McCabe's Baby Bargain

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  She wrinkled her nose and gave him a teasing once-over. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  He tried not to think about her touching him every place her eyes had been. “That’s what we McCabes do.” With effort, he tamped down his growing feelings. Flashed her the kind of easy smile he gave all his friends. “Help our neighbors.”

  “Your family should know about this.” He admired how her skinny jeans molded her feminine curves. Damn, but she was sexy. “Why?”

  “They wouldn’t be so worried about you if they did.”

  He divided the small package of field greens between two salad bowls. Added a package of slivered almonds and a smattering of fresh raspberries and blackberries. Realizing he’d forgotten to bring anything to dress it with, he paused, hands on his hips. “I love my family, but they need to mind their own damn business.”

  She lifted a skeptical blond brow. Seeming to read his mind, she got up to get vinaigrette and poppy seed salad dressings out of the fridge. She brushed up against him lightly as she set the bottles down on the counter in front of him. “So they can’t be worried about you the way you were worried about me?”

  She had a point. Except... “I haven’t called them crying.”

  She blushed. “I wasn’t crying.”

  He gazed down at her, aware it was taking everything he had not to haul her into his arms and kiss her again. And this time he wouldn’t be just consoling her. “You definitely sounded like you had been.”

  She averted her gaze and inhaled a deep breath. Her lower lip quivered slightly, as if she might burst into tears yet again. “How about I take Champ outside while you sit with Charley, and then we can eat?” she asked huskily.

  Able to see she needed a moment to collect herself, he nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Her brief respite outdoors gave him a chance to kick himself in the rear for inadvertently saying the wrong thing to her again. When she and Champ came back in, Charley was still in his high chair. He had finished his applesauce. So Sara gave him a smattering of Cheerios to push around the tray while Sara and Matt enjoyed the dinner he’d prepared.

  Keeping the conversation businesslike, he asked, “So what do you want to do about the training opportunity we missed this afternoon?”

  “I phoned the Laramie Gardens senior living center before I called you and rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon at four p.m.” Sara added butter to a piece of the crusty bread she’d added to the feast. “Do you think you’ll be able to do it?”

  He nodded.

  She took a sip of mint iced tea. “I’d understand if you want the weekend off.”

  Was she trying to put distance between them, or simply being considerate? Her expression gave no clue. “Are you taking the weekend off?” he asked, just as quietly.

  “No.” A contented smile lit the pretty features of her face. She looked over at her son, then down at Champ, who was snuggled up against her feet. “I want them both out and about every day.”

  Matt shrugged, beginning to relax again, too. “Then I’ll help you every day.”

  She finished her salad and started on her stew. “Is it getting any easier for you to be around dogs now?”

  Yes and no, Matt thought. He still did not want to get emotionally attached to Champ, but he savored the time he spent with Sara and Charley and Champ. Maybe because, in their own way, they’d become a little team.

  But there were also still times when he’d be out and he would see an older dog that would remind him of Mutt. And that always led to the mixture of grief and crippling guilt that left him unable to sleep.

  Aware Sara was waiting for his answer, but knowing she didn’t need to be burdened with his problems when she already had so much on her agenda, he shrugged and said with an accepting smile, “Hey, this is America. Land of the free and the brave—and the pets we love. So if I ever want to be able to go anywhere—” and he did, especially with Sara and crew “—I just have to suck it up and deal. You know?”

  “I do.” They were both finished eating. Sara looked down at the floor where Champ was curled up, sound asleep. She disengaged the leash from her belt, and rose.

  Champ slept on.

  Soundlessly, she moved away from him and carried her dishes to the sink. Matt followed, just as stealthily. “It used to bother me to be around married couples,” she confessed, her soft lips twisting ruefully. “Or people in love. Or women who were expecting who had their husbands at their sides.” She bent over to put their dishes in the dishwasher, inadvertently giving him a nice view of her slender ankles, taut calves and sleek thighs.

  She shook her head. “It just made me so acutely aware of everything I’d lost and what I’d been through with Anthony’s death.”

  Matt joined her at the sink. Sensing he wasn’t the only one who needed to talk about the most difficult moments of his life, he asked, “Did they ever figure out what happened to cause Anthony’s car accident?”

  “They definitely know he was going too fast when he came to that bend in the road, and that he missed the turn. But there was no drugs or alcohol involved. He didn’t have his phone with him, so he wasn’t texting or on a call.”

  “So it was just a freak accident or a moment of inattention.”

  Regret flickering in her eyes, Sara dipped her head, admitting, “I asked him to run into town and go to the grocery store for me. So maybe he had his mind on that.”

  Matt knew the path she was traveling. It wasn’t good. He cupped her shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault, darlin’. Accidents happen.”

  She nodded, whether in agreement or to end the conversation he did not know. She cleared her throat. “Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

  He got the hint. Subject change. Now. He smiled, still wishing he could kiss her, and not have her take it the wrong way. “I’ll tell my mom you liked her recipe.”

  She held up a hand. “Whoa there, cowboy. If you do that, you’ll also be telling her the two of us had a dinner together that you cooked.”

