Dad on Demand

by Lori Wilde

“The last time I tried this, the cork broke off, and I ended up chopping it out. Little pieces of cork got into the wine, and I had to strain it.”

  “I hate when that happens.” She sounded kind of breathless. “But really, I should be going.”

  “Stay a couple of minutes, please. Just in case Lucy wakes up, and I can’t get her back to sleep.”

  “Oh, by the way,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind that I put your wet clothes in the dryer. I don’t want you to think that I’m, you know, being pushy. I didn’t want the clothes to sour in the washer overnight.”

  “I appreciate—”

  A little whimper came from the bedroom. They looked at each other and took off to where Lucy lay in her playpen pushed against the edge of Nate’s king-size bed.

  Becky got to the baby first.

  Without meaning to, Nate accidentally sandwiched her with her knees as he bent into the net siding of the playpen.

  “False alarm,” she whispered as she glanced down at the slumbering baby in the dim light filtering in from the living room. “Just fussing in her sleep.”

  Becky turned to move back just as Nate pressed closer with some idea of straightening the light flannel blanket covering his niece.

  “Sorry,” they said in unison.

  He was lying. He wasn’t sorry.

  Her body was so inviting.

  He backed up just as she tried to squeeze past him, and they collided, front to front. Chest to chest.

  Stalemate. Neither of them had enough space to move clear of the other. She flattened her bottom against the wall to get by his hip.

  “This definitely wasn’t a good idea, bringing Lucy in here,” she said in a breathy voice that made him long to slide his fingers down her cheek.

  She padded, still barefoot, into the living room, her bottom wiggling slightly under the tangerine-colored skirt she wore. He needed sleep worse than he had thought. Sleep deprivation was causing all kinds of uncomfortable fantasies.

  “You know,” she said. “Maybe you should start looking for a real babysitter. I have things to do.”

  Aww, dang. He’d made her uncomfortable and that had never been his intention. “I understand. Yes, I’ll get on that.”

  She slipped into her shoes, abandoned by the door, snatched up her purse, and got the door open in one sweeping movement.

  “You do need help,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  He was desperate for help, but it had nothing to do with Lucy. What he needed was something to get this woman out of his mind.

  Sure, Becky was cute and sweet and sexy, but he’d nearly made a gigantic mistake in the bedroom. She was too—he can only think of her favorite word—nice, too nice for a guy who wasn’t interested in any romantic entanglements. Not at this point in his life.

  He didn’t need her to straighten his place and cook his meals, and no way was he letting her get the wrong idea.

  Women had their ways. Let one into his kitchen, and pretty soon her toothbrush would be in the holder beside his—and he’d be straightening out all her troubles and rescuing her, just like he always did.

  “Good night,” she murmured at the door.

  “Thanks again for all your help.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  He didn’t stick his head out and watch her walk up the stairs, even though that’s what he wanted to do.

  Instead, he went to the kitchen and ate the best chicken fried steak and onion rings of his life even though the food was a little bit cold.

  From now on, Becky decided she’d focus on her new career.

  She’d be starting out in inventory control for the lawn and garden department, but who knew where pesticides and fertilizer could take her? Today plant food, tomorrow district manager.

  Last night with Nate? Well, she’d had a narrow escape. When he’d cornered her in the bedroom—or had she set herself up to be cornered?—she’d been a nanosecond away from making a cosmic mistake.

  After she left his place, she retreated to the sanctity of her apartment, only to find that the delectable smell of onion rings had wafted upward into her apartment, lingering while she let her imagination run wild, playing out torpid love scenes with the sexy as sin deputy that left her weak with longing.

  But not so weak that she wouldn’t actively avoid him as much as she would have enjoyed seeing more of Lucy.

  For a baby, that child had personality to spare. She also had her uncle’s number, putting him through a vigorous initiation into instant parenthood.

  Even if it was only temporary.

  Monday evening was a fiasco. Her best friend, Zoe, was obsessed with becoming cookware queen of the year, and she’d roped Becky into working a couple of home parties under her supervision—make that dictatorship.

  Becky sold one saucepan, three no stick cookie sheets, and a frying pan at a party of tipsy acquaintances that lasted until after ten p.m. After the company took their profit, and Zoe took her cut, Becky estimated she’d made seven dollars and fifty cents.

  She was in the mood for a late-night horror movie and a gigantic bowl of strawberry ice cream when she got home, but fate intervened.

  Just as she pulled into the driveway, she saw Nate struggling to unlock the door with Lucy sleeping on his shoulder, a diaper bag hanging from his arm and the collapsed stroller balanced between his legs.

  “Need help?” she asked.

  He’d gotten smarter. Lucy was resting on a flannel blanket folded over the shoulder in case she spit up.

  “Oh,” he said, looking distracted. “It’s you.”

  “Well, hello to you, too. You look worn out. Lucy giving you fits?”

  Nate shook his head. “I just spent the last hour tracking down my sister’s baby.”

  “What? Are you telling me you lost Lucy?”

  “Yeah.” He winced. “I left her with a deputy friend’s wife, but they rushed her father to the hospital, so she took Lucy to a neighbor. I had to find my friend at a robbery scene to locate her.”

