Clay (Texas Rascals Book 11)

by Lori Wilde

“Can you tell me what happened?” Tobie asked after she’d finished examining the baby.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Molly started crying about an hour after her mother left.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  He consulted his watch. “My golly, she’s been crying for three straight hours.”

  “Did anything precipitate it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her tummy appears to be a little distended. When was the last time she had a bowel movement?”

  He blushed. “I, uh, don’t know.”

  “Did she ingest anything not normally on her diet?”

  “I gave her a banana.” He frowned. “I don’t know if Anne normally feeds her bananas or not.”

  “Then why don’t you call your wife and find out?”

  “Uh...” Clay hesitated again. “We’re not married.”

  For some stupid reason, maybe it was Dr. Tobie’s beautiful sable hair or her angelic heart-shaped face or that lithe body that wouldn’t quit, but Clay wanted her to know he was single.

  “That’s all right, you don’t have to explain your baby mama situation to me. I’m simply trying to determine if Molly has colic.” Dr. Tobie smiled.

  Clay felt as if an arrow had shot him straight through the heart.

  “It could be the bananas, especially if she wasn’t used to eating them,” Dr. Tobie mused, sliding Molly’s arm back into her sweater.

  His niece quieted. She hiccupped a few times and sighed.

  “You think it’s colic?” Clay weaved his fingers together and peered anxiously at Molly.

  “Maybe just an old-fashioned tummy ache.” Dr. Tobie finished dressing the baby and handed her back to Clay. “I’ll write you a prescription.”

  She at down on a stool, opened the drawer on the exam table, and took out a prescription pad.

  Clay stared, mesmerized by her long, gorgeous legs as she crossed them demurely at the ankle. Her chin-length hair swung like a silk curtain against her pale cheek.

  The image of Snow White floated into his brain. Dr. Tobie Avery exuded the same delicate beauty, the same sweet self-assurance as the fairy-tale princess. Clay had been in love with Snow White when he was a kid.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got to be honest with you.”

  Dr. Tobie Avery glanced up at him. “Yes?”

  Clay gulped. “I’m not Molly’s father.”

  Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

  Raising a hand to massage his brow, Clay wished he’d hadn’t forgotten Anne’s letter. “Molly’s my niece, not my daughter. I’m watching her while my sister is out of town.”

  “Oh.”

  He winced. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, but I was desperate, and it just popped out.”

  Tobie stared at him. “Do you realize I’m jeopardizing my license by treating Molly without her mother’s permission? I’m not even her regular pediatrician.”

  “Oh, I’ve got Anne’s written permission. But I left it at home.”

  “Then go home and get it.” Tobie looked at him as if he were a backward child.

  Good grief, Barton, she thinks you’re an idiot.

  “Therein lies the problem,” he said.

  “Yes?” Dr. Tobie Avery blinked her big blue eyes at him.

  Clay held his breath. It had been a very long time since a woman had affected him so physically. He clutched Molly to his chest and realized she’d stopped crying. In fact, her head rested so heavily upon his shoulder, he suspected she’d finally cried herself to sleep.

  “I live fifteen miles out of town. I forgot the note because my truck wouldn’t start, and I had to set up the Pack ’n Play and use the tractor to jump the battery on my truck, and I’m not sure it will even start again—”

  “Sounds like you and Molly have had a very trying day, Mr. Barton. It is Mr. Barton, isn’t it?” A smile tugged the corners of Tobie’s lips. “You didn’t lie about your name too, I hope.”

  “Clay.”

  “It’s Mr. Clay?”

  “Oh, no. My first name’s Clay. Clay Barton. But please, call me Clay,” he blathered, totally thrown by his unexpected attraction to this sexy physician. Next, he’d start stuttering the way he had as a kid in the schoolyard.

  What was it about this woman that left him feeling tongue-tied and shy? It was more than her beauty. Before he’d come to Rascal to focus on his inventions, he’d had his pick of the most gorgeous women in the Southwest, and none of them had ever stirred him the way this woman did.

