The Bull Rider's Christmas Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  “How did you reconcile your professional needs with those of your family?”

  Turning introspective, Georgina folded her cloth napkin. “When Duke and I were married, women didn’t really have careers. Sure, there were nurses and secretaries and schoolteachers, but I’d never even met a female doctor or dentist until I was in my fifties.”

  Which was yet another facet of why continuing her career meant so much to Wren. She’d always had an innate need to prove herself. Being married wouldn’t make that go away.

  “Did you know Mrs. Cahwood was a Rockette?”

  “Did I know? I begged my parents to let me go with her. She was the exception to the Weed Gulch rule that women belonged in the home. When Yvette danced, you just knew she was destined for more. I was heartbroken when she gave up New York City to return home, but she’s told me on numerous occasions that she never regretted her decision.”

  “Did you?” Wren was almost afraid to ask, but she was enjoying getting to know Cash’s mom as a woman rather than his parent, and she genuinely wanted to know.

  “You mean did I resent giving up any dreams I might’ve had to support Duke in achieving his?” Again her expression seemed far-off. As if she’d become so comfortable in her current role as matriarch that it required a trip back in time to touch base with the woman she’d once been. “In retrospect, no. I’ve led an amazingly blessed life. But I’d be lying if I told you Duke and I didn’t suffer our share of growing pains. Once the boys and their sister were all in school, I wanted to take a floral-design class in the hopes of being hired by the florist in the next town over. Well, once Duke heard the class met during the day and that I would need his help with laundry and the meals and such, he flat-out refused. Said he’d rather spend the money on buying me new dresses. For months I resented him.”

  “What happened?” Leaning forward, Wren asked, “Did you ever take the class?”

  “Years later, on my fortieth birthday, Duke surprised me with fully paid tuition. As well as an apology for taking such a hard-line stance the first time around.”

  “Did you ever land a job in floral design?”

  “I did.” Laughing, she said, “It was right around Easter and turns out I was deathly allergic to lilies. I lasted all of a week until I was missing volunteering at the kids’ school and my weekly bridge games and church meetings. Still, it meant the world to me that Duke finally came around to encouraging me to try following my own dreams. One thing about Cash is that I believe he’ll wholeheartedly support you in whatever course you decide is right for you.”

  Placing her hand over Georgina’s, Wren confessed, “If I didn’t believe that, we wouldn’t be having a wedding tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “In all of the excitement,” Cash said on the short walk home, “I forgot to mention how amazing you look in that blue sweater.”

  “Thanks.” Wren snuggled against him to ward off the crisp December chill. Though the brick-paved road had long since been cleared, snow still covered much of the rolling prairie. Reflected moonlight illuminated their every step. “For the record, it’s aquamarine. You’re looking quite dapper in pomegranate.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard my rodeo buddies would laugh at me for having the words aquamarine or pomegranate in my vocabulary?”

  “From what I’ve heard,” she teased, “real men aren’t afraid of color.”

  Cash used her dig as his invitation to tickle.

  He loved Wren’s laugh. Her shrieking giggles were the stuff dreams were made of. She all too soon begged him to stop or she’d wet her pants. Knowing how much she’d peed of late, he knew she wasn’t kidding. He also knew how much he wanted to kiss her.

  Hugging her to him, he pressed his lips to her forehead, her nose, her lips. Her soft, pliable delicious lips that no matter how many times he sampled, he never tired of tasting.

  “Mmm…” She clung to him, moaning for more, which he was only too happy to give. Pressed against him as she was, Cash had a tough time remembering to be a gentleman. He hadn’t dreamed it possible, but her breasts had grown even larger and felt incredibly hot in his palms.

  Their kiss deepened to the point his head was swimming from the rush of blood servicing his erection. “I want you so bad.”

  “I know,” she said, panting breaths clouding the frig id night air. “We were so busy arguing at my last doctor appointment, we forgot to ask permission.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, his forehead against hers. “At this stage, I probably shouldn’t be fooling around down there.”