  Matt ran a hand across his jaw. “Hmm. How about that.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Still using me to get your family to back off?”

  At this point, it would be more accurate to say he was using his family as an excuse to spend time with her...and Charley...and Champ.

  But sensing she might not want to ponder that right now, given the convoluted way their renewed friendship had all come about, he merely shrugged. Ready to let things stand as they were, for the moment, anyway. He regarded her curiously. “Is that a problem?”

  She shrugged. “Only...possibly...for you.”

  * * *

  As much as Sara had enjoyed the pleasure of Matt’s company, she knew they still hadn’t solved the problem of how to get Champ to stay in his crate. “So how is this going to work again?” she asked Matt as bedtime for the little ones approached.

  He took the towels he’d brought in from his truck. They were worn but clean. “We’re going to rub these towels over our skin and get our smells on it,” he demonstrated as he talked, “and then put them in Champ’s wire crate, and then he is going to go in, too.”

  Sara followed suit, moving the terry cloth across her throat, her hands and forearms.

  Champ looked surprised when Matt picked him up, cuddled him briefly, then put him in the wire cage, next to the comfort towels. When the door clicked, he began to bark. Unperturbed, Matt stretched out in front of the crate and slid his fingers through the metal grate.

  To Sara’s surprise, Champ stopped barking. He lay next to Matt’s hand, sniffed, and then with a loud sigh, settled, too. As she watched the two of them interact, Sara couldn’t help but drink Matt in, head to toe, in all his masculine glory. His hair had dried in rumpled waves that were both sexy and invitingly touchable, his face closely shaven. Clad in a washed-’til-it-was-soft ivory chamois shirt that stretched across
his broad shoulders and muscular chest, and faded jeans that did equally nice things for his hips and legs, he was every inch the indomitable Texan. Ex-soldier. Rancher. Daddy and husband-to be...?

  With a sigh, Sara forced herself to stop thinking about what an eligible man Matt was, and how attracted she was to him. Then she asked, “Now what?”

  Matt smiled up at her, oblivious to the unexpectedly sensual nature of her thoughts. “We sleep.”

  Sara blinked. “On the floor?” Yes, there was an area rug, but beneath that it was solid oak. Which would definitely not be comfortable!

  Matt’s smiled widened. He looked like a cowpoke on a campout. He winked. “Well, not you and Charley, naturally.”

  Sara went over to give Charley’s swing another turn. As her son began to sway again contentedly, she walked back to Matt. Guilt assailed her. “But that won’t be comfortable for you!”

  He folded his hands behind his head. “I wouldn’t say no to a pillow.”

  She hunkered down next to him, aware there were limits as to what she would ask of him. “Matt...” she cautioned softly, wary of upsetting Champ, who would then upset Charley again.

  Matt caught her hand in his and squeezed her fingers tenderly. “Do you trust me, Sara?”

  She looked into his gray-blue eyes. The answer to that was easy. “Yes.”

  He gripped her hand again and continued looking deep into her eyes. “Then trust that I can handle this.”

  * * *

  With the situation under control, Sara thanked Matt again, and then took Charley upstairs. She bathed her son and got him ready for bed. Gave him the last bottle for the evening, read him a story, rocked and sang to him, then put him in his crib.

  Short minutes later, Charley was sound asleep.

  She turned on the baby monitor and eased from the nursery.

  As she walked back into the master bedroom, the outside lights clicked on. After slipping the portable monitor into her pocket, she grabbed the items Matt would likely be needing if he were staying the night, and walked back downstairs to investigate.

  Matt was standing in the moonlight, watching Champ romp in the grass. He stood, legs braced slightly apart, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Aware the spring night was beginning to get a little chilly, she walked over to join him. Once again, she felt as if she and Matt were leaders of the same team. A family team.

  Barely able to comprehend just how comfortable that felt, Sara turned her attention back to the black Lab rollicking in the grass.

  Amazed at how easily Matt had taken control of what had seemed to her to be a completely untenable situation, she inclined her head at Champ. “He didn’t make a sound, not that I heard.”

  Matt turned to her, his handsome features bathed in the glow of the lamps above. The corners of his mouth lifted into an amused smile. “Yeah well—” he shrugged his wide shoulders “—he didn’t go to sleep, either, but that will come.”

  Sara bet it would. “I noticed you moved the crate closer to the sofa.” Where she had also deposited a pillow, blanket, washcloth and towel, toothbrush and toothpaste.

  “As long as he’s right next to me, I think he’ll be fine.”

  She studied his profile, deciding he was way too sexy, whatever the time of day or night. Way too capable and masculine and kind as well.

  Aware she could fall all too hard for the handsome rancher if she weren’t careful, Sara folded her arms in front of herself. “I get that this approach might work tonight...” Who wouldn’t feel safe with Matt stretched out beside them?

  He turned. Seeming to zero in on her nervousness, he leaned in close, his smile slow and sure. “But...?”

  Inhaling the intoxicatingly familiar scent of him, she edged back. “What about tomorrow?” She couldn’t help but ask. “Are you doing this so you’ll have to spend the night every night?”