  “Okay, Clay. That’s easily rectifiable. I’ll follow you and Molly, and you can find me that letter of permission for her files. How does that sound?”

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Dr. Avery,” Clay said. “I can go get it and bring it back.”

  “Molly needs her rest, and it’s no trouble at all. We’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way and pick up Molly’s prescription.” She stood up. Her dainty fragrance teased his nostrils. She smelled sweet and fresh like a flower. Purple flowers. Violets. That was it. Dr. Tobie Avery smelled like sun-kissed violets.

  “Thanks,” Clay mumbled, surprised to hear his voice come out rough and husky.

  “Looks like the little one has fallen asleep.” Tobie reached out a finger to stroke Molly’s cheek. She was standing so near him that Clay could see the tiny pores on her flawless skin.

  He trembled slightly and wondered again at the strange chemical reaction bubbling inside him.

  “You know, it’s really sweet of you to take care of Molly for your sister. Not a lot of men would do it.”

  Dr. Avery thought he was sweet? Clay didn’t know if that was bad or good. He wanted her to think he was tough and manly, not Mr. Mom. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Anne’s mother-in-law is having emergency surgery, and there wasn’t anybody else to look after the baby on such short notice.”

  “Your sister is lucky to have you.”

  “Ah, shucks, Dr. Avery, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.” Her blue eyes flashed with mirth. “You strike me as very self-aware.”

  “I do?”

  “Let me get my car keys. This way.” She motioned him to follow her with a crook of her finger.

  Tobie led him to her office. He waited while she hunted in the desk for her purse. He couldn’t help admiring the bewitching view as she leaned over. Her satiny peach blouse, only partially hidden by her white lab coat, strained across her generous chest. One well-rounded hip angled provocatively in his direction. Sucking in air, Clay placed a restraining hand to Molly’s back. Was Dr. Avery the sort of woman who liked silky lingerie? Skimpy black lace panties or maybe a push-up bra?

  He gulped and for the first time noticed the engagement ring on her left hand. Aww, darn it, off the market. What did he expect? Gorgeous, accomplished women like Tobie could have their pick of mates.

  “Here we are,” she said, straightening, the keychain dangling in her hand. “Let’s do this thing.”

  3

  “I don’t want to keep you from your other patients,” Clay said. “I hate to be a bother.”

  Tobie smiled again. “Actually, it’s my afternoon off from seeing patients. I normally catch up on paperwork on Monday afternoons. I only agreed to see Molly this late because my receptionist, Tiffani, said she was crying loud enough to wake the dead. I hate to see children suffer.”

  “She’s tuckered herself out.”

  “You don’t have any children of your own?” Tobie cocked her head.

  “Me? Oh, no!”

  “You’re a natural parent.” Completely the opposite of Edward, a nagging voice in the back of Tobie’s mind reminded her.

  “You should have seen me an hour ago.” Clay chuckled. “I was a total basket case.”

  Tobie liked the sound of his rich, throaty voice. She imagined that voice crooning to her in the middle of the night, and she suppressed a shiver of delight. What was she think
ing? She was getting married in six months; why was she having daydreams about strangers?

  Especially such an attractive stranger.

  Her gaze traveled the length of his body. He was the sort of fellow her grandmother would have called “a tall drink of water.”

  From the scruffy brown hair inching past the collar of his western shirt to the tight, faded Wrangler jeans encasing his long legs, to the five o’clock shadow ringing his firm jawline. He was one hundred percent sexual fantasy.

  The baby in his arms only accentuated his masculinity, vividly contrasting the weak with the strong.

  Stop it right now, Tobie Lynne Avery, she scolded herself.

  She knew better than to let her mind wander along such dangerous lines. Dr. Edward James Bennet III was the man for her. Edward was reliable, secure, dependable. A rock of a man. Just the kind of mate that suited her. Tobie need never worry about the future, married to a steady man like Edward.

