Drive-By Daddy: Drive-By Daddy / Calamity Jo. Patricia Knoll

He didn’t look away. He probably should have, he knew, but he didn’t. It was too late now. Darcy’s expression sobered, and became one of awareness. Intense awareness. She looked away first, lowering her brown-eyed gaze to the windowsill, where she rubbed a finger along its narrow ledge. Instantly, Tom felt bad. He’d embarrassed her. That hadn’t been his intention. “Darcy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

      “No. It’s okay.” She met his gaze. “Really. I thought it was…nice that you’d look at me that way.”

      Tom tried for humor to cover this embarrassing moment of possibly unrequited attraction. “Nice, huh? The next thing I know, you’ll just want to be my friend. And then I’ll have to go out and shoot myself.”

      “Gosh, I hope not. Think of how bad I’d feel.”

      How nice of her…and how noncommital. Tom decided he was right—she wasn’t attracted to him. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest fool. Could he have made her any more uncomfortable? “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything like that, Darcy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t be coming on to a woman who only yesterday—”

      “No. It’s fine. Seriously. I’m very flattered.”

      That only made him feel worse. “Great. I flattered you.” Tom shook his head. “I need to stick with horses and cattle. Or maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’ve been around them too long, and I don’t know how to talk to a woman—”

      Darcy pressed her hand against Tom’s lips, cutting off his words. “Hold on a minute, will you? Quit beating yourself up.” When Tom nodded, she took her hand away and smoothed it through her black hair. “I just meant I can’t believe you’d find me…attractive, is all. For heaven’s sake, look at me in this hospital garb. I must look a fright.”

      “A fright?” Intensely relieved—all she’d been worried about was her appearance when here he’d been kicking himself for thinking he had his wires crossed—Tom folded his arms together over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Not at all. Like I said, you’re beautiful.”

      She smiled and still managed to look embarrassed. “Must be that new-mother glow, then.”

      “Could be. But I doubt if that’s all it is.”

      The wide-eyed, vulnerable look she sent him said she wanted to believe him…but couldn’t. Tom thought he understood, given her new single-mother status. The woman had enough on her plate without him adding to her woes. But still, and feeling disappointed somehow, as if the one moment in time for them to connect had slipped away, Tom silently watched her settle her gaze on the sleeping baby in the nursery. “Anyway, I think she looks like me.”

      Still leaning against the wall, Tom turned to stare through the glass with her. “I guess I’d have to agree with you since her father’s not around for me to know what he looks like.”

      The words were out before he could stop them.

      Darcy jerked and Tom wanted to kick himself. Why had he brought up that man—the gutless son-of-a-gun who wouldn’t even acknowledge his own flesh and blood? Tom shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t believe his own stupidity. “Again, Darcy—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something that jackass stupid.”

      She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting used to it.” Then her eyes went big and round. “You know…everyone asks about my husband, what does he do, is he proud.” She looked down. “Things like that.” Then she raised her head and, dry-eyed, met his gaze. “So, it’s okay. Really.”

      “No, it isn’t. How many times have I had to apologize to you already?”

      She shrugged. “Almost as many as I’ve had to with you.”

      “Well, thank God.” Tom offered a shy smile. “Want to start over—again?”

      Her expression brightened. “Sure.”

      Encouraged, Tom stuck his hand out for her to shake. “Howdy, ma’am. My name is Tom Harrison Elliott. From outside of Billings, Montana. My friends call me The Lone Ranger.”

      Darcy laughed…a warm, throaty sound that went all over Tom…and grasped his hand. “Hi. Pleased to meet you. My name is Darcy Jean Alcott. From Buck-eye, Arizona. My friends call me Damsel in Distress.”

      “Is that so? Well, Damsel, that’s a mighty fine baby girl you have yourself there.” Without releasing Darcy’s hand, which felt small and warm clasped within his, Tom nodded toward Montana Skye, who was now awake and crying heartily.

      Darcy instantly sobered, pulling her hand away. A uniformed nurse came out of a backroom inside the small nursery and hurried over to pick up the baby and soothe her. Next to Tom, Darcy pressed herself against the glass and made a mewling sound that said she wanted to hold her child herself. Tom’s heart went out to her, but he didn’t know what to do. Just then, the nurse looked up and saw them there. Immediately she came to the window with the baby and held her up, so they could see her. Tom felt pride well in his chest and sudden emotion clog his throat. The redfaced baby’s clenched fists shook with her squalling displeasure.

      Darcy grabbed Tom’s sleeve. “What’s wrong with her?”

      Tom covered her hand with his own. “I don’t rightly know, Darcy. But the nurse doesn’t look too worried. See? She’s smiling. It must be okay, then, wouldn’t you think?”

      Darcy relaxed her grip on his sleeve. “I guess you’re right.” She slipped her hand out from under his and stuffed it in her robe pocket. Then she turned her frightened gaze his way. “What am I going to do in a day or two when you’re not around to tell me these things?”

      Tom put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll do fine, Darcy. It’ll all come to you. You’ll see. A mother’s instinct, they say.”

      She looked unconvinced. “Oh, the famous they, huh? Well, then, will you leave me their phone number, please? Because they’re going to get the night shift.”

      Tom didn’t know what to say. And considering the amount of apologizing he’d already done, he settled now for patting her on the shoulder and saying, “That’s the spirit. You’ll be fine.”

      A tap on the thick, sound-insulating glass made Tom and Darcy turn toward the nurse on the other side of the window. With a puckered Montana Skye now perched in the crook of one arm, the blond nurse held up a clipboarded form, which she waved at Darcy. Then she placed it on a ledge just inside the room, and pointed to it, making writing motions with her bunched fingers.

      Confused about what was going on, Tom glanced Darcy’s way…and saw her grow pale under her tanned skin. He grabbed at her arm, fearing she’d faint. “You need to sit down?”

      Without looking at him, Darcy shook her head. “No. I wish that’s all it was. It’s just that…well, here we go again. That form she has is Montana Skye’s birth certificate. The nurse wants to know the father’s name.”

      Newly enlightened, Tom bristled in Darcy’s defense. “I don’t rightly believe that’s any of her business.”

      “Well, actually it is. It’s a legal thing.” Darcy exhaled, sounding tired. “I suppose she’s just being nice and thinks I overlooked it earlier.” She looked up at Tom. Her flat brown eyes upset him. “I didn’t overlook it. I just didn’t know what to do. So I left that space blank.”

      Tom swallowed, uncomfortable with the situation. “Oh.”

      Then Darcy’s expression became pleading, begging for understanding. “I can’t put that man’s name on her birth certificate, Tom. I can’t. He doesn’t want her. But I don’t want Montana to get hurt, years from now, if she should see it blank. I don’t want to lie to her, but—”

      “Hold on, Darcy.” On impulse, Tom reached into his back pocket. “Wait just a minute.” He pulled out his wallet. “I think I can help you.”