  “Hmm.” He looked over to see her shivering in the night air. “Hadn’t thought of that.” He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and brought her in close to his side. His eyes gleamed devilishly. “But ah...now that you mention it...” he teased her softly, bending down to whisper in her ear “...the idea does have a certain appeal.”

  He favored her with a flirtatious smile that did funny things to her insides. And the chase was on.

  Sara tried not to think how much she enjoyed having him around, or how easy it would be to start depending on him. Even though their deal was set to go on for only three more weeks. She cleared her throat. “Seriously...”

  Matt tightened his arm around her shoulders, in a friendly squeeze, then let her go. All Texas gentleman once again. “Seriously,” he said drily, “he will get used to the crate in the next twenty-four hours or so and soon it will feel as cozy and safe to him as your arms.”

  Relief mixed with the desire starting up inside her. As their glances meshed and held, all Sara could think about was kissing him again. Not that she had any business doing that, either, when he was clearly a man who needed a wife and children, even if he hadn’t realized it yet, and her heart was locked up tight. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for all your help. I was at my wit’s end.”

  He knit his brows together and teased in a soft, low voice that sent thrills coursing over her body. “Well, there might be a way.”

  Her heart skittering in her chest, Sara lifted her chin. “And what is that?” she asked, almost ashamed to admit what favors she could think of, off the top of her head.

  Smiling, he stepped a little closer to her. “My family is having a potluck at my parents’ ranch on Sunday afternoon. Lulu’s bringing her Honeybee Ranch food truck which is going to make its debut in downtown Laramie next week. She’s going to be testing a couple entrées. Everyone else is bringing sides.”

  Giving herself a second to recoup, Sara checked on Champ, who was still running circles in the grass. Finally, she turned and hazarded him a glance. “Sounds fun.”

  “Glad you think so,” Matt said, and flashed his most persuasive smile, “because I’d like you to go with me.”

  “As a friend.”

  He made a seesawing motion with his hand. “Like I said, we don’t have to label it.”

  Was he trying to confuse her? She stepped closer, too. “But your family will assume it’s a date.”

  His hands settled on his waist. “Possibly.”

  Talk about infuriating. She lifted a censuring brow. “Or probably?”

  “Does it matter?” He studied her for a long moment, and then his shoulders flexed in an offhand shrug. “You and I will know what it is.”

  Except, Sara thought, working hard to conceal her traitorous emotions, she really didn’t.

  She knew what she foolishly wanted it to be...a start to something more...that could lead to either a really close lifelong friendship, the kind where they could lean on and be there for each other, no matter what... Or...they could reach for something even more romantic and fulfilling, that would rid her of her grief and guilt, and ease the physical loneliness she felt. Even if it weren’t dating, per se.

  Unfortunately, she realized, taking in his casual expression, it did not seem as if she and Matt were on the same page.

  He continued, matter-of-factly, “A favor from one friend to another.”

  * * *

  As it turned out, Matt was correct. Champ did sleep through the night, and he did not bark again in his crate, so long as Matt was next to him. It was a little odd having the big, strong rancher there in the morning when she and Charley woke up, but as the morning progressed, she got used to the sight of him in rumpled clothing with dark tousled hair and a day’s growth of beard. And she knew she could really get used to him making blueberry pancakes for them all and then accompanying her while she took Champ and Charley outside to enjoy the beautiful spring morning.

  By the time Matt left to go back to his ranch, to shav
e and shower and tend to things there, Champ was so tuckered out he went willingly into his crate, curled up next to the old towels that smelled like her and Matt, and fell sound asleep.

  The trip to Laramie Gardens went well, too.

  “I can stay,” Matt said, when they got back.

  Wary of getting too dependent on the handsome cowboy, Sara shook her head. “No, I’ve got it,” she said.

  And to her satisfaction, she did.

  Still, it was nice to see him again the next day when he arrived a little after two in the afternoon to pick them up for the potluck.

  She had missed having him around.

  And unless she was mistaken, he seemed to have missed being with the three of them, too.

  It would have been nice, however, to clarify exactly what this was to him. A date? A return favor for a friend? A simple social occasion between platonic friends?

  There was simply no clue on his ruggedly masculine face. Other than the fact that, to her increasing frustration, he absolutely did not want to put a label on whatever this was.

  When they arrived at the McCabes’ Bar M Ranch for the family dinner, cars and pickup trucks lined the drive. Lulu’s Honeybee Ranch food truck was at the end and delicious smells were wafting through the truck’s open service windows. They’d barely parked when members of his family started coming up to greet them.

  Cullen and his wife, Bridgett, came over to introduce their fifteen-month-old son, Robby, to Charley, and their beagle-mix, Riot, to Champ.

  The second oldest of the McCabe brothers—the widowed surgeon, Jack—had his daughters, aged three, four and six in tow. “They want to meet your two fellas,” he told Sara drily.

  “I told you the baby would be cute!” Lindsay, the oldest, said.

  “I think I like the puppy better,” Nicole, the middle daughter, exclaimed.

  “I like ’em both,” Chloe, the youngest, declared.

  Sheriff’s deputy Dan McCabe and his wife, Shelley, brought over their four-year-old triplets, who promptly knelt to pet both dogs.