The Cowboy is a Daddy

by Mindy Neff

  She nearly rolled her eyes. She was wearing ancient sweats that bagged at the knees and the seat, and she didn’t have on a speck of makeup behind the lenses of her glasses.

  “Obviously you’re as sleep deprived as I am.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, wishing she’d taken more time to fix it.

  The smell of earth and animals emanated from him, making her knees weak. She glanced at the shipping cartons then back to him. “I would have never pictured you thumbing through or shopping with catalogues.”

  His gaze lingered on her mouth. “I’m fairly resourceful. When I see something I want, I usually get it.”

  For some reason, she didn’t think he was talking about mail-order merchandise. Nervous for no good reason, she licked her lips. Her smile faltered when she saw the sudden heat in his dark eyes. Her arms went weak and trembly, making her fear dropping the baby. For the life of her, she couldn’t move or make her voice work.

  The grandfather clock chimed the hour. A ranch hand shouted outside, and horses’ hooves thundered.

  He took a step closer, bent his head ever so slightly.

  Her eyes widened. Dear Lord, he had the look of a man with a keen thirst. Was he actually about to kiss her? Was she going to let him?

  Oh, this was unfamiliar territory. At one time she’d played the game—the man-woman game—but it had been a long time ago. She was rusty, unsure of reading the signals correctly.

  Her heart pumped and her stomach fluttered. Something cold trickled against her breasts.

  Abbe squirmed and fussed.

  And just that quickly, the odd moment was broken.

  As though she’d imagined the whole charged episode, his gaze shifted to the baby.

  “Her eyes are open.”

  Maddie looked down. Yes, Abbe was awake—as usual. And as usual, when she looked at her baby daughter, love, powerful and all consuming, squeezed her.

  On the heels of that emotion, though, came acute horror.

  The front of her sweatshirt sported twin damp spots.

  It seemed she was destined to be put in highly embarrassing situations with this man.

  “Um...maybe I should go change...her.”

  His lips curved ever so slightly. “Yeah.” He backed up a step, pulled his gloves out of his hip pocket and looked everywhere but at her. “I’ve got a fence down in the back section I need to get to. I’ll put the crib together later.”

  She nodded, started toward the bedroom, then stopped. “Brice?”

  “Yeah?”

  He’d already turned and had his hand on the front doorknob—which of course gave her another excellent visual feast of his sexy butt framed by buff-colored chaps. She nearly lost her train of thought.

  He cleared his throat and her gaze snapped up to his, her face flaming. For Pete’s sake, she was not the sort of woman who had to pick her tongue up off the floor!

  Obviously, breast feeding had sucked the brains right out of her head.

  What had she been about to ask? Oh, yes, the boxes.

  “Would you mind if I, uh, looked at what you ordered?” She hoped her wistfulness didn’t show. But darn it, gifts were a rare occurrence in her life.

  “Be my guest. They’re yours.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. Those two words were packed with more meaning than he could know.

  He looked as though he was about to say something else, then changed his mind and pulled on his gloves.

  “Don’t lift anything heavy. I’ll take care of it when I get back.” He touched the brim of his hat, the gesture reminding her of romance and gallantry. She half expected him to add a shyly abrupt, ma’am as she’d seen countless times in Westerns, but he just pulled open the door and walked through.

  Maddie stood right where she was for several minutes, the damp circles on the front of her sweatshirt growing wider.

  At last she looked down at her wide-eyed baby daughter.

  “Here’s your first piece of motherly advice, pumpkin. When you become the first woman president, you’ll have to introduce a bill to Congress making leather chaps illegal to wear in public. Especially if the cowboy in question turns his back. It’s enough to make a tough woman swoon. And that of course, could cause all manner of mayhem—wrecks on the expressway, collisions at stop lights...heart attacks. Definitely dangerous.

  Abbe yawned.

  “You’re right. Forget the law.”

  4

  “Good Lord, I’ve only been here three days and look what I’ve done.” The kitchen was doing an excellent imitation of a disaster area, and if it were possible, Maddie felt worse than the room looked.

