The Bull Rider's Christmas Baby Page 6

  “It could be a boy baby,” Bonnie said. Wren recognized her because of the pink Hello Kitty T-shirt she wore.

  “What if it’s an alien in there?” Betsy giggled.

  The ridiculous question coaxed Wren’s smile out of hiding. “I’ve thought of that,” she teased. “If I did have an alien, I’d want it to have polka-dotted skin.”

  Both girls took a minute to let this sink in.

  “Cool!” Betsy said.

  “Yeah!” Bonnie skipped in a circle.

  “You two always have this much energy?” Wren asked, continuing her journey.

  “Uh-huh.” In unison, they now skipped and hopped.

  Just think, in five short years she’d have one of these little walking atoms of her very own.

  “Wait up!”

  Wren looked behind her to find Cash jogging up the tree-lined driveway. As usual, he favored his right knee. Out of respect for his privacy, she’d stopped questioning him about it, but still wondered about the full extent of what was wrong. And if that was the reason he hadn’t been in a rodeo—or even a sponsored media event—since she’d lived in his home.

  “Uncle Cash!” The energy balls ran to meet him.

  Bonnie said, “Your girlfriend told us she’s gonna have an alien baby with polka dots and green-and-purple blood.”

  “That so?” Cash scooped up both girls, charging with them squealing all the way to where Wren stood smiling.

  “For the record,” she noted, giving both girls noogies, “I never said that about the blood.”

  “With these two—” Cash set them down “—I’ve got ten used to there being more fiction than fact.”

  “Give us another ride,” Betsy demanded.

  “No way. Uncle Cash is broken. Ask your dad to saddle up your ponies.”

  “Okay!” As suddenly as they’d arrived, the duo was now dashing off for a new adventure.

  “Those two are a mess.” Cash fell into step with Wren.

  “I didn’t want to ask at dinner, but where’s their mom?”

  “Family graveyard. Died in labor.”

  “Wow.” Heat rushed through her. From what she’d read, giving birth was like landing a plane. A delicate process that usually went well, but sometimes horribly wrong. “Wish I hadn’t asked.”

  “Was a freak thing. She started bleeding and didn’t stop. Dallas was destroyed. He and Bobbie Jo were together for as long as I can remember. Literally since like the sixth grade.”

  “I can’t imagine surviving such a loss.” Which proved Wren’s point that giving your heart was more likely to cause harm than good.

  “You scared about the baby’s grand entry?” On the tail end of his question, Cash caught her gaze.

  A part of her wanted to be truthful that, yes, she was terrified of not only the birthing process, but everything that came after. Having had no mother of her own, would she instinctively know how to care for their child? Another part of her thought it best that she follow her long-standing rule of keeping her most private thoughts inside. That way, when she and Cash went their separate ways, he wouldn’t keep part of her with him.

  “I’m taking your silence as an affirmative.” Casually resting his arm across her shoulders, he gave her a squeeze. “Sorry I told you about Bobbie Jo. Should’ve kept it to myself.”

  “That’s okay. It’s not like I haven’t learned people die.”

  “True.” When he released her, for a split second she was lonely. Then she regained her senses.

  They walked for a few minutes in companionable silence, listening to wind whisper through tall grasses. Oklahoma had a grandeur she hadn’t been prepared for. Rolling, cattle-dotted hills that stretched all the way to the horizon. The sun was setting, making the September air nippy while at the same time washing the sky in a hundred shades of orange, lavender and gold.

  Had she and Cash been a couple, now would’ve been the perfect time to snuggle against him, sharing his warmth.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Cash said once they were almost to the house. “But what did my mother have to say out in her garden? I wanted to warn you that nothing good ever comes from conversations held out there, but Dallas and Wyatt wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.”

  “They’re a couple of characters.”

  He chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly. But back to Mom…”

  “Same CD, different track. If I can’t bring myself to marry you, she wants me to at least move to Weed Gulch.”

  “How are you supposed to finish your residency here?” He mounted the wide slate steps leading to the front door.

