Be My Baby
There’s no room in her life for love. Love has other ideas…
Konigsburg, Texas, Book 3
If Jessamyn Carroll had only herself to consider, staying in Pennsylvania after her husband’s death would have been a no-brainer. Her vindictive in-laws’ efforts to get their hooks into her infant son, however, force her to flee to a new home. Konigsburg, Texas.
Peace…at least for now. She’s even found a way to make some extra money, looking after sexy accountant Lars Toleffson’s precocious two-year-old daughter. She finds it easy—too easy—to let his protective presence lull her into thinking she and her son are safe at last.
Lars, still wounded from enduring a nasty divorce from his cheating ex-wife, tries to fight his attraction to the mysterious, beautiful widow. But when an intruder breaks into her place, and Jess comes clean about her past, all bets are off. Someone wants her baby—and wants Jess out of the picture. Permanently.
Now Jess has a live-in bodyguard, whether she wants him or not. Except she does want him—and he wants her. Yet negotiating a future together will have to overcome a lot of roadblocks: babies, puppies, the entire, meddling Toleffson family—and a kidnapper.
Warning: Contains Konigsburg craziness, creepy in-laws, a conniving two-year-old, a lovelorn accountant, a sleep-deprived Web developer, and lots of hot holiday sex.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Be My Baby
Copyright © 2009 by Meg Benjamin
ISBN: 978-1-60504-843-7
Edited by Lindsey Faber
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: December 2009
Be My Baby
Meg Benjamin
Dedication
To all the helpful critiquers in SARA (Beckie, Linda, Masha, y’all know who you are), to my ever-supportive editor Lindsey Faber, and to my guys, Bill, Josh, and Ben.
Chapter One
Lars Toleffson had oatmeal in his hair. He found it by accident while he was sitting drinking a beer with his brothers at the Dew Drop Inn in downtown Konigsburg, Texas. Since that was around five in the afternoon, he’d probably been wearing the oatmeal all day. He only hoped other people hadn’t noticed. Daisy, his two-year-old daughter, was learning to feed herself. She was really enthusiastic about breakfast, and sometimes her enthusiasm slopped over.
So to speak.
The only way Lars could have a beer with his brothers was through the generosity of his sisters-in-law, who’d taken Daisy with them to the park to see the city workers put up some decorations. Lars wasn’t sure what holiday was being decorated for—it was early November, but he had a feeling the decorations were probably for Christmas. Christmas was a big deal in Konigsburg, given the shopping frenzy the tourists usually went into once the season was officially open.
Lars sighed, rubbing his eyes. He adored his daughter. He’d moved to Texas to make a better life for her than she would have had in Iowa where his ex-wife lived within meddling distance, even though it meant giving up the automatic babysitting services provided by his folks. But sometimes he wished he could take a day off from being a full-time single parent.
Of course, every time he wished that, he ended up feeling like a total shit.
“Hey, bro.” His brother Pete dropped into a chair opposite him. “No dozing off at the table. At least not until you’ve listened to us talk for a few minutes. I mean, give us a chance to bore you to sleep first.”
Lars shook his head. “Sorry. Late night last night. Daisy didn’t feel like sleeping until midnight.” He’d felt like sleeping around eight-thirty himself, but that was par for the course these days.
His brother Cal pulled out a chair next to Pete. The three of them took up all the available space and some that wasn’t really available, like the area around the table where they tried to stretch their legs out. Their mother had given birth to four giants, all of them standing over six feet four. No wonder Mom had her grumpy moments.
“Hey, y’all, where’s the beer? Don’t we have a standing order by now?” Cal asked.
Pete shrugged. “Looks like she’s working her way down the tables.”
“She?” Cal raised an eyebrow.
“The waitress.”
Cal leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. The Dew Drop wasn’t well known for the candle power of its lighting. “What waitress? Ingstrom fired the waitress he had last week. Or she walked out—I’m not sure which.”
“He’s hired another one. He’s trying to upgrade the place.” Pete raised a hand, signaling. “Wonder says Ingstrom may even wash the windows one of these days.”
Cal widened his eyes in amazement. “You mean so we could actually see what this place looks like? Wouldn’t that destroy his business?”
“Whatcha want?”
Lars blinked. The woman standing beside the table wore a leather vest zipped over breasts the size of melons. Big melons. Her bare arms were covered in so many tattoos they looked blue. A roll of white flesh bulged between the bottom of her vest and the top of her jeans. The nametag on her left breast read
Hi! My Name Is Ruby
.
“Ya want anything or not?” Ruby sounded like she was getting pissed. Lars figured that would not be a good thing.
“Lone Star.”
“Dos Equis,” Cal muttered.
“Corona.” Pete was staring down at the table, trying very hard not to look at Ruby’s chest, which was only inches from his nose.
Ruby turned and stalked away.
