Daddy with a Deadline (8 page)

“Not really.” She sniffed. “Look, I know I wasn’t cordial when you arrived. But I do appreciate the paint job in the nursery. And I intend to reimburse you for your time and supplies.”

He narrowed his gaze. “This isn’t a job for pay, Annie. I thought you understood that.”

“You took time from your business, and that costs money. So if you’ll tell me what you spent on the supplies and what I owe you for labor...”

Trent felt a flush creep up his neck. “You’re being ridiculous. We finished the room in two hours and you helped. Since we didn’t sign a contract, paying me for my time is just plain silly.”

“Don’t argue with me, Trent. Just give me a figure and I’ll write the check.” She opened the checkbook lying on the table, poised her pen midair, and stared at him. Determination glittered in those blue eyes.

Trent was so mad he could spit. Wildfire at his worst didn’t test his patience the way Brad’s widow did! Pay him, indeed. The woman was nuts. Just plain nuts.

He leaned toward her. “Now listen, Annie, and listen good. I’m insulted that you offered me wages. Your husband was my friend and I came to help, not to make money. But you don’t get that, do you? Everything in life isn’t a business deal, in case you hadn’t noticed. People help each other. Because they want to.”

When he saw tears well in Annie’s eyes, he regretted his harsh words. She blinked royally in an effort to hold them back and pretty much succeeded. Except for one or two strays that dropped onto the checkbook.

Annie took a deep breath. “At least let me pay for the paint, so you don’t have out-of-pocket expenses. I insist on that.”

Trent remembered he’d tucked the invoice from the paint store in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out, unfolded it, and tossed it on the table. “Have it your way.”

Annie sniffed and rubbed her nose that still sported a streak of yellow paint. It might have been endearing if she weren’t such an unreasonable and narrow-minded woman. How would he survive this assignment if Annie made everything impossible!

She wrote the check, tore it from the book, passed it to him, and sniffed again. “Thank you. The yellow walls look very nice.”

While her voice was gentler, her guard was still higher than the fence around a prison. Trent grabbed the check, jammed it into his pocket, and stalked out of Annie Samuels’s kitchen. Women were exhausting. Staying unattached kept a man sane.

As Trent drove the distance to the ranch, he reviewed the day’s perplexing events. But even after thorough examination, he felt baffled. Totally and completely baffled.

Some guys knew how to relate to the female gender, but Trent had never joined their fraternity. His own mother hadn’t cared about him. And his wife had betrayed him and stolen his money.

And now he’d have to face Rosa. She’d be eager to hear how the painting session went. As he entered the kitchen, he saw a stack of roast-beef sandwiches on the table. As hungry as he was, he could eat a hundred.

“Lunch is ready,” Rosa said. She sat at the table drinking coffee.

Trent joined her and helped himself to a sandwich.

“Mrs. Samuels is very nice,” Rosa said.

“I won’t argue that.”

“And you were right, Mr. Trent. She’s very pretty.”

He ignored the gleam in Rosa’s eyes that screamed matchmaker. “So we agree on that too.”

Trent finished one sandwich and grabbed another. He’d love to eat his lunch without a running commentary on Annie Samuels. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“Life must be hard for her,” Rosa continued. “First she loses her husband. And soon she’ll have two babies to care for all alone. Tsk-tsk.”

“Annie has challenges, and I’ll help until she can manage on her own. I just painted the nursery.”

“You’re a kind man, Mr. Trent. And I want to help too.”

Instead of biting into the next sandwich, Trent set it on his plate. “What do you mean you want to help too?”

Rosa leaned toward him, her dark eyes gleaming. “I figured out what I can do. I’ll give Mrs. Samuels a baby shower. We’ll have it here at the ranch and...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! No baby showers. Not at my ranch.” Rosa had him so rattled he couldn’t construct a complete sentence.

“But you said the nursery is empty. As a widow, Miss Annie will struggle to support two children. Especially on a teacher’s salary.”

Trent’s throat clenched and his stomach churned. His lunch no longer looked the slightest bit appetizing.

“I know you mean well, Rosa. But a baby shower? Here at Copper Creek? That’s not going to happen.”

When Rosa started to object, Trent held up his hand in protest. “This conversation is over.” He scraped back his chair and angled his Stetson on his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“But you haven’t finished your lunch.”

“I lost my appetite.”

Trent breathed a relieved sigh as he escaped his kitchen and headed for the corral. Rosa’s next tactic would be guilt. The woman should be a trial lawyer, not a housekeeper. Ever since he’d shared Brad’s letter with Rosa, she’d become a storehouse of opinions.

Women had always perplexed Trent. And if other women baffled him, Brad’s widow was the ultimate enigma. Every word he spoke had ruffled the woman’s feathers. If he said, “The sky is blue,” Annie would argue for another color! And defend it to the death!

Trent saddled his horse, Ranger, and decided to take a ride. Riding calmed him and helped put his problems in perspective. Normally his problems centered on keeping Copper Creek Ranch running smoothly and efficiently. But his current problems were in a different league. They focused on how to fulfill Brad’s request, how not to strangle Annie Samuels, and most challenging of all, how to curb his growing attraction to the impossible woman!

It would be a very long ride.

A
NNIE AWOKE AT
midnight when an intense pain pulled her from a sound sleep. She managed to get out of bed and started pacing the room. This wasn’t good. Her due date was still weeks away, but no one had told the babies. Annie timed the pains, realizing there was no hurry. Not yet, anyway.

