I've Got You, Babe

by Lynnette Austin

  Her chin nudged up. “We always have a choice.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, guess we do. I can turn around and walk out of here. You and your daughter can sleep on the street or in that broken-down heap you’re driving.”

  She gasped at his cold-hearted callousness. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said nothing, simply leaned against the wall, arms around her sleeping child, and waited. She didn’t think she liked him very much.

  Guilt washed over her. That wasn’t fair. Hadn’t he disrupted his entire day to see to them?

  Yeah, because he had no choice.

  No, now her pants were on fire. He’d had choices. He could have called an ambulance and considered his job done. Most people would have done exactly that. Or he could have followed them into town, dumped Daisy here, then taken off for higher ground. Instead, he’d colored with her daughter, put up with Daisy’s incessant chatter—and offered his home as a temporary sanctuary.

  He switched Daisy to his left arm and dug a quarter from his pocket. Holding it out, he said, “Heads, you come home with me. Tails…” He shrugged. “You and this little one are on your own.”

  He made as if to flip it.

  “You—wait! Before I agree to anything, I need you to understand that regardless of how it looks right now, I’m not some weak, too-stupid-to-live woman who mooches off others. Luke walked and I kept things together. Until now.”

  “Luke the SOB who wouldn’t man up and meet his responsibilities?”

  Anger flooded her. “I am not anybody’s responsibility. I want more than that.” Her chin came up a little higher. “I’m worth more.”

  “I won’t argue that. How about I send Doc in to help you get dressed so we can bust out of this joint?”

  His hooded eyes traveled slowly over the length of her.

  The tiniest fragment of a long-forgotten melody played in her heart. Instead of being offended, she felt—what? Like a woman again. A desirable woman. She’d have sworn Luke had killed that forever.

  Chapter 3

  Doc Hawkins burst that bubble the second he walked in, loaded down with pamphlets on hypoglycemia and a list of the best and worst things to eat. He issued a stern admonition not to skip any meals, then handed her a box of glucose tablets, insisting they were samples.

  She knew better. More charity—and how she hated that. How she’d detested admitting she had no way to pay him.

  She would, though. Someday, come hell or high water, she’d pay for his help.

  And now Tucker Wylder, a total stranger, was taking her and her daughter home with him. Grudgingly, but he’d stepped up to the plate all the same. In fact, he’d badgered her into it. He’d baited; she’d bitten.

  This had to be the rock-bottom people talked about. She’d wondered how a person recognized when she hit it. No more, because as of today, she and rock-bottom were on a first-name basis.

  As they drove through a small town that looked far more prosperous than Bowden, Tucker slowed and pulled into a parking space. “I’ll run in to the diner and have Dee-Ann fix us something for lunch. We’re all gonna need some fuel, and my cupboard’s a tad bare.”

  “I’m not very hungry,” she said.

  He cut his eyes to her. “So despite the orders Doc just gave you, you’re not gonna eat. Not gonna work on getting better.”

  “That’s not what I said.” Her words escaped, covered in frost.

  “Good, then I’ll get you some of Dee-Ann’s soup. Chicken noodle work? That’s what Mom always fed us when we were feeling off.”

  “You’re a bully.”

  “And you’re stubborn.” His hot gaze traveled over her. “Looks like you haven’t eaten much lately. Whatever you don’t finish, we’ll save for later. What does Daisy like?”

  “Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches.”

  “Okay.”

  He cracked his window and slid out of the car, leaving her and her daughter in silence. When she swiveled to face the back, Daisy Elizabeth was still fast asleep. It had been a long morning for the three-year-old. Long and traumatic.

  Elisa rested her head against the seat. Could she have failed more spectacularly? These past few weeks had been a disaster, and now she and Daisy found themselves beholden to an irritable and irritating stranger.

  Slowly, the stillness and peace of her surroundings enveloped her, and she took her first real look at Misty Bottoms. A wide strip of green ran down the center of the street, dividing it and forming a narrow, well-manicured park. Oak and sugarberry trees mixed with groupings of flowers. A brick path meandered through them scattered with benches that invited a person to sit a while. No doubt more than a few names had been carved into them by teens in the throes of puppy love.

  The town had been here a long time, and the storefronts were old but well maintained. Several appeared newly renovated. The brick sidewalks were uneven and added a touch of the grand old dame, a nod to days past. Dee-Ann’s Diner looked like a picture postcard with its cheerful red-and-white awning.

  Farther down the street, bougainvillea spilled over a brick wall, and the lonely whistle of a train filled her with a longing she didn’t quite understand.

  To dispel the silence that followed, she flicked on the radio. Two and a half country songs later, Tucker appeared at the diner door, talking to someone inside. With a wave, he turned and walked out.

  When he reached for the door handle, Elisa put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Daisy’s still asleep.”

  “And we don’t want to wake her,” he said quietly.

  “No, we don’t.” Elisa didn’t fight the smile. Knowing her daughter, she had a pretty good idea what this man had put up with today.

  The smells wafting from the bag promised a good meal.

  Her stomach growled.

