The Cowboy is a Daddy

by Mindy Neff

  He’d removed his boots, and in sock feet—without the added two-inch boot heels—the hem of his pants dragged the floor. Someone really ought to put a hem in those things.

  The receiving blanket, which before had been wrapped securely around the baby, was now half on and half off the infant, the thermal material trailing over Brice’s arm. One of Abbe’s tiny bare feet peeked out. Her little arms waved in obvious agitation, her fist colliding with the silk bandana he wore around his neck.

  “Come on, princess,’’ he said softly, his tone harried. “I’ve walked clear to Texas and back. What’s the fuss? You didn’t like the scenery?”

  Maddie grinned and moved into the room. “Want me to take over?”

  He jumped and whipped around. “Sheesh. Don’t sneak up on me like that. I thought you were asleep.”

  She reached out to take her daughter. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  The transfer was a little awkward. His finger brushed her breasts; it couldn’t be helped. There was nothing sexual about the touch, but she reacted nonetheless.

  “I think she might be hungry,” he said, making an effort to right the blanket, then giving up.

  “Mmm, she’s always hungry. If you could lay the blanket down over there on the sofa, I’ll rewrap her.”

  He did as she asked. “She’s such a wiggle-worm. I’ve already wrapped her up three times, but she keeps getting loose.”

  Maddie chuckled. “Do you suppose that’s a sign she’ll be a holy terror when she learns to do more than kick with these legs?” It struck her that they were discussing the baby as though she belonged to the two of them, as though looking down the road six months from now would find them still together—like a real family.

  But Maddie couldn’t plan six months from now. She could only take each day as it came, only concentrate on keeping her baby daughter safe.

  “Don’t ask me,” Brice answered. “I’ve never been around babies before.”

  “I’m surprised. You’re a natural.”

  He shrugged, moved to the window and pushed it open another fraction of an inch, then picked up the fireplace poker and added another log to the grate.

  “Why do you do that?”

  He looked at her. “Do what?”

  “Open the windows when it’s freezing outside.”

  “Habit.”

  He poked at the fire, and she waited to see if he’d say more.

  When he glanced at her and caught her stare, he shrugged. “I fell down a well when I was a kid. Since then I’m not crazy about closed in spaces. An open window gives me the illusion of escape, I suppose.”

  “How awful for you.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “How long were you in it?”

  “About five hours.”

  “Dear heaven, couldn’t they find you?”

  “They didn’t know I was missing. My father and Moe were out riding fence. Dad figured my mother was watching over me. None of us had any idea that was the day she’d chosen to pack her bags and disappear.”

  “Oh, Brice.” She started to move toward him, then thought better of it when she saw his shoulders stiffen, saw him turn his back on her. A stinging rush swept her when he shut her out. She should be used to that. She’d had plenty of experience with being ignored, looked through.

  “Like I said, it was a long time ago. No big deal.” He obviously didn’t accept comforting easily. And Abbe was working herself into a righteous snit, making her best effort to dislodge—once more—the tightly wrapped receiving blanket.

  Brice ran his hand over the back of his neck. He was beat. And Madison didn’t look much better. Nobody had ever asked him about the habit of open windows—or if they had, he hadn’t answered. So what had possessed him to impart that little quirk to her? To blurt out the sordid details of his past.

  He’d seen the compassion in her tired blue eyes, and something else. He couldn’t abide pity, so he’d shut her out. He hadn’t expected her reaction to his abruptness, the visible wince, the chin that inched up so subtly, the almost-tangible way she drew a protective coat over her emotions.

  Hell on fire, she made him want to pick her up and wrap her in a blanket of protection, much like he’d tried to wrap the baby in the receiving blanket. Why did he keep getting the feeling that she needed his protection? That there were hidden secrets she held deep inside?

  What was she running from? And where was Abbe’s father? Were the answers one and the same?

  Her hair fell forward as she leaned over the baby, cuddling, soothing—to no avail.