  “My point exactly. My mentor, Dr. West, has said she’ll help me return to the program, but if I’m not in her hospital, I doubt knowing her will pull much weight.”

  “You’ll work it out. I have faith in you.”

  His words warmed her heart. Wren stood staring at Cash until he held open the door, gesturing for her to enter first.

  It felt good to be back. The house had become her haven, with its soaring ceilings and walls of glass. Scents of lemon oil and the lingering fragrance of whatever Mrs. Cahwood had cooked for dinner. The housekeeper was typically in and out before Wren had even showered. Ever since moving in with Cash, her usually frenetic pace had become downright decadent. She now read exclusively for pleasure, snacked and lounged. At first her new routine had felt like a hard-won vacation, but lately she’d grown a little bored and frustrated. She struggled to squelch the constant feeling that she should be doing something more productive than resting.

  “It’s chilly,” Cash said. “Want me to build a fire and you pick a movie?”

  “Sounds nice.” A wonderful departure from worrying about their baby’s delivery or Cash’s scowling mother. “I haven’t seen a movie in probably a year.”

  “Really?” At the hearth he meticulously laid a kindling base, setting larger sticks atop that and finally adding a couple of logs. “Dallas’s kid duo conned me into a Disney marathon a few weeks back.” After striking a match, he eased it under the smallest twigs, soon immersing the room in a dancing glow.

  His every movement mesmerized her. He was so cap able and sure. Granted, he’d only built a fire, but with all her book smarts, it wasn’t something she could do.

  Staring into the flames, he said, “Don’t tell anyone, but Pocahontas and Beauty and the Beast were pretty damned good.”

  Wren laughed. “Afraid you might tarnish your manly-man image?”

  “Never.” His cocky grin convinced her all was well when it came to his ego. “I just want to ensure those little monsters don’t make a habit of crashing at Uncle Cash’s. Took me a couple days to fish all the Gummi Bears out of my furniture.”

  “Betsy and Bonnie are adorable. What’re you talking about?”

  “Don’t let those sweet facades fool you.” He parked himself on the opposite end of the sofa to her. “Well?”

  “What?” When he smiled, she lost track of time. The man was so handsome, it hurt.

  “I did my part for the evening’s entertainment. Where’s our movie?”

  Yawning, she admitted, “I forgot. You pick.”

  “Woman…” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose you want me to make that popcorn for you, too?”

  Beaming up at him, she said, “Now that you mention it, that would be—oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Hands over her belly, she said, “The baby’s feeling his oats. I think he just took out one of my ribs.”

  “Mind if I…” He cautiously approached, holding out his right hand as if he wanted to feel the phenomenon for himself, but was afraid to ask.

  Snagging Cash’s wrist, Wren drew him close, placing his large hand on her stomach. Within a few seconds their baby kicked again.

  “Holy crap…” Eyes wide, he shook his head. “Does that hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Usually just feels funny—like an inside tickle.”

  Sitting on the sofa beside her, he n
ow had both hands over her belly. When the baby kicked again and again, Cash grinned and said, “Screw the movie. Our kid is way more entertaining.”

  Funny, she was just thinking the same thing about him.

  “You’re glowing,” he said, holding her gaze the way he had in Vegas. With just a look, he stripped her bare. Made her long for an indefinable something she knew she shouldn’t crave. “Crazy beautiful is what you are and I’m going to kiss you.”

  She should have stopped him, but when he slipped his left hand under her hair with his right still hugging their baby, denial was an impossibility. He kissed her softly and then hard and then every way in between. He stroked her tongue and then lifted her on top of him, urging her legs apart to straddle his waist. With her knees pressing into the soft sofa cushions, an infinitely more sensitive area sat atop throbbing proof of his still-thriving attraction for her.

  When she moaned, he eased his hands under her shirt, smoothing her back while bucking in a slow and easy rhythm old as time.

  Voice raspy, Cash asked, “What’d the doc say about us makin’ whoopee?”

