The Bull Rider's Christmas Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Time out.” Cash abandoned his food to draw down her hands, easing his fingers between hers. “For the moment, how about we tackle one problem at a time, which is getting you out of here and back home.”

  She nodded, holding on to him for dear life.

  “After that, you and I are going to sit down and come up with a list of kid gear. If we managed to get a puppy through her first weeks at home, being two reasonably intelligent adults, we can do the same for our child.”

  “You think?” At the moment she didn’t feel capable of walking to the bathroom on her own. Weak and trembling and bigger than three houses, Wren was shocked by how rapidly her hard-won independence had faded. Had she ever truly been in control of her life, or had that control been an illusion?

  “Honey, I remember when my sister-in-law was close to delivering Betsy and Bonnie and trust me, she was nutty as a Christmas fruitcake. Crying constantly, and when she wasn’t sporting tears, she’d snap like a pit bull. It wasn’t a good time. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you have to get it through that thick head of yours that no matter what, I’m here for you.”

  “But you shouldn’t be,” she argued, crying anew. “You need surgery right away so you can rejoin your tour.”

  “What I need…” He released one of her hands to tuck flyaway strands of her hair behind her ears. “Is for you to understand my bull riding is on the back burner. Even if my knee were a hundred percent, I wouldn’t leave you or our baby in this condition. Now, take some deep breaths and focus on nothing but getting our baby safely into our arms.”

  “SURPRISE!”

  Hands to her chest, Wren felt her legs nearly go out from under her in the doorway of Cash’s home as she saw every person she knew in Weed Gulch smiling and clapping in welcome. Delores and Doc Haven. Sally, Doc’s nurse. Georgina and Stella. Dallas and the twins and Cash’s brother, Wyatt. Mrs. Cahwood—even Henry, the ranch foreman, whom Wren had met only twice. After two days in her quiet hospital room, the noisy show of affection brought on instant tears.

  Someone flipped a switch, immersing the room in an incredible holiday glow. Tiny white lights had been strung in a fragrant pine. Glittering ornaments had been hung from each bough. Beneath the tree were presents. Dozens—maybe even a hundred. Every inch of the house had been decked out in Christmas cheer, from the three stockings hanging from the mantel to fresh pine garlands strung over each door. The scents of evergreen and cinnamon and freshly baked gingerbread completed the holiday wonderland.

  Georgina stepped forward, crushing Wren in an unexpected hug. “You gave us a scare. I’m so glad you’re feeling better. We all are.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to be home.”

  When Cash entered, his brothers and friends drew him aside for plenty of laughter and backslapping.

  Georgina drew Wren a short way down the hall. “Be fore your baby shower really gets under way, I owe you another apology. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Really. Chalk it up to an old woman’s insecurities. I hate that it took you being in the hospital to force me to my senses, but that’s the truth. I thought by sheer stubborn will I could make you and my son fall in love, but if it’s not meant to be, then so be it. I can’t live with this animosity between us. Whether you’re here or in Baltimore, I’d very much like to be part of my grandchild’s life.”

  “Of course,” Wren said. “A baby can never have too much love. I’m sorry, too.” And Wren truly was. There had been times she could’ve taken the higher ground and backed away from their confrontations, but hadn’t.

  Taking Wren by the arm, Cash’s mother helped her off with her outer garments before guiding her to a comfortable armchair. The twins pushed an ottoman beneath Wren’s swollen feet.

  Delores leaned in, giving Wren’s shoulder a squeeze. “A little birdie told us you and Cash are behind on baby shopping.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Wren shared a smile with her friend, realizing that in the short time she’d lived in Weed Gulch, she’d met people she never wanted to let go. For the first time in her life, she felt part of something bigger than herself. As if she was a better person for knowing everyone in the room.

  With Prissy squirming in her arms, Bonnie asked, “Do we have to wait for all of those presents to open before we get cake?” Everyone laughed.

  Dallas ruffled his daughter’s hair. “This is Wren and your uncle Cash’s party. You’ll have to ask them.”