Pete watched her retreat into the darkness. “You think she’s actually going to bring us those beers? Did we order right? Were we supposed to say ‘May I’ or something?”
“I think I’m not going after her to find out.” Cal shook his head. “Where the hell does Ingstrom find them?”
“Central casting. It doesn’t matter anyway. She won’t stick it out more than a couple of days. None of them ever does. Being a barmaid at the Dew Drop is not a major career move.”
“Here she comes again,” Lars cautioned.
Ruby reappeared from the gloom and plopped three bottles in front of them. “Six bucks,” she snapped.
Pete shook his head. “We’ll run a tab.”
“Fuck that,” Ruby snarled. “Six bucks.”
All three brothers dug out their wallets and plunked their dollar bills in front of her. Ruby stalked off again.
Cal took a deep breath. “That is one terrifying female.”
“Just wait a couple of days.” Pete took a deep swallow of Corona. “The next one will be worse.”
Lars took a pull on his Lone Star. Ruby was par for the course these days. At least for his course. Maybe his brothers’ lives were going more smoothly.
“Any luck on the new babysitter front?” Cal raised an eyebrow.
Lars shook his head. “Most of the home-care people are full up at this point. There’s that Wee Care place out near Highway 16, but they charge an arm and a leg, plus I didn’t like the look of it much.”
Pete frowned. “Dirty?”
Lars wasn’t sure if Pete’s jurisdiction as an assistant county attorney stretched to daycare center compliance, but he didn’t particularly want to find out.
“Not exactly. I just had a feeling Daisy would dismantle the place in under twenty minutes, given the large number of kids and limited number of caregivers.”
“And Daisy’s scientific curiosity about the Way Things Work.” Cal grinned. “Horace offered one of the large animal pens to hold her so we could keep her at the clinic, but I figured it’d never work. Plus Bethany said she’d skin both of us if we even thought about it.”
“If I didn’t do it first. This is my daughter you’re talking about. Your only niece, remember?”
Cal grinned. “Aw, come on, Lars. Knowing Dais, she’d regard it as a challenge to her mechanical abilities. She’d have that cage apart in ninety minutes, tops.”
“I’d give her an hour,” Pete mused, “but it would probably be more like forty-five minutes. Did you see what she did to my old Rubik’s Cube?”
Lars tried scowling at Cal, but it didn’t work. His younger brother had been the nicest guy in Lander, Iowa, for twenty years and was now the nicest guy in Konigsburg, Texas, as well as its most popular veterinarian.
Pete took a swig of Corona. “When does Mrs. Melendez leave?”
“End of next week.” Lars sighed again. “If I can’t get anybody by then, I’ll have to go with Wee Care until I can.”
Mrs. Melendez had been Daisy’s babysitter ever since they’d made the move to Konigsburg permanently, a week after his divorce from Sherice had become final. Now she was leaving for McAllen. Lars only hoped they hadn’t driven her out of town.
“You still running the ad in the
Tribune-Zeitung
?”
“Until the end of the month. I’ve only had a few calls, though, and none of them were people I wanted looking after Daisy.”
Cal grinned again. “If only you didn’t have this unreasonable prejudice against multiple body piercings.”
“Right. You never know—maybe Daisy would like tooling around the countryside in the sidecar of a Harley.” Pete took another pull on his Corona.
“You two are hilarious.” Lars sighed. Sometimes it seemed like he did nothing but sigh these days.
Pete’s forehead furrowed. “Janie would do it in a shot. So would Docia. But Daisy wouldn’t be happy stuck in the bookstore all day, and they both need to be there. We’re moving into the big tourist season from Thanksgiving through the end of December.”
Lars nodded. “I know. I appreciate them taking her when they do. They’ve been great.”
Cal leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Look, bro, we all love Daisy. We all want to help. Just ask us.”
Lars felt like sighing again, but he didn’t. His brothers were two of the main reasons he’d moved Daisy down here, his ex-wife and her presence in their former home in Iowa being the other main reason. “Thanks. If I think of anything you could do, I’ll let you know.”
“Dadee!” someone crowed.
Lars didn’t have to ask who that someone was. Only Daisy’s voice had that odd combination of Iowa and Texas, with a trace of Texican thrown in, courtesy of Mrs. Melendez.
He glanced toward the bar. Ingstrom was narrowing his eyes in the general direction of his
No minors allowed on the premises
sign. Both Cal and Pete occasionally brought their dogs to the Dew Drop, but Lars figured Daisy would be one step over the line.
“Dadee!”
Lars turned toward the doorway. His sisters-in-law stood just inside, like a gorgeous female version of Mutt and Jeff—six-foot redheaded Docia and five-foot-two brunette Janie.
Daisy twisted in Docia’s arms, black curls dancing wildly around her bright pink cheeks, and wearing a smile that made his heart crack in two every time he saw it.
