Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Great. Freda and Jeanette. Just what I need—more warnings about how I’m going to damage my child for life.”

  In the face of this common enemy—Tom had already had his fifteen minutes under the gun—he pressed his case. “They couldn’t get to you if you weren’t here. Ride with me out to the land. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Darcy squinted up at him. “I don’t want to see the land. All I want is to see your luggage in the back of your pickup and your taillights as you drive off.”

  That did it. He’d been nice up to now, but no more. Tom walked around the swing and was about to sit down—right on Darcy’s legs. At the last second, she pulled her feet up and, holding onto the swing’s chain, righted herself. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Tom braced his feet on the ground, too, effectively stopping the swing’s motion. “I’m trying to get you to talk to me, Darcy. It’s just plain silly for you to be behaving this way.”

  “You mean like a child? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  A retort rode Tom’s lips, one that would most likely silence her. She probably deserved it, too. But he had another choice. “No. I was thinking how beautiful you are. And stubborn. And proud. And smart. And I was thinking how much I love and respect everything about you.”

  Darcy just stared at him. Her chin trembled, her cheeks reddened and her eyes filled with tears. Then she burst out crying.

  11

  “WOW. THIS certainly is a beautiful piece of land, Tom. It sort of brings home that phrase ‘as far as the eye can see.’ No wonder the developers want to put a golf course here. Gorgeous.” Standing off to the side of the highway that led to Phoenix, Darcy looked out on the open desert. The starkly beautiful vista, with its shifting sands and yellow dunes and saguaro cacti, was breathtaking, especially in the evening sun.

  “Yeah. My grandfather loved this place. One of the stipulations of the deal I made is the developers have to name the course after him.”

  Her heart touched by his thoughtful ways, Darcy looked up at Tom. “That was nice.”

  Tom shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

  “I agree,” she said quietly. “So what’s his name? What will this place be called?”

  “The Jack Randolph Elliott Golf Course.”

  “That’s quite a mouthful. Probably over time, it’ll come to be called Jack’s Place, or something like that, don’t you think?”

  Tom chuckled. “I don’t suppose that’d be so bad. Sounds homey. He’d like that. He had a way of making folks feel welcome.”

  He’s not the only one, Darcy thought as she stared, transfixed, up at the tall, handsome man at her side. Right then she decided it was time to get some things straight between them. “Look, Tom, I’m sorry about my outburst at home. You said some really nice things. I just think my hormones are still amok.”

  To her surprise, Tom put his arm around her shoulders. “No need to be sorry, Darcy. I’m the one who should be saying that. It’s not like I can’t see you’ve got a lot on your plate right now. All I’ve done is add to your problems.”

  “I don’t see it that way at all, Tom.”

  “It’s true. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “For what?” She didn’t like his tone. It sounded like he was saying goodbye. That stopped her. Wasn’t that what she wanted…for him to leave? For her and her baby to go back east to Baltimore, the two of them against the world? Yes, how brave and modern and challenging. And scary. And lonely. But she’d be damned if she’d make a commitment to Tom based on fear. It had to be for love, and nothing else. “You haven’t done anything you need to apologize for.”

  “Yes, I have. I’ve got places I could be, things I could be doing. I sure as hell don’t need to inflict myself on you at this delicate time in your life.”

  But I want you to inflict yourself on me. Further surprise. Was there something going on inside her that she wasn’t in touch with—like her true feelings? Darcy began to look inside herself for the answer. “I hate feeling delicate. I’ll be glad when I’m back to being my true self.”

  Tom’s hand squeezed her sun-warmed flesh. “You mean this isn’t the real you I’m talking to right now?”

  He was teasing her. She liked that. “No. I’m usually stubborn and growling for a fight. I cry a lot and look terrible. Unlike now.”

  Tom laughed, and took her hand. A thrill raced over Darcy’s skin, sending electric sparks throughout her body. Only belatedly did she realize he was talking to her—and leading her somewhere.

