I've Got You, Babe (Must Love Babies)

by Lynnette Austin

  “But—”

  “There are no buts and no blame-casting, Elisa. None of this is your fault.”

  Still, she cried and he held her. Finally, she straightened, knuckling her tears away.

  “Time for bed. Night, Tuck.”

  “Good night, Elisa. Sleep well.”

  If she did, that would make one of them because he sure as heck wouldn’t sleep tonight. He understood only too well what it was to feel responsible for someone else…and to fail.

  Chapter 7

  Everybody slept through the night, including Lug Nut. No bad dreams and no chewed-up shoes. For that, Tucker was beyond grateful. Today was a big day.

  Between work and home, Thursday had disappeared in a rush. Gaven had sent a text at midnight. Things had gone well, but they still had a few ends to tie up before Murdoch came for his car—and one of them needed to meet their client at the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport.

  The dog at his heels, Tucker secured the gate across the top of the stairs, then slipped quietly out the door into the early morning. The sun hadn’t yet poked its head over the horizon, but he ached for a cup of coffee. He’d stop at Tommy’s Texaco station for one, though, rather than rattle around the kitchen. Elisa and Daisy were still both sound asleep, and he figured if the imp woke first, she’d crawl into bed with her mom.

  Despite himself, that’s exactly where his mind—and other body parts—headed. Straight into that warm, cozy bed with Elisa. After their late-night chats, he knew the shape of her body, how her curves would fit with his. His fingertips knew the texture of her skin, the swell of her hips, and the knowing only made it harder.

  He rubbed his tired eyes. Elisa Danvers was strictly hands-off. Any day now, she’d be gone.

  As he rounded the corner and caught sight of the Texaco sign in all its shabby glory, he felt like a man lost in the wilderness who’d somehow found his way back to civilization. Back to a world he knew and understood.

  Unlocking the door of Wylder Rides, Tucker turned on the lights, fed Lug Nut, and made himself another cup of coffee on the fancy machine Brant had bought. After a couple of quick swallows, he got to work polishing the last bit of chrome. Snagging their checklist off the bulletin board, he ran through it one last time, paying attention to the tiniest details. Murdoch had spared no expense. Restoration work could be tedious, but it was totally worth it when a project turned out like this one.

  By the time Gaven, who’d lost the coin toss, pulled in with Murdoch, the Vette looked better than it had when its original owner drove it off the new-car lot.

  “Quite a place you have here.” Murdoch ran a hand over the sleek old pumps. He snapped a few quick pictures, focusing on the flying Pegasus over the door. “It would make a great movie location.”

  “It’s a working shop.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Still… I might want to change your minds one of these days.”

  “And maybe you can,” Tucker said. “One of these days.”

  “Do these pumps work?” Murdoch asked.

  “Nah. They were here, so we kept them. Since we work on vintage machines, they fit well.”

  “Yeah, they do.” Murdoch took another picture. “Sorry I missed all this before. Guess I should have come to make arrangements with you myself instead of sending my assistant.” He shook his head. “Live and learn.”

  Tucker nodded. “Want to see your car?”

  “Do I ever!”

  Gaven threw open the bay door, and Tucker drew off the cover. Speechless, Murdoch took two steps toward the car, then stopped, his gaze traveling over it. Then with a whoop of joy, he practically crawled over every inch of the Vette, laughing and talking nonstop.

  He took photo after photo of the car, of himself with the car, of him with each of the Wylder brothers separately beside it, and finally of the three of them using his camera timer. Murdoch lifted the hood and peered in, poking around and grinning. The big-time Hollywood producer acted like a kid on Christmas morning.

  When he finally left to drive back to Savannah, Tucker felt worn to a frazzle by his enthusiasm.

  “Think he’ll give it to the car hauler tonight or decide to sleep in it?” Tucker asked.

  Gaven grinned. “Your bet’s as good as mine. We did well, Bro.” He held up a hand and shared a high-five.

