Baby Kisses (3 page)

"Miles?" she said timidly when he didn't respond.

He lifted one finger indicating she should wait.

She shifted on her feet. At last, he rotated his wheelchair to look at her. "So, how was your first day?"

"I think I can handle it."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye." An image from the nasty email jumped into her mind and she made a hasty exit.

After the first week, Tooty felt comfortable in her duties as personal assistant to a famous author.
Sometimes she wanted to pinch herself to see if she'd wake up. For her, reading had always been an escape from life's challenges and she'd certainly had her share in her twenty years.

Sitting beside Harris, she read the last page of his favorite book,
Restoring Tween Time,
and then tucked him in. His eyes had already drifted shut. "I love you, baby." She kissed his cherub cheek and knew that even if she could, she'd never change the fact that she'd born a child out of wedlock at the age of sixteen. Harris
was
her heart. He meant everything to her. Too bad his father was such a jerk.

Flopping across her bed, she turned her lamp off and stared at the ceiling. If Julie hadn't been trick riding at the Montezuma County Rodeo, Harris would not have been conceived. That's where she'd met Laramie Walker, or as he was known on the rodeo circuit, Lucky Larry. Tooty grinned at the ceiling; her son was gonna be handsome just like his father. Only Harris would be a "looker" with character. Lucky Larry was a selfish prick. At the time, she'd only been his flavor of the night, and when she'd contacted him to let him know she was pregnant, he'd told her she was barking up the wrong tree and to have her lawyer contact his. Of course, she'd been devastated, but now she was glad she'd never legally pursued him. Harris was all hers.

Sighing, she dreamed about her future. If she could just gain fulltime employment, she could look for a little house for her and Harris. Living with her parents was difficult. She appreciated that they allowed her and Harris to stay with them, but they were always so critical. Her dad was old school and had almost cast her out of the house when she'd finally told him she was pregnant. Her mother had kept that from happening, but had harangued her ever since about being a "loose" woman. Even to this day, she got her jabs in. Living with her parents was a paradox. They loved and doted on Harris, but never let her forget she was a "fallen" woman.

Not feeling sleepy, she flipped her lamp back on and walked to the closet to retrieve her special box. Sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed, she opened it and lifted the top sheet of paper with her latest poem. Reaching back in the box she picked up her favorite pen and tapped it against her chin while rereading the first stanza.

His eyes, the color of love

Paint my soul with living shades

He is the shadow of my dreams

He knows me as no other

Will I ever meet him?

 After pondering a few minutes, she tried writing the next stanza, but scratched through the words. Searching her soul for inspiration, she finally wrote.

Do miles separate us?

Or is he the bright star in my backyard?

Is he fey?

Or is he man?

She reread the stanza.
I like it.

* * *

Miles watched Tooty's old pickup pull up in front of the cottage. The girl really needed better transportation. The vehicle backfired in a puff of smoke when she turned it off. He rolled to the front door and opened it.

"Good morning, Tooty."

"Good morning, sir."

Miles flinched at the greeting. It made him feel ancient.

The grin on her face piqued his curiosity. "What's up? You're smiling like a Cheshire cat."

Her grin widened and changed her average face into a pretty one. She had beautiful teeth. "Oh, when I dropped Harris off with Sarah, I found out that Jackson Martinez and Ann Hackstetter ran off to Las Vegas a couple weeks ago and got married. I've been rooting for them to get together ever since I saw them dancing at Jacob and Julie's reception." She stepped past him and into the living room.

Miles said, "You knew they should be together just by watching them dance?"

"Oh, yeah. It was like watching the best romance movie. You know, two people in love and not acknowledging it. They were like…like…so into each other."

Miles laughed, "Tooty, maybe you should be writing romance novels." He watched her turn a lovely shade of pink which made her dusting of freckles stand out.

"Well, guess I'll get to work." She hurried toward the office.

Miles watched her retreating back and his eyes dipped to admire her cute butt before he realized it. Jerking his wheelchair around, he pushed to his desk and fired up his laptop.

After an hour he felt frustrated with what he'd been working on for the past few days. The escape scene sounded stiff and contrived. Rolling to the office doorway, he saw Tooty biting her lower lip and the sight made him horny.
God, Miles, she's barely out of her teens. You need to get back to New York and give Monica a call.
She looked up and his heart thumped.

"Are there a lot of emails?" he asked.

"Yeah. Mostly from people excited about the upcoming sequel to the
Mac Righteous Series."

"You said once that you've read all my books. Did you like that series?"