She headed for the kitchen. The house felt especially empty tonight. And so quiet. Facing the twins’ birth alone was a huge responsibility.

Who should she ask to drive her to the hospital? Trent wasn’t an option. He’d done too much already. And while Sara had offered to take her, Sara had looked tired these days. Annie wouldn’t put her friend’s pregnancy at risk.

Mrs. Higginbotham’s house was dark. Mrs. H tended to panic in emergencies, and Annie wouldn’t be in a position to calm anyone else. She’d call a taxi, but having a stranger drive her to the hospital seemed unthinkable.

When the pains came five minutes apart, she called Dr. Newsome, who told her to come to the hospital. Ash Grove Memorial was just ten minutes away. She would drive herself.

She dressed quickly, grabbed her overnight bag from the closet, and put it in the backseat of the car. “Here we go, Eloise. This is it.”

The night air felt cool on Annie’s skin and the scent of Mrs. H’s roses filled the air. June was a wonderful month for the twins’ birthday. Annie bit her lip as she realized she’d meet her little ones soon. She could finally see their sweet faces. And count tiny fingers and toes. The thought of holding them close brought a surge of maternal pride.

Annie maneuvered herself into the driver’s seat. “Yow!” she cried, startled by the force of the next pain. “Stay put, little guys. We’re on our way.”

The streetlights cast a soft glow over the darkened roads. Only houses with night-owl residents had lights burning. As Annie turned right from Spring onto Osage, her car sputtered. Then it sputtered again. “Don’t you dare, Eloise. Trent overhauled you big-time.”

But Eloise ignored her. The car choked and coughed and a moment later died.

Annie moaned. This couldn’t be happening! Trent and his ace mechanic had had Eloise purring. Annie pounded on the steering wheel. “You can’t do this to me!”

But yelling was counterproductive. Now she
had
to call someone. Would it be her very pregnant friend, her nervous neighbor, a taxi driver, or...the handsome, domineering cowboy Brad had sent to help?

Annie reluctantly chose the cowboy. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Trent’s number.

Trent couldn’t sleep. He’d gone to bed at eleven, but thoughts of Annie swirled through his mind. Thinking of her occupied far too many waking hours lately. And intruded on his sleep as well.

Well after midnight he went to the kitchen to grab a snack. While Rosa’s peanut-butter cookies tasted great, a sugar fix wasn’t enough to distract him. As he sat in his dimly lit kitchen, he kept thinking about Annie.

On his list of concerns, one loomed large: what would happen when Annie’s labor began in a few weeks? Surely his offer to help didn’t stretch to the delivery room? While he could handle practical stuff, he couldn’t imagine being with Annie when she gave birth. But why worry? He’d be the last person Annie would want in the delivery room.

He downed one last cookie and drained the milk from his glass. Before Brad’s letter came, he’d slept like a baby. But since that fateful day, his sleep patterns had turned erratic. So had the rest of his life. He felt more like a neurotic father than the stable, levelheaded rancher he was. And if the end was in sight, it seemed far distant.

When his cell phone rang, Trent jumped. He glanced at the clock and saw it was one thirty. Must be some teenager fooling around. “This better be good,” he growled into the phone.

“Yow! Yow!”

It sounded like a scream. If a kid was fooling around, her acting was pretty good.

“Who is this?” Trent demanded.

“Wait...just...a...minute.”

The strained voice ground out each syllable with obvious difficulty. A pause. Then an exhaled breath. And finally a familiar voice. “It’s me. It’s Annie.”

“Annie? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“At the corner of Spring and Osage. Eloise died again.” Annie enunciated each consonant. And it seemed to require great effort.

Trent sprang to his feet. “What are you doing out so late?” But as dense as he was, he finally put two and two together. And they equaled delivery.

“I’m in labor,” Annie confirmed. “Will you...drive over here...and take me to the hospital?”

“Of course. Hold on, Annie. I’m coming.”

If he’d felt like a neurotic father earlier, the sensation quadrupled. Trent raced to his room, jammed on his jeans, and yanked a T-shirt over his head. He snatched his keys from the dresser and
ran to the truck. No more time to analyze possible challenges. The drama had begun.

He broke every driving rule in the manual to reach Annie. He spotted her car at Spring and Osage just like she’d said. God, he hoped Annie was OK. Why hadn’t he called an ambulance right away? Was he a total idiot? She may have delivered the twins in her car by now!

He parked his truck and jumped out. Annie sat behind the wheel with her forehead resting on the steering wheel. He jerked open the car door. “Annie? Are you all right?”

She lifted her head and nodded. “I’m perfectly fine. Just really embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Whatever for?”

“Because it stopped.”

“What stopped?”

“Labor. When the pains were five minutes apart I called Doc Newsome, and she said to come to the birthing center. But right after I called you the labor stopped.”

“Why in blazes did you decide to drive yourself to the hospital? Have you no sense at all?” Trent heard the anger in his voice and knew he shouldn’t be shouting. But the woman had scared him out of his wits. The only thing stronger than his anger was his relief that Annie was OK.

“Not much sense, obviously. I can’t tell real labor from the false variety.” Her eyes met his, and in the soft glow of the streetlight Trent saw her disappointment. And the exhaustion. “Will you please take me home?”

“Home? You almost had the babies in the middle of the street. And you want to go home and pretend nothing happened? I’m taking you straight to the hospital.”