  “Suppose you should try feeding her?” He stood next to her now, so close he could smell the shampoo of her hair. He saw the wariness on her face, the hesitation.

  Idiot, he chided himself. Of course she would feed the baby. But she was uncomfortable nursing in front of him. And if the truth be told, so was he—even though he’d caught her at it several times, usually when he slipped into his bedroom to retrieve clothes or toiletries. They’d both ended up red-faced like a couple of preteens caught in their underwear.

  She nodded, still hesitating.

  “I’ll...uh, go in the other room if it’ll make you more comfortable,” he offered, though he hated to leave her all alone, felt like a crummy host.

  “Brice, this is your home, for heaven’s sake. You don’t have to go.” She sat on the couch, picked up a crocheted afghan and draped it over her shoulder. “Women do this nursing stuff all the time. I’ll admit, I’m having a little trouble adjusting.” She shifted the baby, fumbled with her shirt.

  Even though she was completely covered, he saw her struggle, had an urge to go help.

  Hell. He turned toward the fire, as much to give her some privacy as to get himself under control. There was just something profoundly sensual about a woman nursing a baby. He wanted to watch, to hold her in his arms, to share the awe.

  Man alive, he was losing it.

  And getting in way too deep, way too soon.

  That spelled danger.

  He turned slowly, saw the skin pulled tight at the corners of her eyes as though she were in pain.

  “You okay?”

  “It’ll pass in a minute.” She winced.

  He took a step forward. “What will pass?”

  “Well...when I...when Abbe, uh, eats, it hurts.”

  “Is it supposed to?”

  “How should I know? I’ve never nursed a baby before. Maybe it’s just me. I’ve never heard anybody else complaining of feeling like stinging hot needles were piercing them.”

  “Maybe I should call Nancy. Ask her advice.”

  The nurse, Maddie thought. Why hadn’t she thought to do that? Because she wasn’t used to asking advice. She was used to going it alone.

  “I’m taking up enough of your time already. Why don’t you leave the number for me, and I’ll call.”

  He nodded. “I’ll put it by the phone in the kitchen. Doc will probably want to come out and have a look at the two of you, anyway. And until he does, I don’t want you standing in the kitchen attempting to cook for us.”

  She grinned. “The stew was pretty bad, huh?”

  “No.”

  She arched a brow.

  “Well, you’re operating under a handicap.”

  Major handicap, given the fact that she’d never cooked from scratch in her life. Tomorrow she’d see if there was a cookbook in residence. “I’ll do better next time.”

  “I’m sure you will. But not until Doc gives the go-ahead. Understand?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “No, we won’t. I mean it, sunshine. No KP till Doc says so.”

  “Honestly, Brice. Women have had babies since the beginning of time and not interrupted their duties.”

  “Maybe so, but none that I’d seen firsthand. I was there, remember? Hell, I think I was in more pain than you during that birth.”

  She remembered. And the thought made her face heat. It was one thing to have a doctor looking during such an in
elegant experience, and quite another for it to be a handsome cowboy.

  A cowboy who made her heart go into overdrive by just walking into a room. Especially wearing chaps.

  Abbe had fallen asleep, and Madison couldn’t bring herself to wake her and try to get her to nurse on the other breast. Which meant that she probably wouldn’t sleep more than a half-hour stretch.

  “Speaking of pain, I think my eyeballs are gonna fall out of my head. We should probably both get some sleep.” She struggled to get up off the couch. Brice moved across the room and helped her up. He was so gallant. She wasn’t used to someone, anyone, being so solicitous of her needs.

  “Thank you.”

  He walked with her to his bedroom door. “Let me just grab a change of clothes. That way I won’t wake you in the morning.”

  “I feel bad about taking your room. I’ll move my stuff tomorrow.”

  “No. Just stay put. I’m fine in the guest room.” After he retrieved his clothes, she listened for him to close the door of the guest room. Instead, she heard him moving around in the room next to hers—obviously setting up the crib.

