Christmas Cookie Baby Page 5

  The bathroom door opened, and his future bride moved into the triangle of light spilling through, looking better than he ever had in a pair of his gray sweatpants and a Go Navy T-shirt with a big bulge in the middle. She’d towel-dried her long hair and the inky spirals left the white T-shirt’s shoulders damp. Even from this distance, her slumped posture read exhaustion, so he got up from his stool and guided her to the recliner he kept in front of a TV mainly used for placating antsy tourists while waiting out inclement weather.

  “I can walk, you know,” she said in a voice as chilly as the lake.

  “You also get an A-plus in cranky.”

  “Sorry.” Her expression was sincere. “I’m hungry—and I left my suitcase of snacks back at the lodge.”

  He laughed.

  “What?”

  “You and your snacks. I’ll be sure to stock up for you by the time you get to my house.”

  Fingering her hair, she said, “What do you mean, get to your house? For the next week, I’ll be perfectly fine at the lodge.” She paused. “I never planned to stay that long, but the airfare was way cheaper.”

  “Makes sense.” He reached into a cabinet for a box of crackers and a can of squirt cheese. “For tonight, anyway. I imagine it’ll take until morning to get a marriage license, but by tomorrow night you’ll be living with me.”

  “Excuse me?” She froze.

  He held out her goodies. “What don’t you understand?”

  “How about every word out of your mouth?” She snatched the food items.

  He reached for the recliner’s side handle and flung her back. “Colby!”

  “Sorry. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

  “I’m not. In case you’ve suddenly gone blind as well as crazy, I was already sitting down.”

  “Yeah, but you should be lying down, after falling in the water and traveling and all.”

  She sighed.

  “Oh, hey, give me those.” He snatched back the crackers and cheese. “Where are my manners?” In seconds, he’d prepared three crackers, each piled with a perfect cheese spiral. He held one to her lips. “Eat.”

  He could tell her first instinct was to bat his hand away, but evidently hunger got the best of her as she jumped at his bait like a rainbow trout after one of his best flies.

  “Thankwou,” she said around chewing. She swallowed, then nailed him with an amber-flecked glare. “Colby, as nice as all this invalid treatment is, you do understand I’m pregnant and not dying?”

  He shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve missed enough of my son’s life. I’m not going to miss a second more.” My dad left me and I’ll be damned if I let anything get between me and my boy—even his mom.

  “Yes, well.” She dropped her gaze. “That’s just it. My being here is a merely a courtesy call. A chance for us to develop a mutually beneficial game plan—that doesn’t include marriage.”

  Chapter Five

  COLBY FORCED A deep breath. “Let’s recap. You show up seven months’ pregnant by my calculations, then tell me it’s my baby. I’m cool with that. Granted, it’s a shock, but the more I think about it, the more I figure the three of us are going to lead a great life.”

  “True—only we’ll be leading those lives mostly apart.”

  He frowned. “Wrong answer.”

  “Baby Talbot and I, we’ll be in Chicago, while you’ll be—ooh!” Her cheeks took on a flushed glow, and her eyes sparkled.

  “What?” On his knees beside her, he asked, “Are you all right? Does bickering hurt the baby?”

  She grinned and took the other two crackers from his open palm, popping one into her mouth and setting the other on her chest. Then she reached for his hand, curving his fingers around the peak of what he’d already dubbed Mt. Saint Nick in honor of the fact that the little guy had been conceived on a mountain on Christmas Eve.

  “What?” he asked again.

  “Shh…” She moved his hand slightly higher. “Feel.”

  “Whoa!” Tears sprang to Colby’s eyes. “Was that what I think it was?”

  She nodded. “That’s my son.”

  “Don’t you mean our son?”

  “Well, technicallwy,” she said around the last cracker. “But here’s the deal. I didn’t come here wanting anything from you. I’m prepared to raise this baby on my own.”

  “And the thought never occurred to you that I might want to do more for my kid than send him a few postcards of grizzlies and the Northern Lights?”

