by Lori Wilde
Not in a first date mood, she compensated by wearing her summer best, a flirty, filmy pale-peach dress.
Her date, Josh Millwood, was on the short side, so she wore white flats, not that she was ever taller than anyone she’d ever dated. She was trying to work up enthusiasm for an evening with a fellow garden center employee when she heard high-pitched wails, followed by an urgent knock on her door.
Lucy was in fine form, red-faced from screaming. Her uncle was a little red in the cheeks himself.
“I can’t figure out what’s wrong,” Nate said. “I fed her, changed her, did all the right things, but she won’t stop crying.”
“Give her to me.” Instinctively, Becky took the baby from him, put her over one shoulder, and patted her back.
Lucy let loose a burp worthy of a frat boy.
“Just gas.” She kissed the baby’s forehead and handed her back to Nate. “Problem solved.” It was then that she noticed the warm wet spot on the front of her dress.
“Yuck.” She plucked the dress away from her waist.
“Sorry.” Nate looked sheepish. “I don’t know why she sprang a leak. I just changed her.”
He held the soggy baby at arm’s length as her diaper slid slowly downward until it bunched above her ankles.
“Her diaper is way too big.”
Nate pulled a sheepish face. “I thought if I got them big, I wouldn’t have to change them as often.”
“These diapers are just the thing for a toddler in potty training, but didn’t you think they were a little too big when you put them on her?”
“She was wriggling a lot. My bad. Sorry about your dress. I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”
“The dress is washable, and so am I. But you’ll need to stay here and answer the door for my date while take another shower and change.”
“But Lucy is leaking.” He looked desperate.
She wasn’t falling for it. Long past time for him to learn. “I’ll throw you a towel.”
Then she hurried to the shower to reset for her date.
Nate felt like an idiot, holding a soggy baby wrapped in a bath towel and listening to the muted shower noises coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Who knew all diapers came in different sizes?
Truth? Lucy had grasped at the box of diapers with a cartoon character on the label and he’d just tossed them into the cart.
And why was he on edge simply because Becky was naked behind that bathroom door?
He was crazy to stand here imagining the water cascading over her beautiful breasts, down her taut little belly, to her…
He was sweating. Didn’t she use the air conditioning? Lucy was wiggly, so he held her closer, hoping the towel wouldn’t soak through, too.
The water shut off. Becky was probably drying herself at top speed, rubbing the towel across her shoulders, down her back, across her cute rear end, down her legs…
Oh, man!
The buzzer shrilled. Must be her date.
He’d have to run downstairs and let the guy in.
“Hi, I’m the neighbor,” he said, opening the door with Lucy in his arm to greet the puzzled-looking guy standing outside. “Becky asked me to get the door for her. She’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. You can go up to her apartment to wait.”
“Thanks,” said the guy who looked like a pencil in a suit, with the skin color of fresh cream.
Not his problem.
Nate went back to his apartment and his temporary daddy duties and tried not to think about Rebecca going out on a date with someone other than him. He had no idea why he was feeling jealous; it was ridiculous.
He figured seven o’clock was a reasonable baby bedtime and even gave Lucy a bath of sorts, letting her splash in his kitchen sink until he was as wet as she was. At the rate he was going through shirts, he would run out of clean clothes pretty soon.
“Now, young lady,” he said with mock sternness, “it’s sleepy time.”
But Lucy had other ideas. She made a shamble of the makeshift bedding in the playpen, pulling the comforter, that was supposed to have served as a mattress, into a jumbled heap.
Worse, she sprang another leak, one that caused another trip to the kitchen sink and another clean outfit. Her clothing supply was dwindling as fast as his. With that in mind, he threw a sack full of dirty laundry in the washing machine.
“Enough is enough.” Nate sighed, trying another approach. As he walked the floor with her, he made up silly songs in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
He could’ve sworn Lucy giggled.
What she didn’t do was go to sleep. Oh, she chumped him out all right. Pretending to nod off, but then just when he thought she was asleep, he would lean over the playpen and she’d start howling. Man, didn’t the kid ever sleep?
You are a sheriff’s deputy, Dalton. Cowboy up.
Her crying jag lasted three full minutes. He knew because he timed it. Then he had an inspiration. Why not let her nod off in the stroller?
He needed to get in his daily run, but with Lucy along, he’d have to settle for a walk. Fitting her into the stroller was like working a jigsaw puzzle, but at last he had a chubby leg in each opening and the seat belt secured around her middle.
Lucy loved the walk. She grabbed at bushes and tried to eat the leaves, cooed at dogs big enough to swallow her whole, and looked around wide-eyed and wide-awake. Nate figured they’d covered three miles before her head finally slumped.
He was a block from home when he saw two people get out of a car and walk up to the porch.
It was Rebecca and her date. He slowed to give them time to go upstairs or do that thanks-for-the-date ritual in the foyer. He definitely didn’t want to interrupt any vertical foreplay.
“What the hell? I live there too,” he muttered, after slowly counting to one hundred.
Twice.
He carried Lucy, stroller and all, up the porch steps, used his key to open the front door, and pushed the baby, still sleeping in her stroller, into the hallway.
