The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Bridgett got up to retrieve a bunch of red grapes. “How did you manage with such a big family?”

  Rachel helped herself to some fruit. “Everyone pitched in, doing chores. Lending a hand. Which was the only way I could have managed to work while they were growing up.”

  “You’ve always been a tax lawyer?”

  Rachel smiled. “I have. In fact, that’s how Frank and I met. Starting out, he tried to do it all, but didn’t quite have a handle on how he should set up the ranch business at the Bar M. An LLC, S Corp. or straight corporation. At some point he tried all three—badly. Made a real mess of things, as far as the revenue agents were concerned. Hired me to straighten it all out. Sparks flew—because he was a McCabe and McCabes are brought up to make their own way—and he did not want to listen to me.”

  Bridgett could imagine. “Yet you prevailed.”

  “We fell in love, married and had six kids.”

  Six. Not five. Maybe it was rude, but she had to ask. “You consider Cullen yours?”

  Rachel stiffened. “Do you consider Robby yours?”

  Okay, that was a mistake. “Yes.”

  “But...?” the older woman prodded.

  Given permission to delve further, Bridgett asked, “Is there any difference in carrying a baby inside you and giving birth as opposed to simply being presented with a child, one day?”

  Rachel relaxed. “None,” she said gently. “If anything, sometimes I think I love Cullen more because of the shape he was in when he came to us at sixteen. He’s still getting over the tumult of his early years.” Her gaze narrowed. “How is he doing with all this?”

  It was a lot, both women knew. To be publicly assumed guilty of something you knew you hadn’t done. Bridgett shrugged. She was close to Cullen and getting closer every day, but there was still a lot separating them, a lot he had yet to reveal. But what she did know, she liked, or maybe more to the point, loved. “He’s mystified. Frustrated. A bit overwhelmed. More than anything, he wants to know the truth. Not just for himself, but for Robby.”

  Rachel sipped her tea. “Because he’s sure his true parentage will be an issue in the future for Robby, like it was with him.”

  “Yes.” And though Bridgett had told herself repeatedly it didn’t matter, as long as Robby had a family who loved him, she worried about the ramifications of his never finding out where he came from or why he had been abandoned. That would be a lot to carry, and she didn’t want Robby to suffer the way Cullen had.

  “What about you?” Rachel asked gently. “Do you want to find this woman—or not?”

  Bridgett bit her lip. “I’m not sure. Depends when you ask me. Sometimes I do, so I won’t have this uncertainty hanging over us, and sometimes I don’t because it could turn out that Robby has blood family who want him, and in court, biological ties trump all. Unless there’s a concrete reason for them not to,” she amended, “like addiction or abuse, and that would be a bad situation.”

  “I’m guessing Cullen is worried about what the social services and courts will eventually do, too.”

  Given how much he had bonded with baby Robby and Riot? Bridgett saw no reason not to admit it. “Yes, he is.” She sighed and shook her head. “And then, on top of all that, having the potential buyers unexpectedly pull out of the auction...”

  Rachel sat up straighter. “Wait. Could you repeat that?”

  Briefly, Bridgett explained what had happened.

  “Do you know which customers?” Rachel asked, brow furrowing.

  “No.”

  “Or how many?”

  “He said five this morning. There are still another fifteen bidding. At least, that was what he told me when he left earlier.”

  “That’s good.” Rachel finished her tea. She went for one last look at the sleeping baby, then tiptoed back out of the family room. “You’ll call us if you need anything?” She stepped in to give Bridgett a hug.

  Basking in the knowledge of what a wonderful mother Rachel was, Bridgett nodded. “I will.”

  * * *

  WHEN CULLEN CAME in several hours later, she was gently dabbing baby oil onto Robby’s scalp and working it through his silky dark curls.

  Cullen sauntered closer, a bemused smile curving his sensual lips. He paused to greet her with a warm embrace, then bent down to kiss Robby, too. “Shouldn’t you be using hair gel, instead of baby oil, if you want our boy to be all styling?”