  She wriggled her sock-clad toes.

  He reached for her chin, gently turning her to face him. “Answer me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the idea of you being a full-time dad is so far outside of the realm of possibility it never even crossed my mind. I mean, I’ve reserved a nanny, and a slot in my company’s day care, and…”

  Her tone implied that since she already had all those logistics worked out, her son didn’t even need a dad.

  Colby took a deep breath.

  Maybe he was going about this all wrong. He’d never liked being told what to do. Could he blame Rose if she didn’t, either?

  Taking her hands, he said, “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was ramming my agenda down your throat, but work with me here. You’ve had seven months to adjust to this news and I’ve had about twenty minutes. I just, well, I assumed you were here to get married.”

  “I can see where you would,” she said, “and I suppose in the case of other women, you could be right in that assumption, but…” She blinked fast a couple of times. “The whole marriage thing—it’s not for me. Besides which, there’s my job to consider. Not to mention the not-so-little matter of us practically being strangers. Anyway, sorry I snapped at you. After my snack, I’m feeling much calmer.”

  “Good.” He nodded while rubbing her belly, hoping for another feel of his wriggling son. “Calm is great. But here’s my take on the matter—my son isn’t growing up without his father.”

  While she’d been in the shower, he’d scoured the place for an engagement ring, but the only thing he’d come up with was a large nut—the metal kind, not a walnut or pecan. He fumbled getting it out of his jeans pocket.

  Clink. It hit the hardwood floor before rolling beneath Rose’s chair.

  Colby groaned.

  She peered over the edge of her seat and said, “Look, if you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do, you might as well save your breath.”

  Grunting, he shoved her chair a good fifteen inches back, causing another screech.

  When the chair lurched, she grabbed the top of his head, but her pulling his hair didn’t hurt—at least not physically. Emotionally, though, it reminded him of that night, and the way she’d plunged her fingers into his hair every time he’d brought her to—

  “Found it.” If only he could as easily find a fix for the fire raging beneath his fly.

  He blew on the nut, buffed it across his T-shirt to make sure it had a sort of pretty shine. Since he was already on his knees, he figured at least that “down on bended knee” thing was covered. He cleared his throat, then reached for Rose’s left hand, but she’d already clenched it into a fist.

  “Come on,” he complained. “How am I supposed to propose if you won’t even let me see your ring finger?”

  “Simple. You’re not proposing. I already told you I didn’t come up here to find a husband, but solely to fulfill my moral obligation and offer visitation rights.”

  “Oh…” At that, he had to laugh. “But you don’t think you have a moral obligation for our baby to grow up in a loving, two-parent home?”

  “Who said anything about love? All I see is some guy on his knees, holding… What is that thing?”

  “A hex nut. Are you turning me down just because I’m not offering a three-carat rock?”

  “Not at all. I’m turning you down for one, simple reason.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “I
’m never getting married. Please understand—it’s nothing personal. You’re a great guy. But I made the decision a long time ago and plan to stick to it.”

  “Yeah, well, I can be just as bullheaded, and I say we are getting married.”

  “Aren’t.”

  “Are.”

  “Aren’—”

  He stopped the mother of his son mid-protest with the mother of all kisses.

  At first, she stiffened, but then he slipped his hand beneath her tangled, still-damp hair. That only made him want more, so he moved closer, close enough that he was almost sharing the recliner. But then baby Nick was getting in the way, so Colby had to finagle himself into an even more awkward position. The recliner lurched, squeaking and creaking before shattering into a half-dozen splintered sections.

  “Colby!” Rose cried. “Are you trying to kill us?”

  “Nope.” He drew her into another kiss. “Just trying to create a good excuse for putting a recliner at the top of our list when we register for wedding gifts down at Schlump’s Hardware, Furniture, Jewelry and Fishing Tackle.”

  “MMM…” ROSE POPPED the last bite of prime rib sandwich into her mouth. Sensing a stalemate back at Colby’s so-called office, she’d convinced him to return her to Kodiak Lodge.