  “Shhh, Abbe, don’t cry, sweetie.” She paced and jiggled and hummed—all the while looking at the mess she’d made.

  Cooking from scratch was not her strong suit. The biscuits were charred, the stew meat tough as cow’s hide, and the gravy the consistency of lumpy water. It was too late to do anything about the biscuits—she’d just have to improvise with bread. As for the lumps, they could be fished out if she could ever find the danged slotted spoon.

  For the hundredth time in the past forty-five minutes, she longed for her coveted microwave, which was sitting in a lonely storage unit in Dallas. A quick zap and the undercooked stew meat would at least be chewable.

  So much for her vow of making herself indispensable, she thought. One look at this mess and, car fixed or not, Brice would probably drive her off his property himself.

  Right now, though, she had a more immediate concern, because Abbe simply wouldn’t settle down.

  And Maddie was on the verge of bawling right along with her unhappy daughter, who fussed and fidgeted in a sling that was draped over Maddie’s shoulder.

  “Please, baby. Tell Mama what you want.” She opened her blouse and held her breath, her eyes stinging as Abbe sucked. Sweat beaded her lip as painful chills pricked her skin.

  The kitchen door opened and Maddie’s head snapped up.

  Brice came in, trailed by three cowboys, bringing with them the smell of animals and earth and crisp Wyoming air. In the process of peeling off hats, gloves and winter coats, it was a moment before Brice looked up.

  When he did, he came to an abrupt halt, causing the other three cowboys to plow into his back like a choreographed skit in a slapstick comedy.

  “Holy smoke! What happened in here?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Dinner?” he repeated, looking at the charred biscuits, the flour dusting the floor and counters like new snow, the carrot peelings streaking the porcelain sink orange.

  His dark blue gaze went to the sling that shielded Abbe—as well as Maddie’s breasts—from view.

  “What in tarnation are you yammerin’ about?” Mo complained. “And stoppin’ in the middle of the door like that, you ’bout rattled my teeth loose.” He looked over Brice’s shoulder. “Oh, evenin’, Miss Maddie.”

  By now the other two cowboys were shuffling their feet and trying to figure out where to look—or not to look.

  Moe turned on them. “Get,” he ordered. “Cain’t ya see the lady needs privacy?”

  “No,” Maddie said, embarrassed, but sure that all her body parts were covered. She wouldn’t cause the men to change their routine on her account.

  Of course, they might think twice once they tasted the dinner.

  Brice took another look around the kitchen, which appeared pretty unrecognizable at the moment. Even he hadn’t managed to do this much damage in an hour.

  And Madison didn’t look much better. She resembled a rain cloud about to burst, yet was putting on a brave front.

  “You shouldn’t be trying to cook so soon,” he said, thinking that was a hell of an understatement. He lifted the lid on a pot where vegetables swam in dung-colored water. It smelled decent enough. The biscuits were another matter entirely. Definitely a lost cause. “I appreciate it, though. We’re starving, right guys?”

  The trio still standing in the doorway murmured their agreement.
<
br />   Madison gave a muffled laugh, causing him to swing around.

  Apology and amusement shone in her eyes. “I don’t usually make such a mess of things. I’m normally very organized. However, before you speak too hastily about appreciation, you might consider calling the pizza man.”

  He appreciated a woman who could laugh at her mistakes. He’d thought she was on the verge of tears because she’d muffed the dinner—and totaled his kitchen in the bargain. But that wasn’t the case. She was simply exhausted, understandably wrung out because of the baby and recent childbirth.

  He felt a grin tug at his lips. “Pizza parlors don’t deliver out this far.”

  Her blond brows rose above her round spectacles. “Pity. They don’t operate on the same motto as the UPS guys, hmm?”

  Brice knew the delivery truck had been here again today. He’d seen it when he’d been rescuing a dogie from a briar patch. “Was the shipment complete?”

  “I certainly hope so. Did you order every item in the baby section of the JCPenney catalogue?”