  Dear Lord, where did the man get his stamina? He’d be up again before dawn, out in the cold, taking care of his ranch. And instead of getting much-needed sleep, he was assembling a nursery for her baby.

  A special man. A very special man.

  She’d make that call to the doctor first thing. Because healed or not, dead on her feet or not, she was going to pull her weight around here.

  And try not to let it feel too much like home. She was only here by the grace of his kindness. She had to make sure she did her job—treated it like a job.

  And that included forgetting erotic thoughts about her sexy boss.

  5

  Nancy Adams came out the next morning to check on Maddie and Abbe. Doc had been called away on another emergency, and Maddie was just as glad. She could use another woman to talk to.

  “I can’t believe how my strength is zapped.”

  “Understandable. Honey, you’ve just had a baby.”

  “Still, I must be doing something wrong. She doesn’t sleep more than twenty minutes or so at a stretch, and she constantly wants to nurse.” She hesitated, then asked away. “Nursing is painful. It seems I’m not very good at it.”

  “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  Despite Nancy’s ability to put her at ease, Maddie still felt uncomfortable with these personal details. She felt heat stain her face and looked away as Nancy gently probed.

  “Are you nursing on both sides?”

  “Trying to, though I keep forgetting which one I left off on.”

  “A safety pin in your bra will fix that. But you’ve got bigger problems here.”

  “What?” She didn’t like the sound of those words.

  “You’re running a fever, and there’s infection in your breasts. Aside from lack of sleep, that’s a big part of your low-level energy.”

  “Does that mean I have to stop nursing?”

  “Well, no. If you’re adamant about continuing, it’s not out of the question. I can start you on a mild antibiotic that won’t hurt your daughter. But sometimes, in unfamiliar surroundings, under stress, your milk won’t flow adequately. That could account for the baby not sleeping. She’s not getting enough to eat.”

  “But I feel like a swollen dairy cow. How can it be that I don’t have enough to nourish her?”

  “It just happens sometimes. And I’m sure it makes it difficult living in this house with all these cowboys.”

  “Most of the men stay in the bunkhouse.” Just Brice was here. And he did keep her off balance.

  “But they come in and out, I’m sure. Which can get uncomfortable if you’re in the middle of a feeding.”

  Maddie smiled. “Not just for me. They never seem to know where to look.”

  “Or not to look?” They shared a laugh.

  “Try warm towels to encourage the milk flow, plus it’ll be soothing. I’ll leave a breast pump with you, and a supply of antibiotics. I’ll also give you samples of formula so you can supplement with bottles, see if that helps things, if the baby will sleep longer stretches. That’ll give you the best indication of whether or not she’s getting enough to eat.”

  Maddie felt like a total failure. “How can I screw up something so simple, so natural, as breast feeding?” She hadn’t meant to voice the words, but there they were. And formula wasn’t an expense she’d counted on.

  Nancy placed a comforting hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. Breast milk does give babies a good start, but formulas are the next best thing. There’s no law that says you have to breast feed, and there’s no shame in choosing not to. Besides, look at the pros of opting for the bottle. Somebody else can get up in the middle of the night.”

  “Not in my case.”

  “Oh? What about Brice? Anyone can see he’s absolutely silly over this baby.”

  “But she’s my responsibility.”

  Nancy gave a slight frown at the fierceness of the statement. “Well, whatever you decide. In the meantime, we ought to get the paperwork filled out for the birth certificate.”

  Panic winged out of nowhere. Paperwork was traceable. She needed to give this some thought. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  How in the world would she phrase this? After several minutes of silence, she finally just dived right in.

  “Am I required to put my last name on the birth certificate?”

  “Yes,” Nancy said slowly. “That’s standard... Oh, I see, you want to give the child her father’s name? Well that will be fine. You just list your name as mother, his under father, and assign his name behind Abigail’s.”

  Tough to do when she’d intended to list father as “unknown.”

