Daddy in the Making

by Crystal Green

  After opening the door, he paused. Kristy’s cheeks had two patches of pink on them, and her lashes were dark and long. In her velvet dress, she was a doll.

  Would her brother or sister be just like her?

  Conn’s chest constricted as he undid the child’s restraints, then lifted her out of her car seat. Without opening her eyes, she slumped against him, total dead weight, her head on his shoulder.

  Rita was ahead of him, opening the back door to the hotel and ushering him up the carpeted stairs to the top floor. She opened the door and led him into a suite decorated in Victorian prints, the furniture velvet-upholstered, the wood gleaming and hand-worked.

  She gestured toward the hallway, off of which a room waited, its thick curtains drawn, blocking the afternoon light.

  After going inside first, she bent to turn on a night-light shaped like a round moon. It gave the room a hushed glow that whispered over a low bed covered by a flowered bedspread. Rita pulled back the covers as Conn kept holding Kristy, feeling needed for the first time since he could recall.

  He finally laid the girl down, and she immediately turned onto her side, her hands tucked beneath her chin as Rita took off her Mary Jane shoes.

  Conn had never put a kid to sleep. Or, more to the point, there wasn’t a memory of it banked in his brain.

  But that was okay, because there would be a bunch of opportunities with his own child in the future.

  As he let the idea take root, he and Rita stood there, Kristy’s even breathing marking the time, stretching it out until Rita finally took him by the shirtsleeve and brought him out of the room.

  She quietly shut the door behind them, and they walked down the hall. When they reached her kitchen—a modernized room that was no bigger or more ornate than it needed to be—he finally spoke.

  “That was nice,” he said.

  “Nice?” She had been just about to open the fridge. Then, after a second passed, she smiled, finally pulling the door toward her. “Sometimes I forget that it’s little moments like the one you just saw that make everything else pale in comparison.”

  “Everything else?”

  “You can guess what I’m talking about.” She took out a package of tortillas, lettuce, tomatoes, green onions and cheese. “It’ll be easy to forget about the angelic scene you just witnessed the next time Kristy refuses to clean her room or pouts like a pro when she can’t have ice cream. But then the next time I put Kristy to bed, she’ll seem so helpless and in need of me to watch over her that...”

  Her back was to him as she stood at the counter, and she didn’t make a move.

  “That it makes all the hard times worthwhile,” he said, hoping she wasn’t teary-eyed.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was a wisp.

  They didn’t say anything as she seemed to regroup, going into the cupboard for a can of refried beans and a bottle of canola oil.

  “I hope you like tostadas,” she said, her voice definitely stronger now.

  “Never turn them down. Can I help?”

  “Are you handy in the kitchen?”

  “Some would say so.”

  He doffed his hat, hanging it near the door on a rack, then went to the sink, where he washed up.

  “Off your feet,” he said, leading her to a chair by the counter.

  She didn’t complain a bit as he shredded lettuce, chopped vegetables, cooked the tortillas and, soon enough, had dinner ready.

  “Are you a table person?” Rita asked. “Or are you a fan of sitting in front of the TV while you eat?”

  “TV all the way.”

  “Thank God.” She headed toward the couch with her plate and a glass of water. “I try to teach Kristy manners, so we eat at the table. But in secret, I love sitting here and scarfing down my food. Besides, it’s time for some football.”

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  The air seized up, as if he’d crossed a line. But it was true, wasn’t it? Rita was his kind of woman, or else the old Conn would’ve never wanted a second night with her.

  But had that been because the sex had blown him away or because of something more? Something that he was just beginning to discover?

  She used the remote to turn on the TV to an NFL game. “Too bad it’s not Longhorns game day. I never went to college, but I’ve kind of adopted them.”

  They sat, and he made sure he wasn’t too close to her, but certainly not too far.

  He put down his plate, plus the soda can he’d snatched from the fridge. “I went to Texas A&M, so it looks like we might have a divided household.”