  “Not hungry, huh?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the whole Pavlov’s dog thing. Stimulus, response. You can’t fight it.”

  “Why would you even want to try?” His left eye twitched. “I say you see something you want, go for it.”

  Her pulse sped up, but she couldn’t blame low blood sugar this time. Tucker Wylder was a force to be reckoned with. She’d have to tread carefully, because that whole Pavlov and his dog theory pertained to lots of hungers, and not all of them centered on food.

  If the circumstances had been different…

  He drove his immaculate Mustang easily and well, seemingly casual but always alert. It would seem cars ran in his blood. Between the long night on the road and the day’s even more stressful bizarre turn, she was worn out. Sleep threatened to creep up on her, but she batted it away. Fighting to stay awake, she concentrated on the scenery. As they left town, the houses grew farther and farther apart, the spaces between thick with magnificent old trees, colorful flowers, and lush vines.

  She could understand the draw of this small town. If she’d had to take a header, she’d chosen her spot well—or it had chosen her.

  Tucker turned onto Firefly Creek Lane, then pulled into a curved drive. Pride shone on his face. “Home sweet home.”

  Silently, Elisa stared at the two-story Georgian. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected, but this imposing stone structure definitely wasn’t it.

  Tucker chuckled, apparently reading the surprise on her face. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “It is that.”

  He threw an arm across the back of the seat and studied it with her. “It’s not quite what I had in mind when I started house-hunting. Before moving here, I lived in a run-down, cramped apartment. I thought I’d lean toward contemporary. Then I saw this beauty. She dates back to 1860. The town’s first blacksmith shop, she survived the Civil War, the Reconstruction Period, and everything else mankind threw at her. I fell in love.”

  “I—” She grimaced and raised a hand to her head. “Sorr
y. Nasty headache.”

  Daisy woke, whimpering, but before Elisa could do more than turn around, Tucker hopped out and unbuckled her daughter, talking to her quietly and calmly. With Daisy straddling his hip, he opened Elisa’s door. “You okay to walk inside?”

  “What? You’ll carry me, too?”

  “I could. One at a time would probably work best, though.”

  “No, thanks.” She laughed and slid out of the car. “I’m good. I promise not to eat any more concrete.”

  “Where are we?” Daisy asked.

  “My house,” Tucker said.

  “I wanna go home.”

  “Mommy’s tired.” Tucker prayed there’d be no more tears—from any of them. “How ’bout you stay here tonight?”

  “Do you gots animals?”

  He hesitated. “No, I don’t.”

  Daisy raised a hand to his face and patted his cheek. “But I like animals. ’Specially doggies.”

  “My brother has one. You met him this morning.” And screamed.

  “He scared me.”

  “I know. Lug Nut ran too fast, didn’t he?”

  She nodded, her blond pigtails bobbing. “Can Luggie come play?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “’Morrow night?”

  He caved and gave every parent’s fallback answer. “We’ll see.”

  As he opened the front door, Elisa stopped. “I should have asked this before, but do you live alone?”

  He laughed. “Oh yeah.”

  “And we’re barging in.”

  “You were invited. Big difference.”

  “Only because you’re too good a man to put a fainting woman and her child on the street.”

  “Huh-uh. One thing we need to get straight here—I’m not a good man.”

  She took a step backward.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said quickly. “But I’m a mess.”

  Elisa scanned the room as she stepped into it. “A mess? My guess is you could eat off these floors.”

  He shrugged, and she thought, oh yeah. Tucker Wylder liked to be in control, at least here at home, and that was okay because right now? She wasn’t in control of anything, and it sucked. Big time.

  “The place was one good gust of wind from falling in on itself when I first saw it,” Tucker said, “but the potential…”

  “Kind of like the vintage cars you rescue.” Along with stranded strangers.

  “Yeah.” Surprise showed on his face. “Not many understand that.”

  “Things shouldn’t be tossed away just because they’re old…or not perfect. Although some people can do that. Easily.” She blinked back unexpected tears and looked toward her precious daughter as Tucker set Daisy on her feet.

  She angled toward him. “You’re a real renaissance man, aren’t you? The savior of sick women and their children. A restorer of vintage machines. And this.” She waved a hand at the contemporary vibe he’d layered over the old.

  “What? You expected Grandma’s house? A frat house?”

  “The frat house.” Moving to the fireplace, she ran a hand over it. “Reclaimed wood?”

  He beamed. “From an old barn.”

  “Very nice. I’d love to see the rest, but…”

  When she trailed off, his head jerked in her direction. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? Because remember, I was there today when you took your nosedive.”

  She raised a hand to cover her eyes. “I now have an answer when someone asks, ‘What was your most embarrassing moment ever?’”

  He brushed away her hand and met her eyes. “Seriously, you took ten years off my life. Need a nap?”

  Daisy hopped off the sofa, which she’d been using as a sitting trampoline. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t guess you do.”

  “I don’t need a nap, either, Tucker, but I’d love to freshen up.”

