The Cowboy is a Daddy

by Mindy Neff

  For a minute she thought her sleep-fogged brain was playing tricks on her.

  Brice leaned against the counter, sipping coffee, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. He wore jeans and a pale green shirt, the ever-present bandanna tied around his neck, but not the chaps she’d gotten used to seeing him in.

  It wasn’t the sight of all that masculine virility that made her come to a halt as though she’d slammed into a brick wall.

  It was the microwave sitting on the counter, with a huge yellow bow tied around it.

  She blinked.

  The coveted appliance was still there.

  “Happy birthday, sunshine,” Brice said softly.

  Oh, Dear Lord, she was a mess. Tears filled her eyes, spilled over and slid down her cheeks.

  He straightened, put down his cup and was in front of her in a heartbeat, his thumbs already brushing at her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?”

  If she hadn’t been so deeply touched, she might have laughed at the bewilderment on his face. She shook her head, glanced again at the microwave.

  “How did you know?”

  “You mentioned that you were used to using the things and—”

  “No.” She placed her fingers over his lips, felt her heart beat like a wild thing in her breasts when his eyes flared. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

  He cupped her hand, removed it from his mouth so he could talk. “I looked at your driver’s license the night I got your car.”

  Emotions welled up so fast and with such force, she didn’t know if she could contain them. A lot of women would be royally ticked at getting a kitchen appliance for their birthday, but Madison was deeply and profoundly touched. He’d chosen the perfect gift, a gift that would make her life easier. She’d relied on herself for so long, and to have someone make things easier for her was a rare treat.

  For the first time since she could remember, someone had remembered her birthday. Even she had forgotten—as a way to guard against disappointment, she suspected.

  An image flashed in her mind of a little girl getting all dressed up in her finest dress, tying a pink ribbon just so in her hair, fingers crossed, hopes running high, smiling her best smile as she made her way to the dinner table at the foster home. She’d anticipated the surprise, imagined a beautiful doll wrapped in gayly colored paper, or perhaps something more practical, like a nice new pair of wool socks to replace the ones that were worn through with holes. She’d practiced her very best manners, barely containing her excitement as she waited through the dinner of fried chicken and green beans, waited for the part where they’d bring out the cake with seven happy candles glowing.

  She’d still been sitting at that trestle table long after the dishes had been done, long after the rest of the family had retired to the living room to watch a television program.

  And at the tender age of seven, she’d learned never to hope for too much again.

  With his big, rugged hands, Brice cupped her cheeks, gently swiping at the new tears on her cheeks, tipped her face up.

  “Hey, there, sunshine. I can return it if it upsets you this much.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “Touch it and I’ll break your fingers.”

  His grin was so sexy she nearly swooned. “Like it, huh?”

  “It’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No. It truly is. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He looked at her intently, as though he knew about her sadness. “We have a rule on the Flying D. Nobody works on their birthday. What would you say to riding into town with me? You’ve hardly been out of the house since you’ve been here.”

  “I don’t mind. And you’ve done so much for me already.”

  “Don’t start that again. I do what I want. What makes me happy. Besides, I’d appreciate the company.”

  “All right. I’d like to go with you.”

  “Nothing spectacular, mind you. I’ve got to pick up some supplies at the feed store.”

  “I’d like to go.” Hesitating, wondering if she was making a big mistake, she raised up on tiptoe and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for remembering my birthday.”

  His hand, which had slipped around her waist, tightened, drawing her closer. She felt his heat, his desire, never even thought about backing away when she saw his head descend, tasted his sweet breath as it mingled with hers.

  He was her husband. Surely there wasn’t any sin in kissing one’s husband.

  His lips were firm and sure, speaking of experience and excellence. He smelled of soap, tasted like coffee and hot desire. He shifted, his thigh pressing between her legs, and Maddie was lost. She melted into his embrace, reveled in the gentle way he angled her head, in the heady way he took from her and gave so much more in return. It was a gift, pure and simple.

  When he raised his head, she wanted to cling.

  His eyes were unreadable. “Happy birthday.”

  For the life of her she couldn’t speak.

  He stepped back. “I’ll be ready to go when you are.”

  She was still standing there in a sensual daze as he put his hat on his head and walked out the door.

  Lord above, who needed a microwave when they had a man around who could kiss like that? She pressed her fingers to her swollen lips.

  For that matter, who needed to eat, period?

  She heard Abbe’s cry from the nursery. Obviously her daughter did.

  10

  Maddie pulled on the hand-knitted sweater Nancy Adams had just given her. Her birthday was turning into a magical fairy tale, and Madison was feeling like the starring princess.

  After their trip to town, Brice had ordered her to rest, then dress in her warmest outfit.

  She was both excited and nervous as she came back out of the bedroom. Nancy had agreed to baby-sit, and though Moe tried to act put out that he hadn’t been given the sole honor of watching over Abbe, he looked relieved to have the assistance.

  “Get, now,” Moe said. “I imagine we can handle the little one.”