  Our boy. How nice that sounded, Bridgett thought wistfully. If only it were already true. She demonstrated with the oil-soaked cotton ball. “I’m softening the cradle cap on the top of his head.”

  “The...what?”

  “See the little crust starting to form?” She pointed out the yellow skin. “Especially in the soft spot? This is cradle cap. Most new babies get it at some point during their first year.”

  “Should we be worried?” He went to the sink to wash up then ambled closer, still drying his hands on a paper towel.

  “No.” She used a soft-bristled baby brush to loosen the flakes, then combed them out of his hair.

  He leaned in close, watching. “Are you just going to leave that in there?”

  “No.” She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him again. “I’m going to wash it out while I give him his sponge bath. Want to help?”

  His gave roved her upturned face before returning to her eyes. “You don’t think I’ll mess it up?”

  “I won’t let you mess it up,” she promised with a smile.

  “Okay then.” He rolled up the sleeves on his shirt to above the elbow. “Let’s do this.”

  Bridgett had already laid out a thick towel on the kitchen island. She settled Robby in the middle of it and poured a little warm water from the pitcher into a bowl. She added a squirt of soothing lavender-scented baby wash and, one hand still on Robby’s chest to keep him from rolling off, dampened the washcloth.

  “Wouldn’t it be simpler to put him in a baby bath tub?”

  Wanting Cullen to be as good at this as she was, she unsnapped the sleeper and removed Robby’s damp diaper. “We will, as soon as the cord falls off.”

  Cullen watched as she quickly and methodically washed Robby thoroughly, from front to back. Then she swabbed the navel area with a small amount of rubbing alcohol, wrapped the infant in a towel and handed him to Cullen. “The shampoo is going to be a little trickier.”

  “What are we going to do?” he asked solemnly.

  “You’re going to hold him in your arms, yep, just like that, with his neck fully supported and his head slightly over the crook of your elbow. I’m going to dampen his hair with a little bit of water and then add some shampoo.” She worked as she talked. “And then I’ll lather his scalp.”

  The scent of lavender baby shampoo enveloped them. Cullen made a funny face at their tiny charge and was rewarded with wide-eyed wonder. “He seems to like it,” he reflected proudly.

  “I think he likes being held.”

  Cullen chuckled and continued cuddling Robby tenderly. “Don’t we all,” he rumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

  His low, sexy voice generated a tsunami of need deep inside her. Not daring to look him in the eye, Bridgett tsked. “Okay, cowboy, let’s stay on task.”

  “Hear that, Robby? Your mommy wants us to get serious here.”

  Mommy.

  How she liked the sound of that.

  Daddy, too.

  Ignoring the way her nipples were tingling, Bridgett instructed casually, “If you sort of hold him over the basin, I’ll rinse his head with the water in the pitcher. And then we’ll be all done.”

  And, a minute later, they were.

  Bridgett already had Robby’s clothes all laid out, so she diapered him and put on a clean baby-blue sleeper. A matching knit cap went on his head.
“Is there some reason you always have him wearing a hat?” Cullen asked when she gave him the baby to hold again.

  “Newborn infants can get chilled easily. Covering their heads helps keep in the body heat.”

  “Ahhh.”

  It was hard to say who of the three of them was happier in that moment, as he moved in closer, so their sides were touching in an electrified line. Warmth exuded from the rock-hard muscles of his body. And she felt a melting sensation in her middle, completely at odds with the easy emotional territory she was attempting to stake out. She slanted Cullen a glance. Amazed at how at quickly and fiercely she had come to want him in her life. “We could get you and Riot matching caps, if you like.”

  He favored her with a sexy half smile, his eyes roving her face. “Actually, I think we should all wear matching caps.” He bent over to kiss her temple. “One for all. All for one.”

  Another thrill swept through her. Were they about to take their relationship to another level? “Like the four musketeers,” she surmised softly.

