The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby

by Carolyn Brown

  He propped an arm against the doorjamb and looked at her. “Did you sleep well?”

  Her hair probably looked like it had been combed with a hay rake. She hadn’t brushed her teeth yet and her nightshirt was five years old and faded. Was he truly being nice or was he telling her that she looked like hell?

  “Joshua was only up once through the night, so it was a good one,” she answered.

  “That’s good,” he said.

  Holy shit! She was blocking the door and the hallway. He probably felt like a bull penned up in a cattle trailer. She stood to the side to let him pass and his shoulder brushed against her breasts. A flannel nightshirt separated soft skin from hard muscles, but the air in the hallway still crackled and fizzled around them like embers in a red-hot fireplace.

  Mother Nature was a bitch.

  It wasn’t fair for her to turn all the pheromones on the whole planet of Venus loose in the small confines of a hallway in a ranch house in Savoy, Texas. Or that Mother Nature had dropped a man with all the testosterone of Mars right there in the same place. There was sure to be a war of the planets. Would the house be standing when it was finished, or would the bed sheets be on fire?

  It was only four weeks and she could get through the days by reminding herself that when Christmas came, he was going to owe her one helluva paycheck.

  His back was to her when she took the next step into the bathroom. Her cold foot got tangled up in a throw rug in front of the vanity. One second she was thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, the next she hoped that the fall didn’t break her nose when she hit the edge of the claw-foot tub as she fell forward.

  Shit! Momma will kill me if I die in this place. She doesn’t even know about Lucas!

  She was suddenly jerked to an upright position. She hit his chest with a force that reminded her of the first time she shot her dad’s thirty-caliber Argentine Mauser rifle. It kicked the shit out of her shoulder. Slamming against Lucas’s chest came close to knocking the breath right out of her just like the rifle had that first time.

  She looked up and noticed there were gold flecks in his brown eyes. Her hands were on his chest. Her gut twisted up in a pretzel and those pesky pheromones began to dance around a bonfire right there in the middle of her stomach. Mother Nature had not redeemed herself at all. She’d just shown Natalie what she could never have.

  She was about to thank him for saving her and wiggle free of his embrace when she realized that his eyes were going all fuzzy and closing very slowly, leaving heavy black lashes to rest against his high cheekbones. She barely had time to moisten her lips and then boom! The whole earth spun around like a merry-go-round. She couldn’t think or breathe; she could only feel. And the passion was blistering hot!

  She’d known it would be. There had never been a doubt in all those months that she was drawn to the computer screen every night that if they met, the attraction would be strong and the heat sizzling. But in her imaginary world, he would feel the same way.

  Yes, ma’am, Mother Nature was a coldhearted bitch. And Fate was her mean old sister.

  Natalie did not want to open her eyes when the kiss ended. She wanted to stay in that make-believe world where he would pick her up and carry her off to bed. But the whimpering on the monitor in her pocket brought her back to reality with a thump.

  “I’ll put the coffee on,” he drawled.

  She barely nodded. Her brain was still in a mushy state, so words were not possible anyway. If she’d had to speak or eat dirt, she’d have gone to the kitchen and gotten a spoon.

  He stepped out of the bathroom and was gone. She shut the door, put the lid down on the potty, and sat down. She’d only come close to fainting one time in her entire life and that was the day she looked at the pregnancy stick and it showed positive. She put her head between her knees and inhaled deeply several times. The walls stopped weaving and the floor settled back down where it belonged.

  Hellfire! If one kiss could do that, what would happen if they ever…

  She didn’t let herself finish the thought.

  ***

  Lucas’s hands shook when he pulled on his jeans and snowy white T-shirt. He wasn’t going to ever acknowledge that baby or even talk to him. But hell, he was Drew’s kid, and Drew was dead and he owed his old buddy that much. Besides, he was so damn stinkin’ cute that no one could resist him. Not totally unlike his mother, who had just turned every testosterone jet loose in his body with that kiss. Lucas had figured kissing her would be pretty damn great; he hadn’t expected to hear bells and whistles and see stars.