  “Come over here to this big rock and let me lift you up on it. I want you to get the full effect of the view, and I’ll point out some things of interest.”

  Feeling her pregnant weight still hanging on to her body, Darcy pulled back. “I might be too heavy for you.”

  “Hell, Darcy, my right leg weighs more than you.” And he proved it by easily swinging her up onto the rock’s smoothly rounded top. “You okay? Did I make you dizzy?”

  A loaded question. Darcy just shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

  Tom reached up to put his arm protectively around her waist. Darcy’s throat went dry…and it had nothing to do with the heat. Almost shyly, she rested her hand atop his shoulder…just for balance. “So. What did you want to show me?”

  He pointed to the distant purple-hazed mountains as he described what she was seeing and what the developers intended to do. “There, to the right, behind that stand of saguaros—which they’re to leave in place—will be the clubhouse. And over there, they intend to…”

  He continued talking, but Darcy only listened with half an ear. Inside her, turmoil raged. He just completely upset her. Everything about him. His touch. His kindness. His intelligence. His calm steadiness when she needed it the most. It just wasn’t fair. She didn’t want a relationship right now. Her whole life was up in the air, and here he was, making things more of a mess for her. And stealing her heart.

  She glanced at him as he spoke of sand traps and water hazards. So handsome. And intelligent. And kind and sexy and bedeviling and…gosh, how she loved him. Darcy would have fallen off the rock she was standing on if his arm hadn’t still been around her. I love him? Swept away with a sudden giddiness, Darcy turned to Tom. “Kiss me, Tom.”

  “And over there, I—what did you say?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Right here, right now? You want me to kiss you?”

  “Yes. It’s not negotiable. Kiss me.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “Hell, yes, I want to.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “Why now, Darcy? Why not earlier when I wanted you to kiss me?”

  Darcy wondered if it had taken this much dickering to come up with the settlement terms that ended World War II. His reaction depressed her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she didn’t feel love. She thought she’d loved Hank, too—which made her track record in not recognizing it perfect. “Never mind.”

  Tom reached up and swung her down from the rock, but he didn’t release her once she stood firmly on the ground. Still clinging to him, Darcy stared up at him. He shook his head. “I don’t want to never mind. Because this is the talk we’ve needed to have for days. And I aim to have it now. Why do you think I brought you out here?”

  Darcy shrugged.

  “To get you away from your home and all the demands on your attention there. So we could be truly alone and talk. And so you couldn’t walk away from me.”

  “I see. Silly me. I thought it was to get a little fresh air.” She sounded calm enough. But inside she was feeling vulnerable…and was shaking with trepidation over how this talk would end. It would either be good or bad—and she still hadn’t defined for herself which was good and which was bad. Tom staying. Or Tom leaving.

  “What’s going on inside you, Darcy? Right now. This minute. What’re you thinking about? I’ve been
standing here holding you in my arms and you’re a million miles away. Sometimes I think you care about me, and sometimes I think you don’t even know I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

  Darcy blinked. “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  She came close to stomping her foot in frustration. “Why not?”

  “Because I want to talk first about our feelings for each other. Because I think you’re full of doubts. And no kiss is going to take them away.”

  Darcy frowned. “Tom, you have got to quit reading women’s magazines. It’s supposed to be me who wants to talk about feelings and you who wants to get physical.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  Weren’t men supposed to be afraid of commitment? Not this one. The man had no doubts about himself or his feelings. He just spoke from his heart. How unsettling, in this day and age. Darcy pulled herself out of his arms and turned her back to him. She needed a moment to regroup. Then she abruptly turned, again facing him, and saw he’d bent a knee and hooked his thumbs in his denims’ front pockets. His whole demeanor screamed aloof.

  “Tom, I’ve only known you a week. What am I supposed to do—throw myself at you and declare my undying love?”

  “If that’s what you feel, yes,” he snapped. But then his glare softened. “It’d be nice, too, Darcy. Real nice, if you did.”

