The Bull Rider's Christmas Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Baby,” she whispered, feeling like a fool for talking to her belly, “your father is infuriating. Worse yet, his kisses are dreamier than lemon meringue pie. I’ve got our whole lives carefully mapped out for us, and nowhere on that map is a sign leading us straight into the arms of a too-handsome-for-his-own-good cowboy.”

  Her baby kicked.

  “Thank you for agreeing.”

  As Wren readied for bed, the trained doctor in her knew late-night indigestion was what had her baby more active than usual. But she ignored that reasoning in favor of the idea that she and the baby were already emotionally connected.

  Worse yet, Cash had admitted to lying about where he’d spent his day, but she’d been so wrapped up in the thought of him being with another woman that she hadn’t even asked where he’d been. Not a good thing, considering the multitude of places a man like Cash could find trouble.

  “YOU EVER TALKING TO ME again?” In Doc Haven’s waiting room Monday morning, Cash slapped down a copy of People magazine and glared at Wren.

  “Maybe.” She didn’t bother looking up from her US Weekly.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said in a hushed tone. “You’re miffed because I kissed you and you liked it.”

  “Did not.” She tried acting offended, but the underlying flush to her complexion told him he’d pushed the right button.

  Doc Haven’s nurse opened the exam area’s door. “Wren Barnes.”

  Cash stood along with the mother of his child.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Don’t think for a second you’re going back there with me.”

  “It’s my baby and I have every right to hear how he’s coming along.”

  “She’s doing great.” The strap to her purse got hung around the chair arm. Cash cheerfully unhooked it for her.

  Instead of thanking him, Wren glared harder.

  “Good morning,” the nurse chirped when they approached. “How’s the momma today?”

  “Miserable,” Wren said with a pained look in Cash’s direction.

  “Isn’t she cute?” Once they’d passed through the door, Cash put his arm around her.

  In the exam room, when Cash tried helping Wren onto the bench table, she snapped, “I can do it myself.”

  “Go for it.” He released her, only to quickly see she hadn’t a prayer of safely making it without major assistance.

  Though she didn’t look happy about it, Wren grabbed hold of him, clutching him for support. “Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  The nurse made a note on her chart.

  “Miss Barnes, if you’ll lend me your arm, I’ll go ahead and take your blood pressure.”

  Wren removed the sweater she’d squeezed into to counteract the October chill. Indian summer was gone, replaced by blustery wind and a cold drizzle. Thrusting out her arm, Wren said, “Do your worst.”

  “I’ll try to be gentle.” A few minutes later the woman removed her stethoscope’s earpieces and frowned. “One fifty-six over ninety-four.”

  “That good?” Cash asked.

  “No.” Wren put her hands to her forehead.

  “Is she okay? Do we need to run her to a Tulsa hospital?”

  “Not just yet,” the nurse assured him. “Let Doc Haven take a look, and I’m sure Mommy and baby will be fine.”

  After another reassuring smile, the smiley blonde left them on their own.

  “Tell it to me straight,” Cash said to Wren. “How serious is this?”

  She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. Stress related.”

  “What are you stressed about?”

  She crossed her arms, and her scowl hit him like a well-aimed slug.

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Me? You’re upset over me?” He laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Maybe to you, but obviously my blood pressure doesn’t lie.”

  Doc Haven bustled into the room. “Sally tells me my favorite patient’s vitals aren’t ideal?”

  “True,” Wren said.

  “You’ve been taking it easy? Eating right?”

  “Yes and yes,” Cash answered.

  Extending his hand for Cash to shake, the doctor said, “Nice to see you taking an interest in your future child’s health.”

  What was he supposed to say? Sure, Doc. Up until now I just didn’t give a damn? Cash had always cared—he just hadn’t realized how much.

  “Wren, before we snoop on your little guy or gal’s heart rate, in general, how have you been feeling? Swelling in your extremities?”