  While he’d waited for their dinner order to arrive, she’d waddled upstairs to smooth her hair into a crude French twist, then change into business attire. The straight-lined black dress and flats had fit better when she’d been at five months, but the scratchy linen blend made her feel more in control than when she’d been cocooned in the soft cotton and all-too-familiar scents of Colby’s sweats.

  “Now see?” She finished off her garlic toast. “Doesn’t a nice hot meal make everything better?”

  Colby grunted.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She fanned herself while moving her chair back from the crackling fire. Granted, it was a little chilly outside, but this was ridiculous.

  “You hot?”

  She nodded.

  He frowned, got up, grabbed her milk and plate, then set them on a table beside the long bank of picture windows overlooking the sun-kissed lake. When she made no move to get up, he asked, “Want me to carry you?”

  Rolling her eyes, she struggled to her feet, then crossed to the new table. After taking her seat, she gulped her milk and wished it was a large, caffeine-laden Mountain Dew.

  Nugget, the lodge’s owner, must’ve eyed them through the kitchen pass-through. Big as a lumber-jack and wielding a meat cleaver as efficiently as any ax, he ambled their way, his expression as fiery as his red hair. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “Don’t like that table?”

  “She’s hot,” Colby said.

  “You gonna clean both messes?”

  “If it’s a problem,” Rose said, “I can move back.” She snatched a menu from between the salt-and-pepper shakers to use as a fan.

  “Ladybug.” Nugget placed his meaty hand on Rose’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem for you—just him. Oh, here, let me refill this for you. A woman in your condition can never drink too much milk.” He shot Colby a look, then snatched Rose’s empty glass, returning with it full to the brim.

  “All right…” Colby sighed, eased back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Let’s have it, Nugget. What’s stuck in your craw?”

  The lodge owner eyed him a good long while with a merciless beady blue stare. “You wanna know what’s in my craw, Colby Davis? Then I suggest you head on down to the library and bone up on the Kodiak Gorge history of deadbeat dads.”

  Colby pressed his lips tight.

  Nugget all but growled before stalking back to his lair.

  “What was that about?” Rose leaned forward as much as Baby Talbot would allow.

  “Take a wild guess.”

  “I wouldn’t have a clue.”

  He snorted.

  “What? How am I supposed to know?”

  He leaned forward, too, enough so that the lingering scents of prime rib and sour cream combined with the scents that on that long-ago snowy night, she’d come to know as him. Sweat. Leather. Airplanes, and the sexy speed that they implied.

  It took her a second to regroup before she’d even realized he’d been talking. “Excuse me?”

  “What part about the fact that my good friend Nugget thinks I’m a world-class screw-up didn’t you understand?”

  “All of it.” She smiled.

  Leaning back, he sighed. “Look, he obviously thinks you’re here to claim a husband for you, and a father for your baby. And rightly so. Hell—I’m prepared to make an honest woman of you just as soon as we can get the license, but—”

  “But I’m being stubborn as a big ol’ Alaska-sized moose, right?” She’d adopted what she hoped was an appropriate back-country twang.

  “This isn’t a joke, Rose. We’re talking about a child here—my child.”

  “Correction—my child.”

  “Okay…” He eased back in his chair, rubbing his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “For the sake of the argument, let’s agree to address Nick as our child.”

  “Fine. Only his name is going to be Talbot.”

  “Over my dead and bloated body.”

  “Hmm…” She leaned forward to add emphasis to her upcoming point. “That’s a mighty tempting proposition that I—”

  Splash!

  Rose’s freshly poured milk tipped, sloshing over her and the table and the floor and her dress and—

  “You were saying?” Colby grinned.

  “Here’s napkins,” Nugget called as he hustled from the kitchen. To Colby, he added, “What’re you doing just sitting there? Can’t you see the lady needs help?”

  The trio of men who’d been sitting in the corner eating burgers also leapt to her assistance. “Let me help, ma’am,” the biggest said.