  “My guess is that we’ll get a call from one of his buddies for another job.”

  “Oh yeah.” Gaven rotated his shoulders. “I’m bushed. What do you say we call it a day? Go home and relax.”

  Tucker shot him a cool look. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “What? We’ve logged enough hours for two weeks.” He glanced toward the raggedy Ford Escort. “Don’t tell me you want to start on that tonight.”

  “No, I most assuredly do not. But while you’re heading home to a cold beer and a night to yourself, I’m walking into a zoo.”

  “Ms. Danvers and the kid.”

  “Yep.”

  As if to remind him that wasn’t all, Lug Nut galloped over and stuck his nose in Tucker’s crotch. He pushed him away. “You make me nervous when you do that, dog.”

  Gaven grinned. “Don’t suppose you want to hear about tonight’s date.”

  “Nope.”

  “Or how late I intend to sleep tomorrow.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Or about—”

  “Keep it up, Gav, and I’ll sic Lug Nut on you.”

  “Oooh, now I’m scared.” Still, Gaven snatched his keys from the counter and started toward the door. “Coming?” he called over his shoulder.

  “In a minute. Got a couple of things to wrap up.”

  “See you Monday.”

  Relieved to have the Vette finished and delivered, Tucker rubbed the pup’s head and watched his brother drive off in his truck. “A few minutes more, Lug, then we’ll go.”

  He sat down at the desk in the front office, and the dog draped himself across his feet. Pulling up his laptop, Tucker typed in hypoglycemia. When it popped up on the screen, he scanned the information. Okay. Exactly what the doc had said. Elisa should be good to go once her car was up and running.

  But since it wasn’t, that meant no fishing trip and no quiet solitary time. Instead, he headed home to two females and a frisky pup who stuck his head between the bucket seats and panted in Tucker’s ear.

  When he opened the door, a grinning Daisy ran from the dining room to greet him. “Tut! I missed you!”

  “Missed you, too, imp.” He bent to swoop her up, nearly dropped her when she wrapped those tiny arms around him and gave him a big, sloppy kiss.

  “You were right, Tut.”

  “Of course I was.”

  Elisa, standing in the dining room doorway, snorted. “Men. You’re all alike, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Some of us are handsomer than others. Smarter than others.”

  “Too big for your britches, I’d say.”

  Daisy leaned sideways and stared at his pants. “Too big?”

  “Your mommy’s teasing, sweetie.”

  “No, I’m not.” But the smile on Elisa’s face gave her away.

  “We made cookies. Since I went to bed like a big girl, Mommy letted me help.”

  “Nice.” Tucker met Elisa’s gaze. “What kind did you make?”

  “Pumpkins. ’Cause it’s ’Tober.” She wiggled out of his arms and ran into the kitchen.

  “Tober?” Brows raised, he looked at Elisa.

  “October.”

  “Ahh. Sure.” He watched Lug Nut make himself at home in the expensive cream-colored leather chair, burrow into the yellow afghan tossed haphazardly on it, and forced himself to let it go. Next week he’d take both the throw and his rug to the dry cleaners and have his cleaning lady in. All would be well.

  In the meantime, he’d
bite his tongue and do a lot of deep-breathing.

  “Good job,” Elisa said.

  “What? Because the mutt crawled into my best chair?”

  “No, because you didn’t cry when he did.”

  Before he could answer, Daisy tore around the corner, a cookie held out in front of her. Lug Nut, smelling dessert, hopped off the chair and snagged it, wolfing it down in two bites.

  Daisy stood, hand still outstretched, absolutely silent for all of three seconds. Then her lower lip trembled and she started to cry.

  “It’s okay, honey. We have more.”

  “But it was for Tut.” Heartbroken, she sobbed.

  Tears streamed from those big eyes, and Tucker threw in what was left of the shredded surrender towel. “Lug Nut played piggy.”

  “Bad doggie.” She shook her finger at him. “You ate Tut’s pumpkin.”

