The Way to Texas (2 page)

“Bad day?”

Dawn jumped about a foot. “Oh, my God!”

She turned and met another dancing pair of eyes. These were the color of amber glass. Or sparkling brown topaz. Or aged honey. And they were attached to the most compelling man Dawn had seen in ages.

He filled the doorway and everything about him reminded her of warmth. From his ruffled sun-streaked brown hair to his lime-green-and-black running shoes. A smile curved his lips, lips that made her think of things she was supposed to have put behind her. At once it struck her—this man was dangerous in that golden retriever, scratch behind the ears sort of way. He looked affable and harmless. Like a woman could take him home. But Dawn had been bitten not once, but twice. She wasn't picking up his leash.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, stretching out an arm. “I'm Tyson Hart, and I think this is where I am supposed to be.”

Dawn met his hand with hers. His grip warmed her to her toes and made her feel like a gangly teenager. “Hi. Dawn Taggart, the director. Nellie's sister-in-law.”

“Nice to meet you, Dawn.”

For a moment, she stood there stupidly, her hand still in his. Then she came to her senses and pulled it away.

“Well, come on in.”

Tyson stepped inside the foyer as Nellie waddled around the corner with Hunter Todd on her heels. The six-year-old held a huge ice cream bar, which didn't prevent him from lifting the cover of the antique piano in the parlor and plinking a few keys. Sprinkles from the treat fell to the polished floor.

“Tyson,” Nellie said, a warm smile curving her lips.

“Nellie,” Tyson replied, his voice as smooth as Scotch and likely just as addictive. “So good to see you again. It's been ages.”

Dawn tore her eyes from Hunter Todd and his shedding ice cream and looked at Tyson, which in itself was a treat. The man was abnormally good looking in a not so obvious way. More of a rugged, cigarette ad way.
Careful,
her mind said, crushing what her libido said, which was something like,
wrap your legs around that.

Nellie rubbed her back. Another grimace moved across her face. “I'm so glad you're back in Oak Stand. And you're perfect for this job. Quick. Good. And available.”

Tyson grinned and little crinkles appeared at the corners of his incredible eyes. “I bet you say that to all the contractors you meet.”

He winked at Dawn and she couldn't stop the silly blush she felt burn her cheeks. Damn. He was everything she needed to stay away from. Good-looking men were like her personal crack—a dangerous addiction that left her strung out and broken.

Nellie laughed then winced. “Sorry, guys, but I'm going to have to sit this construction talk out. Go on up and check out the space. Hunter Todd said he'd swing me on the porch swing.”

At the sound of his name, Hunter Todd banged the lid on the piano and took off, circling Nellie and making weird noises. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes.

Even Tyson looked concerned.

“I don't think I better leave you right now.” Dawn ran her damp palms down the sides of her khaki crop pants. A strange sense of foreboding welled within her,
and Hunter Todd pretending to be a screeching jumbo jet wasn't helping matters. She pushed her hair over her shoulders and turned to Tyson.

“Mr. Hart, I know you drove all this way, but I'm not sure this is a good time to meet.”

Tyson opened his mouth to speak, but Hunter Todd took that moment to shove past them. A trail of ice cream followed him as he circled her and Tyson.

Dawn let out an exasperated breath. She didn't want to have this stupid meeting in the first place. And now she looked totally unprofessional with chaos prevailing all around her. The man probably thought he'd stepped into a care center for the insane rather than the elderly. She had to get control of the situation. “Hunter Todd, enough! Go sit on the swing and stop yelling.”

She propped her hands on her hips and tried to look as though the noise the child made had not accelerated the throbbing in her temples. A whopper of a headache was coming on. No doubt about it.

The boy skidded to a halt and turned an injured expression upon her. “I'm just playing Transformers. I'm Megatron. He's a Decepticon.”

Dawn tempered her reprimand with a small smile. “I appreciate your ability to sound like a real…robot machine airplane, but Nellie doesn't feel well. You need to be a good boy. Go sit and finish your ice cream.”

“Megatron's not an airplane,” Hunter Todd said, licking the dripping bar. “He's a— Hey, Nellie, you're peeing on yourself.”