And that’s when he saw the guy grabbing Rebecca.
She shrieked.
Acting on instinct and police training, Nate yanked him away from her, propelling the guy against the wall.
“He’s choking!” Rebecca cried. “On a peanut! He wouldn’t let me do the Heimlich.”
Nate got behind the guy and using his fist for momentum pressed in and up into her date’s midsection.
Pop!
Something came flying out of his mouth and the guy fell backwards, gasping for breath.
“We went to a roadhouse—you know, dancing, peanut shells on the floor,” she spoke in a quick, urgent tone.
Nate could hear the fear in her voice and swung his gaze from her date to Becky.
“Before we left, Josh filled his pockets with peanuts in the shell. Then he tried to kiss me with the peanut in his mouth.” She made a yuck face. “I’m not sure what that was about.”
Then she started giggling, probably a nervous reaction to nearly losing a date the permanent way.
Nate had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement.
The poor guy had to be humiliated enough without ridiculing him on top of it.
“Josh, come up and I’ll get you something to drink,” she offered, waving him toward the stairs.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll just be going.” To Nate he said, “Dude, I owe you big time.” To Rebecca, he said, “See you around at work.”
“I had a nice time, Josh,” Rebecca called after him.
Josh never looked back.
Nate raised an eyebrow.
Becky looked defensive. “Choking on a peanut could happen to anyone.”
“Sure.”
“It could.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Still not arguing.”
“It was a nice evening.”
“Nice time, nice guy, nice evening. Everything was nice until the peanut. I’m taking you
at your word.”
“Well, thank you for saving his life. He kept clutching at me, and I couldn’t get behind him to do the Heimlich maneuver myself.”
“He thanked me himself. Wasn’t your fault he was trying to do a lip dance with stolen peanuts in his mouth.”
“He didn’t steal them. They were there for the taking. Oh, never mind. I know he isn’t a big macho he-man like you and your sheriff deputy buddies, but he’s a—”
“Nice. Yes, you told me that.”
“Very nice, low-key, polite. Not that it matters. No chance he’ll ever see me again after that fiasco.”
“You’ll see him at work when you start your new job.”
She gave him a look that could freeze mercury just as Lucy let out a horrendous howl. Those two were tag teaming him.
“How was your date?” she asked, bending over the stroller to coo at the baby.
“Lively,” he answered. “Lucy has a thing for dogs—enormous dogs.”
Becky straightened and eyed him. “I didn’t notice the storm.”
Huh? He knew he shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help himself. “What storm?”
“Hurricane Lucy. That’s the third shirt you’ve had on today.”
Okay, he deserves that after all his “nice” remarks.
“Hey, I’ve got a question for you. What time do babies normally sack out?”
She laughed, not one of those dainty put-on chuckles that some women used when they wanted to score points with a guy, but a robust, throaty, belly laugh.
He picked up Lucy, a little annoyed by Rebecca’s amusement. “I think the kid is colicky. Or maybe she misses her mother. I can’t get her to go to sleep.”
He held the baby against his shoulder, patting her back, hoping for a little cooperation so he wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of this beautiful woman.
How complicated could it be to make one pint-size female happy? He just had to get into a routine, then it would be a piece of cake.
Lucy shut off the tears, but not before soaking one shoulder of the ratty, ancient University of Texas T-shirt.
“Has she had her bedtime bottle?” Becky asked.
“No, she ate a big dinner. I didn’t think she’d have room for one.”
“She’s probably used to a little warm milk to put her to sleep. Here, I’ll hold her while you fix a bottle.”
She took the baby. He couldn’t do a thing unless he wanted to play tug-of-war over the kid. So, he opened the door and let her go ahead of him into his apartment.
“Whoa!” Becky took a step back. “You were caught in a storm!”
Nate winced. “I wanted to catch up on some paperwork after Lucy went down. Only she didn’t conk out, and I made the mistake of putting her on the floor for thirty seconds while I ran to the bathroom.”
Nate’s cell phone dinged. On his outing to buy diapers and formula, he’d bought a new one after the guy at the phone store told him his phone that had gotten submersed in a stock pond after a tussle with a suspect was toast.
“Text message.”
“Go ahead and take that.” Becky waved at the phone. “Don’t mind me.”
Taking his phone from his pocket, Nate checked the screen. The text was from Freddie.
Hey, big brother. I really owe you 4 helping me out with Lucy. I wanted 2 B sure you got my message about not telling mom that you have her. I’ll come for her as soon as I work some things out. I promise! Just about 2 get on a plane, turning off the phone for now. I owe you forever! Give Lucy a big hug and kiss for me and tell her mommy loves her bunches and bunches. Thank you, big brother! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
“Darn it,” he grumbled.
“What is it?” Becky asked, then she said, “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s Freddie.” Sighing, he read the text to her.
“What does that mean?”
“I honestly don’t know.” There were a lot of words in that text, but his sister hadn’t told him a thing. Why the devil was he supposed to keep Lucy’s whereabouts a secret from her doting grandmother? When were his parents due back, anyway? He’d have to check his calendar to make sure of the date, but their cruise was supposed to be over soon.