  But what about passion, that nasty little voice nagged her. What about hot sex?

  In the year she’d known Edward, he’d never aroused her the way Clay did with a simple smile. Tobie shook her head to dispel such thoughts. She’d sworn never to allow love to sweep her away as her mother had—marrying in the heat of passion, paying for her rash decision every day of her life.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Barton?” she asked, putting a professional timbre in her voice.

  “Please,” he said, “call me Clay.”

  “Clay, then. This way.” Tobie crooked her finger at him and led him out the back door and through the employee parking lot to her new model Mercedes.

  Clay took a gander at the car and whistled. “This must have set you back a pretty penny.”

  Tobie flushed. “My fiancé bought it for me when I graduated med school. Heaven knows I’m so far in debt on student loans I couldn’t have bought it for myself.”

  “Your fiancé’s rich?”

  “Edward is financially secure, yes.”

  Was it her imagination or did she detect a touch of disappointment in Clay’s tone? Tobie tossed her hair and unlocked the passenger side door, avoiding his inquisitive stare.

  “Hop in,” she said, “I’ll give you a ride to your truck. You’re parked at the front of the building, right?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have a car seat.”

  “We’re just in the parking lot,” she said. “It’ll be fine. Fasten your seat belt around you both.”

  Cradling Molly against his shoulder, Clay got in on the passenger side and belted up. Tobie slid behind the wheel of her Mercedes and backed from her parking space. Yes, she enjoyed the sporty luxury car Edward had purchased for her. It was a sure sign of his affection. No one in her family had ever owned a brand-new car, never mind something as extravagant as a Mercedes.

  Yes, growing up, she and her family had been broker than broke most of the time.

  Old memories rose to the surface. Memories she wanted desperately to forget. Her father had been a dreamer with wanderlust fever, dragging her and her mother from state to state, always on the prowl for a get-rich-quick scheme. They’d never stayed longer than a few months in one place, and Tobie had found it difficult to make friends.

  Ten years ago, her father had died of a heart attack, leaving her mother destitute. During Tobie’s life, her father had made grandiose promises of fine houses, fast cars, and lots of money, but those things never materialized.

  And as much as she had loved her father, he’d rarely paid her any attention, forever high on his wild ideas. She often said whenever she got married, she’d pick a solid, dependable man. No good-looking charmers for her.

  At a very young age, Tobie realized that if she ever wanted anything in life, it was up to her to go get it. The need for success had driven her to spend her entire adolescence tirelessly studying, planning medical school from the time she was thirteen.

  Now, at last, her dreams were coming true. Between her budding medical career and her engagement to Dr. Edward Bennet, she had the stability and security she’d never known as a child.

  “What do you do for a living, Clay, that you can stay home during the day?” Tobie asked as she navigated the car around the parking lot speed bump.

  “Umm,” he hedged.

  Uh-oh, he was unemployed. She knew it!

  “I’m an inventor,” he admitted.

  Even worse than unemployed! Another pie-in-the-sky dreamer, just like her father. Wasn’t it a shame all handsome, charming men seemed to have at least one major character flaw? Look at her mother. She’d married her father for love and his devastating handsomeness and look where it had gotten her.

  Thank heavens she’d found a responsible man like Edward. He might not be the sexiest guy alive, but he was most certainly one of the steadiest.

  “How do you pay the bills? If you don’t mind me asking?” She eased around the corner of the building and into the patient parking area.

  Clay slid her a look. “Don’t worry. I can pay Molly’s doctor bill if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I—”

  “To put your mind at ease, I make some royalties on an invention I patented five years ago.”

  “I see.” Yes, she saw that he was a head-in-the-clouds type.

  “That set to your mouth says you don’t approve.” His tone rippled with tension.

  “This must be you,” she said, embarrassed and wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. An old dusty brown extended cab work truck was the only vehicle in the lot. She stopped behind the pickup.

  Clay got out with Molly clutched to his shoulder.