He pushed himself to his feet, setting his half-finished beer on the table, and strode toward the door. “Hang on, sweetheart. Daddy’s on his way.”
Jessamyn Carroll gave the living room at the Lone Oak Bed and Breakfast a quick once-over before she placed Jack in his portable playpen. At least the people who’d just checked out hadn’t been pigs. Sometimes Jess wondered what the hell the guests had been up to that made the place such a mess. Sometimes she could see only too well what they’d been up to and really didn’t like thinking about it.
Jack cooed happily, reaching for his favorite plastic blocks. Based on past experience, Jess figured it would take him at least ten minutes to throw them all out of the playpen. By then she could probably have the dishes rinsed and in the dishwasher.
She grabbed a trash bag, shaking it open as she tossed in a couple of half-empty bags of chips. Too bad the guests never seemed to be into healthy stuff. She swore if they ever left some flatbread or granola bars, she’d take them home for dinner.
Behind her she heard a block hit the floor as Jack crowed.
Right. Five more to go.
The dishes were piled in the sink—not too many for once. She scraped some calcified cheese into the garbage disposal and ran water to soak the silverware. The coffeepot still had grounds in it. Too bad she hadn’t had time to start a compost heap yet.
Two more blocks flew over the side of the playpen. Jack was getting ambitious, doing more than one at a time.
“Slow down, mister,” Jess called over her shoulder. Jack crowed back.
She grabbed the box of dishwasher detergent and filled the dispenser. Everything was loaded now except the silverware. Another plop sounded behind her.
Please, Jack, please just let me finish this.
Jess rubbed the remains of the cheese and something orange and sticky off the knives, tossing them into the dishwasher as she went.
One more plop. One more crow.
She pushed the dishwasher door closed, flipping the catch and turning the knob. The sound of water rushing into the washer mingled with Jack’s discontented squawks.
“Okay,” she muttered, “okay. If you didn’t throw them out, you’d still have them, though.”
He squawked louder, and she knelt beside the playpen, picking up the blocks. “Good arm, kid, you tossed those a good two feet this time.”
He gave her a beatific baby grin, revealing three tiny, pearl-like teeth.
“Ah, that’s Mama’s boy,” she murmured, burying her nose in his neck as she leaned in to hug him. Sweet powder, sour milk—essence of baby. Her heart contracted.
Jack squealed in delight, grabbing handfuls of her hair.
“Ouch.” She pulled his hands away gently, then reached into the toy bag. “How about some time with Mr. Wiggles?”
Jack threw his arms around the terry-cloth rabbit, then overbalanced in the other direction, landing flat on his back. For a moment he lay wide-eyed, staring up at her.
“No, it’s okay,” she cautioned. “You’re fine. You’re just startled. Don’t shriek, okay?”
But his chest was already expanding, his face flushed, as he let loose the first wail.
Jess reached down and gathered him into her arms, rubbing a hand across his back. “Hey, kid, you need to learn to roll with those punches. How are you ever going to be a captain of industry if you cry whenever you land on your ass?”
He wailed a few more times as she bounced him on her shoulder, then subsided into hiccups.
“Attaboy,” she whispered. “Just let it go.” She felt him relax in her arms, halfway to sleep. “C’mon, Jack,” she crooned. “Just let Mama finish up here, and we’ll head back home, okay?”
A few moments later, she laid him down in the playpen again, dropping a flannel blanket over his tummy as he slept.
Thirty minutes. Maybe. But no running the vacuum sweeper until he woke up. Jess headed for the bedroom to strip off the sheets. She could do the bathrooms fast if nobody had done anything really gross.
Fifteen minutes later, sheets and towels loaded into the washer and clean ones draped over her arm, she headed back into the living room to check on Jack. He still slept, one fist tucked against his cheek.
She stood in the doorway, staring at him. Jack. Her Jack. As pigheaded as she was. As ready to yell for his own way. Maybe as ready to stand up for himself in a few years. But not yet. Not now. Now he needed her to do the standing up, and the protecting.
Which meant finding yet another way to put food on the table. Managing the Lone Oak Bed and Breakfast at least gave them a place to stay, but she couldn’t bring Jack up on a diet of croissants and orange juice, even if they came with the job. And he was already growing out of the sets of onesies she’d brought with her. Even at Costco prices, a new baby wardrobe would stretch her budget.
Tomorrow she’d take another look at the
Tribune-Zeitung
. Maybe they’d have something other than waiting tables or data entry, preferably something she could do from home and under the radar, like her work on the gaming sites.
“Goddamn it, Barry,” she whispered, “why couldn’t you have held on for just a few more years?”
Lydia Moreland picked up her cell phone on the second ring. The phone did ring, just like a regular phone. She had, in fact, demanded that it ring like a regular phone. She despised phones that tinkled out tinny versions of classical music.