  “Have you contacted the father?” Nancy asked softly, obviously couching the words so it wouldn’t appear as though she were prying—or judging.

  Maddie shook her head. At least in this she could give the truth. “He’s deceased.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. Of course you’d want his legacy to live on through his daughter.”

  Nancy had no way of knowing that those words were the wrong ones to say, that they tapped right into her nightmare. But she’d given herself an opening to stall.

  “We weren’t exactly...together.” Major understatement. “Could you just leave the papers here with me? Give me some time to think it over, decide which way I want to go?”

  “Of course dear. George likes to get this done right away, and in the hospital it’s mandatory before you leave. But we can fudge a bit since you delivered at home. I’ll just leave this with you. You can sign in the appropriate places, write the other information on a separate piece of paper, and I’ll type it in and get it filed with the state.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for coming out to check on us.”

  “No problem. That’s my job. That it’s for a new neighbor makes it doubly fun. I’m glad you’re here on the Flying D. Brice needs a woman around.”

  “Oh, I’m not...I mean, I’m only working for him.”

  Nancy smiled and patted her on the shoulder again. “Of course, dear.” Her tone held undercurrents that Maddie didn’t want to speculate on. “Try the breast pump. Warm towels beforehand. Though don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t work. Most of my new moms despise the things, usually settle for the premix formula.”

  “I’ll give it a good shot.”

  “That’s all you can do. In the meantime, take it easy, go at your own pace, and resume any activities you feel up to. Except intercourse. You’ll want to wait another week or so if you’ve a mind to indulge.”

  “I’m not of a mind...” Good heavens, where had the nurse gotten an idea like that? And... “Did you say a week? Singular? I thought the time period was six weeks. Not that I’m going to,” she clarified hastily. “Or that there’s any possibility.”

  Nancy gave another one of those enigmati
c smiles. “All women heal at different rates. Some would just as soon wait a year, and some are ready and willing in a couple of weeks, claim their hormones have gone loco. The human body’s a gloriously resilient thing. Just don’t tell a man that.”

  Maddie couldn’t help but smile back. “In the interest of the sisterhood, my lips are sealed.”

  Nancy laughed again. “Oh, I do like you, Madison Carlyle. Call if you need anything, or just want to talk. It doesn’t have to involve a medical question. And if you decide you want to go the formula route, give a call over to Letty Springer’s market in town. Brice has the number. They’ll even send someone out to deliver.”

  Dear heaven, the Flying D was going to get a reputation for odd and frequent deliveries.

  Maddie took the antibiotics and fed Abbe a bottle of the formula Nancy had left. The traitorous little baby had gulped it down and was now sleeping like an angel. It made her feel awful that she’d actually been starving her child. Next she’d tried the pump. It had taken nearly an hour to suck out half an ounce.

  She felt swollen and feverish and disheartened. She would have loved to lie down and take a nap, but decided instead to familiarize herself with Brice’s accounting practices.

  It was a nightmare. He had a state-of-the-art computer, but when she tried to call up files, there were no documents. How in the world did he run this huge operation with such dismal accounting practices.

  At least this was something she was good at, and she dived right in, methodically sorting through the records. More than one client had dumped a shoebox full of receipts on her desk, expecting her to make sense out of it. Brice’s accounts were the equivalent of that type of client.

  A challenge. Just like the man himself.

  The more she delved into his paperwork, the more surprised she was.

  He was very successful. And very wealthy.

  And he shopped at JCPenney—a lot.

  She checked the depreciation schedule on his previous year’s taxes, stunned at the amount of equipment and number of vehicles he owned.

  And he had an airplane, a single-engine Cessna.

  Maddie felt her fingers itch. She loved flying, had taken lessons and gotten her own pilot’s license six years ago. At the time, she’d been dating a pilot and shared flight time on his plane. In hindsight, the draw of that particular relationship for her had been his plane. When they broke up, the friendship had dissolved—along with the agreement of shared air time. And she missed it. The flying, not the man.