BILLY AND THE KID
Page 8
Joe refilled her coffee cup without asking his wife if she wanted more. "Yeah?" He kissed the top of her head before he sat down at the table for his midmorning coffee break. Jane knew darn well he was there to check on her, see if she was having contractions. It was aggravating to have absolutely nothing happening at all. "Why is that?"
"Because you never tell me anything. Like who Spring's mother is and why Will has the baby."
"Can't," he said, pulling a plate of cookies closer. "Classified information. Where'd you get these?"
"From the freezer," she said, watching him eat two. The man would never gain weight, not even if he ate fifty sugar cookies a day. "I baked them months ago. When I had a waist." She patted her round belly, covered by her largest maternity blouse. "Our daughter is in no hurry to be born."
"Neither were the boys," he reminded her, taking a bite out of his fourth cookie.
It wouldn't be fair to Daisy if she fell in love with Will and then Will's old girlfriend returned. "I like her."
"Who?"
"Daisy McGregor."
"The woman makes one heck of a roast beef sandwich."
"She's perfect for Will."
"No one's perfect for Will."
"She's just what he needs."
Her husband's eyebrows rose. "You're matchmaking? For Will?" He began to laugh, which Jane decided was a sign of a man who'd had too much sugar, so she moved the cookie plate away. "Save some for the kids. They'll be home from school in an hour."
"Will's got enough problems right now. He sure doesn't need a girlfriend."
"Whose the mother of that baby and where is she?"
He shook his head. "You know I can't discuss police business."
"Since when?"
"Honey, I don't have much to tell, that's all. Why so interested?"
"Because I don't want that woman showing up, wrecking everything."
"Let me take a guess here. 'That woman' is Spring's mother and 'wrecking everything' means your matchmaking schemes for Will?"
"Exactly."
"Sweetheart, Will needs a baby-sitter for that baby. And he could use a construction crew, if he still plans to sell that place of his. And he needs to find Sprig's mother." This time he didn't look like he was teasing her. "And it's my job to help him do it." He stood up and brushed crumbs from his pants. "I wouldn't worry about whether he has a date on a Saturday night."
"And what about Daisy?" Jane had seen the wistful expression on her new friend's face when she'd taken care of that baby. If ever there was a woman who wanted a family, it was Daisy McGregor.
"I've got to get back to work," Joe said, taking his jacket from the back of the chair. He bent down and kissed his wife before adding, "I wouldn't worry too much about Daisy if I were you. That's one lady who can take care of herself."
Which of course only proved that men didn't know anything at all about women. Jane waited until she heard the truck roar out of the drive before she reached for the phone.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
His vow to leave Daisy alone hadn't lasted long.
Just five minutes after seeing her again, in fact. He hadn't intended to ask her to go with him to town, but he hadn't wanted to leave her, either. Because of Spring, he reminded himself. Nothing more. Fingers fumbling with seat belt straps, Will attached the baby's car seat in the narrow back seat of the truck, then stepped out of the way to let Daisy climb into the passenger seat.
Once they were all settled, Will started the engine and headed out of town. Daisy hadn't said a word for over ten minutes, a situation that Will was determined to change. "You know," he began, stepping on the gas as they reached the ramp to the interstate. "Just because of last night doesn't mean you can't talk to me."
She looked up from the paper she was studying and stared at him. "What?"
"Last night. Kissing you. I apologized."
"Oh," she said. "That."
His ego evaporated into the cold Montana air. Will reached over and turned the heater up.
"I wasn't ignoring you on purpose." Daisy folded up her paper and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. "I was trying to figure out how to make the most of my time so I wouldn't be gone too long. The chili contest is tomorrow night and I need to be prepared."
"Oh." He wished she wasn't so damned gorgeous. That long golden suede coat she wore made her look even more like the beauty queen she was rumored to be. He kept his hands gripping the steering wheel and managed to stay on the road. "Nice day out."
"Yes."
"The roads are fairly clear."
She obliging looked out the window. "Yes, they are."
"You're not mad because of last night, are you?" Daisy shrugged. "I'm a big girl, Will. That kind of thing doesn't bother me."
Which was even worse, as far as he was concerned, since "that kind of thing" had kept him awake most of the night, which he'd spent caulking the openings around the first-floor windows. He hadn't even needed to make a pot of coffee. All he'd had to do was think about how Daisy's lips tasted of sugar and apples and he'd been edgy enough to wash the damn windows once he'd winterized them. The living room smelled like vinegar, the way it used to when his mother was alive.
His mother had fought against dust and dirt all of her life, always struggling to meet the demands of Hank and Edna. "Do you have family around here?" he heard himself ask.
"No. I'm from Nevada. Most of the family is still there, outside of Reno. I go back once in a while. What about you?"
"My mother's parents left me the ranch," he said, not turning to look at her. He kept his eye on the semi fifty feet ahead. "I'm fixing it up, but I'll probably sell it."
"I remember you said you had no one to help you with Spring." She turned around to check on the baby. "Have there been any more clues about her mother?"
"No, but I'm putting an ad in the county paper today."