  “Of course.” He turned to her and grinned. “Sure you don’t want me to carry you upstairs? This might be my one and only chance to channel Rhett Butler.”

  She laughed out loud, and his stomach did a crazy little flutter.

  “As intriguing as that sounds, I’ll walk. We’ll save your back.”

  “Are you kidding? I could lift you with one hand.”

  As he started up, Elisa followed behind, Daisy holding her hand.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, he made a face. “When I left this morning, I was in a bit of a hurry and hadn’t exactly planned on visitors, so…”

  “A little dust won’t hurt any of us, Tucker.”

  He muttered something that sounded like “Not in my house.”

  Daisy squeezed between Tucker’s legs.

  “Whoa. In a hurry?”

  “I wanna see.” She flew into the room ahead of them. “Is this Mommy’s room?”

  “Yep.”

  “I like it.”

  “Me, too,” he said.

  The room was tailored and totally uncluttered, yet comfortable and serene with its soft yellow bed cover.

  “My parents use this room when they visit. There’s an en suite bath.” He nodded toward a door and watched as Daisy disappeared inside the small room. “I’ll call Brant and have him drop your suitcases on his way home.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Tears welled in Elisa’s eyes.

  “My guess is if the situation was reversed, you’d do the same for me.”

  She thought about it for ten full seconds. “No, honestly, I can’t say I would. Bring a strange man into my home?”

  “I should probably take exception to that. I can’t deny a few quirks, but I’m not all that strange.”

  “A stranger, then. How about that?”

  He gave her the same courtesy of considering it, then nodded. “Makes sense, especially with Daisy in the house. So if I come to your place and pass out at your feet, just walk away and leave me lying there.”

  She grinned and shook her head.

  Daisy danced her way out of the bathroom. “I can’t reach the water.”

  “Not necessarily a bad thing,” Tucker said.

  “Why?”

  He met Elisa’s eyes, a smile in them. “Lots of reasons.”

  “Where’s my room?” Excited, Daisy looked up at Tucker.

  He pulled at one of her pigtails. “I have a special bed for you.”

  “You do?” She held up her arms, and Elisa lifted her onto the bed beside her. Rolling onto her back, the little girl smiled up at him.

  “I do,” he said.

  “She can sleep with me.”

  “Not necessary,” Tucker said. “You need to be up early for those tests. Be nice if you got a good night’s sleep. The stairs are kind of steep, but I have a gate we put across them when my nephew visits. I’ll drag it out and set it up.”

  Her heart gave a little hiccup at his thoughtfulness. She’d worried about coming home with him. The fact that Doc Hawkins knew him had helped. More, though, the man himself had put her at ease.

  Still, it was a strange situation.

  Another tear welled. “Thank you.”

  Alarm showed in his hazel eyes. “You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

  “No, but it’s a lot to take in.” She swiped at a renegade tear. “I’ll get myself pulled together, honest.” A second tear streaked down her cheek.

  “Oh hell.”

  “Oh hell,” Daisy echoed.

  His mouth dropped open, his head whipping to look at the smiling little girl, then back to her mother. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” Daisy said.

  “What are you? A parrot?” he asked Daisy.

  “What’s a parrot?”

  He gave a quick laugh.


  “A parrot’s a bird, honey.” Through her tears, Elisa brushed a stray strand from her daughter’s face.

  “A bird?” Sitting up, the tiny child turned to Tucker, hands on her hips. “I’m not a bird. I’m a girl.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

  “Because she’s hungry.”

  Elisa squinted. “Are you a food pusher, Tuck Wylder?”

  “Not usually, but Doc stressed the importance—”

  She raised her hand. “Understood, but I don’t want you fussing over me. We’re already a bother just being here.”

  “No, you’re not. If you weren’t here, I’d be at the shop busting my butt, all sweaty and dirty.”

  Daisy slid off the bed and took hold of Tucker’s big hand. “I’m hungry.”

  “Will the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I picked up at Dee-Ann’s be enough for her?”

  “Yes.”

  “A sammich?”

  “Yep. Come on, Parrot. Let’s go.”

  On a frustrated sigh, she said, “I’m not a parrot, ’member?”

  “Oops, I forgot. You’re a girl.”

  “Uh-huh. Can I help make lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m gonna help Tut, Mommy.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Tucker shook his head.

  “We’ll be fine. Why don’t you take a minute? Freshen up and get your feet under you.”

  “Can I see my special bed before we go downstairs, Tut?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elisa watched her little girl and her reluctant knight-errant walk out the door together, hand in hand.

  Too bad Daisy’s own father hadn’t been willing to step up the way this perfect stranger had.

  And Tucker Wylder did, indeed, seem pretty darned perfect.

  Chapter 4

  Tucker placed his hands, palms down, on his new quartz countertop and leaned into them. It probably wouldn’t do to cry, but oh, he was tempted. His quiet, calm, organized house looked like a Cat-5 hurricane had whirled through. Grape jelly had found its way down the side of one cabinet, and a plate was covered in small pieces of crust he hadn’t cut off. How was he supposed to know that’s the way PB&J was served?