  “No.” Easing her back on the exam table, the doctor extended it to make room for her dangling feet, and then raised her shirt, exposing Wren’s belly. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  She sucked in her breath when he squeezed clear gel from a bottle.

  “Cold?”

  She nodded.

  “Sorry. They make gizmos to heat this gunk, but I haven’t gotten around to ordering one.” He waved a wand over Wren’s belly until all of a sudden a rapid-fire thumping sounded from what looked to Cash like one of the twins’ old baby monitors. “Whoa. Sounds like you have a track star growing in there. Nice and strong.”

  Wren released the breath she’d been holding.

  “The next few days,” the doctor said, wiping her stomach and then tugging down her shirt, “I’d like you to do better at keeping off your feet as much as possible. Cash, that means whatever this little gal needs, you’re to deliver. Ice cream, pickles, late-night fried chicken—within reason, whatever she wants.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Also—” the doctor took a tissue from a box on the counter, using it to clean his glasses “—I want you back here Friday. If we don’t see an improvement, I’m checking you in to Saint Francis in Tulsa for observation.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Now you simply have to marry her.” In the kitchen with her son, Georgina Buckhorn spoke as if Wren wasn’t even in the house.

  Wren had set up camp on the living-room sofa.

  Outside, cold rain had set in and the wind howled, making Wren grateful for the crackling fire Cash had made.

  Snuggling deeper into the fuzzy pink blanket he’d brought her, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

  “God forbid, what if something happens? What if that poor little baby is stillborn without ever having had a proper name?”

  “Mom,” Cash said, clanking around in the kitchen, “Wren isn’t supposed to be upset. If you won’t let this go, you’ll have to leave.”

  Georgina lowered her voice to the point Wren could no longer hear.

  Eyes wide open, she fought to achieve the comfort level she’d found before Cash’s mother had stopped by for a supposedly friendly chat.

  Cash appeared, carrying a plateful of the turkey-and-Swiss sandwiches Mrs. Cahwood had left for lunch. His smile was forced.

  His mother marched behind him with sliced apples and bananas as if Wren were a toddler incapable of chewing whole food. “Here you go,” she said, setting her load on the coffee table. “All nice and healthy for you. Lots of fiber, too.” She winked.

  “Thanks.”

  The older woman had brought an extra plate and now assembled snack-sized portions she handed to Wren. “When I carried Wyatt, I was perpetually hungry. His sister, not so much.” Fleetingly enough as to make Wren wonder if she might’ve imagined it, a wistful look saddened Mrs. Buckhorn’s features. “First losing your father, then Daisy… When you get to be my age, multiple losses seem to exponentially increase heartache.”

  “You talk as if she’s dead, Mom.” Cash grabbed a sandwich. “My gut tells me Daisy’s great—just for her own reasons choosing to live on her own.”

  Hands to her temples, Wren said, “If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll go to my room and have a nap.”

  “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” Fussing with Wren’s still-full plate, Cash’s mother dabbed h
er napkin at a few crumbs on the table. “It’s just that with my daughter Lord-only-knows where, and now my future grandchild about to meet the same fate…” Hand to her chest, she dragged in a breath and shuddered. “It’s oftentimes more than I can bear.”

  “Quit being melodramatic.” Cash slammed his plate on the table and was on his feet, pacing before the windows. “You hate losing control.”

  “I didn’t raise you to be cruel.”

  Turning to her, he asked, “What did you raise me for?”

  Wren cleared her throat. “I—I’m going to give you two some privacy.”

  “No.” When she rose, Cash urged her back down. “Whether we’re legally wed or not, you’re carrying my child. That makes you family.” To his mother, he said, “All my life you and Dad told me what to do. Quit riding bulls. You’ll only get hurt. Go to college. Do something valuable with your life. Marry a nice girl. Settle down. Never once in all of those demands did either of you just wish me happiness. Why is that, Mom?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” With her napkin, Georgina blotted tears from her eyes. “Why are you acting this way?”

