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

They variously waved, said goodbye, and began to disperse. And Tom made his escape. Only to realize he might be walking into a bigger hornet’s nest than the one he’d just left behind.

And it all had to do with Miss Alcott and her daughter, who’d apparently been born out of wedlock. While sympathetic to Darcy’s plight, and what the implications were for her, Tom still had to fight a silly grin that said there was hope. He had a chance.

WITH TWO PILLOWS fluffed behind her, Darcy tugged her hospital robe and then the covers around her. She smoothed the sheets as best she could, given her remaining soreness. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming. She folded her hands in her lap, looked toward the doorway, and pasted a smile on her face. And waited.

The curtains. Darcy’s eyes widened guiltily. The curtains were still yanked closed. Dear God. She just knew he’d seen her standing there at the window, watching him. Great. Did she have time to hobble over there and open them before he—she turned back to the doorway. Her breath caught, her heart thumped excitedly.

There he stood.

Well, she assumed it was him in the doorway. All she could see was a white Stetson, a body comprised of flowers and balloons and streamers, and then long legs encased in denims…and dusty boots. The flowers parted. It was him. “Howdy, Darcy.”

Her belly twitched. Smile, Darcy. She smiled…acted nonchalant, pleasantly surprised. “Why, hello. How nice to see you. What beautiful flowers those are.” And groaned inside. Could I sound more like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood? My, what big flowers you have. Come in, dearie, and let me gobble you up. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Or ever again.

Just as she feared, his gaze riveted on the closed curtains. “You weren’t? You sure about that?”

Only through sheer will did Darcy’s smile and her gaze remain steady. At least with the curtains drawn he couldn’t so readily see the heated blush blooming on her features. Speaking of blooms… “Oh. Come in. Please. Set down your load—the flowers. I mean the flowers.”

He did. He came in, put the flowers on the bedside tray stand and pushed the wheeled cart aside. “You’ll need a vase for those roses, I suspect. I should have thought of that.”

“No problem,” Darcy chirped. She grabbed her pitcher of ice water from the nightstand next to her and held it out. “Here. Put them in here.”

His blue eyes mirrored his uncertainty. “You sure? What if you want a drink of water?”

“Oh, well, I’ll just have rosewater, I guess.” Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He unwrapped the roses, handling them awkwardly. “I’ve never done this before.” He plunked them in the ice water. Then those blue eyes narrowed in her direction. “You okay, Darcy? You sound a little hyper.”

“Hormones,” she blurted. And wanted to bite her tongue off.

He nodded, completely calm and accepting. “I expect so.” Then he gestured to the tacky molded-plastic chair beside the bed, as much as asking her permission to sit down. “You mind?”

“No. Please do. You made all this effort. You may as well sit a while.”

And then he did, removing his Stetson, running a long-fingered hand through his black hair…Darcy watched, remembering how comforting and reassuring those hands were. Then, perching his Stetson atop his bent knee, he met her gaze. Darcy swallowed. “I hope you like roses. I didn’t know—”

“The roses.” She put a hand to her bosom. “Of course. I love roses. They’re wonderful. Thank you. And the baby spray. It’s beautiful. All those balloons and streamers. I don’t know what to say.”

His frowning expression considered the circus-in-a-ceramic-cradle on the bedside tray with the ice-watered roses. “Neither do I, mostly.” Then he swung his attention back to her. “I’m not doing this very well, am I? Let me start over. Uhm, how are you today?”

Darcy, who thought he was doing just fine, didn’t like herself any better for being so excited that he was here. After all, wasn’t she through with men? He was just being nice, given the unusual circumstances under which their lives had collided, and wasn’t the least bit interested in her, nor her in him, despite the flowers and this visit. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m fine.”

He nodded, looking around the flower-littered room. “Looks like you have a heap of thoughtful friends and family. That’s nice.”

“Oh. Those. Well, my mother does. I don’t live here anymore.” She then remembered she did live here. “Well, I mean I do. For now. I’m just visiting.” Visiting? She’d be here for a little over a year before she went back to Baltimore and to teaching. “Well, more than visiting, I suppose.” She realized she was babbling. “And you? How about you?”

“I don’t live here, either. I’m just visiting.”

That wasn’t what she meant, but still Darcy nodded. “You’re from Montana. Yes. I remember.” Could this be more awkward? Sure, it could. Some nurse could come in about now and want to check her sutures. “So. How are things in Montana?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

Silence. She smiled at him, wiggled her toes, and fiddled with her fingers. The man has seen me naked. And not in a good way. He smiled back, looked her up and down as she sat there in her hospital bed. And no doubt remembered he’d seen her naked. “So,” Darcy blurted. “What is your name? That has been the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question around here today.”

“I gathered as much from the crowd at the nurses’ station. It’s Elliott. Tom Elliott. Pleased to meet you, Darcy Alcott.” He stretched forward in the chair and offered his hand to her.

Inordinately pleased—he’d gone to the trouble, obviously, of finding out her last name—Darcy leaned over the slightest bit and took his hand, shaking it, feeling warm, firm flesh and the not-unpleasant roughness of calluses. A working man’s hands. A far cry from the softness of any self-centered, lying, cheating professor types she might know. “Very pleased to meet you, Tom. Now I can quit calling you the Lone Ranger.”

He chuckled…and her heart tripped over itself—and tried to jump right out of her chest so it could tackle him and lay a big smooch on his mouth…for starters. “Yeah. I got that at the nurses’ station, too.”

Darcy blinked. “You did? You got—” Darcy! Knock it off. He doesn’t mean he got smooched at the nurses’ station. Pay attention. She discreetly cleared her throat…and forged ahead. “Uhm, did you get to see the baby? I mean today. I know you saw her yesterday. Heck, you were the first one in the world to see her.”

His smile brightened. “I hadn’t thought about that. But no, I haven’t seen her yet. I came straight to your room. I couldn’t wait to see you. Her. You.” His smile faltered, his eyes widened…as if he’d just revealed too much. Darcy felt her mouth dry. “So,” he continued. “How is she? That navel get cleaned up okay?”

Still wide-eyed with wonder—he couldn’t wait to see her?—she nodded. “Uhm, yes. Dr. Harkness said you did a fine job, too. He was quite impressed with that knot you tied.”

“Yeah? That’s a good knot, all right.” Silence. “Well, since we’re on the subject of names…what did you name your daughter?”

Darcy’s insides melted. She took a deep breath, and confessed, “Her name is Montana Skye. Sky with an E.”

“It is?” A smile as big as all outdoors claimed his features. He sat back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be. Montana Skye. With an E. That’s about the best name I think I’ve ever heard. It’s perfect for such a pretty baby, too.”

Darcy’s cheeks heated up under his compliments. “I thought it was the least I could do, given your help. I didn’t know how else to repay you. And I thought I’d never see you again to say thank-you. So I…” She exhaled and just sat there, staring at her fingers. “I hope you don’t mind.”