  Still licking his lips, the pup actually hung his head and slunk into the corner by the fireplace.

  “Guess you told him.” Tucker reached for her hand. “Let’s go into the kitchen and see if we can find another one.”

  “’Kay.”

  Daisy skipped beside Tucker as they moved hand in hand toward the sweet smells of vanilla and pumpkin.

  He stared at the sugar cookies. Each one, a work of art, had been turned into a unique jack-o’-lantern.

  “Wow. These are incredible.”

  The little girl scampered around the kitchen island and surveyed her work with all the pride of a grand master. “Mommy rolled the dough, then I cutted them out, didn’t I?” She looked at her mother for affirmation.

  “You sure did. One of the best cutter-outers ever.”

  Daisy’s smile nearly blinded him.

  “It’s okay to eat these?”

  “It would be a shame not to. Of course, if you don’t want them, that crazy dog will take care of them.”

  “Not if he wants to live.”

  “Pick!” Daisy clapped her hands.

  “Oooh, this is gonna be hard.” He made a big production of studying them, his hand hovering over one, then another. “How about this one?” He reached for one with a big smile and triangle eyes. “No, this is the one.” He picked up an orange cookie, the jack-o’-lantern’s eyes evil black and yellow. “He doesn’t look like a very nice fellow. I say we take him down. How about it?”

  Daisy grinned and held out her hand.

  Tucker snapped the cookie cleanly down the middle, handed her half, and said, “Ready? One, two, three!”

  They each bit into their half, laughing like loons. Tucker caught a loose crumb with his tongue. “As great as these look, they taste even better.”

  “Which one, Mommy?”

  “Which one what?”

  Daisy released a long, very put-upon sigh. “Which cookie do you want?”

  “Let me pick one for you,” Tucker said. “How about—” He considered, reconsidered. “This one.” He picked up one with a surprised expression.

  “It needs blue eyes,” Daisy said.

  “I can take care of that.” Elisa took it from him, rooted around in the fridge, and came back with a disposable icing bag with pale blue frosting. She went to work and turned the big round eyes into big blue eyes.

  “Perfect.”

  “It looks just like you, Mommy.” She pulled the skirt of her plaid dress up to her mouth, showing off the black leggings she wore beneath.

  “Put your dress down, Daisy Elizabeth. Remember?”

  The child made a face, but the dress dropped back into place.

  While they ate their cookies and drank ice-cold milk, Elisa asked, “Did you get the Vette finished? Did Mr. Murdoch love it?”

  “We did, and he did. When he pulled onto the highway heading to Savannah, he was grinning like the Cheshire cat. That was after he gave us one heck of a bonus. Since Brant’s not here, Gav and I made an executive decision to split the money three ways and actually use it as a bonus, rather than pumping it back into the business.”

  “That’s what he’d do?”

  “Without a doubt. Normally, I would, too. Thing is, I want to make an office in the attic, and this bonus will start that ball rolling. It might be selfish, but there you go.”

  “I don’t think it’s selfish. You worked hard for that money.” She turned to her daughter, who was pawing through a drawer. “Daisy, get out of there. This isn’t our house, and those aren’t our things.”

  With a little pout, Daisy closed the drawer.

  Tucker grabbed the child around the waist and hoisted her onto his shoulders.

  She let out a little squeal, then started to giggle. “Look, Mommy. I’m tall.”

  “You sure are.”

  “How about I plop Daisy in front of the TV for five minutes while I scrub some of this dirt off me.” He tipped his head. “You like pizza, imp?”

  “I love pizza. But I don’t like the hot things on it.”

  “Peppers? Or pepperoni?” He glanced at Elisa.

  “Peppers. She loves pepperoni.”

  “I do love ’roni, Tut.”

  “Lots of cheese?”

  “Uh-huh. Can I get a pumpkin?”

  “A pumpkin?” Tucker asked. “On your pizza?”

  Her blond curls flew when she shook her head. “No! To put a candle in.”