  Giggling, kissing, she asked, “Down there? What are you, twelve?”

  “Judging by my current frustration level, that’s about how old I feel. At least I got some boob action.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she playfully scolded.

  “And damned good-looking.”

  “Goes without saying.”

  “And for the record,” he added, “back to your antiquated definition of real men, honey, I’m as real as it gets and I am afraid of my very pregnant almost-wife catching a chill. Want me to carry you the rest of the way?”

  “Does my waddle embarrass you?”

  “Not a bit. But your chattering teeth I find most alarming.” Almost to the house, he asked, “You and Mom seemed to be engrossed in something. She wasn’t complaining about me, was she?”

  “To the contrary, much of the conversation centered around her life, but she did add what a great man you’ve become.”

  “Really?” Eyebrows raised, Cash had a tough time believing his mom didn’t view him as a total screwup. Especially now that his knee was so wrecked he might never ride again.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I am. As the youngest of our clan, I’ve spent my life in everyone else’s shadow. Wyatt has a fancy business degree he uses to help Dallas with the ranch. Dallas’s degree is in animal husbandry—like what does that even mean? My sister’s raking in big bucks with her law degree. Then there’s you. You’ll have a string of credentials after your name, half of which I won’t even understand.”

  “If you want a PhD, sweetheart, then go to school. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Inside, Cash helped her off with her winter gear.

  While she changed into her pj’s and slippers, he started a fire. He was getting married the next day to a woman he couldn’t get enough of, so why was he all of a sudden feeling blue?

  Staring into the flames, he lost himself in fears.

  What happened if his surgery didn’t work and he was kicked off the tour? Yes, he had more cash than he knew what to do with in savings, but that wasn’t going to last forever. Would Wren eventually think him less of a man for not sharing her education level?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, in her fleece looking like a fluffy bunny he wanted to hold on his lap and stroke.

  “Nothing.” Forcing a smile, he motioned her to join him on the hearth.

  “No one has a pout quite like you, Cash Buckhorn. Out with it.” She tried sitting beside him, but didn’t fit. “Guess it’s the sofa for me.”

  “At dinner, my brothers spouted statistics about how marriages where one spouse has a degree and the other doesn’t typically end in divorce. I don’t want us to end up as a statistic.”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “You, dear, have too much time on your hands. Mark my words, once the baby’s here and you’re back into your training you’ll feel more like your own self.”

  “Promise?”

  “Wish I could,” she said with genuine concern. “But that would be like you reassuring me my residency transfer will magically go through. In marrying, we’re both assuming a certain amount of risks.”

  Though he hated asking, he couldn’t stop. “For you, are those risks worth it? Playing devil’s advocate, if your transfer doesn’t get approved, will you resent me?”

  Her flicker of indecision told him more than he’d ever cared to know.

  “YO
U’RE A BEAUTIFUL BRIDE,” Mrs. Cahwood gushed while easing rhinestone pins into Wren’s hair. To accommodate her lacy veil, the front was swept away from her face, while the back was a cascade of curls.

  “Thank you.” Wren hadn’t thought it possible to find a maternity wedding gown that made her feel like a princess, but she should’ve known better than to underestimate the power Georgina had in moving mountains to get her way. After selecting her dream satin gown in a Tulsa bridal shop, it had then been rush altered to fit. With a full, tulle-lined skirt, sweetheart neckline, miles of white satin and enough seed pearls and crystals for her to blind airline pilots were she to stand in the sun, Wren hoped her groom found her as beautiful as she felt.

  Prissy, snoozing on the bed, wore a specially made rhinestoned doggy dress for the occasion.

  “Nervous?” her friend asked, standing back to appraise her work.

  “Funny, but no. It’s almost as if my entire life has led me to this moment.” She did, however, have a slight stomachache. Almost like period cramps, but considering her current state, that was unlikely.