  “There was a robbery in Falling Star?”

  “Liquor store on the county line,” he said.

  Oh no, she was feeling sorry for him. He looked beat in a rumpled, but yummy sort of way. His frown caused her fingers to tingle with the urge to smooth out the frown. Danger! Red flag warning! Do not, under any circumstances, touch this man!

  “You need a reliable babysitter.”

  “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

  Should she volunteer for the job? He looks so defeated. She’d love to take care of Lucy until her new job started, but here was something to consider. Was she up to seeing Nate twice a day, every day? She might end up washing his shorts and changing his sheets, then who knew what else?

  “The childcare agency is sending me candidates to interview in the morning, plus I posted an ad on local social media. Starting at nine a.m. So, I’ve got to get up early in the morning. Good night.” He didn’t slam the door in her face, but it sure felt like he had.

  “Well, good luck,” she mumbled and turned for the stairs.

  His door opened. “Um, Becky?”

  She paused. “Yes?”

  “I’m not sure what to ask the babysitters in the interviews.”

  It cost him something to admit that. Heaven help her, but she was feeling all mushy inside again. “Would you like some help doing the interviews?”

  If he turned her down, then no harm no foul, but that would be the last time she’d ever offer to do anything for him.

  He looked inordinately relieved. “I’d sure appreciate that, Becky. Just come on down around nine.”

  “All right.”

  All right?

  What the heck? Hadn’t she learned anything from dating Kevin? It started out with him sweet-talking her into little favors and flexing his muscles at her. Before she knew what hit her, she’d been stuck in that miserable, windowless office trying to straighten out his shoddy accounting practices.

  “Thanks, Rebecca.” He ga
ve a halfhearted grin.

  “I wish you’d call me, Becky. When my mother called me Rebecca, I knew I was in trouble.”

  Come to think of it, she was probably up to her ears in trouble now. If men knew how appealing they looked with babies draped tenderly over their shoulders, the bars would be full of borrowed children.

  “Becky, I never opened that wine. If you’d like to come in…”

  “No, thank you.” She started backing toward the stairs. When her heel hit the bottom riser, she nearly fell. Why was he standing there watching her?

  Bam! Pow! Whammy! She could drown in those neon blues.

  She turned and hightailed it up the stairs. She fumbled for the key in her purse. She’d let him spook her into not keeping it under the rug anymore. When she finally got inside her apartment, she slammed the door and put on the chain. Something she neglected to do most of the time.

  She was out of breath and could hear her heart beating in her ears. If this was a hormonal condition, she’d better find an antidote quickly!

  Before she went to bed, she made a list of questions to ask potential caregivers. A neighbor had asked her to help hire a suitable employee. She had an excellent business sense, learned by watching her parents manage a modern farm. Why not use it to help a casual acquaintance?

  Never mind that he was a very handsome acquaintance.

  “And he will stay a casual acquaintance,” she told herself.

  Getting romantic ideas about Deputy Dalton was as dangerous as a rattlesnake roundup, and she wasn’t about to take part.

  8

  All night, she kept waking up and checking her clock. At seven she got up before the alarm and glanced over her list of questions again.

  Just so Nate wouldn’t think she was eager, she waited until 8:57 to go to his apartment. To her amazement, the front door was propped open with the chair. A sign resting on the seat directed interviewees into his apartment. On his door, a second sign invited the applicants to Enter Here.

  She entered.

  The only difference between the group in his living room and the one she faced at the cookware party was the noise level. She glimpsed Nate through his kitchen door. He was pouring coffee into an odd assortment of mugs.

  “What did you do?” she whispered, joining him in the kitchen. “Round up all the usual suspects?”

  “I wanted a wide selection,” he whispered back. “I thought of giving them a cup of coffee, then call them into the kitchen one at a time.”

  “You don’t have to serve refreshments at a job interview. Where’s Lucy?”

  “In the bedroom. I gave her some measuring spoons and cups to keep her occupied until this is over.”

  “While you talk to all those women? In your dreams! We’ll do the interviews in the bedroom so we can see how Lucy reacts to each of them.”

  “Won’t that be weird?”

  “No weirder than your idea. I’ll be right there with you.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  She led the way, stopping to deliver instructions to the crowd of applicants. “Please come into the bedroom in the order you arrived. I’ll call the first person in a minute.”

  Then she led Nate into the bedroom.

  “We can’t interview in here!” Nate said.

  He had that right. The unmade bed and scattered clothing on the floor weren’t employment incentives.

  “Hi, Luce-Luce,” Becky cooed, leaning over the playpen to dangle a set of plastic stackable spoons on a ring. “Make your bed, Dalton.”

  She was proud of herself. She could be tough. The old Becky would’ve straightened the room for him.

  He was fast. She had to give him that. In two minutes, the room look less like bachelor headquarters, even if it was a little too casual for a job interview.

  She took her list of questions out of the pocket of her blue denim jumper. With a yellow tank top underneath, it was casual, but compared to Nate in his frayed khaki shorts and faded burnt orange University of Texas T-shirt, she was dressed for success.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pulling a straight-backed wooden chair from the desk in the corner over closer to the bed for the interviewees to sit in.