  “I—I never thought to ask.”

  “Yeah, well, you should….” He kissed her a few more times. “But until you find out, you’re going to have to excuse me before all the gentleman in me runs out.”

  “OUCH. LOOKS LIKE YOU got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  The next morning, tired and cranky after an exhausting night spent wide awake and lusting, the last person Wren wanted to see was Georgina, but there she stood in all of her towering, Buckhorn glory at the open front door.

  “Good thing I brought fiber muffins. They’ll perk you right up.” Bustling past Wren, the older woman strode to the kitchen, setting a cloth-covered basket on the granite counter. Over her shoulder she’d slung a large bag, the contents of which she’d yet to reveal. “I don’t know about you, but every time I got pregnant, my body played a new trick. With Cash, my lower tummy refused to play nice. My mother—bless her soul—made me this recipe and it always did the trick.”

  “Um, thank you.” Was she truly standing in the kitchen talking about an insanely personal issue with a woman she hardly knew?

  “My pleasure,” Cash’s mom said. “Now, let’s get you back on the sofa, where I’m going to teach you to needlepoint.”

  “That’s an awfully nice offer,” Wren said, already tired from the short walk, “but I’m clueless when it comes to crafts.”

  “Needlepoint isn’t a craft,” she said, shooing Wren back to her blanketed sofa nest, “but a womanly art. Next time you’re over for dinner, I want you to get a good look at the dining-room chairs. My ancestors stitched every one of the cushions.”

  “Seriously?” Wren had heard of such things—families holding on to those kind of priceless antiques—but she’d never seen them.

  “Of course I’m serious. And trust me, you’d be better off starting on your first project before the baby comes. Once your little bundle of energy arrives, your life will never be the same.”

  “HAVEN’T SEEN MUCH OF YOU lately.” Dallas did a head count of the cattle in the northeast pasture. Usually Wyatt would step in to help their oldest brother, but he’d taken a sick calf into town to the vet.

  “Been busy.” Cash tipped his hat brim in an attempt to keep cold rain from his eyes. It was a miserable morning to be a working cowboy. Especially after the three long, miserable nights he’d spent horny for the woman sleeping in the room across the hall. Damn, but his baby’s mama was a sexy little thing.

  Since feeling their baby kick, Cash had made a conscious effort to keep her smiling. They’d made another library run and a trip to the grocery store to stock up on the purple grapes and Doritos she’d been craving. He’d even put wildflowers in a vase on her nightstand. Truth was, the mother of his child was growing on him—figuratively and literally!

  From the first time she’d placed his hand on her belly, it was as if he’d been possessed with thoughts of not only her, but their child. Were they having a boy or a girl? Would he or she be healthy? Would Wren’s blood pres sure remain normal?

  As Dallas logged the count with wax pencil on a laminated chart, Cash wondered how he kept his head from exploding with all his efficiency. Their father had never relied on charts or graphs. He’d stored everything upstairs.

  Reining his mount toward the northwest pasture, Dallas asked, “What have you been doing? Wyatt says you’ve been slacking on your rehabilitation. You told us you’d be back on tour in a couple weeks. I realize Wren’s been a distraction, but Wyatt figures you’ve missed at least three stops and enough sponsor events to get yourself fired.”

  “Wyatt needs to mind his own business.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, but you are our business. Mom’s pushing me over the edge with nagging.” He snorted. “Not only is she worried about your knee, but she thinks I can shame you into giving Wren and your baby your name.”

  “Stop. When you called at an ungodly hour asking for help today, I didn’t think your ulterior motive was to ambush me.”

  “More like talk sense into you. The clock’s ticking and before you know it, this baby will be here and gone. That what you really want?”

  Approaching a steep slope, forcing his attention to directing his horse, Cash wasn’t sure what he wanted other than for Dallas to shut his piehole. “Look, Wren’s my business. As is my kid.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. This child is a Buckhorn, and don’t you forget it.” Dallas’s horse turned skittish at his harsh tone. “First and foremost, you are to remember your family name. When Dad died, he left me in charge, and I refuse to allow you to bring scandal upon his legacy.”