"Good. You need a baby-sitter to—"
"No. In the personals. To find Spring's mother."
"Oh."
He knew he should tell her about Sarah. It would be nothing to tell her the truth, but it was easier to let her go on thinking that he didn't know a condom from a wool sock. Let her go on thinking that he was involved with another woman. It kept her safely away from him. She was a woman who wanted a husband. And kids. And someone to go to chili fundraisers with. If he said "Sarah is my little sister and I haven't seen her in five years," then things could get real complicated real fast.
The true meaning of "complicated" hit Will between the eyes an hour later, when he and Daisy stood in the baby department of North Bend's only furniture store. Spring wriggled in Daisy's arms, so Will lifted her to his shoulder while he patted her on the back and eyed the collection of cribs.
"We have several different styles," a plump saleswoman explained. "Everything from Colonial to French Country to a lovely versatile crib that converts to a toddler bed when your baby decides she wants to sleep in a real bed."
Daisy ran a delicate hand over the top rail of a white crib with tulips painted on the sides. "They're all so pretty."
The lady looked pleased. "We have Disney characters, of course, and Winnie the Pooh, who is so popular with you young mothers nowadays. Everything is lead-free, naturally. And all of the cribs conform to today's safety standards."
Daisy checked one of the price tags and her eyebrows lifted in surprise. The saleswoman hurried to explain. "You could find one cheaper used, of course, but so many of the older cribs are unsafe." She picked up a pamphlet from a nearby changing table. "Would you like to read about it?"
"Yes," Daisy said, taking the paper. Spring started to complain, fussing loudly against Will's neck.
"Is she hungry?" The woman gestured toward a carved maple rocker. "Feel free to test out our most popular rocking chair."
Daisy shot Will a worried look. "Her bottles are out in the truck."
"I'll get one." He placed an armload of discontented baby in Daisy's arm
s. "Try out that rocker, will you? If she likes it, we'll get one of those, too." The saleswoman beamed at him. "It is so nice to see the young husbands so involved these days. You hurry right back, Daddy, and we'll heat that bottle up and see if your little sweetheart likes her new furniture, all right?"
Will couldn't find words to respond. He'd never been called a "young husband" before. He glanced toward Daisy, whose cheeks looked pinker than usual, but he could only nod and get the hell out of the store. Even the word "husband" made him feel queasy, and the idea that he and Daisy looked like a young married couple just about scared him into the next county. He had to find Sarah, and he had to find her fast.
Before he started liking all this.
* * *
The man didn't waste any time doing errands, though Spring had done her fussy-baby best to complicate the entire trip to North Bend.
She couldn't help liking him. And she couldn't help remembering the way he'd kissed her. And how she'd kissed him back, like a woman starved for sex.
Which she was. But not starved enough to hop into bed with the town's most noted charming bad boy.
She would keep her mouth away from his and, as her mother always said, her "knees together." Otherwise, she could find herself the center of town gossip. And that wasn't the way to run a business or become part of a community.
"Come see the ranch," he'd said, turning off the road to town and heading north before she'd said yes or no.
So she saw the ranch house, a larger, grayer and older structure than she'd pictured. More solid, too, despite its age and obvious lack of upkeep.
"It's very big," was all she could say. When what she wanted to say was, "Paint it white, with blue shutters and fill those broken window boxes with bright pink geraniums. Plant herbs in that fenced square of ground by the south porch and hang a swing in the cottonwood between the house and the barn."
"I'm going to sell it," he explained, driving close to the back door. A brown-and-white dog ran out to greet them, his tail wagging. "That's Bozeman. You're not afraid of dogs, are you?"
"No." Just handsome cowboys who don't stay long in one place. She reached around for Spring, who looked sleepy and comfortable after the long ride. "Come here, honey. You get to try out your new bed."
He glanced down at the baby in her arms. "Do you want me to take her?"
"No. She's fine."
He took her arm anyway and helped her down from the truck. "I'll make some coffee and you can tell me what you think about where to put stuff."
"I, uh, should get back to work." Which was a lie. Darlene, Barlow and Heather could handle the slowest day of the week without her. They would probably be glad she wasn't bustling around, obsessing over tomorrow night's chili supper. The truth was she didn't want to spend any more time playing mommy. Heather had been right: Billy Wilson was irresistible. Almost.
She let him lead her to the back door, the friendly dog panting around her legs. She waited, protecting Spring from the cold with her blanket, while he unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal a narrow kitchen that was surprisingly tidy, though the wall of dark-wood cabinets gave it a gloomy air until Will switched on a ceiling light.
"It's never been much," he muttered, looking around as if trying to see it with her eyes. "My mother's parents never did anything to the place except let it fall down around them."
"It's wonderful," she said, noting the planked floor and faded flowered wallpaper. The appliances were old, but they seemed to match the old-fashioned light fixtures and the wide porcelain sink. "Like something out of a movie."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Unforgiven."
She peeked into the dining room, which looked more lived in than the kitchen. The square table in the middle of the room was piled high with tools and buckets. Stacks of papers and rags were mounded in corners, and coffee cups dotted the shelves of an unused hutch, as if the drinker had walked away and forgotten them. "This is where you eat?"