  “You have the phone number of where we’ll be?” Maddie asked. Cell phone reception was so sporadic, she didn’t trust leaving only hers and Brice’s numbers. It was difficult to leave her baby, even though she trusted Nancy and Moe completely. But what if someone showed up, or they got a weird phone call, a subtle clue that the others would miss. A clue that they weren’t safe after all, that this was indeed a dream that might soon come to an end.

  An end that would mean she’d have to go on the run again.

  Brice took her arm. “We’re leaving her in good hands, sunshine.”

  He must have noticed something in her expression. His eyes were concerned. Yet she knew he wouldn’t lead her into a situation that would put her in harm’s way, or leave the baby if he thought there was an immediate threat.

  She nodded, shivered when his fingers brushed her neck as he helped her on with her coat.

  “Have fun, you two,” Nancy said.

  “Thank you, and—”

  Brice ushered her out of the house in mid-sentence. Well, honestly. She’d never left her baby before. Nancy might be a nurse, but she didn’t know all of Abbe’s quirks.

  Nor did she know what was really at the root of Maddie’s unease.

  The icy breeze nearly took her breath away. It was a clear night, with a million stars twinkling, dulled a bit by the full moon shining over the vast expanse of snow-covered ground.

  All thoughts of last-minute instructions vanished, and Maddie nearly stumbled when she got a look at the hay wagon that had been retrofitted to double as a sleigh. Two beautiful gleaming horses were harnessed to the vehicle.

  It was like something straight out of a fairy tale.

  “A sleigh ride?” she said in wonder.

  He shrugged, appearing just the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I figured it’d be different.”

  She was certain her heart was in h
er eyes, but she didn’t care. If this was a dream, she didn’t want anyone to wake her.

  Brice helped her into the sleigh, placed a blanket over her knees, then picked up the reins and gave a gentle click of his tongue to signal the horses. Jingle bells rang gayly from their harnesses, and Maddie grinned, almost afraid to speak lest she break the enchanted spell.

  All around them, snow pillowed on the rooftops of the outbuildings like icing on gingerbread houses. Lit by a bright yellow moon, the distant mountain peaks stood out like stiff meringue on a chocolate cream pie. “Warm enough?”

  “Oh, yes. This is wonderful. Everybody keeps talking about blizzards, but it hasn’t been so bad. The snow is beautiful, magical.”

  “It’s not so magical when you’re out working in it.”

  “I imagine. It’s a wonder you don’t freeze.” She glanced around her, breathing deep of the sweet, bracing air. “Are we still on DeWitt land?”

  “Yes. Our spread covers forty thousand acres. It’s been in the family for generations.” The pride in his voice was hard to miss. She glanced at him, knowing she was reading more into our than was warranted. It was only a figure of speech.

  “Your records indicate that you handle sheep as well as cattle—”

  “Shhh.” He glanced down at her, the brim of his hat nearly touching her forehead. His smile flashed in the moonlight, and his voice lowered. “If my great granddaddy caught wind of sheep on DeWitt land, he’d come right up out of his grave “

  Her laughter spilled out, causing a beautiful elk to lift his head, his majestic antlers absolutely motionless as the sleigh glided past. “Would Gramps object if I asked why?”

  Brice winked, causing her heart to flutter.

  “Long as we’re bad-mouthing the critters and not praising them. Back in 1911, the cattle ranchers and sheep herders went head to head over in Washakie County in what’s known around these parts as the Spring Creek Raid. It turned into a shooting match, which Gramps didn’t want any part of, but he was still opposed to sheep being raised on the open range. After that, anytime he caught sight of the woolly creatures, he about had a hissy fit.”

  “But they’re so cute. How could anybody not like them?”

  “When they ruin your cattle pastures, they don’t look so cute.”

  “But you have them now.”

  “I’ve got enough grazing land to handle both herds. Look.” He raised a gloved hand, pointing off to the right. A young doe stood in the moonlight, watching their passage.

  “Oh, she’s beautiful,” Maddie whispered. “It’s all so pretty. Cold, but pretty.”

  He adjusted the blanket over her knees, shifted slightly closer. A protective gesture, a gesture that was gentlemanly and innately Brice.

  “It must make you so proud to own all this land. I mean, I’m assuming it’s all yours with your dad gone and all.”

  “I’ve got a brother. The land just wasn’t in Kyle’s blood like it is in mine. He traded in his horse for a suit and tie. Deals in the high-finance corporate world.”

  She wrestled with herself over the next question, decided to ask, anyway. “And your mother?”

  His hands tightened on the reins, causing the horses to toss their heads in annoyance. Maddie put her gloved hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  He shrugged, once again holding the reins loosely. “Last I heard she was out in Florida—just married husband number five.”

  “Do you ever see her?”

  “Once. At my dad’s funeral. She was hoping for a piece of the pie.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I offered her a settlement. Beyond that, she wasn’t interested in family reunions.”

  He was quiet for a long time, and Maddie didn’t intrude. Besides, the silence felt good, not strained. And she was determined to enjoy every minute of this fanciful trip.

  “Where are we going?”

  “No place fancy. Just to Laurie’s Cafe in town. Taking the back way like this is quicker.”

  “And much more scenic.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Brice. This is wonderful.