  This time, she didn’t seem to freak out about the reference to their future, and to Conn, that was good progress.

  But even with that, he knew he still had a long way to go with Rita.

  Chapter Eight

  During the game, Rita had needed to sneak out and see to a few small matters in the hotel.

  Conn hadn’t seemed to mind, though, even if he’d made her sit down and rest afterward, bringing her some herbal tea from the kitchen and cleaning the dishes they’d used. Meanwhile, he’d also helped with Kristy when she’d woken up from her nap. He’d sat at the table with her and Rita as the little girl ate her tostada, and they’d chatted about Vi’s wedding as well as all the things Kristy wanted to be when she grew up—a ballerina, a majorette and, this week, an inventor like Phineas and Ferb.

  When they’d finally called it a night, he stood by the door. Kristy was in her room, drawing a picture for “Aunt Violet” for when she got back from her honeymoon.

  “You know I’ll be getting in touch with you again,” he said quietly enough so that Kristy wouldn’t hear.

  Rita wasn’t sure whether she should be encouraging Conn or saying a leave-no-doubt good-night to him. Her heart still told her one thing, her head another.

  “In fact,” he said, “how about you clear tomorrow night off your schedule? Get a sitter for Kristy, arrange not to work.”

  She didn’t reveal that Monday was her usual night off. Still, as the owner, she was always on call. “What do you have in mind?”

  Conn gave her that heart-spinning grin. “More talking, of course.”

  Right. He wanted to prove he could be reliable. And that was just how she wanted it.

  Of course.

  They’d said one of their awkward goodbyes again, with Rita avoiding temptation and closing the door behind him. And for the rest of the night, after she’d put Kristy to bed, then gone to her own big, empty one, she had slept restlessly.

  Her mind was just too full of whats and hows: What was she going to do about Conn? How and when was she going to explain her relationship with him to Kristy?

  She couldn’t even quite define it herself at this point.

  In the morning, the questions still hovered, but there wasn’t much she could do about it as she manned the front desk and troubleshot for the few customers who were here during Thanksgiving week. She even called her sister, asking her to watch Kristy for a few hours tonight.

  “Are you going out with that cowboy?” Kim asked over the phone.

  Rita had told her that, yes, she was going out with the cowboy and she would tell Kim all about it later. She and her sister were close, but sometimes Kim, who would rather be hanging out on the ranch than fiddling around with a relationship, didn’t quite get matters of the heart. Besides, Kim and Nick were leaving town on business tomorrow afternoon, so why start this up with her sister right now?

  It could wait until after the holiday.

  The day seemed to take forever to go by. One reason was that Rita was keeping her eye out for Conn, who had told her he would be checking in to her hotel today. But even with all her due diligence, she missed him when she took a break.

  No matter, though, because once Rita was relieved at the front desk, she rushed up to the room and got ready to meet him. Kim had already gone to pick Kristy up from preschool and take her out for a meal at the Orbit Diner, so Rita was on time and in front of the hotel by the time Co
nn pulled his truck by the boardwalk.

  She made her way into the car before he could get out to open her door.

  Conn looked surprised at her efficiency, but he didn’t comment on it. Then he gestured at a cluster of white bags waiting in a box between them on the seat.

  “Do you mind making sure those don’t spill all over the place?”

  Dinner. The air was baked with the aroma.

  “Stuffed potatoes?” she asked.

  “Yup. They’re from the market’s food counter. I picked up a few other things they say a pregnant woman should be eating, too.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “Online sites. I don’t have a smartphone for nothing.”

  He’d done some research? The idea moved her in a way that most simple things didn’t. It was just that he didn’t have to take the time to do it, but he had.

  Besides, Dr. Ambrose had advised her about eating healthy. Nice to know that Conn was going to help her with that.

  He steered onto the street, and she asked, “So we’re having a picnic?”