  She stood there, still feeling the repercussions of her experience with Hank. “I can’t do that—again. I leaped once before, without giving it time…and look where I landed. A single mother. I love my daughter. I’d do it all over again, too, if in the end I could have her, Tom. I think you know that. But now that I do have her, I can’t be that irresponsible ever again.”

  Tom fiddled with his hat’s brim and quirked his mouth. “And loving me would be irresponsible? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Is it? I don’t know.” After all, she’d thought she loved Hank, too. And had only several months ago, been trying to commit to a life with him, just as Tom was standing here now, urging her to do. Had there been a different outcome with Hank, the bald truth was she wouldn’t even be standing here now with Tom. No, she’d be married to Hank and her mother would be visiting her in Baltimore to meet her new granddaughter.

  So, what did it all mean? Well, it meant she was right to hesitate, right to wonder if love was, after all, enough. And here she was, too…wondering if she knew her own mind. Or could trust her own heart. After all, she’d been so wrong about Hank.

  “I don’t know, either, Darcy. All I know is what I feel. I’ve never chased after a woman the way I’ve pursued you. I’ve never hung around and made a nuisance, if not a complete jackass, of myself like I’ve done with you. I’ve sure as hell never given my name to a woman’s child before—or offered her millions of dollars. And I’ve never been a handyman, not even for folks I’ve known all my life. So, what does all that say to you?”

  She looked away from him and tipped her sandaled toes through the sand. “It says you’re acting outside the bounds of your normal behavior.”

  “Hell, so do folks who turn into werewolves during a full moon.”

  She looked up at him. “All right. It says you care, dammit.”

  “I more than care. I love you. And that seems to do nothing but make you mad.”

  That was just too much for Darcy. Her frustration bubbled over. “Yes, it does—if you’re going to push me. Why today? Tonight? Why can’t I have more time? Is the world suddenly going to end, and I just didn’t get the memo?”

  “Nothing like that, Darcy. Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong here. You see, in my family, we fall in love at first sight. It’s a curse—as you can see. We don’t know who we want until we see her. Or him, in my sister’s case. But once we know, we go after the one we want. At a full gallop. Sam all but lassoed Luke. But what I feel for you gives me this sense of urgency. I’m afraid to let you think about it too long. The moment could pass. The opening could close.”

  Darcy’s smile was a sad one. “I understand what you’re saying, Tom, and you make some good points. I just don’t know if I’m capable of risking my heart again so soon. Hank Erickson—he’s Montana’s father—really did a number on me. Do you know what I mean?”

  Looking grim, Tom settled his Stetson on his head. “Yep. I understand. You need time, and I don’t have it. I’m not doing you any good here. It’s time to go. My business is conducted. I have interests and holdings there that need my attention, so I’ll just get myself on back to Montana.” He chuckled…not a humorous sound, more of a resigned one. “I guess I need to get you back to Montana, too. The baby, that is.”

  “Yes.” The time for them had passed. She heard it in his voice. With her heart breaking, Darcy still hedged. “But it’s not like you can’t call or write. Or visit again. I mean we can still communicate and give each other some more time. After all, we do live in the age of technology. Oh, I have it—do you e-mail?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, see there?” She forced a brightness she didn’t feel into her words. “Even if you’re in Billings and I’m here, or in Baltimore next winter, it will be like we’re in the same room.”

  His expression sobered, telling her plainly enough that after tomorrow they’d never see each other again. She hoped she was reading him wrong. Then he said, “I think it’d be best if we went back to Buckeye now, Darcy. I think I should clear out of your house tonight and get a hotel room.”

  Darcy’s heart sank. She’d been right—the moment for them had passed. Time had moved forward. They hadn’t connected. And it was so darned sad…and needless. Darcy wanted nothing more than to shout that she loved him, that she wanted him in her life. But none of that would come out of her mouth. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” she finally said. “I’m sure Montana is missing me about now.”

  Ever the gentleman, Tom took her arm and guided her back to his white pickup. “That’s what my foreman said this morning when I talked to him on the phone. Montana is missing me.”