Becky put Lucy on the floor and knelt beside her, coaxing the baby to grab some orange pointy-headed doll. Neither were paying any attention to him.
“I know Freddie,” he said, even as he wondered why he had the powerful urge to justify his sister’s actions to Becky. “She’s crazy about Lucy—you couldn’t ask for a more conscientious mother. And she’s always been responsible for taking care of her, even if she is a little ditzy about other things.”
“She probably had good reason for leaving her with you,” Becky agreed, absorbed in playing patty-cake with the baby.
“She has had little luck with anything she’s tried, but she keeps moving on to new things. She must have a powerful motivation for leaving Lucy and disappearing.” Okay, he was trying to convince himself of that as much as Becky.
Surveying his baby-infested digs, he suddenly felt a bit weary. He didn’t know what this was about, but he couldn’t help feeling as if Freddie had gone too far this time.
“Her pajamas are wet.” Becky stood and picked up Lucy, thrusting her in his direction at arm’s length.
He groaned, wondering how long it would take to dry the load of baby stuff in his washing machine. He took the handoff, holding Lucy well away from his last remaining clean shirt.
“Did you get the right size diapers?” Becky asked.
“I didn’t have the time. I use tape to take up the slack.”
She raised one eyebrow, a cute trick and probably her way of telling him that he was an idiot.
“Go get the right size diapers. The convenience store on the corner is open twenty-four hours. Be sure to check the chart on the package. Have you had dinner?”
“No time for that either.”
“Well, get those diapers and then we’ll see about a late dinner. Meantime, I’ll unwrap Lucy and get her cleaned and dried.”
7
Late evening was an excellent time to go to the store. Nate zipped down the aisles, buying three packages of diapers in different sizes and throwing a few more baby food jars in the cart, just in case.
He made the trip in record time, letting himself into the apartment with a vague sense of dread. Somehow, he had to get Lucy down for the night. He’d leave the messy house until tomorrow and hit the bed himself the minute her eyes closed. He wouldn’t be his best on the job if he didn’t catch up on his sleep.
“Shh,” Becky pointed at the open doorway to his bedroom. “Lucy zonked out right after you left. I moved her into your bedroom so you could use the living room without waking her up.”
“The diapers…”
“I pleated the legs on one of those giant ones. It should hold until she needs changing again.”
He must’ve fallen into a time warp. In the brief time it had taken to run his errand, everything had righted itself. No scattered pages. No toys to trip over. The dryer purred in the kitchen closet that served as a laundry room, tumbling the wet clothes. The mouthwatering scent of frying onions wafting toward him.
Frying onions?
“What’s cooking?” he asked, sniffing the air. It smelled delicious.
“Chicken fried steak and onion rings. My specialty.”
“But I didn’t have any steak—”
“Courtesy of me.” She offered him a grin. “I had some round steak in the freezer, and I gave it a quick defrost in the microwave. Tada.”
“Man.” He placed a hand to his nape. He could kiss her; he was that happy. “That’s really nice of you.”
She went to the kitchen and puttered around in bare feet, deftly flipping the battered steak in peanut oil, then turning her attention to the onion rings, fishing them from the grease. “I tossed a salad as well, as a nod to something healthy.”
“You are a miracle worker.”
“Nah, just a farm girl who knows how to cook for men. I have four brothers.”
Man, he could get used to this.
Don’t get suckered in! Chicken fried steak and onion rings and a gorgeous body—many a guy ended up hogtied and branded with far less tempting bait.
“If you don’t mind, could you take the tossed salad out of the fridge, along with whatever salad dressing you like.”
“I hope you like ranch; it’s the only kind of dressing I have.”
“Is there any other kind?” She laughed.
Uh-oh, she was speaking his language. Not good.
“You’re going to have some with me, aren’t you?” he asked.
He was hungry, all right. And not just for food. What could be tastier than nibbling on those full pink lips.
“No, thanks. I’m… My date—um—insisted on ordering for me,” she explained. “He overdid it. I ate too much so I wouldn’t waste it.”
She couldn’t remember her date’s name? Ahh, he wasn’t the only one sensitive to the supercharged atmosphere in the cozy kitchen.
“Please eat. Your chicken fried steak will get cold,” she said.
“Wouldn’t want that to happen.”
He rooted to the spot. He didn’t know how to feel about a woman like Becky bustling around his bachelor kitchen.
She plated everything. She even made cream gravy too. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and said, “Well, I’ll be going.”
“Please stay. I have a bottle of red wine. A gift—not my usual drink of choice, but hey, I’m game if you are.” What’s going on, Dalton? Why are you begging the woman to stay when she clearly wants out?
“I don’t think…” She bit her bottom lip.
“That it’s such a good idea?”
He knew darn well it wasn’t a good idea, but he just noticed her chin, pert but not pointy, and her long eyelashes, and the way she moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue when she was undecided.
He decided for both of them, getting the bottle from the cupboard over the fridge and locating the corkscrew—also a gift—but could see no reason to throw it away just because Margo had given it to him.