  “For God’s sake,” Cash shouted back at his big brother, “would you please step out of the Old West and into the new millennium? Obviously I have no business being a husband or father. Yes, I’ll be sad when Wren takes the baby with her, but what if I’m also relieved? Did you ever think of that?”

  “If I weren’t mounted, I’d slug you right in the jaw.” As the rain fell harder, Dallas worked his fists. “Can you even imagine what my girls have been through not having their mother? All the time, they’re asking me girl stuff for which I don’t have answers. What is your son or daughter going to do when they have questions? What’s the reason Wren’s going to give them for why their daddy stays away? No, he’s not in heaven, just too caught up in his own good time to give a damn about his offspring.”

  “THIS IS DELICIOUS, Mrs. Cahwood. Thank you.” While the housekeeper hovered, Wren pressed a napkin to her lips. Back in Baltimore, breakfast consisted of an energy bar. If she were really lucky, she might also have time for yogurt or a banana. “You’re spoiling me.”

  The perpetually cheerful older woman shrugged. With her hair in a messy French twist and usual white blouse always paired with pearls, she’d have been a dead ringer for June Cleaver if she hadn’t also habitually worn blue jeans. “I like spoiling you. Plus, it’ll be nice having a little one around the house.”

  Wren’s stomach sank. Was it a middle-America thing that had everyone in her current circle assuming that just because she carried Cash’s baby they’d be together forever?

  She finished her latest strip of turkey bacon. “I guess Cash hasn’t told you, but after I have the baby, I’ll be moving back to Baltimore. I need to finish my residency.”

  “But isn’t that very time-consuming?” The woman quickened her pace on wiping the counters. “Who will watch your child? I have four, and trust me, that first one sucks the life right out of you.”

  “The hospital where I’ll be working has an excellent day care. Plus, my mentor, Dr. West, has more contacts than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s already offered to help.”

  “I understand that sort of thing if you have no other option, but when you have a built-in support system right here in Weed Gulch, why would you want to leave?”

  She made it sound so simple. As if giving up on a goal she’d worked
her entire life to achieve was no big deal. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but did you ever want more from life? Something other than caring for your own or someone else’s home?”

  “Sure. Believe it or not,” she said with a pat to her ample behind, “I dreamed of becoming a Rockette. I did it, too.”

  “Really?” Wren was so surprised she dropped her toast.

  “You don’t have to look so shocked.”

  “Sorry. I just never would’ve suspected it.”

  Brandishing still long and lean legs, Mrs. Cahwood said, “I danced in a reunion show just last year. A lot of my old friends got caught up in reminiscing, wishing they could be back in the limelight. But you know what I remember most about that time?”

  Leaning forward, Wren asked, “Adoring fans? Gorgeous costumes?”

  “Nope. I could never stop thinking about home. How much I missed my mom and dad and kid sister. I’d obtained something I’d worked for since my first dance class when I was only three years old, but without anyone there to share it with me, my victory felt hollow. Once my contract was up, I got a bank loan and set up my own little dance studio here in Weed Gulch. Turns out I loved teaching dance just as much as performing. Sure, it wasn’t anywhere near as flashy, but as I got older, my values changed. I discovered true happiness wasn’t in achieving an end goal, but in the journey.” Slipping the bacon pan into the sink, she added, “You might think about that next time you’re daydreaming about returning to the big city.”

  Chapter Seven

  Thursday afternoon Cash had finished his chores and found Wren reading by the pool. It was a gorgeous afternoon. Bright and sunny with temperatures in the mid-eighties. Perfect for drowning out Dallas’s condemning speech with fun. “Wanna join me for a swim?”

  “Love to,” she said, “but I don’t have a maternity suit.”

  “How’s that a problem?” He grinned. “Especially when God made you a perfectly fine birthday suit.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought until the doctor clears me for, um, action, we weren’t going to do any more of that kind of activity?”