  Cash deferred to Wren, pouring on his ample charm with a lopsided grin that left her feeling drunk on happiness. “Ma’am?”

  “Tell you what,” she said, tweaking Bonnie’s nose and then the puppy’s, “if you promise to bring me a big piece, then I say you should have all the cake you want.”

  With their guests retreating to the kitchen, Cash sat on the arm of her chair. “Having fun?”

  Unable to speak past the knot in her throat, she nodded.

  “Me, too.”

  “I—I’m assuming you planned all of this?”

  He shrugged. “I had a lot of help from the ladies in my life. While Betsy and Bonnie took their dad to the bakery for the perfect cake, Mom, Stella and Delores went on a baby gear roundup.” After kissing her forehead, he leaned back, allowing their gazes to lock. Their connection was dizzying. The equivalent of six glasses of champagne.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  “I’m no expert,” he said, close enough to her lips for his warm breath to tickle, “but if I’m lucky, I’m get ting the strangest suspicion Mommy may be falling for Daddy.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “If those people were truly our friends,” Cash said the next day from the floor of Wren’s bedroom with Prissy looking on, “they would’ve stuck around to help put this stuff together.”

  Wren didn’t look up from the crib assembly manual she was reading.

  “Are you even listening?” he complained.

  “What?” She looked up, in the process releasing a cascade of her long dark hair over her shoulder. He’d always considered her a beauty, but the way she sat in a pool of bright winter sun made her skin glow. If they had a baby girl, would she be as pretty as her mom?

  “Last night,” Cash said, pulse racing faster than it had conquering his toughest bull, “I said something that I no doubt shouldn’t have, but…” He cleared his throat. “I—I need to know if what I was feeling was just an issue of circumstance—you know, both of us wrapped up in the festive mood—or more?”

  “I can’t do this,” she said, sharply looking away.

  “Can’t do what? Answer my question? Take a chance on me? Us?”

  Sighing, she tried standing, but ended up looking like an upside-down ladybug.

  Prissy barked, thinking it was time to play.

  “Need help?” Crouching behind her, he hefted her onto her feet. The motion hurt his knee, but that didn’t bother him nearly as much as Wren’s refusal to talk about issues that mattered.

  “I’m tired. Would you mind if we finish later?”

  “Take your mutt and nap in my bed,” he suggested. “Unless you want our baby sleeping in a dresser drawer, this needs to get done.”

  “Please don’t be angry. I heard you—I just don’t know what to say. Truth? I felt the same. Like in that moment everything we’d ever dared dream of might becoming true. But they’re called dreams for a reason, Cash. Because for the vast majority of people, they only occur deep in people’s minds in the black of night. They aren’t real.”

  Slamming down his screwdriver, Cash used every ounce of control not to punch the wall. “On the flip side,” he pointed out, “my parents were very happily married for thirty-eight years. Dallas and Bobbie Jo are an other classic case of love conquering all.”

  Making her escape, she called over her shoulder, “Sure, Cash, let’s talk about how great those relationships turned out for both your mom and brother. Your dad and Bobbie Jo are dead. Dead, Cash.”

  He followed her out i
nto the hall. “Despite that, I know for a fact that had Mom and Dallas known in advance their spouses would die too young they would’ve married anyway.”

  Spinning to face him, she said, “You’re not even making sense. You’ve told me a half dozen times you want nothing to do with marriage.”

  “I know, but what was it you told me not too long ago about having the prerogative to change your mind?”

  She opened her mouth, only to cover it with her hands. Turning from him, she walked straight to the freezer and grabbed for her Chunky Monkey ice cream.

  Prissy sat at her feet, begging.

  After getting a spoon, Wren scooped a small portion into the dog’s crystal bowl, then ate her own straight from the container.