  She’d worn a long red skirt with boots and a blouse, bringing a sweater for when the night cooled.

  “It’s not quite a picnic,” he said. “I heard there’s a drive-in about a mile away. You don’t see many of those anymore, and the weather’s still decent enough for us to go.”

  She sent him a slow glance. “You’re taking me to the movies?”

  Like...a date?

  “They’re playing good revival stuff, Rita. When Harry Met Sally... is first, then Sleepless in Seattle.”

  “Chick flicks?” She laughed. “You really are out to impress me with your sensitive side.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s sensitive. But I thought you might like a break from work with some comfort food and films.”

  As they drove, she wondered if she had accidently told him during some one-night-stand pillow talk about how When Harry Met Sally... was one of her favorite holiday movies, even though there were merely a few festive scenes in it. But Harry and Sally finally got together at the end, during a climactic New Year’s party, and nothing made her happier in any film.

  Nah, she wouldn’t have told him that. Conn Flannigan was just that good at knowing what she wanted. And she couldn’t stop remembering that he’d probably been that good with other women, too.

  The truck tires crunched over gravel as they drew up to the ticket booth. He paid the admission fee, then drove past the concession stand and children’s playground, finding a prime spot in the middle of the spread and cutting the engine.

  Flicking on the radio, he accessed the sound system on low volume, providing pop songs to go with the advertisements for local businesses on the wide screen—the Queen of Hearts Saloon, Derry’s Drug Store, the upcoming first-annual Cowboy Festival in March. Then he parceled out the food.

  “You did do your research,” Rita said as he set out the big baked potatoes stuffed with broccoli, then a salad, trail mix and apples swimming in a cinnamon sauce.

  “I told you—I aim to give you the Pregnancy Comfort Experience.” He motioned in back of the seat. “If you need blankets, I’ve got those, too.”

  Wow. Either he was truly this thoughtful or he was putting on one heck of a show for her. But she hated that her cynicism was rearing its ugly head, so she told herself to stow it away, just for a night. He had more than earned a chance.

  As they were digging into dinner with their plastic spoons, a car with a young couple pulled into a spot in the row ahead of them. Through their rear window, Rita could see their silhouettes as they kissed.

  She turned away, wishing her life could’ve been that easy with Conn.

  But...wishing? She needed more reality, not fanciful thoughts.

  “This is wonderful,” she said. “I haven’t been to a movie in...months.”

  “That’s because you’re always running around. When do you think you’re going to get some rest?”

  She dug into the potato, cheese stringing from her fork. “Are you about to lecture me?”

  Yet didn’t he have that right, as the father of their baby?

  “I’m not the type to lecture anyone,” Conn said, picking a bottle of water out of the box. “But I do want what’s best for y’all.”

  She ate her bite of potato, then shook her head. “I never did take kindly to being watched over, you know. When people like Margery Wilmore at the hotel and other folks in town stick their noses into my business, it rubs me the wrong way. Sorry if I sound prickly with you.”

  “Prickly is part of your charm, Rita.” He smiled, took a drink of water, put down the bottle. “And I don’t say that in a cruel way.”

  “I’m not sure you have it in you to be cruel.”

  He looked just as surprised as she did. Had she meant it? Because, before now, she’d believed that Conn was a low-down, no good jerk for four long months. Yet the man who’d come back to her, hat in hand, wasn’t anything like that.

  What was the reality?

  And which version should she count on?

  “I hope,” he finally said, “that I don’t have it in me.”

  She left her food alone. “What if all of your memories are slow in coming back? I’ve read about amnesiacs never regaining their memories, and it’s hard for them and their families.”

  “Right.” He rested a hand on the steering wheel. “But all I can do at this point is make the most of what I’ve got, and that includes the baby.”

  It hit her hard, right then and there, that Conn had lost just about everything, but what he had now, he was going to treasure.