“What?” Nellie said, looking down, her eyes growing wide as reality set in. “Oh, crap! My water broke!”

Hunter Todd took another lick of his ice cream bar. “
Crap
is a bad word.”

And that was when it hit Dawn.

Hell had broken loose after all.

T
YSON TOOK TWO STEPS
back and hit the doorjamb. Pregnant women made him uncomfortable. Pregnant women who sprang leaks made him want to run and forget about the contracting job.

And he needed this job. Not so much for the money, but for what it would do for him. Re-establish him within the community. Give him ties to Oak Stand. Give him a home for his daughter, Laurel.

So he didn't run. Besides that would be pretty chicken shit of him. He'd faced armored tanks and grenade-tossing insurgents in Iraq. Surely, he could deal with a woman in labor.

He stepped forward and attempted a calming smile. He'd been through this before. Kinda. “No big deal, Nellie. Women have babies every day.”

“Have babies?” Her voice sounded panicky. She looked at her sister-in-law. “Today?”

Dawn nodded. He got the feeling Nellie's sister-in-law was the right person to handle a crisis. That impression likely had something to do with the lift of her chin and the squaring of her slim shoulders. “Just let me call Jack and we'll head to the hospital.”

Dawn turned and ushered the boy from the house. “Okay, Hunter Todd, go finish your treat on your own porch. We've got to get Nellie to the hospital.”

“You mean, she's havin' the baby today?” he asked, not missing a lick.

Dawn sounded agitated as she placed her hand between his shoulder blades and steered him toward the open door. “Maybe. Probably. But you have to go home now.”

Once the child disappeared, Dawn spun around and walked toward the kitchen. Nellie still seemed freaked out, so he smiled again and tried not to let his discomfort show.

Dawn returned in less than five seconds with several towels which she handed to him.

“Do me a favor and wipe up the floor.” She didn't wait for an answer, just pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

Tyson looked at the floral towels which had seen better days but smelled April fresh. Then he glanced at Nellie's feet. He'd cleaned up worse. Surely.

Poor Nellie stood frozen, her eyes misty and wide. “Today?” she said again.

“Don't worry, Nellie.” He grasped her elbow and helped her step from the puddle.

She took a small step then clutched her stomach.
“Ow!”

Something in the air felt wrong. He'd always had a sixth sense about calamity. In fact, such a premonition had saved his life in Baghdad. He looked over at Dawn, but the only visible sign of distress she showed was one slender foot tapping on the floor. After a moment, she pulled the phone from her ear and glared at it. “Not answering. That figures. The most important day of his life, and the dumb a—” Her mouth snapped shut, and she seemed to regroup.

“No problem,” Dawn said, as he dropped a towel on
the floor and moved it around with his foot. “I'll get my car. We'll call him on the way. The doctor, too.”

Nellie clutched her stomach again. “Ow. This really hurts.”

“Oh, no.” A horrified expression appeared on Dawn's face. “My car's at the garage getting new brakes. It won't be ready till tomorrow. Jack was going to pick us up today.”

Nellie groaned again calling his attention to where she was holding on to the arm of the old-fashioned-looking sofa.

“Maybe you better sit down, Nellie,” he said, pausing in his cleaning.

Nellie lowered herself onto the couch before popping up again. “Wait, give me a towel. I don't want to ruin the couch. Dawn just reupholstered it.”

Dawn's head snapped up. “Are you serious? You think I care about the stupid couch? Because I don't. You're in freaking labor. You don't have a bag packed and I haven't finished the quilt for the nursery. And my stupid brother isn't answering his phone. And we have no way to get to the hospital, which is not exactly down the road. So, please, sit on the couch.”

Time to do something more than play cleaning lady. Even if it meant he'd be too late to catch a movie with Laurel. “No problem. Let me pull my truck into the drive and then we'll be on our way.”

“But the hospital's almost thirty miles away,” Dawn said, abandoning her irritation and pushing her long dark hair from her face. She moistened her bottom lip, a very sensual movement he didn't fail to notice even though they were in full-on crisis mode.

“I've been known to drive such distances before.” He smiled at Nellie, trying to do his best to reassure his
longtime friend. Mild terror had taken its place upon her face.