  “Follow me to the pharmacy.” She angled her head across the seat to peer up at him. “It’s just two blocks over.”

  “Right behind you.” Clay strapped Molly into the car seat.

  Tobie waited for Clay to follow her, then took off down the block to the pharmacy. She killed the engine, got out, and tapped on his window. He put the window down. Garth Brooks was on the radio. An oldie but a goodie. “Friends in Low Places.”

  “No need to drag Molly out of her car seat again. I’ll grab the prescription and be right back.”

  Clay nodded. “Thank you.”

  While she waited for the prescription, Tobie peered through the pharmacy’s plate-glass window, watching Clay as he sat in his truck, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music.

  His eyes met hers, and he grinned.

  Helplessly, Tobie grinned back.

  Why was she doing this? It was definitely beyond the call of her Hippocratic Oath, buying medicine for a child who wasn’t even her regular patient, giving a ride to a man she didn’t know. Something about the pair stirred deep maternal feelings inside her.

  Boundaries, Tobie. You should set them.

  But she needed that permission letter from Molly’s mother to protect herself from liability. Besides, if she didn’t go back to his place to get the letter, she’d get stuck inside on a pretty spring afternoon, alone in her quiet office.

  “Here you go, Doc,” the pharmacist said, ringing up her purchase.

  “Thanks,” Tobie said and paid for the prescription.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she muttered under her breath as she pushed through the glass door and stepped back outside. Normally she loved her work, had never considered it lonely or time-consuming.

  Did she dare admit the truth to herself? That the handsome cowboy and the darling little girl had roused her maternal instincts? Instincts Edward preferred she ignored.

  “Got the meds,” she said with forced cheerfulness and handed the white bag, with the pharmacy label printed on it, to Clay through the window he’d lowered again.

  “Shh.” Clay lay a finger against his lips.

  Tobie peeked in the back. Molly was sound asleep in her car seat, her little chin resting on her chest. Aww!

  “What’s your address?” Tobie whispered. “So I can program it into my GPS.”

  “I’m renting out the o
ld cabin on the back of the Trueblood spread, Willow Creek Ranch, so I don’t have an official address. My mail comes to the ranch,” he said. “Just follow me.”

  “Oh, okay.” She vaguely knew where the Trueblood ranch was. Somewhere west of Rascal. There were a lot of ranches around here, and she’d only been in town for six months, servicing the rural area as part of a government-funded residency program.

  “I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to do this,” he said. “Most doctors would have held onto Molly while I went home to get the note.”

  It’s probably what she should have done.

  “You’re more than welcome.” Tobie got back into her car and followed Clay to the road leading west out of town.

  Wondering the whole time what in the heck she was doing.

  Would his bank account impress her? Clay wondered as he watched her Mercedes following behind him through his rearview mirror.

  She was cool, classy, intelligent. His instincts told him no, that Dr. Tobie Avery could see deeper than surface appearances, but then again, she was the same woman who’d accepted a brand spanking new Mercedes from her fiancé. He’d had enough dealings with scheming gold diggers to know that fancy cars were part of the image they craved.

  Yeah.

  He remembered the sudden prim set to her shoulders when she asked him what he did for a living and he’d told her he was an inventor. Had she been measuring his money-making ability, and he’d fallen far short? In Dr. Tobie Avery’s eyes, did a man who went after his dreams translate into a deadbeat? What would she think if she knew he had a billion-dollar trust fund?

  Clay grunted. Who was Dr. Tobie Avery to judge him? From the way Clay saw it, young Dr. Avery and her well-to-do fiancé deserved each other. Some things mattered more than money. Things like integrity and doing what you loved for a living whether it made big bucks or not.

  Sounds to me like you’re getting defensive for no reason, Barton. Why do you give one whit what Tobie Avery thinks?

  Why indeed?

  It took almost thirty minutes to get to his cabin, ten of it from the front gates of the Trueblood ranch to the old log cabin, built in the early part of the twentieth century.