  His hands were still trembling when he buttoned the plaid flannel shirt he had dug out of his closet. Sex had never brought on such turmoil in his body, much less a single kiss. Granted, it had been a year since he’d touched a woman. Maybe that was the problem. He just needed a good rousing bout of sex so that a kiss wouldn’t turn him into a jiggling mess of nerves.

  He’d been born and raised in the house, so he knew his way around every piece of furniture without turning on a light. The hallway opened into the living room of that end of the house. A doorway to the left took him into the kitchen. He rounded the end of the table and stumbled over the baby swing, knocking it over and almost sending him into a headlong fall toward the stove.

  “Dammit!” he swore as he set it up again.

  He’d endure the swing and even learn to walk around it, but if he stepped on one of those slimy teething things on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he’d fire Natalie on the spot. He didn’t care what the family said or how hard they begged.

  He flipped on a light to be sure there wasn’t anything else between him and the coffeepot. Cussing must be good for the soul, because his hands were steady as a rock when he turned on the water for coffee and stared out the kitchen window.

  The sky was still gray, but there was nothing falling. The thermometer outside the window fluttered around the twenty-degree mark, which meant what was on the ground wasn’t melting off that day.

  The coffeepot gurgled to a stop as Natalie and Joshua made it to the kitchen. She smothered the baby’s face with kisses and put him in the swing, wound it up, and kissed him one more time. “See, I told you if you ate all your green eggs and hams, you could go to Six Flags this morning.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” Lucas pulled two cups out of the cabinet and filled both. “I don’t cook, but I make a mean pot of coffee.”

  “Strong?” she asked.

  He held a steaming mug out toward her. “Oh, yeah. It has to make your eyes flash tilt to be good coffee. Green eggs and ham? Oh, you read Dr. Seuss to him, right? And the swing is like an amusement park ride. I get it now.”

  “That’s pretty close to what Daddy says about good strong coffee.”

  Their fingertips brushed in the transfer and his hand was hotter than the steaming coffee in the mug she held. Her touch hadn’t produced as much blistering fire as there had been in that scorching kiss that came near to blowing that red towel right off his body. But it was going to be a long, long month if every time he accidentally touched her, he was aroused to the point of pain.

  He was a rough cowboy and a soldier. He had nerves of steel. He could do his job in the desert or on a ranch, and he was good at both.

  “Got a preference for breakfast this morning?” Natalie busied herself getting stuff out of the refrigerator.

  “Omelets and waffles,” he said quickly to take his mind off her lips.

  Her head bobbed once.

  “So you like to cook?”

  He stopped by the swing and touched the baby’s cheek. He expected a grin, but Josh latched on to his finger and stared right at him as if sizing him up. Did babies know more than adults thought they did? The boy’s eyes didn’t blink for several seconds, and Lucas wondered what he really thought of th
e folks at Cedar Hill Ranch.

  Natalie took bowls from the cabinet and turned on the oven. “Momma can’t boil water. Aunt Leah, her twin sister, is the cook in the family. There were just the two of them, and Aunt Leah hated getting her hands dirty, so she learned to cook when she was young so she could stay out of the fields. You know what folks say about it taking both twins to make a whole. I believe it. They are as different as night and day and yet when one of them is in trouble or sick, the other one knows before anyone says a word. Aunt Leah never married, but she’s a gourmet cook. Momma married, had four kids, and Daddy hired a cook and housekeeper instead of a field hand. She can work all day outside the house and supervise a crew both inside and out, but she doesn’t cook or clean.”

  “And you?”

  She plugged in the waffle iron and the red light on top came on. “Daddy said I had to learn both worlds.”

  “Which one do you like best?”

  She pulled the egg basket from the refrigerator. “Neither when I was younger. All I wanted to do was coach basketball and teach. But after three years of that, I decided farming wasn’t so bad. When I wasn’t rehired at the school, Daddy hired me to work on the ranch. But Momma stole me to help our cook pretty often.”