“What about Bubba? Maybe he can take us,” Nellie said, crossing her feet ladylike as she perched on the edge of the couch. “I mean, I hate to put you out, Tyson. You came for a meeting not a…birth.”

“Are you kidding?” Dawn said, her brown sandals clacking on the floor as she approached her sister-in-law. She pushed Nellie's hair off her forehead and patted her shoulder. “Mr. Hart doesn't care about the meeting right now. We've got a baby on the way, and even if the first one usually takes a while, we need to get you to the hospital now. So, on your feet. We're taking Mr. Hart up on his offer.”

“Tyson,” he said.

Her gaze found his. “What?”

“Call me Tyson,” he said, taking Nellie's elbow and helping her toward the entrance. The bevel-paned door was still ajar from Hunter Todd's hasty departure. As they passed it, Nellie grabbed it, bent over and groaned.

Tyson mouthed one word at Dawn. “Hurry.”

 

T
YSON TRIED TO FOCUS
on Highway 80, but it was hard to do with Dawn's light floral scent filling his nose and her nicely rounded butt sliding against his thigh. Which should not have mattered since Nellie was in full-blown labor. But he couldn't help noticing. After all, he was a man.

He also couldn't stop himself from glancing at the clock on the console. Nellie's contractions were coming too fast to still be ten miles from the hospital.

Every few seconds or so, Dawn's chocolaty brown eyes would meet his and a clear message was sent.
Something was wrong. Tyson felt it in his gut as certain as Sunday. He was afraid he'd have to pull the ten-year-old pickup truck to the side of the highway so Dawn could catch her new nephew as he made his debut into the world.

And that would suck.

Not just for obvious reasons, but because they hadn't been able to get in touch with Nellie's husband. Tyson believed every man deserved to witness the miracle of his child being born. It had been the best memory of his life—one of those moments that could not be recreated in any way. So precious was the first breath his daughter took. So treasured the initial high-pitched cry. And Tyson wasn't the sentimental type of guy. Okay, he was. His hands were calloused, his shoulders broad enough for burdens, but his heart was s'more-worthy. As in a big ol' marshmallow.

He wanted Jack to be there to see his son seize life—not the glorified handyman.

“It's okay, Nellie. Don't push. Whatever you do, don't push,” Dawn said squeezing her sister-in-law's hand while shoving several tendrils of hair out of her own eyes. Tyson noticed her hair seemed to get in the way a lot. He wished he had a rubber band. At least he would be doing something helpful, something more than keeping the truck between the mustard and the mayonnaise.

“I…can't…help…it,” Nellie panted, “I want to get it out of me.”

Tyson risked a glance at the two women. Dawn had Nellie's chin in her hand, trying to direct Nellie's eyes to hers. “Look at me. Don't push. Deep breaths only. Focus.”

He directed his attention to the patched highway as
Nellie panted like a wounded animal. About fifty yards ahead was a green sign listing mileage. Longview was only five miles away. He knew firsthand the hospital was in the middle of town. He'd been stitched up there several times during his dirt-bike-racing days as a teen. He'd have to navigate late-afternoon traffic.

“Oh, God, something's wrong, Dawn. Something's wrong,” Nellie moaned. Her arms locked against the dash of his truck and her frantic breaths sounded louder than any he'd ever heard. It scared him shitless, but he didn't want her to know.

“Just a few more miles, Nellie,” he said, angling the air-conditioner vent toward her. Sweat streamed down her face.

Dawn cajoled, murmuring encouraging words as she wiped Nellie's brow with some napkins from McDonald's she'd found in his glove box.

After minutes of passing hilly Texas countryside, Tyson saw the first smattering of Longview businesses—a gas station, a place with shiny tractors out front and a fast-food restaurant. Reaching the edge of town didn't help his anxiety level because as they passed the city-limit sign, his passenger screamed, “Oh, my God! It's ripping me apart.”

Tyson pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard when he saw Nellie's knees spring into the air. The old truck leaped forward as the cell phone sitting on the dashboard rang.

Dawn looked busy. He didn't really want to know what she was doing, since all he could see was Nellie's white thigh. He heard Dawn chant “Oh, shit…oh, shit…oh, shit,” so he grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

“Hey, sis, what's going on? You sounded weird.”