  Cullen nodded, serious now. Then he paused, and turned so she could see Robby’s face. “Hey, will you look at that?” he whispered, his brawny shoulder nudging hers slightly in the process. He looked as proud as any daddy in the newborn nursery. “The little cowpoke’s asleep already.”

  “Bath time usually tuckers him out.” Bridgett transferred him from Cullen’s arms to his little bed, whispering, “We should put him down while he’s still sleeping.”

  Cullen stood for one last long, tender look at the child they were quickly coming to think of as their son. “How long will he be out?”

  “At least two hours.” Riot, too, was passed out in his crate. “So, if you want, we can have a relaxing adults-only dinner.”

  Not a date.

  But sort of like a date. Even though it would be experienced at home.

  “Actually...” Cullen wrapped his hands around her waist, suddenly all hot, possessive male. “I had something much more pleasurable in mind.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bridgett saw the kiss coming and it was everything she had expected it would be. And everything she hadn’t. It was soft and warm and unbearably seductive. Pure happiness soaring through her, she wound her arms about his neck and opened her mouth to the unerring pressure of his. Luxuriating in the scent of him, so brisk and familiar and masculine, she murmured, “I thought we were taking a break from this kind of intimacy.”

  He touched her cheek. “I wanted to give you a chance to reconsider, if that was what you wanted.”

  “Because of what Gavin implied during his third degree?” That Cullen was not to be trusted and did not have her best interests at heart, only his own?

  “No, because of what I know to be true,” Cullen corrected, stroking a hand through her hair. “That you’re not, and never have been, a reckless person. Romantic? Hell, yes. Passionate in going after what you want? Absolutely. But the type to rush headfirst into anything? Especially with me...under these circumstances? No.” He exhaled heavily, holding her gaze. “That’s not you, Bridgett Monroe.”

  “Until now,” Bridgett whispered, touched by his need to protect her, even as he let her know with a look and a touch and a kiss he still desired her. And when the time was right, intended to have her again.

  Fortunately for the both of them, that time was tonight.

  He held her by the shoulders as she rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his, suggesting caution once again. “We can just hang out together, Bridgett. Make out a little.”

  “Oh, we’ll do that all right,” she promised, sliding her hands over the sinewy hardness of his chest. Pausing only to turn on the baby monitor, another gift, she took him by the hand and led him up the stairs, to the guest room, this time. “As well as so much more.”

  Determined to have all of him, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Worked similar magic on his boots and pants. And, oops, there went his briefs, too.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he rasped, the twinkle in his navy blue eyes intensifying.

  Enjoying what she was doing to him as much as he apparently liked her doing it, Bridgett sat back on the bed, admiring everything her quick work had uncovered. Glowing, golden skin. Smooth muscle. Enticing tufts of curly dark hair that spread across his chest and arrowed downward, delineating the goody trail. Nice broad shoulders. Not to mention long, powerful legs and strong arms.

  She could sit here in front of him, just looking and admiring, all night long. As he noticed the depth of her enjoyment, his own pleasure grew.

  Bridgett smiled, aware he was still waiting for her to reply. Her gaze shifted to his. “I made up my mind to stop putting off till tomorrow what I could enjoy right now. Tonight. And to that end...” She switched places with him, so he was on the bed. Still fully clothed herself, she dropped to her knees and captured the male essence of him with both hands, sculpting and caressing the hard, velvety-hot length.

  “Whoa...” He groaned with arousal as she touched him with lips and tongue and teeth. “Getting a little ahead of you, here...”

  No kidding, Bridgett thought. “That’s okay,” she breathed, as her nipples beaded and ached, and the damp throbbing between her legs intensified. She wanted to burn away the anxiety she felt over everything that might happen next. Concentrate on all that was good and right. And this, she thought on a blissful sigh, was the way to do it.