"No. I stand up at the kitchen counter," he said, giving her a quick smile. "This is where I've been working. Sit down and give me a minute to get the furniture inside, then I'll give you a tour." He hesitated. "Unless you need to get back right away."
It was her chance to say "Thanks, I need to work," and have him drive her to town. But it was too tempting to peek at the old Victorian home. She told herself she only wanted to make certain that Spring would have a decent place to sleep. "No," she said, stepping into what should have been a dining room. "I can stay a little while, until you get the crib set up."
"Good. Then I'll deliver you and your pizza oven to town, just in time for the supper rush."
"There's no hurry," she heard herself say, though of course there were supplies to put away and pizza ingredient portions to weigh. Portion control, she'd read, was all-important in the pizza business, and she doubted there would be free time tomorrow to test out her pizza ideas. What on earth was the matter with her? She looked down at the baby she held in her arms. Maternal hormones, that was the problem. As long as she held this baby she couldn't think clearly.
And when Will held her she couldn't think clearly, either. So naturally, if she was as smart as she liked to think she was, she would stay away from both of them and concentrate on pizza and profits. "Bring Spring's car seat in and I'll make coffee," she offered, not caring if she sounded too forward.
"Good idea." He was gone, leaving nothing but a gust of cold air as the door shut behind him and the dog that was happy to follow him back to the truck. He returned with the car seat and three big bags of baby supplies, which he deposited on the kitchen floor before returning to get the furniture.
Daisy fixed Spring in her seat and put it on the wide counter where she could see her while she rinsed out the coffeepot and searched for coffee. There wasn't much of anything in the place, so clearly Will didn't intend to stay long. Instant oatmeal packets, dog food, coffee, crackers and cans of soup barely filled one cupboard. Unmatched dishes filled another, along with scratched glasses of odd shapes and sizes. The next few minutes were filled with making the coffee and holding open the back door each time Will brought in a boxed piece of furniture.
"That's it," he declared, sliding the box that held the crib along the kitchen floor. He leaned it against the wall and shut the door behind him. He grinned. "Now comes the hard part, putting the damn thing together."
"I'll rock her until you're done." She still couldn't believe how many things he'd purchased. For a man who intended to sell this place, he'd gone to a lot of trouble to make it a home for a little while.
"Oh, no, you don't." He tossed his hat and jacket into the dining room. "You're going to read the directions and hand me the right screwdrivers."
"I am?"
"Yes, sweetheart." He strode past her to the counter and picked up the car seat, with Spring dozing inside. "Come on," he told Daisy as he turned and headed toward the dining room. "Let me show you ladies what I've been working on."
The dining room opened onto a hallway through one door and the living room through another. Will led her into the living room. Daisy stopped short and stared.
"Do you think it still smells like paint?" Will took a deep breath as he surveyed his work. "I had the windows open for a while."
"It's fine," Daisy said, knowing her words were completely inadequate to describe what must have been an amazing transformation, if this room had been anything like the others she'd seen. The windows gleamed, the walls were freshly painted in soft ivory and the bare wood floor shone with fresh wax.
"I talked Hal into selling me some paint and caulk yesterday," Will said, setting the baby in her seat on the floor before straightening to survey his work in the late-afternoon sunlight.
"You did this in one day?"
"One night," he said. "And four pots of coffee."
"I'm impressed."
His face lit up. "Really? I wasn't sure about the color, so I picked something Hal called 'Basic Cream' that he didn't have to mix up for me."
"I'm going to move my bed down here," he said, pointing to a corner of the large, square room. "That way I'll hear her cry in the middle of the night."
Which meant Spring wouldn't be spending any more nights in Daisy's apartment, beside Daisy's bed or curled up in her arms while they rocked and watched television. She reminded herself that was a good thing. She reminded herself that she owned a restaurant and she didn't want to fall in love again. She reminded herself she liked living alone.
Most of the time.
Daisy plastered a bright smile on her face. "I'll get the coffee and we'll get started."
"Sure," he agreed, but he didn't move toward the door. Instead he stood there looking at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "You worried I won't be able to take care of her?"
"No, of course not. You'll do fine."
He didn't look convinced, but he started to head out of the room. "I'll get the crib."
"And I'll get the coffee," she offered, making sure that Spring was content in her seat. "I think we're going to need it."
Two hours later they dropped the new mattress into the assembled crib. Daisy had picked out a simple washed-pine model, but at Will's urging had splurged on a pink-rosebud sheet and bumper pads, which she fixed in the crib. The new pine rocker sat in one corner of the room, and a changing table stuffed full of baby clothes sat against a nearby wall.
"Now what?"
"See if Spring likes it?"
Daisy checked on the baby. "She's asleep," she whispered. "Maybe we'd better wait. What about your bed?"
"What?"
"Don't you want to bring it down?"
"I can do it later, after I take you home."
"We could get the room finished while she's asleep," Daisy insisted. "Come on, I'll help."
"No." He tenderly moved Spring in her seat over to the corner by the rocking chair. "You stay here with her while I bring the mattress down."