Tooty's eyes got big. "You betcha. I'm looking forward to the new one, too."

"I'm happy to hear that because I have another project for you. I want you to read one of the scenes from the new book and tell me what's lacking. I can't seem to get it right."

"Really?!"

"Yes, really. Come with me."

An hour later, Miles had his wheelchair pulled to his desk pretending to write. He kept stealing glances at Tooty sitting on the couch.
Hell, why's it taking her an hour to read twenty pages. Maybe she's a slow reader.

* * *

Tooty chewed on the inside of her cheek. She'd read the escape scene five times. It needed some serious reworking, but how could she tell Miles in a nice way. On most days he was cranky and solitary. She glanced up to see him watching her.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Umm, I…I think you've made a good start."

"But…"

"Umm…"

"Tooty, just say what's on your mind. I didn't get to where I am without criticism."

"Okay." She inhaled deeply. "I think the scene comes off as being contrived; you know, made to fit the plot. I was thinking that instead of them getting away clean, it would be more exciting if they got caught, roughed up, escaped, and…and…"

"Yes…"

"Made love."

Miles groaned. "Tooty, was I right about you being a romantic?"

"Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with your book. I've read all your books and loved them, but…but I think if you added more romance, you'd increase your audience. Now, Mac is a great character, but he's predictable. Kind of a Sherlock Holmes on steroids. He needs someone to take him off kilter…shake him up. Make his heart pound. And I think this scene would be dynamite for doing that. I'd love to read about…" she paused.

"Tooty, you have me on the edge of my seat. You'd love to read
what?"

In a rush, she said, "How staunch Mac makes love. Especially, now that he and Anja are hiding out in some dingy abandoned warehouse not knowing if they'll live another day. If you were in dire circumstances and maybe about to die, wouldn't you want to experience passion with someone who trips your heart?"

Miles looked at her dumbfounded.

She glanced at her watch. "Well, looks like it's time to go. I'm taking Harris to buy one of the horses in that hot new line of toys, Happy Horses. See you tomorrow." She laid the pages on the coffee table and rushed from the house.

* * *

Miles watched Tooty's truck speed away…well, clunk away. God, he hated that truck. Wheeling to the table, he picked up the manuscript. Damn, he wished he hadn't asked for her opinion. She'd had his heart pounding by the time she'd finished her review of his work—Tooty Townsend, impoverished girl, unwed mother, and now critic of bestselling author Maxwell Henry.
Crap.

Tooty pulled into the driveway of her parents' small clapboard home a few blocks off Main Street. Just as she reached to unlatch Harris from his seat belt, her mother rushed onto the front porch waving something. She rolled down her window. "What's up, Mom?"

"The postman just dropped off this slip. He said you have certified registered mail and you have to sign for it personally. Might as well head over to the post office and see what it is."

"Hi, Grammy." Harris leaned toward Tooty's window.

"Hi, punkin pie. You wanna stay with me while your mother goes to the post office?"

"Okay. Did you make cookies?"

"I sure did—your favorites, too."

Grace Townsend walked around the truck and helped Harris out of his seat, giving him a loud, smacking kiss. Tooty sighed and backed out of the driveway. Why couldn't her mother turn some of that affection on her own daughter?

At the post office she waited in line behind Mrs. Doolittle who was sipping an iced coffee confection from Dixie's Cuppa Joe. Tooty said, "That looks delicious. What is it?"

"It's called a CinnaBomb. I think it's my favorite so far. You should try one."

"Oh, I will."
Yeah, if I ever get an extra few bucks.

Mrs. Doolittle walked to the counter. After she painstakingly perused several nature scene stamps, she finally bought a roll and waved goodbye to Tooty. The mail clerk said, "Hi, Tooty. Guess you're here for that big envelope."

"Yeah. I don't know what it is, but here's the notice Mr. Hornblower left with my mom."

Patty, the clerk for as long as Tooty could remember, walked behind a partition and returned with a thick envelope. "Sorry, but I have to ask for your ID."

"No problem." Tooty opened her purse and pulled out her driver's license.

Patty didn't even glance at it. "Sign here."

Tooty signed and when she turned to leave, Patty said, "You be sure and let me know if you won a million dollars."

Tooty laughed. "I surely will."

Back in her truck, she looked at the return address—a legal firm in Denver.
Jeez, nothing good comes from attorneys.
With shaking hands she tore the top of the envelope open and lifted the many pages out. She read the cover page.

Dear Ms. Townsend,