  Cash pushed himself up to sit on the granite counter. “All the ice cream in the world isn’t going to change things between us. Your advice on me remembering my father and upbringing but raising our kid with my own style—it made sense. Seeing you in the hospital, realizing how much having you in my life means…” Hopping off the counter, he took the ice cream and spoon from her, setting them on the table before cupping her face with his hands. “Marry me, Wren, not because my mother and the entire town think it’s the right thing to do, but because you’ll die without having a cowboy stud like me permanently entrenched in your life.”

  “But we hardly know each other. There’s my residency and…”

  Tracing the delicate arch of her eyebrows, all the while never dropping her stare, he dared her to deny him. “I was really touched by my family and friends coming together for us last night. It made me see that maybe beyond my fear of not being a good father or husband was an extra-large helping of Buckhorn pride. For as long as I can remember I’ve done the opposite of what people expected or wanted me to do, sometimes for no good reason other than being ornery. In our case, I now realize that in letting you and our baby go, I’d only be spiting myself.”

  “How?” she fairly squeaked. “How do you know? Is it a feeling deep inside or a voice? I’m so afraid if I allow myself to fall for you, I’ll never be independent again. I’ll never complete my residency or earn my medical license. I’ll become a lonely drifter like most of the kids I grew up with. Can’t you understand?”

  He traced her lips. Full, lovely, kissable lips he was finished even trying to resist.

  Pressing his mouth to hers earned him the sweetest mew. She leaned fully into him, clinging to his shirt with the kind of openmouthed hunger he’d craved ever since their wild Vegas night.

  “Marry me,” he demanded rather than asked.

  “Okay,” she said, kissing him again as if he were her air. “But if we go bad, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “OVER THE TOP?” STELLA asked three days later.

  Not wishing to hurt the woman’s feelings, Wren wasn’t sure how to reply. They sat in the duck-themed living room of Marva Wells, who was apparently the master baker for all of Tohwalla county. With the wedding scheduled for Saturday, Georgina was back home with the florist, making hasty plans for every inch of the main house to be decked out in Christmas finery.

  Sandwiched between Stella and Cash, Wren perched on the sofa with Marva’s portfolio balanced on her knees. The current page showed a six-tiered wedding cake complete with a fountain and glittering swan topper that was magnificent, but more fitting for royalty than a sweet ceremony intended for family and a few close friends.

  “Um.” Wren struggled to form a thought past how amazing Cash’s leathery aftershave smelled. Never would she have predicted her life would turn out this way, but now that it had, she abandoned herself to the giddy, girlie pleasure of planning their special day.

  “Maybe something smaller would be more appropriate.”

  “I disagree,” Cash said, all too pleasantly pressing against her as he reached for one of the sample cake pieces Marva had placed on her coffee table. Ignoring the plastic fork, he dredged his finger through the frosting. “Mmm…good.” Repeating the motion, he offered the same sugary treat to Wren.

  Momentarily forgetting the other two people in the room, she licked and sucked his finger clean. When their eyes met, there was no denying the heat she’d long suppressed.

  Stella gave Cash a swat. “I’m glad your mama’s not here, or she’d tan your hide for such a public display.”

  Wren’s cheeks flamed from the remembrance of every bare inch of Cash’s splendid hide. Was it wrong for her to now be as happy as she’d once been confused?

  “It’s quite all right,” Marva assured her. “Just last week I worked with a drunken groom who requested beer-flavored frosting.” Stella blanched.

  Cash grinned. “Damn. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Wren rolled her eyes. “Consider yourself booted from the cake committee.”

  Talking to Wren’s belly, he complained, “Can you believe the way your mother treats me? We’re not even married and already she’s bossing me around.”

  “Ignore him,” Stella urged. “We have to make this decision ASAP, as we still have a dress to find.”

  “Give me that book,” Cash said, and flipped rapid-fire through the pages. After twenty or so, he pointed to a dreamy quadruple-tiered confection. Since the tiers were small, it had the feel of a classical wedding cake without being overdone. The bottom layer was square with diamond-patterned piping. The next layer was round with wide fondant stripes, followed by another square layer with lacy piping. At the top was a tiny round cake dotted with sugar pearls and a white bouquet of sugar roses. Each layer was ringed with more sugar pearls and roses. “This work for you?”