  “MONTANA? You’re going back to Montana—tonight?”

  Tom interrupted his packing to face Margie Alcott who, with her two cronies, crowded into the doorway of the Alcott guest bedroom. “No, ma’am, not tonight. I’ll just go into Phoenix for the night, then I’ll get an early start tomorrow.”

  “Why are you leaving?”

  Tom looked to the little lady who’d spoken. He believed it was Mrs. Tomlinson. “Well, ma’am, I don’t live here. I have a ranch up in Billings I need to get back to.”

  “Is that so?” the next and third Buckeye Beauty asked. This was Mrs. Smith, to the best of his recollection. “You taking Darcy with you? She loves you, you know.”

  Tom stared at the three blue-haired bridge-playing Musketeers and then looked down at his folded clothes, spread across the bed. “No, ma’am, I don’t know that. And neither does she.”

  “Oh, lizard spit—she does, too. She knows. She’s just not telling you, son. I know my daughter. And she’s playing hard to get.”

  Tom chuckled. “Well, she plays a good game of it, Margie, I’ll give her that.” He tucked a belt and some socks into his leather suitcase.

  The three ladies came into the room and stood by the bed. And began unpacking. “You going to give up that easily?” Margie challenged, stuffing his rolled-up socks into the crook of one of her arms.

  Tom took the socks from her, and a shirt and pants from another of the ladies, and put them back into his suitcase. “I am. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

  “I want you.”

  Mrs. Tomlinson and Mrs. Smith gasped at their bold friend. “Oh, hush, you two. I want him for Darcy.” She took the same shirt and pants back out of the suitcase that Tom had just repacked and this time, she held them to her chest…all while pointing a finger at Tom. “I handpicked you for Darcy, and I don’t like losing.”

  “We don’t, either,” the other two women said…and began unpacking in earnest. “We like you.”

  “Marg
ie, Freda…look,” Jeanette said. She held up a pair of Tom’s underwear by the waistband. “He wears boxers. You know what that means.”

  The women turned wide-eyed expressions Tom’s way. He, though, had no idea what it meant—and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear it from them. He snatched his boxers away from Jeanette and planted his hands atop the remainder of his clothes. “Now stop that. I’ve tried everything I know and Darcy still—”

  “You tried everything? You sure? Did you kiss her?”

  “Freda! That’s personal.” Margie turned to Tom. “Did you?”

  Before Tom could say a word, Jeanette…Mrs. Tomlinson…cut in. “I bet he’s a good kisser.”

  Before Tom could protest, Freda…Mrs. Smith…said, “Well, you just know he is. Look at the man. He’s beautiful.” She turned her sweet little face up to him. “Are you good in bed? Maybe that’s the problem.”

  Tom nearly died of embarrassment. Margie came to his rescue…sort of. “For heaven’s sake, Freda, what kind of a question is that? Darcy just had a baby a week ago. Besides, look at the way the man fills out his blue jeans. Of course he’s good in bed.” She turned to Tom. “Tell her, son.”

  All Tom knew was if this discussion of his sexual prowess continued with these three grandmotherly types, he’d never want sex again…or be capable of performing. “I would appreciate it if—”

  “Oh, I know.” Freda put her hand on Tom’s arm. “Let me see your thumb.”

  “My thumb?”

  “Yes. Just pick one and show it to me.”

  “Freda, what are you up to?”

  The frail little blue-haired woman turned to Margie. “I was just remembering something that Barb told me the other day. She said you can look at a man’s thumb and tell the size of his—”

  “That’s enough,” Tom bellowed…tucking his thumbs into his palms. “Now, listen to me, all of you.” They stood there next to each other, like three little bluebirds on a limb. “I’m going to finish my packing—in peace. And alone, if you don’t mind. And then, I’m going to leave, okay?” They nodded their heads in unison. “Good.” He turned to Margie Alcott. “I want to thank you for your hospitality. I just wish I had more time to fix some other things around here for you.”