  Wren resisted the urge to pull the blanket over her head and hide. How long had she dreamed of belonging to a real family? If this was what it was like, then she truly was better off on her own.

  “I’m hurt, okay? My riding career might be done. That make you happy? Finally hearing me admit you and Dad were right?”

  “Of course not. Your father may have wished you’d chosen a more academic path for your life, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t proud of you.” His mother tried em bracing him, but he nudged her away.

  “The team doctor says I have to have surgery. Even then, I might not be cleared to ever rejoin the tour.”

  “Oh, honey…” She again reached out to hug him, only this time he fell into her arms.

  Wren remained frozen on the couch.

  Why hadn’t Cash shared this with her? Lack of trust? But then, why should he trust her? Aside from sharing great sex, they were practically strangers. Was seeing a specialist what he’d gone to Dallas for?

  “If I can’t ride again,” he asked, “what am I going to do?”

  Stepping back, Georgina braced her son’s shoulders. “You’re going to be the man your father knew you to be. First we’ll get you a second—even third—opinion. If all of those doctors are in agreement, you’ll face that reality when and if it comes. Until then—” she turned to Wren “—we have much to be thankful for. Together we’ll ride out any storm.”

  “YOU’RE QUIET,” CASH said to Wren an hour after his mom had left. Rain still fell, and the KOTV weatherman said by night it could change over to an early snow.

  “I’m reading.” She didn’t look up from her book.

  “Must be a good page, seeing how you haven’t turned it the whole time I’ve been sitting here.”

  Resting the book on the sofa back, she said, “Truthfully, though I understand why you wouldn’t confide in me about your knee, I’m hurt. I wouldn’t have expected details, but why couldn’t you have at least told the truth about your Dallas trip?”

  Fear? Embarrassment? Hell if he knew.

  “I thought we’d grown close. At least become friends. Now…” She smoothed her hands over their baby. “I have to wonder if I mean anything to you at all. And that seriously messes with my head, considering I’ve been adamant against us sharing anything beyond the most basic of platonic relationships once our child is born.”

  Cash added a log to the fire. “Of course we’re close. I tried telling you about my Dallas trip, but then we kissed and everything got messed up in my mind. I had this image of me being the perfect guy for you. Making boatloads of money and buying you and our child everything you’d ever need. But if I’m off the tour, all that changes. I’m back to earning a living the old-fashioned way, which is something I’ve never done.”

  “Please face me.” When he did, she said, “Beyond helping people, a large part of why I wanted to become a doctor was to be self-sufficient. No matter what, as a healer, my services will always be in demand. So as far as money goes, I couldn’t care less what you earn or if I ever see a dime of child support. In the short term, I’m dead broke. And because I’ve been blessed enough to have scholarships that negated the need for student loans, once my residency’s over I’ll make more than enough to support myself and our baby. The last thing you should worry about is taking care of me.”

  What if I find myself in the unexpected position of wanting to care for you and our kiddo? Cash wasn’t sure how, but Wren had become a lifeline. She was the only thing keeping him sane in his otherwise upside-down world.

  “Cash?”

  He looked up.

  “Talk to me. What’s going through that handsome head of yours?”

  “Finally admitting it, huh?” With a pinched smile nowhere near as potent as usual, he took one of the sandwiches left to wilt on the coffee table. “I’m the best-looking man you’ve ever seen?”

  “That’s a given. What I need you to be is the most communicative.”

  “GIRL,” DELORES HAWKE SAID Friday afternoon at her home’s front door, “you’ve grown big as a house. Get in here before we both catch our death of cold.”

  Passing Cash’s elderly neighbor, Wren barely got around her new aluminum walker. The woman’s hip surgery had been a success and after weeks in a convalescent home, she’d been released to care for herself. Cash had taken Wren to visit several times and they’d become fast friends.