  “Thanks, Stanley, but I’ve got this.” Colby pushed back his chair, napkins in hand. He parted the crowd to pat Rose’s lap. “After all, she is about to be my wife.”

  “Then you already asked her to marry you?” Nugget released a gush of air. “That’s a load off. I was afraid you’d taken the same path as—”

  “I’m not.” Continuing with his task, Colby ran the napkin across regions of Rose’s lap he hadn’t touched since…

  Her cheeks flamed.

  “In fact,” he dabbed the soggy napkin up her inner thigh, “for the past hour we’ve been hammering out the details of our upcoming ceremony, haven’t we, babe?” His lowered tone, gritted teeth, and squeeze to her knee implied that, for whatever reason, he wanted her to play along with his delusion, but Rose was having none of it.

  “No, babe, if you’d ever stop arguing long enough to listen to reason, you’d have heard me patiently explain that in today’s society—”

  Lips pressed into a dangerously thin line, right in the middle of her latest speech, Colby slapped the sodden napkin to her almost-empty plate, then stormed out of the lodge. And hey, she’d still had a baked potato skin left that she’d been planning to dip in ketchup!

  How dare he not only ruin her potato, but walk out on her like that? Leaving her alone with four gaping strangers and the bill.

  “You really oughta marry him,” said a squat man with a big red nose and even bigger black cowboy hat. “Elsewise, there’ll be no livin’ with him.”

  The burly guy Colby had called Stanley removed his worn brown UPS hat to swat the shorter guy on the back of his head. “Damn straight there’ll be no livin’ with him. Colby’ll move to wherever she lives.”

  “What if that’s Texas? You know how he hates Texas.”

  “Well, then, he’ll just have to deal with it when the time comes.”

  “Yeah, well, what if she’s from some fool place like California? Then what’s he gonna—”

  The graying man, who up to this point had stayed out of it, dropped to one knee in front of Rose, removing his Kodiak Gorge Auto Repair ball cap to tuck it beneath his left arm. “Ma’am,” h
e said, boldly grasping her hand, “if Colby won’t marry you, I will.”

  Nugget started swatting all three of them with the dishrag he’d brought from the kitchen. “All of you, hush up and leave her alone. For pity’s sake. You’d think none of you’d ever seen a woman before.”

  “None pretty as her,” the graying man said.

  To Rose, Nugget said, “Go on upstairs and change. I’ll clean this mess.”

  “Thanks, but I want to help.” Rose swished yet another napkin through the largest white puddle. “I can’t let you do all of this.” She tried getting up, but her belly caught the edge of the table, shifting it just enough to knock the ketchup bottle onto the polished wood floor. It shattered into a goopy red mess. “I’m sorry. The baby’s growing so fast. I guess I’m not used to having my own zip code.”

  All four of them had stopped bickering to stare.

  “What?” Rose asked.

  Nugget shook his head. “You need looking after.”

  Looking after? The man acted like she was a child, instead of about to have her own child. “I’ve been self-sufficient for quite some time—not to mention the fact that I graduated in the top two percent of my college class.”

  Laughing, Nugget said, “That’s book smarts. What I’m talkin’ about is common sense. The kind of sense that if you had even a smidgen of, you’d be using to run right out that door and ask Colby to marry you.”

  “But I barely know him,” Rose explained. “We live thousands of miles apart. Why would we even want to get married?”

  The three stooges gravely shook their heads before returning to their table.

  With one last snort, Nugget pushed through the swinging kitchen door only to return moments later with a bucket and mop.

  After he shooed her out of the dining room, Rose trudged upstairs to change from her stained dress into comfy stretch-waist jeans, a white Hillborough College sweatshirt and her extra pair of dry sneakers.

  In her charming room with its gabled ceiling and yellow-and-blue calico bedspread and curtains, she cast the bed a longing stare. But it would probably be best for the baby if she worked off some of the negative energy still zinging through her from her time spent with Colby.