  His other hand was resting on the seat, and as the pre-show concession-stand cartoons played on the big screen, she put her fingers over his own. Affection flashed through her, but it had nothing to do with a memory of that night between them.

  It was all about what was happening now.

  He looked down at his hand, her hand.

  “Things would be a hell of a lot simpler if we could just start over,” he said.

  She bit her lip, then found the courage to answer. “Maybe we can try. A blank slate might do us a lot of good.”

  It was as if she had been wanting to say it forever, and now that it was out there, she breathed easier.

  He seemed content, too. “Kristy mentioned yesterday that your family’s going to be out of town for Thanksgiving. I’d like it if you’d come to our ranch, meet everyone.”

  The oxygen gushed out of her lungs. Too soon, she thought at first.

  But as Violet had pointed out before, Rita and Conn were attached now. A child was going to be a part of both of their lives, and sooner or later, she was going to meet the family, if she and Conn wanted to provide their child with a happy, no-stress life. Hell, if Conn had really wanted to make everything tough, he could have just insisted on getting a DNA test and laid claim to their baby that way—then the child could really meet the Flannigan family.

  Why not get along the best they could?

  He added, “If you wear bulky clothes, we won’t even have to tell them the news yet.”

  “You haven’t said anything to them?”

  “No. My brother Emmet pretty much knows we got together that night, but I haven’t told him the rest. Nobody else knows much of anything. So there’s no pressure for you. And I think Kristy would have fun with my three nephews. It’d be a good day all around.”

  She’d been resigned to helping Margery Wilmore serve turkey dinner to the employees who’d volunteered, with the benefit of time-and-a-half pay, to work on Thanksgiving at the hotel. She’d been feeling like a bump on a log, as it was, so...

  No contest.

  “Yes,” she said. “We’d love to be there.”

  He broke into a smile, and it was so powerful that Rita squeezed his hand under hers.

  The movie started—the chords of a piano and a bass playing over the speakers—and Conn’s smile faded, his grip tightening on Rita’s hand.

  She knew he was
thinking of kissing her, and she got that same impulsive urge that he always kindled in her to respond just as ardently.

  Why not? it asked. Be happy for once.

  “Rita,” he said, and it was almost a question, but not quite.

  Any way about it, an answer was all too easy. Without thinking, she surged forward, pressing her mouth to his, her hand sliding behind his head, her fingers burrowing into his thick hair.

  It was more than a brush of lips this time—it was an explosion that shook her foundations, all her doubts sifting downward to tickle every throbbing cell.

  He pulled her closer until she faintly heard the sound of bags and cardboard box crunching between them. Something—food?—hit the floorboards, but she didn’t care.

  Not right now, while he was kissing her so thoroughly, so deeply that a moan gathered in her chest, rising until the sound seemed to fill her.

  So good, she thought. So right...

  After wiping the food and containers aside, Conn swept her halfway onto his lap, kissing the tips of her mouth, the line of her jaw, the pulsing vein in her throat. Rita leaned back her head, reveling in every beat of stretched, passing time. The world around her blurred—a smudged picture of the movie on the screen, the fogging windows—but everything also seemed clearer than ever.

  How could she ever think this was wrong?

  One of his hands had traveled to the small of her back, and with the rashness of a teenager, she grasped it, brought it to her breast, which felt so sensitive that she almost wanted to cry out.

  But she only sucked in a tight breath because she was also feeling tight between her legs—achy, needful.

  Conn was the only one who could make that go away, she thought. Only Conn.

  His thumb sketched her nipple, making it go stiff. She wanted his mouth there, too.

  She pressed her lips against his ear, knocking off his hat in the process. “Conn,” she whispered fervently.

  That seemed to send a lance of need through him, and he shifted in an effort to bring her even closer to him.

  At the same time, he hit the horn, and the sound chopped through the night.

  In a flood of consciousness, Rita came up through the swampy state of her mind, breaking through to the surface of reality.