  * * *

  CULLEN HAD BEEN THINKING about making love to Bridgett again for days now. Because the problems that could keep them apart fell away when they were kissing and touching and driving each other wild and they were only dealing with what they wanted, what they felt.

  And what he wanted most was her—in his home, in his bed, in his heart.

  Not about to let her push him to the finish line without her, he curved his hands around her shoulders and drew her up to face him. “You, too,” he said, undressing her, an item of clothing at a time. “I want to look at you.”

  Excitement building inside him, he stroked the silky texture of her skin, charting the hills and valleys as well as the plains in between. Her body shuddered beneath his questing fingertips, and he put all he wanted and needed, all he felt, into another searing kiss. He wanted to be everything to her, and he sensed, as he drew her down onto the bed, she wanted to be everything to him, too.

  Feeling the yearning pouring out of her, he cupped the soft weight of her breasts in his hands and bent his head, loving her with his lips and mouth and tongue. She clung to him wordlessly, arching her back, opening herself up to him completely.

  Shifting her onto her side, he pressed his body against hers, kissing her ceaselessly, until she was in a frenzy of wanting, her need making a low sound in the back of her throat. Until there was only the pulsing of her body, and his, only the wonder and affection in their hearts.

  Her breath hitched as he found a condom and rolled it on. Her body trembled as he filled her. Yielding to him with the sweet surrender of a woman who was fated to be his, she clasped his shoulders as he kissed her and possessed her, again and again. Adrenaline rushed. Pleasure built and spiraled.

  He slid his hands beneath her, lifting her, diving deep. Taking, as she gave, and giving her more in return. Until, together, they soared toward a completion more stunning and fulfilling than he had ever imagined possible.

  And he knew this was what he wanted. Not just for now, but for all time.

  * * *

  “IT’S CRAZY,” BRIDGETT SAID, as they snuggled together afterward, in no hurry to get up to eat dinner, “how much my life has changed in just a little over a week.”

  He loved the way she felt, holding him close, the silken warmth of her sprawled over his chest. “Mine, too.” He ran a hand lovingly down her hip. “But there’s no arguing that it’s been for the better.”

  “For all of us.” Bridgett smiled, a
nd they made love again, slowly, thoroughly, tenderly this time, finishing just as Robby woke and started to fuss. Downstairs, Riot yelped from his crate, signaling he, too, needed attention.

  Ready to tend to their more familial—but just as emotionally satisfying—duties, Cullen rose. “I’ll put a bottle in the warmer, then feed Riot and take him out. Or...” He paused, thinking he might have assumed too much, taking charge so readily. “I could do the diaper.” At least, he thought he could. “And you could do the other.”

  Looking tousled and well loved, she slipped into his shirt and headed for the stairs. “I like your first plan better.”

  Relieved, he winked. “Ah, teamwork. Nothing like it.” He could help birth a calf blindfolded, but the fragility of a newborn infant still sometimes stymied him.

  Riot was a little frisky after sleeping for so long, so Cullen snapped a leash on him and walked him down to the barn and back. When they walked in, he was disappointed to see Bridgett dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and bright blue moccasins. Her hair had been brushed into order and twisted atop her head, but there was no denying the flush in her cheeks or the plump kiss-swollen set of her lips.

  “I kind of liked the way you looked in just my shirt.”

  She laughed, looking as contented as he felt. “If you behave, cowboy, you might be able to see me in it again before the night is through.”

  “Good.” He ambled closer, drinking in the fresh lavender and baby powder scent of her. “’Cause I have plenty of them, you know. Dark denim, light blue denim, stonewashed denim...”

  She mugged at him comically. “Tan and dark green canvas. And lots of blue chambray, too.”

  “Why, Ms. Bridgett...” He did his best imitation of a romantic comedy hero. “Have you been memorizing my wardrobe?”

  Her eyes darkened affectionately. “Actually,” she slid her hands up to his shoulders and rose on tiptoe, kissing him, “I might have been memorizing a lot of things about you.”