Temporary Dad. Laura Altom Marie

the babies were sleeping.

      During her brief time away from Jed’s formidable appeal—not to mention that of his niece and nephews—she’d given herself a nice, long pep talk.

      Jed was just her neighbor.

      And yeah, he was gorgeous, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was falling for him. She was a big girl. So why was she so confused? Why did she feel that by agreeing to what should be nothing more than a brief road trip, she was essentially giving away her heart?

      Could it be because that heart of yours hums whenever the guy’s within three feet?

      Annie cracked open the map. “Want me to find some shortcuts?”

      Both hands on his sister’s minivan wheel, Jed shook his head. “I’m an interstate kind of guy. I see no reason to tempt fate.”

      “Oh.” She slipped off her sandals and propped her bare feet on the dash. Admiring her fresh pedicure, she said, “Don’t you just love this shade of pink? The silver sparkles look like there’s a party on my toes.” She glanced his way and caught him rolling his eyes.

      Eyebrows raised, he asked, “Do you have to do that?”

      “Do what?”

      “Get your dirty feet all over the clean dash. I just dusted it this morning.”

      “My feet aren’t dirty—or dusty.” She twisted in the seat to display her soles for inspection. “See?”

      Barely ten minutes into the trip and the woman nearly had him crashing the car! Jed cleared his throat, thankful for that keep your eyes on the road rule, otherwise, he’d be sorely tempted to take the bottoms of those squeaky-clean feet and—

      Nope.

      Not going there.

      This was a family trip.

      G-rated all the way.

      For an instant, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Did she have any idea that when she’d raised her feet for inspection, she’d also raised the frayed bottoms of her jean shorts? The sweet curve of her behind had him thinking anything but sweet thoughts!

      He tightened his grip on the wheel.

      “Tell me about Ditch,” the constant temptation sitting beside him said.

      He was grateful for the change of topic. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

      “For starters—” she hiked her feet back onto the dash “—please tell me that isn’t his real name.”

      “Nah. We used to take walks down our dirt road, and every time we heard the tiniest little noise, he’d hit the ditch, sure it was a bear.”

      She crinkled her nose.

      Was it wrong of him that such a simple thing gave him such a peculiar thrill?

      “If it had been a bear,” she said, “why did he think getting in the ditch was going to keep it away?”

      Jed laughed. “Good question, which is why the other kids and I gave him such a hard time.”

      “Poor guy. Did he ever—”

      Waaaaahuh!

      “What’s the matter?” Annie asked one of the boys. “Already needing a snack?” She took a pre-warmed bottle from an insulated bag, tested the formula’s temperature on her wrist, then offered it to Jed’s nephew, who promptly batted it away. “I’ll take that to mean he’s not hungry,” she said.

      Waaaaaaahuh!

      Waaaaaaa!

      Great. Now Pia had joined in.

      “Good Lord,” Jed said. “We haven’t even made it to Tulsa and already they’re crying? I thought babies liked car rides?”

      “Most do,” she said above the racket, “but I guess these guys are the exception. Well, except for Richard. He’s sound asleep.”

      “How do you know that’s Rich?”

      “Technically, I don’t. But he has slightly thicker eyebrows than his brother, so that helps me tell them apart.”

      Sure. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Jed sighed.

      “What? You think I’m making that up?”

      “When we make our first stop in Kansas, I’ll take a look.”

      “Kansas? I hate to burst your bubble there, but judging by the howling, we’re going to have to stop way before we even reach the Kansas Turnpike.”

      “The hell we will.” And to prove it, Jed stepped on the gas.

      FIVE MILES DOWN the road at a run-down picnic stop where hot, dry wind rustled scattered litter on the ground, Jed scowled.

      All three babies wailed.

      “This place doesn’t look very clean,” he said.

      “It’s not like we’re going to roll your niece and nephews across the pavement.”

      “Yeah, well, all the same,” he said over Pia’s especially heartfelt cry. “Maybe we should just—”

      Annie unfastened her seat belt and hopped out of the van.

      Jed looked at the sun-bleached concrete parking area and the shabby picnic tables and shook his head.

      An empty two-liter pop bottle rolled like tumble-weed until it stopped against the carved wooden sign urging folks to Put Litter In Its Place.

      Annie slid open the van’s side door. “Listen to you all,” she crooned to the bawling trio. “My goodness. The way you’re carrying on you’d think some TV exec canceled Sesame Street.”

      She unbuckled Pia and scooped her from her seat. After patting the rump of her pink shorts, Annie said, “What’s up, sweetie? Your diaper’s dry.” While talking to Pia, she rubbed Ronnie’s belly. “Seeing how they tossed their bottles, I’m guessing they’re not hungry, which leaves general crankiness as the cause of all this angst. Come on,” she said, awkwardly taking Richard from his seat, too. “You grab Ronnie and we’ll take them for a quick walk.”

      “A walk?” Jed had stepped out of the van and was standing behind Annie. “We were supposed to be halfway to Colorado by now. This is going to completely blow the schedule.”

      “What schedule?” Two babies and a fat diaper bag in her arms, she backed out of the van. “Think you could help me down from here? I don’t want to trip.”

      Suddenly, Jed didn’t just have lost time to worry about, but Annie’s soft curves landing against his chest. He caught her around her waist, guiding her safely to the ground, getting himself in trouble with the trace of her floral perfume.

      “No, no.” He shook off his momentary rush of awareness to remember his argument. “Why are you leaving the van? It’ll just take that much longer to load back up.”

      Already halfway across the lot, aiming for the nearest picnic table, she called over her shoulder, “Could you please grab Ronnie? Now that we’re stopped, I’d like to do an official diaper check.”

      Muttering under his breath, Jed did Annie’s bidding, cringing when he reached the table only to find her spreading the babies’ good changing pad across the graffiti-and-filth-covered concrete slab.

      “What’s the matter?” she asked mid-change on Richard, her right hand efficiently holding the gurgling baby’s feet while she wiped him with her left.

      Pia sprawled on a blanket Annie had spread beneath a frazzled red bud. The little faker was grinning up a storm while gumming the baby-friendly rubber salamander he’d bought for her at the zoo.

      “What’s the matter?” he echoed, hands on his hips. “These kids are bamboozling us.”