  “Oh, sure. After I’m cleaned up, I’ll phone in an order from Mama’s Pizza and Wings.”

  * * *

  Shaved, showered, and changed, he headed downstairs not more than ten minutes later.

  “Tut, I’ve been waitin’.” Daisy flew to the door. “’M’on, Tut.”

  “The pizza’s not ready yet. I haven’t even called it in.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are we rushing off to?” He dropped onto the sofa.

  She sighed impatiently, hands on her hips. “To the store.”

  “Why?”

  “For a pumpkin. Like on TV. ’Member?”

  “Now?”

  “You promised.”

  “Promised is a strong word. Besides, I didn’t say now. I just said—” Truth? He couldn‘t quite remember. He went kind of brain-dead when he was in the same room as this child’s mother.

  The pout made an appearance.

  He ignored it.

  The lower lip trembled.

  Springing up, he stuffed his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet from the end table. “Elisa, want to ride into town with us? Catch some fresh air?”

  “I think I would.” Elisa smiled. “Yes.”

  Daisy bounced up and down. “Tut’s buying us pumpkins.”

  He held up a finger. “One. One pumpkin.”

  When the lower lip went to work again, he manned up. “One or none. Your choice.”

  She dragged the side of her shoe over his beautiful, expensive hardwood floor. Inwardly, he winced, but he held his tongue.

  “’Kay.”

  Tucker studied her. That was way too easy, which meant this was a temporary ceasefire. When they got to the store, there was a better than even chance the battle would flare up again. Well, he’d handle that if and when.

  “We’re gonna carve a face, Mommy, and put a candle in it. Then we’ll put it on the steps.”

  The conniver slid her hand into his and smiled up at him. No doubt about it. She was already an expert at plying those feminine wiles.

  “Outside,” he said. “On the outside steps.”

  “Outside,” she echoed.

  Elisa said nothing.

  “What?”

  “This doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d normally do, Tuck.”

  “It’s not, but—”

  “You can’t give in to her all the time.”

  “Understood.”

  Stil
l, he understood that without the slightest warning, he’d waded right into quicksand.

  Lug Nug raised a fuss at being left behind. He howled, he whined, and in the end, he rode into town with them, keeping Daisy company in the backseat. She babbled nonstop, Lug Nut barking once in a while as though answering her. Whatever, Tucker decided. As long as the kid was happy.

  When he parked, though, Tucker realized he’d have to leave the pup in the car. “Listen, dog. No chewing and no messes, you hear?”

  Lug Nut gave an affirmative bark.

  Tucker rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the stress-tightened muscles, then freed an excited Daisy from her seat.

  “Why can’t Luggie come with us?”

  “Animals aren’t allowed in grocery stores.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the rules.”

  “Why?”

  He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

  “I’ll stay here with Lug Nut and protect your car, Tucker,” Elisa said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. It’s a beautiful night. If you don’t mind braving the store alone with Daisy, I’m more than happy to sit here and enjoy a few minutes’ peace and quiet.”

  “You’re on.” He turned to Daisy. “How big do you want this pumpkin to be, kid?”

  She held out her arms, forming a circle. “This big.”

  “Okay, let’s get it done.”

  They found the pumpkin display in the produce section, and Daisy danced around it excitedly. “Aren’t they bootiful, Tut?”

  “They sure are.”

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he swung around, nearly bumping noses with Brinna from Doctor Hawkins’s office.

  “Brinna!” Daisy Elizabeth threw her arms around the woman’s knees. “I missed you.”

  Brinna wore a short, swingy black skirt and a bright red top. She knelt to give Daisy a hug. “Hi, sweetie. You buying a new coloring book?”

  Daisy shook her head. “Tut’s buying me a pumpkin. We’re gonna make a face on it. Want to come home with us and help?”

  Tucker nearly swallowed his tongue. Had this child really just invited Brinna to his house? For pity’s sake. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brinna, standing again, held out a hand.