Drive-By Daddy. Cheryl Anne Porter
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Darcy blurted. “What is your name? That has been the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question around here today.”
“I gathered as much from the crowd at the nurses’ station. It’s Elliott. Tom Elliott. Pleased to meet you, Darcy Alcott.” He stretched forward in the chair and offered his hand to her.
Inordinately pleased—he’d gone to the trouble, obviously, of finding out her last name—Darcy leaned over the slightest bit and took his hand, shaking it, feeling warm, firm flesh and the not-unpleasant roughness of calluses. A working man’s hands. A far cry from the softness of any self-centered, lying, cheating professor types she might know. “Very pleased to meet you, Tom. Now I can quit calling you the Lone Ranger.”
He chuckled…and her heart tripped over itself—and tried to jump right out of her chest so it could tackle him and lay a big smooch on his mouth…for starters. “Yeah. I got that at the nurses’ station, too.”
Darcy blinked. “You did? You got—” Darcy! Knock it off. He doesn’t mean he got smooched at the nurses’ station. Pay attention. She discreetly cleared her throat…and forged ahead. “Uhm, did you get to see the baby? I mean today. I know you saw her yesterday. Heck, you were the first one in the world to see her.”
His smile brightened. “I hadn’t thought about that. But no, I haven’t seen her yet. I came straight to your room. I couldn’t wait to see you. Her. You.” His smile faltered, his eyes widened…as if he’d just revealed too much. Darcy felt her mouth dry. “So,” he continued. “How is she? That navel get cleaned up okay?”
Still wide-eyed with wonder—he couldn’t wait to see her?—she nodded. “Uhm, yes. Dr. Harkness said you did a fine job, too. He was quite impressed with that knot you tied.”
“Yeah? That’s a good knot, all right.” Silence. “Well, since we’re on the subject of names…what did you name your daughter?”
Darcy’s insides melted. She took a deep breath, and confessed, “Her name is Montana Skye. Sky with an E.”
“It is?” A smile as big as all outdoors claimed his features. He sat back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be. Montana Skye. With an E. That’s about the best name I think I’ve ever heard. It’s perfect for such a pretty baby, too.”
Darcy’s cheeks heated up under his compliments. “I thought it was the least I could do, given your help. I didn’t know how else to repay you. And I thought I’d never see you again to say thank-you. So I…” She exhaled and just sat there, staring at her fingers. “I hope you don’t mind.”
He shifted in the chair and leaned forward, plopped his Stetson at the foot of her bed. From under her eyelashes, Darcy stared at him, noting his intense blue-eyed gaze. “I don’t mind at all, Darcy. In fact, I’m honored. I’m just pleased I could help. And that everything turned out so well.”
“Me, too.” And then she had nothing else to say. Nothing that could keep him here and talking. Which was crazy because all she really wanted was for him to go away. Because he filled this room with his presence—and made her feel small and warm and safe. All the things she couldn’t afford to feel. He was from Montana. And she and her daughter would be living in Baltimore. No chance of a relationship there. Not that she wanted one anyway.
“I noticed,” he said suddenly…and a little too loudly, “on the drive out here from Phoenix, that your car wasn’t beside the road. I guess someone took care of that for you?”
“Yes. My mother had it towed in. It’s at the garage now.” Her mother. Dear God. “Oh, no. I need to warn you about something.”
He sat up, alert, questioning. “What’s that?”
“My mother. She’s trying to find you.”
He looked askance at her. “And yet, here I am.”
“I know. But she doesn’t know that. And she has your stuff. But not your name.”
His frown intensified. “I don’t know what—”
“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