  He felt his ears burn and turned to grab a loaf of bread off the counter. The other men in the room were shooting him speculative looks, and he knew he’d take a lot more ribbing before all was said and done. But what the hell. It was his ranch; he was the boss. He could order any damned thing he wanted.

  “I might have missed a thing or two. So what came today?”

  “A fanciful mobile with plush lambs and teddy bears, and a plastic bathtub with a sponge insert shaped like a duck.”

  “That should be it for a while.” He stepped aside as Moe opened the refrigerator and took out a tub of butter and a jar of Letty Springer’s homemade jelly. Dan Shuller and Randy Toval still hovered just inside the doorway.

  Moe tossed a look at the cowhands. “If you’re not gonna get, then sit. Or better yet, make yerselves useful and set some eatin’ trays on the table.”

  “I’ll do it,” Madison said, adjusting the sling to better cover the baby and attempting to stand. “Is there just the four of you?”

  Brice lunged forward, as though he expected her to fall face first.

  Moe, apparently thinking the same thing, nearly tripped over his boss in his headlong rush.

  “Now you jest rest there, missy. These cowboys know how to pull their weight.”

  She hesitated.

  Brice grinned. “He’s a bossy old cuss. Better do what he says.”

  Moe made a colorful remark, then apologized for speaking so in front of a lady and baby.

  Brice washed his hands and dished up five bowls of stew—or soup, rather—and set them on the table. He didn’t know where these protective, coddling instincts had come from, and he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling.

  But one glance at the baby sleeping like an angel in Madison’s arms made him go all soft in the head. The look of love on her face as she gazed down at her daughter simply arrested him, made him forget what he was doing until the heat from the soup bowl singed his fingers.

  He wondered what it would be like to have someone look at him like that. And he wondered where that particular thought had come from.

  “Eat,” he ordered softly.

  She gave him a sheepish smile. “So you can see if I keel over from the disaster?”

  “I’m more worried about you keeling over from exhaustion than the food.”

  He sat down and took a bite. The vegetables were overcooked, the potatoes mushy, and the meat undercooked. Those lumps floating on top weren’t dumplings; they were clumps of flour. But it was hot and chased away the chill of the day. “Not bad,” he said.

  “That’s sweet of you to say, even though you’re lying through your teeth.”

  “Shame on you. Cowboys never lie. It’s in the code.”

  Maddie smiled, wishing she had the energy to just sit here and watch him. Oh, he was a fine specimen of a man.

  And he was her employer, she reminded herself. Not some beefcake pinup to drool over. And if he found out she was basically on the run, that she was using the cover of this job as a hideout, he’d probably pack her up and ship her off with the UPS guy.

  He’d taken on her and the unexpected baby with grace—albeit grudgingly—but that didn’t mean he’d stand still for the rest of her personal baggage being dumped at his doorstep.

  Just thinking about the whole mess made her insides churn, and she looked away.

  The other two cowboys, along with Moe, tiptoed to the table and sat down, each sneaking a peek at the baby on their way.

  The red-haired one, Dan, dropped his fork. It pinged loudly against the tile floor. The men froze, and Moe shot the ex-rodeo rider a scowl. “Shhh! You’ll wake the young’un,” he whispered in his gruff, gravelly voice.

  Randy, young and focused solely on the meal before him—flour lumps and all—slurped soup from his spoon, earning himself the focus of Moe’s censure. “Don’t you got a lick of manners, boy? Yer in the company of women and children.”

  “Child. Singular,” Dan mumbled.

  “Apologies, ma’am,” Randy murmured.

  “It’s okay,” Madison said. “Y’all don’t need to whisper.”

  Brice laid down his fork. “Is she sleeping in longer stretches yet?”

  “Just catnaps.”

  “Looks like you could use one yourself.”

  His voice was soft and full of compassion—more like a lover’s than an employer’s. She glanced away. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re practically falling asleep in your dinner.”

  “More coffee, Miss Maddie?”

