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

Tom Harrison Elliott. On the other one, in a moment of whimsy he now regretted—since he didn’t have another card and the flower shop was closed—he’d written Glad to have been at your coming out party, baby girl. He’d signed it The Lone Ranger and Silver.

      Now, that was about the dumbest thing he’d ever done. Next to buying the flowers, and getting ready to make the trip back to Buckeye to see mother and daughter. And, yes, most likely…father. Because even though one hadn’t been in evidence yesterday, there had to be a father somewhere. And with Tom’s luck, the man was also Darcy’s husband.

      Tom wasn’t reassured by her lack of an engagement or wedding ring. Hell, a lot of pregnant women didn’t wear them. Their fingers swelled, was his understanding. At least that’s what Sam said. And his older sister ought to know. She and Luke had given him two nieces and three nephews—so far. At 37, Samantha was pregnant again.

      Tom shook his head as he plucked up the flowers and put the two cards in his shirt pocket. Then he crossed the room in long-legged strides more suited to raising Montana dust and tried to convince himself that a return visit to the maternity ward in Buckeye, despite his true feelings—feelings he had no intention of acting on…today—was nothing more than a polite call. After all, with Sam and Luke doing their best to populate the entire state of Montana, there was no call for him to marry and father a child.

      Fighting the fact that he’d fallen in love…fighting because reason told him there was most likely a husband.…Tom reminded himself that he was a man who liked his space. The kind of space you find out riding the range. The kind of space where you don’t see another soul for days. Just you and your horse. And the mountains. And the big sky. He had no time for a family. Not when he had the ranch to run. It’d been that way for over a hundred years of Elliotts. With its thousands of acres and as many head of cattle every year to tend, it kept a man busy. It didn’t give him time to think about much of anything else. Like love.

      Juggling the flowers in one hand, Tom wrestled the door open and waited while it swung closed behind him. Making sure it locked, he then transferred the roses to his other hand and set off toward the bank of elevators. As much as he tried not to, he couldn’t help thinking about the young woman he’d helped. He felt he knew her intimately. And he didn’t mean anything disrespectful by that. No, she’d done everything she could until he got there. He could respect that…and did.

      She’d seemed an intelligent sort, too, from the little bit of talking with her he’d done. Probably a woman over his head, in terms of education. Not someone to look twice at him. But, hell, no matter how he felt about her, the odds were…given that suspected husband…he wouldn’t be here long enough to worry about that. Right now, he just wanted to see her—and her daughter—once more. To make sure they were really okay. And that was it.

      No, it wasn’t. He stopped in front of the elevators and pushed the down button. And fought the fire of need that burned at his insides like a hot branding iron. He needed to leave the woman alone. He needed to take his silly Elliott love-at-first-sight heritage and get on back to Montana. If he had a lick of sense he’d do that. But he couldn’t. There was more here at stake than love. There was honor. He’d been raised to believe in the cowboy code…a life saved was a life owned. Darcy and her baby were now his responsibility in ways her husband probably wouldn’t understand.

      But whether or not the man understood didn’t change anything for Tom. Because together, they…he and Darcy…had brought a new life safely into the world. And that new life was now his duty, too. Not just duty, either. The silly thing, the most surprising thing to Tom, was how proud he was of his part. How close he felt to that baby girl.

      Son of a gun. If this wasn’t instant heartache, then Tom didn’t know what was. A new mother and her baby. He shook his head. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else since yesterday. How afraid and yet brave Darcy’d been. How tiny and fragile the baby’d been. Tom grinned now, thinking of this morning’s business meeting. More than once the bankers and developers had asked him if he was okay. He’d said yeah, that he was just tired. Then he’d asked them to repeat everything. And all because a dark-haired beauty had filled his thoughts and distracted him. He’d seen that she was a pretty woman, even despite her ordeal. Good bone structure. Nice, even teeth. Long legs. Clear eyes. Lots of curly, glossy hair that spoke of health.

      The elevator bell finally dinged. The doors slid open. The car was empty. Tom stepped inside, managing…despite being flower-challenged…to press L for the lobby. When the doors closed and the elevator car began its quick trip down three floors, Tom suddenly realized he’d described Darcy in terms of a healthy horse. A booming laugh spilled out of him…just as the elevator reached the busy lobby and the doors opened.

      All heads turned Tom’s way. He instantly sobered, clearing his throat and managing to glare as he crossed the lobby and went out into the Arizona heat…trailing pink, blue and silver balloons and streamers.

      Fortunately, the ride out to Buckeye wasn’t an overly long one, once he cleared noontime Phoenix traffic. If it had been, the pink, blue and silver balloons and streamers…which kept floating over into his line of vision in the truck’s air-conditioned cab…would have found themselves ornaments for the prickly saguaro cacti that dotted the sandy landscape. And the accompanying roses would have made a ready dinner for the Gila monsters. But as it turned out, Tom, the roses, and the beautiful baby spray made it safely to the parking lot of the Buckeye Community Hospital.

      So far, so good. Tom opened the white truck’s door and squinted against the heat that poured in waves over him as he scooped up the flowers from the seat.

      Hitting his remote lock button and then backing out of his truck, given his floral overload, he nudged the door closed with his foot and stepped up onto the sidewalk. Glancing toward the hospital’s exterior, he thought he saw a dark-haired woman, up on the second floor, quickly duck behind a curtain. Tom grinned…and wondered if the curtains would be closed in Darcy’s room.

      He walked through the hospital’s automatic front doors, took the elevator up to the second floor without asking—he just knew that’s where her room would be—and strode right up to the nurses’ station. Parting the flowers, he startled the red-headed nurse, who’d had her head bent over an open chart. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, laughing. “It’s not every day I see a walking flower shop wearing a cowboy hat.”

      Tom grinned. “I expect not. Uhm, I’m looking for Darcy—” All he knew was her first name. “Well, I’m looking for Darcy. She had a baby girl yesterday. In the back of my truck. I brought her in.”

      The nurse surged to her feet. “Ohmigod, you’re the Lone Ranger.” She looked him up and down. “I get it. The white hat. And you drive a white truck, right?”

      Tom started to answer, but was distracted by the number of hospital staff pouring out of rooms and crowding around him. Murmurs of the Lone Ranger and white hat and saved Darcy Alcott and her baby and it’s him swelled around him. Tom’s eyes widened. He leaned over the counter, toward the nurse. “Yes, ma’am, I drive a white truck. Isn’t that what you asked me?”

      “It sure is,” she said. “I can’t believe it, sugar. We’ve all been trying to figure out who you are.”

      Tom suddenly thought he knew how a young bull felt when it was sent alone into the auction ring for everyone to gape at and paw over. “You have?” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

      “We certainly have. Honey, you’re a hero around these parts. Just who the heck are you?”

      “Tom Elliott, ma’am. From Montana. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, would it be all right for me to see—” What had one of them said Darcy’s last name was? Then, and blessedly, it came to him. “—Mrs. Alcott, please?”

      “She went home already, mister.”

      The voice came from behind him. Tom pivoted to see a pretty Hispanic girl with a thick ponytail standing there. She smiled and repeated, “Mrs. Alcott already went home. She worked until 2:00 p.m. and then left for her bridge club meeting.”

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