  He moved the reins slightly to the right and the horses responded immediately, turning. “We’re here.”

  Maddie looked up and felt her heart leap in giddy wonder. The restaurant was an old Victorian house on the main street in town that had been converted into an inn.

  With icy-white covering the land, it didn’t look in the least ordinary. In fact, the small strip of shops surrounding Laurie’s Cafe looked like a fanciful row of gingerbread houses. Snow sat on the two-story rooftop like a fluffy cloud, and icicles hung from the gables and eaves. Lights shone in bright welcome as wood smoke curled from the chimney. There were a couple of snowmobiles parked between the buildings, another sleigh and snowshoes were stacked on the wide porch that wrapped around three sides.

  “The food’s not fancy, but Laurie makes the best desserts around.”

  “Just what I need. My waistline’s still recovering.”

  He tied the reins around the front of the sleigh, stepped down and reached for her, his hands spanning the waist in question.

  Slowly, deliberately it seemed, he lifted her from the sleigh, the front of their bodies brushing. There was no excuse for the way her body responded to his touch, especially with thick layers of winter clothing between them.

  But respond it did. Their mingled breaths puffed a visible cloud in the frigid air. He held her suspended for several seconds at eye level. She gripped his shoulders, unable to look away from the sensual promise in his gaze.

  “Your waistline feels just fine to me,” he murmured, his voice whisky smooth and filled with sexual innuendo.

  She wondered if a heart could actually stand still. In a strange sort of daze, she realized that his breath was the only one creating steam.

  “Breathe,” he coached, then covered her mouth with his. His lips were cold, yet they scorched a path of fire through her. He lowered her slowly along the length of his body until her feet touched the ground. She had an irrational urge to cling, to beg.

  He lifted his head, gently touched her cheek. The smell of fine leather wafted from his gloves.

  A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose and she laughed, breaking the spell.

  He smiled. “I like it when you laugh. It’s nice.” He took her arm, steadied her. “Ready to go have your birthday dinner?”

  She nodded, even though she could have skipped dinner and just spent the evening looking at him under the light of a full moon with the fairy stars twinkling overhead and the horses’ harnesses jingling behind them.

  Laurie met them at the door and beamed. “I’m so glad you called, Brice, it’s been forever since you’ve been here.”

  Brice leaned down and accepted the friendly kiss Laurie placed on his cheek, then straightened and extended his hand to Jerome, who’d come out of the kitchen wearing a white chef’s apron.

  “I’ve been cooking all day just for you and your bride,” Jerome said.

  Madison felt a little awkward. She glanced around the interior. There were five other couples in the quaint dining room. A stone hearth hugged the corner wall, and a fire crackled invitingly. The smell of garlic and herbs vied with the pine logs burning in the grate and the scented candles on the white tablecloths. Shadow boxes, flower boughs and decoupage plaques covered the pastel walls, giving the place the feel of a craft store rather than an inn. The floors were wood plank, and around the corner through an archway, was a gift shop with a potpourri of souvenirs and antiques.

  The place was homey rather than fancy, and Maddie was enchanted.

  “May I take your coat, Mrs. DeWitt?”

  “Uh, please, call me Maddie.” She glanced at Brice to see how he reacted to people calling her by his name. He was busy shucking his outer gear, had his back turned. She slipped out of her own coat and gloves, unwound the scarf from her neck.

  “Shall I take your hat?” Laurie asked him.

&nbs
p; He removed the black Stetson, but kept it with him, grinning. “I promise not to wear it at dinner, but I think I’ll hang on to it if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Oh, you cowboys and your hats,” Laurie admonished. “Suit yourself. Come, I’ll show you to your table.”

  There were sprigs of fresh daisies, lilacs and carnations in a crystal vase in the center of their table. A white card with Madison’s name on it stuck out of the arrangement, clasped by a plastic florist’s fork. She glanced around at the other tables, noticed that theirs was the only one with a bouquet of fresh flowers—the others had silk arrangements in ginger jars.

  She wanted to reach out and touch, but was ridiculously afraid it would vanish.

  Brice held her chair, waited until she sat, then settled across from her. “You can read the card.”

  Her fingers actually trembled as she plucked the envelope out of its holder and slowly withdrew the card.

  The message was simple. “Happy Birthday, Madison.” Signed with Brice’s name. No salutation of love, but that didn’t matter.

  She fought back the misting in her eyes, cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How did you manage fresh flowers way out here— in the dead of winter?”

  He grinned. “I’m fairly acquainted with the delivery people around these parts.”

  She bit her lower lip, drummed her fingers against the white damask table linen. “I believe that’s an understatement.”

  He uncorked the bottle of champagne that was resting in a silver ice bucket beside the table, poured two glasses and handed her one.

  “To birthdays,” he toasted.

  She touched her goblet to his, took a sip of the bubbly wine. She felt giddy already, drunk on just his company, on the magic of the night. It was more potent than the drink.

  “This is a first for me. I’ve never had a birthday dinner before.”

  He paused with the goblet halfway to his mouth then set it back on the table. “Never?”

  She shook her head, looked away, wondered why she’d revealed that.