Laura Marie - Temporary Dad

The problem with the other place, the one with the view, was that it catered to families, and after saying tearful goodbyes to Baby Sarah and Clara and their two older brothers and sister, not to mention their father, the last thing Annie wanted in a new home was children.

Conner had packed up his kids, along with his gorgeous new wife and Scandinavian nanny, moving them all to Atlanta. The children were just as confused by the sudden appearance of Jade in their father’s life as Annie had been. She sent them birthday cards and letters, but it wasn’t the same. She missed them. Which was why she’d left her hometown of Bartlesville for Pecan. Because she’d resigned herself to mothering only the kids at work.

Conner was her second rotten experience with a man. And with trying to be part of a big, boisterous family. She sure didn’t want any daily reminders of her latest relationship disaster.

No more haunting memories of running errands with the kids at Wal-Mart or QuikTrip or the grocery store. No more lurching heart every time she saw a car that reminded her of Conner’s silver Beemer on Bartlesville’s main drag.

She needed a fresh start in the kind of charming small town that Conner wouldn’t lower himself to step foot in.

Annie looked at her magazine.

Glazing.

All she needed to feel better about her whole situation was time and a can or two of paint.

Waa huh waaaaaaa!

Annie frowned again.

No good parent would just leave an infant crying like this. What was going on? Could the baby’s mom or dad be hurt?

Wrinkling her nose, nibbling the tip of her pinkie finger, Annie put her magazine on the table and peered over the wrought-iron rail encircling her patio.

A cool breeze ruffled her short, blond curls, carrying with it the homey scent of fresh bread baking at the town’s largest factory, a mile or so away. She had yet to taste Finnegan’s Pecan Wheatberry bread, but it was supposedly to die for.

Normally at this time of year in Oklahoma, she’d be inside cozied up to a blasting central AC vent. Due to last night’s rain, the day wasn’t typical August fare, but tinged with an enticing fall preview.

Waaaaaaaa!

Annie popped the latch on her patio gate, creeping across grass not quite green or brown, but a weary shade somewhere in between.

The birdbath left behind by the condo’s last owner had gone dry. She’d have to remember to fill it the next time she dowsed her impatiens and marigolds.

Waaaaaa!

She crept farther across the shared lawn, stepping onto the weathered brick breezeway she shared with the as-yet-unseen owner of the unit across from hers.

The condo complex’s clubhouse manager—Veronica, a bubbly redhead with a penchant for eighties rock and yogurt—said a bachelor fireman lived there.

Judging by the dead azalea bushes on either side of his front door, Annie hoped the guy was better at watering burning buildings than poor, thirsty plants.

Waaa huhhh waaa!

She took another nibble on her pinkie.

Looked at the fireman’s door, then her own.

Whatever was going on in there probably wasn’t any of her business.

Her friends said she spent too much time worrying about other folks’ problems and not enough on her own. But really, besides her broken heart, what problems did she have?

Okay, sure, she got lonely now that she lived an hour south of her grandmother. And her parents’ current gig in a remote province of China meant she rarely got to talk to them. But other than that, she had it pretty good, and—

Waaaaaaa!

Call her a busybody, but enough was enough.

She couldn’t bear standing around listening to a helpless baby cry—maybe even more than one helpless baby.

Her first knock on the bachelor fireman’s door was gentle. Ladylike. That of a concerned neighbor.

When it didn’t work, she gave the door a few hard thuds.

She was just about to investigate the patio when the door flew open. “Patti? Where the—oh. Sorry. Thought you were my sister.”

Annie gaped.

What else could she do faced with the handsomest man she’d ever seen—hugging not one baby, not two babies, but three? Each red faced and screaming. Triplets?

On teacher autopilot, she reached for the most miserable-looking one, automatically cradling the poor, trembling thing against her left shoulder.

“Hi,” she said, lightly jiggling the baby while at the same time smoothing her fingers down the back of her head—her judging by the pink terry-cloth pjs. “I’m your new neighbor, Annie Harnesberry. I don’t mean to be nosy, but it sounded like you might need help.”

The guy sort-of laughed, showing lots of white teeth. “Yeah. My, um, little sis left me with these guys over twenty-six hours ago. She was supposed to be back at two yesterday afternoon, but—”

Annie’s triplet had calmed, so she brushed past her neighbor to place the child gingerly in a pink bunny-covered car seat. Then she took another of his screaming babies for herself.

“Don’t mean to be pushy,” she said, “and please, go on with your story about your sister, but occupational hazard—I just can’t stand hearing a child cry.”

“Me, too,” he said, wincing when the baby he held launched a whole new set of screams. “I’m a fireman. Jed Hale. What do you do?” He awkwardly held out his hand for her to shake.

“I’m a preschool teacher now, but used to work with infants in a day care. I ran a pretty tight nursery.” She winked. “No crying allowed on my watch.”

“Admirable.” He grinned, and his boyish-yet-all-man charm warmed Annie to her toes.

She soon calmed the second baby, then put him—judging by his blue terry-cloth pjs—alongside his sister in a blue giraffe-upholstered carrier.

She took the remaining infant in her arms, and, like magic, after a few jiggles he fell into a deep sleep.

“Wow,” the boy’s uncle said with a look of awe. “How’d you do that?”

Annie shrugged, easing the last snoozing triplet into his seat. “Practice. My major was premed with a minor in child development. Seems like I spent half my college career in the campus nursery studying infants. They’re fascinating.”

He leaned against the open door. “Sounds pretty bookish for a preschool teacher. I didn’t even know you had to go to college for that—I mean, not that you shouldn’t have to, but—”

“I know what you mean. I always wanted to be a child psychiatrist. Not sure why. Just one of those things.” She didn’t have a clue why she was standing here in this stranger’s home, spilling her guts about stuff she hadn’t thought of in years. Reddening, she said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble—or barge in. Now that you’ve got everything under control, I’ll just mosey off to my magazine.” She backed out of his condo and hooked her thumb toward her patio. Whew.

The man’s eyes were gorgeous. Brown shot with the same flecks of gold she’d like on her bathroom walls. Opulent and rich and definitely all grown-up. As yummy as that spoonful of hot fudge swirled with caramel! The decorating version of course…

Although she wasn’t in the market for a man herself, should she try fixing him up with one of the other teachers at her school?

“Don’t leave,” Jed said, hating the needy whine in his tone. He’d always prided himself on never needing anyone, but this woman he didn’t just need, he had to have. He had no idea what magic she’d used to zonk out his niece and nephews. However, if his sister didn’t arrive to claim her offspring in the next thirty seconds, it’d be a pretty safe bet he’d need Annie’s special brand of baby tranquilizer all over again. “Really, stay,” he said, urging her inside. “I’ve been meaning to bring over a frozen pizza or something. You know, do the whole Welcome Wagon neighbor thing. But we’ve had some guys out sick and on vacation, so I’ve been pulling double shifts.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I’m due back in a few hours, but my sis should be here way before then.”