  She’d go get another chair from the kitchen for Nate to sit in while he conducted the interviews. “My list of questions for the applicants.”

  They were whispering. Funny how whispering made everything sound more urgent…and intimate.

  “I interrogate people for a living. I’ll just wing it.” He gave her an endearing grin.

  “Um, okay.” Why did he have to look so darn irresistible?

  “If that’s all right with you.” His smile turned conciliatory.

  “I’ll jot down their name and contact info,” she said, wondering why he’d ask for her help if he would not use her advice and then wondered why she didn’t just leave him to it. “Shall I usher in contestant number one?”

  “Mocking me?” His eyes crinkled with mirth.

  “Not you per se.” She laughed. “But maybe your methodology?”

  “Let’s do this thing.”

  The first prospect was pleasant but rather sloppy-looking. Her knee-length T-shirt was worn over threadbare leggings, and she wore thin flip-flops and six necklaces layered around her throat. Although, Becky supposed she shouldn’t judge the woman’s attire. She and Nate both had looked rather ragged after spending the day with Lucy. The woman said she’d seen one of Nate’s signs on a local social media forum and ended the statement with a smart snap of the chewing gum she was working over.

  “Have you ever been arrested or served time in prison?” Nate asked after a perfunctory greeting.

  “No, but my daddy’s in prison for mail fraud.”

  “Nate!” Becky stood from where she’d been sitting on the bed. “May I see you in the closet?”

  “Huh?”

  She angled her head to the walk-in closet on the other side of the room.

  He shrugged and got up.

  “We’ll be right back,” Becky told the gum chewer.

  “Take your time.” The woman crossed her legs and lazily swung her top foot in a slow arc. “Got nothing to do and nowhere to go.”

  Nate joined Becky in the closet, and she shut the door behind him. “What’s up, buttercup?”

  Buttercup? Had he actually just called her that?

  A pleased heat spread across her chest. Don’t be silly, he means nothing by it. You’ve heard him call Lucy “buttercup” a dozen times. It’s just a habit.

  Now, however, she was alone with him in the dark closet and her heart was beating too fast and her mouth was dry, and she felt a wee bit dizzy from the smell of his lovely man scent.

  “You can’t ask questions like that.”

  “Yes, I can. Do you want Lucy in the hands of a criminal?”

  “Check for arrest records later, if you feel the need. Ask about childcare experience. You need to find a pleasant, efficient person who enjoys children.”

  Candidate number one didn’t fill the bill. When they emerged from the closet, she was still smacking the gum, scrolling through social media on her phone and totally ignoring Lucy who’d pulled up in her playpen and was grinning at the woman who never made direct eye contact with any of them.

  Becky wound up that interview in a hurry. The din from the living room suggested the natives were getting restless and might walk out.

  Candidate number two cooed at Lucy. She was young and perky, a part-time student at the local community college who was studying child development. She’d brought references neatly arranged in a manila folder. She also had a tiny diamond stud in her nose, a beaded silver wire through her eyebrow, and huge gauges in her earlobes.

  After she left the room, Nate shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not? She has good references and she genuinely seems to like Lucy.”

  Nate shuddered. “I could just see Lucy hanging on those gauges.”

  What? “I’m sure the woman knows how to handle her
own gauges.”

  “It’s not just that.”

  Good. She was thinking he was a little too judgmental.

  “I’ve seen her on the streets,” he said.

  “On the streets? What do you mean—ooh?” Did he mean she was a streetwalker?

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  Wow. Becky would never have suspected it. The young woman looked so polished.

  They went through three more applicants. A young man who juggled Lucy like a football, a gym teacher looking for summer work but who said she’d have to leave the employment if she got a better-paying job, and a woman who’d brought her three preschool children to the interview with her.

  None were right for the position.

  “I’ll just call in candidate number six.” Becky sighed and ushered in the last applicant, a square-jawed woman was steel-gray hair and half-lens glasses perched low on her nose. She introduced herself as Mrs. Lorenzo and Becky thought, Mrs. Doubtfire.

  “Do you have any references?” Nate asked as he’d asked all the applicants.

  “Yes. I’ve mostly cared for my own children and grandchildren, though. I’m alone now—and I just thought I might have some usefulness left in me yet.”

  Amazingly, supercop seems satisfied with her answer. Becky would’ve asked to see some photos on her phone. They chatted a while about formula and baby nutrition and bedtime schedules, and then Becky walked her to the front door, returning with the chair and signs. Closing up shop. Everyone had been interviewed or left.

  “I don’t think any of those applicants are right for Lucy.”

  “I think Mrs. Lorenzo will do.”

  Becky was skeptical, but she couldn’t give him any solid reason to reject the older woman other than gut instinct. Mrs. Lorenzo look sensible in her brown lace-up oxfords and lavender slacks and fit enough to handle an energetic baby.

  “You want to hire her just like that? No FBI check, no police lineup?”

  “She was from the agency. They’re supposed to screen applicants. Since I need her to start today when I go to work at three, I must trust them on this, until I can do a background check.”

  Becky still had her doubts, but it was his decision, his niece. She got ready to leave.