  “No, thank you, Moe.” The older man was trying to be nonchalant, bless his heart, but she’d seen him discreetly pass his bowl under the table for Jax.

  Thinking to get a head start on the dishes, she reached for the empty bread plate. It would take the better part of the night to set the kitchen to rights. Thank goodness the sling allowed her to operate with her hands free and still hold the baby. Now if only Abbe would cooperate and sleep.

  Brice covered her hand with his. “Leave the dishes, sunshine. You’re in no shape to do any more tonight.”

  Dan stood. “Boss’s right. Besides, I’m on dish duty. Randy’s in charge of drying and trash hauling.”

  Randy looked up in bewilderment. Moe took the opportunity to snatch his bowl right out from under his nose.

  “No, really,” Madison objected, then nearly melted into a puddle when Brice placed a finger over her lips. Her gaze snapped up to his. Fatigue pulled at the corners of his eyes. Not only was she worn-out, she was wearing Brice out too! And he was paying her for the privilege. Something was terribly wrong with this picture.

  She was supposed to be proving that she was an asset, not a hindrance. And she seriously doubted that Dan and Randy normally did the dishes.

  “Why don’t you go on to bed and let me take the baby for a while.”

  Oh, what she wouldn’t give for just five minutes of blissful sleep. “Brice, I came here to do a job—”

  “Which makes me your boss. I’ll rephrase. Get some sleep, sunshine. That’s an order.” He eased the sling from around her neck and carefully lifted the baby.

  Three sets of hands shot out as though to help.

  Brice scowled. “For crying out loud, you’d think I was going to drop her or something.”

  Moe scowled right back. “Well, gol-dang it, watch the head!”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Dan and Randy moved closer. “She sure is a little thing,” Randy commented.

  “'Course she’s little. She’s hardly a week old. Now step back and give the boss some breathin’ room.”

  Randy shrugged. “Looks like she could’a cooked a little longer, if you ask me.”

  “Nobody asked ya.”

  Though dead on her feet, Madison smothered a giggle at the sight of the four cowboys hovering, practically tripping over one another in an effort to help.

  But the sight that arrested her the most, that made her heart swell, wa
s of Brice. So tall and sturdy, the epitome of masculinity, holding her tiny baby in his arms, gazing at the infant as though she were his very own miracle.

  He would make a great father.

  Had she done Abbe a disservice by choosing to bring her into this world fatherless?

  Just then Brice looked up. “Go,” he said softly. “We’ve got everything under control.”

  “You sure?”

  “Look, it’s no big deal. Call it a bonus.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re skeptical about me even working here in the first place—for that matter, I’ve yet to do any work—”

  “You cooked.”

  “Worthwhile work, then.” She dared him to spout platitudes over that pitiful dinner. Even the dog had declined more after only a few bites. “And now you’re handing out bonuses?”

  He shrugged. “An early bonus in good faith, then. Besides, I’ll be up for a while. Take the offer, sunshine. Abigail’s asleep—I can’t get in too much trouble. And if I do, I’ll come get you.”

  She gave in. Her body ached in places she didn’t know it could ache, and she was so tired she was dizzy.

  But the minute her head hit the pillow, she knew that sleep wouldn’t come. Her arms felt empty without Abbe in them. And she wasn’t used to foisting her responsibilities off on others—namely Brice.

  The threat of the Covingtons finding her, of Abbe being snatched away from her, was constantly on her mind. And that made her feel out of control.

  After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Maddie finally got up. As she made her way down the hallway, she could hear Abbe fussing and Brice’s deep soothing voice.

  Soothing, but frazzled.

  A cheery fire burned in the brick fireplace, the wood snapping and popping, casting an orange glow over the shadowy room. Brice paced the circumference of the braided rug, jiggling the baby, keeping up a constant stream of nonsensical conversation. He alternately begged, bribed and promised the moon, if only the infant would settle down.

  It melted her heart to see this rugged cowboy holding her baby and blundering through Infant Trial and Error 101.