  At her doctor’s appointment that morning, Wren’s blood pressure had been back to normal, meaning when she’d heard from Doc Haven that Delores had been sprung, it was the perfect way to celebrate Wren’s own good health.

  Collapsing onto her new power chair, Delores said, “Be a dear and fetch us some cookies before we settle in for a nice visit. All I have are store bought until I’m back to one hundred percent.”

  Laughing all the way to the kitchen, Wren hoped she had as much spunk when she was eighty.

  Armed with two tumblers filled with milk and two saucers of coconut macaroons, Wren returned to the living room and sat on a loud floral sofa featuring crocheted doilies on the arms and across the back. Cool weather had helped considerably to tame the scent of mothballs and Bengay.

  “Where’s that man of yours?” Delores asked after downing two cookies and half her milk.

  “First, Cash is hardly mine, and second, Dallas sent him to the feed store with a long list. He’s picking me up on his way home.”

  “No wedding bells, then?”

  “Not you, too,” Wren said with a sigh. “What is it with this town? Everyone’s obsessed with marriage.”

  “Oh, don’t go getting your panties twisted.” She popped another cookie into her mouth and chewed. “Isolated as we are, Weed Gulch has old-fashioned values. Back when I was your age, an unwed mother would make front-page news. I know, to your generation it sounds crazy, but that’s how it was. We had no such thing as divorce statistics, because folks didn’t get divorced. More often than not, you grew to love each other. Good or bad, you stayed together until death do you part.”

  Grinning, Wren had to ask, “So then everyone understood if you ended up killing each other?”

  “HAVE A NICE VISIT?” Cash had gone inside to chat with Delores for a short while, but once he’d got wind that the topic centered on marriage, he’d ushered Wren to the door.

  “Fine,” she said, accepting his help climbing into the truck.

  With her safely buckled in, he got behind the wheel, starting the engine for the short ride home.

  “How was the feed store?”

  “Good. I bought you a present.”

  “More popcorn?” Since her first batch, she’d taken to having some every afternoon, munching while reading. She usually dropped a bunch, making a hellacious mess wherever she’d happened to park herself.

  “Since that’s a given—it doesn’t count. Guess again.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know, it’s the feed store. A new hoe or rake?”

  “Hmm… No and no.” He couldn’t ever remember being so excited to give someone a gift—not even when he’d made his mother a Popsicle-stick log cabin in 4-H.

  “You do know it’s not nice to tease pregnant people? We’re prone to snap.”

  He flashed a smile. “I’ll take my chances.”

  The drive time couldn’t have been over fifteen minutes, but it felt like an eternity. What would she think? Was his gift too personal? Would she even like it? How could she not? He probably shouldn’t have left it in the truck bed, but the woman who’d sold it to him said it would be all right for the short trip.

  He stopped in front of the house. “You stay put. And close your eyes. I don’t want any peeking.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a saucy salute.

  “You all right?” Cash asked, scooping the cutie out of her blanket-filled box. The hamster-sized puppy—supposedly a Yorkie-Chihuahua mix—licked his nose.

  “Hurry!” Wren shouted. “I have to pee!”

  “Your mother’s very demanding,” Cash whispered, cradling the furball to his chest. “Really bad!”

  “How about holding it long enough to meet the newest member of our household.” Cupping the puppy in his palms, he presented it to Wren. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  She did, only her reaction wasn’t quite what he’d intended. Instantly tearing, she looked at the puppy for the longest time, then cried, “Cash, how c-could you?”

  Now in full-blown sobs, Wren gave the trembling pup one last look before running into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  Having locked herself in the bathroom for at least twenty minutes, Wren wasn’t surprised when Cash pounded on the door.

  “Come on, she’s just a puppy. How scary can she be?”

  “I—I’m not scared,” Wren wailed, “but sad.”

  He persisted. “Same question, different word. She’s adorable, not sad.”

  Wren cried harder.