  Tossing her arms around his neck, she answered with a kiss.

  Clearing her throat, Stella said, “Marva, it seems we’ve made a decision.”

  The cake lady laughed. “That was the easy part. Now you have to select the flavors and fillings.”

  “I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THIS, man.” If Dallas scowled any harder, Cash was pretty sure his face would forever freeze that way. “Mom’s gonna eat you alive for not picking a more conservative suit.”

  Surveying himself in the dressing-room mirror of the Woodland Hills Mall Dillard’s, Cash couldn’t help but grin at his own reflection. “Damn, I’m good-looking.”

  Arms folded, Dallas tapped the toe of his boot. “Time’s ticking, bro.”

  “And? I’m done.”

  “This is a mistake,” Dallas said. “Weddings should be solemn occasions. As such, you should dress the part.”

  “Tell you what.” Cash took off his jacket. “If I ever marry you, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  Twenty minutes later they stopped off at the food court before the long ride home.

  Dallas had salad with low-fat dressing.

  Cash had Frito chili pie.

  Joining Dallas at a table in the seating area, Cash dug in.

  “How did all of this come about?” Dallas asked, still fussing with his napkin on his lap.

  “What? The wedding?”

  Big brother nodded. “Last I heard you and Wren were dead set against marital bliss.”

  “We were. To a certain extent we still are. But the whole hospital thing gave us a hellacious scare. For me, anyway, it got me thinking about my priorities. It pains me to admit it, but you were right. No matter what, family comes first. Before Wren, my next bull ride was my world. Now…” Choked up, he looked away and smiled.

  “I’m happy for you.” Holding his hand across the table, Dallas grasped Cash’s hand. “Welcome to adulthood. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “HAPPY?” GEORGINA ASKED Wren during a lull in the rehearsal dinner conversation. The Buckhorn main house had been transformed into a Christmas wedding wonderland—white and purple poinsettias, pine garlands and plenty of sparkling lights, candles and silver ornament accents.

  “Aside from constant heartburn, a tiny elbow between my ribs and swollen feet, I’m floating on clouds.”

  Cash’s mother laughed. “Ah, I remember those days well.
At least it’s almost over.”

  “True.”

  The meal had been a decadent blend of steak and lobster tails, twice-baked potatoes and pencil-thin asparagus dripping in butter and Parmesan cheese. Cheesecake, coffee and herbal tea had provided the perfect end to an enchanted evening.

  The guys were engrossed in talk of football playoffs, and Stella had taken the twins off to bed. Delores had gone home early, leaving Wren and her soon-to-be mother-in-law on their own.

  Georgina said, “You had me convinced that this wedding wasn’t in your cards.”

  Grimacing, Wren admitted, “I didn’t think it was. Even though Cash and I connected the second we met, I refused to believe it possible to merge a husband and baby with my medical career.”

  “Will you be completing your residency in Tulsa?”

  “Most likely.” Taking a roll from a basket, she daubed on butter. “I’ve started the transfer process with my dean, but there’s a lot of paperwork involved. This late in the year, I might have to start over in July, but we’ll see. Winning my Baltimore residency was quite a coup. Only ten out of two thousand applicants were accepted.”

  “Wow…”

  Wren forced a breath. Caught up in the wedding excitement, she’d forgotten what an honor she’d been given.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” her future mother-in-law said, “but I had no idea you were so accomplished. I can only imagine what a shock your pregnancy must’ve been.”

  No kidding.

  Mouth dry, Wren struggled with a moment of panic over her recent hasty moves. Then she looked to Cash. He met her gaze and they shared a smile. Calm flooded through her. In marrying him, she was making the right decision. For her baby and for herself.

  “I found out I was carrying Dallas at a point when his father was constantly on the road working for an oil exploration company. The thought of raising him with out Duke was almost more than I could bear, but the time flew by and I actually missed some aspects of being solely in charge.”