“Uh, Jack, this is—”

“Who's this?” the voice erupted from the phone.

“Listen. This is Tyson Hart—”

“Who? Where's my sister?”

“Shut up,” Tyson growled into the phone, as Nellie let out another screech. “I'm driving your wife to the hospital. Get in your vehicle and get your ass to Longview. Now.”

Tyson clicked the phone shut because a red light was about fifty yards in front of him. The truck swerved over the center lane as Dawn's round butt connected with his arm, and he threw the phone onto the dashboard then applied the brakes.

“Almost there. Jack's on his way.”

“Hear that, Nellie?” Dawn's voice sounded soothing, “Jack is on his way and we're here. You're doing great, honey. Just hold on a little longer.”

The litany of her voice calmed him. And he felt as twitchy as a man who'd been in lockdown for a month. He searched for a hospital sign, but all he saw were blinking signs advertising pawnshops and Laundromats. Finally he found the blue H symbol and followed the arrow toward 259 North.

More panting, more cursing and more sweating ensued before the three-story white rectangle emerged on the horizon like the Holy Grail of hospitals. Tyson hit the emergency-room drive like a race car driver hit the pit. He likely left two long tire marks when he skidded to a halt.

“Go get somebody,” Dawn said, sliding herself nearly across his lap as she turned around in the seat toward Nellie. She didn't have to tell him twice. Nellie's knees were bent and her skirt hiked high.

A woman in scrubs met him at the swooshing doors.
Her face held a mixture of annoyance and concern. She held an unsmoked cigarette in her hand.

“I need a stretcher or wheelchair,” he said, looking over her head at the open entrance. “If you don't hurry, she's going to have that baby in my pickup.”

The woman sprang into action, first pocketing her cigarette, next calling into the doorway, “Cheryl!”

For a moment, Tyson simply stood and took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of hot asphalt and burning leaves. He wanted to reach into the nurse's pocket and grab her cigarette and fire it up. But he had quit smoking when he'd quit drinking the hard stuff.

Another woman in scrubs appeared with a stretcher. She rolled it toward his truck, lowered it in one movement, then helped the other woman ease Nellie onto it. Dawn held her sister-in-law's shoulders and still talked soothingly into her ear. Nellie's face was streaked with tears. His eyes held her face because he would not, could not look down at where her knees still seemed to be parted.

One of the nurses pulled a sheet over Nellie's knees and he blew out a sigh of relief.

They rolled past him and Dawn caught his eye. “I'm going with her. Will you stay and bring Jack when he gets here?”

He nodded and, oddly enough, her shoulders sank with what he imagined to be relief. “Let me park the truck and I'll be right in.”

He watched for a moment as she followed the stretcher into the E.R. Her silk blouse clung to her back and her once crisp pants held more wrinkles than an old circus elephant. But something about Dawn made him want to take a deep breath, one of those deep cleansing breaths that chased away shadows and cobwebs.

Then again, something about her made him want to sink into her, claim her as his own. A visceral, animalistic reaction—one he'd not had in a while. Her long tan arms and dark tresses were made for wrapping round a man, and her soulful dark eyes hinted at a sensuality he wanted to explore.

Which was a bad idea all around.

He was in Oak Stand to start a new life. After a rotten marriage and a rocky relationship with his daughter, he needed a clean slate. No need to muddy things by lusting after the sexiest thing he'd seen in months. That would be beyond stupid.

Tyson climbed into his old pickup, noting that the Texas dust made his truck's silver paint look dirty gray. A few empty coffee cups from a gas station still sat in the cupholders and he needed to sweep out the gum wrappers that had fallen to the dusty floormats. Thank God, Nellie hadn't had her baby in here.

He parked near a group of medical offices and headed toward the hospital. Just as he crossed the landscaped path two things happened.

First, Dawn emerged from the open E.R., her smile radiant, her eyes dancing. She opened her mouth and yelled, “It's a girl!”

Second, a huge F250 roared into the parking lot with a Longview police cruiser following. Blue lights flashed, tires squealed and a disheveled dark-haired man sprang from the truck and flew toward the E.R.

Jack Darby had finally reached Longview.

In record time, no doubt.