  “Good.” The housekeeper squeezed her in a hug. “There are, however, a few items we’re missing. For some thing old, I thought you might do me the honor of wearing these….” Eyes shining, she took a Tiffany box from her purse, opening it to reveal spellbinding diamond cascade earrings. Wren gasped.

  “Impressive, huh?” Helping Wren put them on, she said, “They were an opening-night gift from a Wall Street tycoon named Geoffrey Bartholomew Wentworth IV. He wanted me to marry him in the worst way, but I just kept telling him I couldn’t be bothered with wifely duties.” She winked. “I’d been born to dance. I’ve kept them all these years as not only a keepsake, but a nest egg. Now I want you to have them.”

  “I couldn’t,” Wren insisted. “They’re too valuable.”

  Mrs. Cahwood waved off Wren’s objections. “Making you smile is far more valuable. Please, I want to know that even after I’m gone, they’ll still be treasured.”

  Hugging her friend, Wren said, “I love you.” And she meant it.

  A knock sounded at the guest room’s door. In popped two matching girls, followed by their grandmother and nanny.

  “Lovely,” Georgina said, catching her first glimpse of the bride. “Cash is going to be blown away.”

  “I hope so,” Wren admitted.

  “Yvette,” Stella said, “those earrings of yours are even prettier than I remember. Why didn’t you bring them out at my wedding?”

  “You never asked,” the former dancer teased.

  “Since I see you’re already wearing your something old,” Cash’s mom said, “we still need borrowed, blue and new.” Nudging her granddaughters, she said, “Ladies, do you have something for your new aunt?”

  Bonnie held out an exquisite pearl-and-diamond bracelet. Her expression very serious for a five-year-old, she said, “If you don’t like this, I’ll wear it.”

  “Thank you,” Wren said, touched beyond words by not only the bracelet’s beauty, but the love that had gone into selecting such a perfect piece. “I can’t begin to describe how much all of this means.”

  “You don’t have to,” Stella said, brushing tears from Wren’s flawless makeup. “It’s written all over your face.” Stepping back, she put her index finger to her lips. “You’re looking pretty darned good, but there are still a couple of things missing. Betsy, hon, it’s your turn.”

  With much pomp and ceremony in her fancy long satin dress, Betsy held up a lacy handkerchief that had been meticulously embroidered with bluebonnets and ivy. Scrunching her face as if trying to remember a speech, Betsy said, “This is really, super-duper old and I forget who used it, but there aren’t any boogers.”

  Georgina gasped. “Betsy Buckhorn, after practicing all morning, that was the best you could do?”

  “Sorry, Grandma, but I’m awfully hungry and hafta make a pee-pee.”

  Laughing, Wren said, “You did perfect, and I’m sure your grandmother can fill me in on the details.”

  “’Kay.” Crossing her legs and doing the potty dance, Betsy asked, “Can I go now?”

  While her twin scampered off without permission, Bonnie shook her head. “She’s so childish.”

  “For the record,” Georgina said, “that handkerchief was made by my Irish great-great-great-grandmother Kate and has been carried in every wedding in my family line since.”

  Tears stung the back of Wren’s eyes and her throat felt in danger of forever knotting. Her stomachache was now working overtime. Regardless, she was determined to enjoy this magical afternoon and night. “You all are the best. Thank you doesn’t seem adequate.”

  “It’s perfect,” Stella said while fussing with more make up repair. “So where does that leave us?”

  “Borrowed,” Georgina said, stepping forward with Wren’s final gift. “On the surface, this may seem ridiculous, but Cash’s father won this for me on our first official date at the Tulsa State Fair. Now, to an Oklahoman, it’s still a big event, but all those years ago it might as well have been Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving all rolled into one.”

  “Amen,” Stella said with a firm nod.

  Mrs. Cahwood yawned. “Frankly, I always found the whole thing overrated.”

  The comment earned her swats from both of her contemporaries.

