away, but suddenly pivoted back to face Tom. He hadn’t moved. He’d been watching her. Before she could lose her nerve, Darcy blurted out her feelings. “I really am glad you’re here.” He smiled. She rushed on. “And I really don’t want you to leave. Well, tomorrow anyway. I mean, I guess you’ll have to leave sometime, won’t you?”
His blue eyes bored into hers. “Yeah. Sometime. Sometime soon.”
10
DARCY WONDERED if she was worrying too much about her much-needed talk with Tom. Talk? It felt more like Gunfight at the OK Corral. A real showdown. And, boy, was her stomach full of butterflies to prove it. Still, never one to relish confrontations, Darcy gave Tom plenty of time to shower and change.
In the meantime, she had all she could do to keep her hands occupied. Because they itched to get into the bathroom where Tom was…all naked, wet, and gorgeous. They wanted nothing more than to show him exactly how jealous she’d been of that other woman. Darcy rolled her eyes at herself. Obviously single-motherhood hadn’t taught her anything. And so, she poured her frustrated energies into cleaning her own bathroom, into gathering the laundry together, and then into brushing her hair and inspecting her face in front of the mirror over the sink.
She looked from side to side at her reflection and ran her fingers over her cheeks. No makeup. Great. Should she put some on? She decided that would be too obvious. He’d already seen her, so he’d know she’d fussed after the fact. Well, what about her clothes, then? She looked down at herself…at her mauve T-shirt and drawstring-waist shorts. Should she change? No. Again, he’d know.
Great. Fine. So, I’ll just go tell this wonderful man that I don’t want him to step out of my life—all while looking like roadkill. Oh, well, if my appearance hasn’t already sent him screaming down the driveway, then nothing will.
Giving up on herself, Darcy stepped away from the mirror a
nd gathered the laundry left over from her own shower and from Montana’s bath. But suddenly she stopped, belatedly realizing what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want Tom to step out of her life? Since when? What happened to all that I never want another man in my life again stuff?
After all, she’d known Tom for less than a week. But he’d been there for practically every hour of that week and, yes, they’d met under some quick-bonding circumstances. So maybe she felt as if she knew him better than she probably did.
But still, those circumstances had tested and exposed his true colors, as well as her own. There was nothing like a crisis to bring out the best and the worst in people…her worst, his best. The situation had brought out more than personality traits. It had also produced her daughter. Literally. That thought brought Darcy back to the moment. With her arms full of damp towels and baby clothes, she slumped.
Montana. That’s who she needed to concentrate on. Her daughter. And not some gorgeous stranger, who would be leaving one day soon. Darcy’s thoughts turned cynical…Didn’t they all? Yes. And that was the last thing she needed—another broken heart.
There. Everything was in perspective now. Suddenly, Darcy felt better. She squared her shoulders and marched through the house. She dumped her laundry, sorted it, put in a load…all while smiling at this new and reassuring conviction inside her regarding her priorities in life. Moments later, she headed for the living room and her appointment with Tom. She could handle this.
He came into the room, just as she rounded in from the kitchen. He saw her at the exact moment she saw him. She stopped cold, struck anew by the force of her attraction to him. She knew what he was seeing—an unkempt new mother with no makeup, ratty clothes, and limp hair.
But she wondered if he had any idea how he looked in his clean denims and a white Western-cut shirt, the sleeves rolled up a turn or two. Darcy took in his black and shining hair, his electric-blue eyes, his broad shoulders, his muscled chest—and wanted to cry.
I was wrong. I can’t handle this. He was the nicest guy she’d ever met. He seemed to love Montana and somehow to feel a genuine responsibility toward her where none actually existed. All that, and to the tune of several million dollars. Now, how endearing and mind-boggling was that? Extremely. Darcy sighed, and had to chuckle.
Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo Page 12