  “As I was saying,” Cash’s mother continued, with her object still hidden, “Duke won this for me and I believe it’s brought me luck ever since.” Opening her hand, she revealed the ugliest, ragtag Kewpie doll ever on God’s green earth. It wasn’t much over two inches tall, but the hair was orange, body naked and eyes a little spooky with glowing red stones. “Isn’t he the cutest thing ever? I’ll tuck him in your bouquet and no one will ever see him.”

  “Grandma,” Bonnie said, hiding behind Wren’s train, “that thing’s scary. Put it away.”

  Though she’d never let on to her future mother-in-law, Wren couldn’t have agreed more.

  WATCHING HIS BRIDE DESCEND the staircase he’d sledded down as a little boy, Cash felt ready to bust with pride. The closer Wren came, the more he wanted the ceremony over and the honeymoon to begin—not that they were headed anywhere. Doc Haven had ordered her straight to bed after all the excitement. Still, Cash couldn’t wait to finally, officially have her all to himself.

  His mother had hired a local band to play for the ceremony and reception. “Here Comes the Bride” had never sounded sweeter than with acoustic guitars and a few fiddles.

  Bonnie and Betsy made adorable flower girls. Grant ed, some of the red rose petals hit the walls and guests like projectiles, but at least the girls looked good while acting like the hellions they usually were.

  Wren was next down the temporary aisle. Stella and his mother had found a good fifty woven willow chairs, softened by Santa-themed cushions. Candles and holly and the rich scent of pine had transformed his family home into a Christmas wedding wonderland.

  Despite all of his mom and Stella’s work, the most exquisite part of the ceremony was his bride. “You take my breath away,” he said when she reached him.

  “You’re not looking too shabby yourself.” Her hands lightly trembled, but the light in her smiling eyes told him all he needed to know. “I’m loving your derriere in those blue jeans.”

  He tipped his black cowboy hat. “Dallas thought you wouldn’t, but I knew damn well you would.”

  The preacher performing the service cleared his throat. “Whenever you two are ready, we’ll begin.”

  Most weddings Cash had attended were dignified and brimming with deep meaning. His was a seriously good time with both the groom and the bride making plenty of mix-ups and flirty double entendres until at long last reaching the most important part.

  Reverend Winthrop seemed grateful to wrap things up. “I now—thank heavens—pronounce you husband and wife. Cash Buckhorn, you may kiss your bride.”

  Whoops and hollers from all in attendance prefaced a kiss that rocketed through
Cash with enough force to make him weak in his knees.

  “Mrs. Buckhorn,” he whispered in his wife’s ear on their walk down the aisle, “what are you getting me for Christmas now that I have everything I’ve ever wanted?”

  Wren grimaced in pain then stopped to clutch her belly. “W-will a son or daughter work?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  On their own for the brief time it took their guests to rise from their seats, Cash asked Wren, “Do I need to get you to a hospital?”

  “No,” Wren said, wincing through a smile. “I want to enjoy our reception. I’ve had a few contractions today, but I’m pretty sure they’re just Braxton Hicks.”

  “In English for the nondoctors in the crowd.”

  “Practice contractions. Unless they become regular, we have nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure?” Cupping her cheek, he searched her eyes. Did he think she’d lie about something like this?

  “Sweetie, of course I’m sure. I may be a disaster when it comes to shopping for baby gear, but on the medical side, I’ve got it—” ouch “—under control.”

  The rest of the night passed in a pleasantly painful blur. The Braxton Hicks continued, but Wren was having too much fun to worry about the timing.

  The band was amazing, mixing romantic slow songs with plenty of rowdy country tunes. Though she didn’t know the vast majority of guests, the longtime family friends and neighbors proved to be great partiers.

  Taking a breather in the kitchen, she found Georgina directing a caterer on adding more sherbet to the punch.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Wren said, pulling her aside. “This night will forever top my favorite memories.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Turning her head to swipe tears, Georgina excused herself to find a tissue.

  “What’s wrong?” Wren asked her mother-in-law.