  “And your brothers?”

  “You’ve got one up on them. They can’t even make coffee, but they’re all married to women who are hell on wheels in the kitchen.”

  He smiled. “You are the oldest, though, right?”

  “Yes, I am. Momma had me and two years later she had Isaac, then the next year Jarrett came along, and Shawn the year after that. Four kids in five years. They’re all married and ranchin’ with Daddy. Shawn just got married last week.”

  “I remember you telling me that. How was the wedding?”

  She cracked eggs in the bowl, added a splash of milk, then salt and pepper. “Beautiful. His bride comes from the next cotton farm up the road. She had a Christmas wedding even though it’s still a month away.”

  Jack rounded the doorjamb and zeroed in on the coffeepot. He poured a cup, took several sips, and then sat down at the end of the table close to the baby’s swing.

  “Good mornin’, sunshine! Did you sleep well last night or did you keep your pretty mommy up? Did you know that today me and your Uncle Grady are going to bring the Christmas tree in out of the barn and set it up? You’ll love the lights, I betcha. And if you could reach those shiny ornaments, you’d be trying to put them in your mouth.”

  Joshua cooed and waved his hands around.

  “Yes, sir, with those very hands. It won’t be long until your hands will be big enough to hang on to a pony’s reins. By then you won’t care as much about Christmas tree stuff.”

  “You’re putting up a tree today?” Natalie asked.

  “We usually get it out of the box the day after Thanksgiving, but Hazel said we had to wait until Lucas got home. We’re already a week late and this blasted weather is keeping us from doing much else, so this is the day.”

  Lucas had never shared the ritual of putting up the tree with anyone but his dad, Grady, and Hazel.

  “But,” he started.

  Jack held up a palm and shot a look that said enough across the table. “Can’t have a party without a tree, can we?”

  A rooster crowed and something hit the kitchen window. Lucas looked up just in time to see the rooster try to light on the casing, fail, and flop back to the ground.

  “What the hell?” Lucas headed for the door. “Did you leave the hen house door open, Natalie?”

  She popped both hands on her hips. “I’m a ranchin’ woman. I double-check things like that.”

  He opened the door and more than a dozen big Rhode Island Red hens flocked into the house. He slammed the door shut, but not before the three puppies rushed inside with the rooster right behind them, squawking when he left a few tail feathers behind.

  “Holy shit!” Henry yelled. “What did you do, Lucas?”

  Chickens were everywhere. Puppies chased them, biting at their tails and spitting feathers out in their wake. Grady and Jack jumped up and chased the dogs, but they were wet from the snow and no one could get a grip on the slick little devils. Men, chickens, and dogs all in a blur with Natalie trying to get to Joshua before a stupid chicken flew at him and hurt her baby.

  The rooster flew over everyone and roosted right there on top of Joshua’s swing, like the king of the mountain daring the puppies to try to get him. He fluffed up his feathers, threw back his head, and crowed in his loudest voice. One hen followed his lead, settled down in Joshua’s lap, wiggled around until she was comfortable, tucked her head under her wing, and shut her eyes.

  Lucas was closer to the swing than Natalie, so he rushed over to get the dumb chicken out of Josh’s lap. If that critter pecked at his little chubby cheeks or worse yet, at his eyeball, Natalie would shoot first and ask questions later, and she’d be aiming at Lucas Allen’s heart.

  He grabbed the hen and Natalie grabbed Josh at the same time. A freshly laid egg rolled out of the baby’s lap and splattered on the floor between them. Three puppies ran over to lick up the mess and Grady picked up two while Jack got hold of the other one.

  “We’ll get them out, and by damn, I’ll fix that pen myself,” Jack said.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas asked.

  “It means that I bet they don’t get out again. Shoo them damn chickens out of the house. Must be this storm that’s got them all crazy. Never knew chickens to do that,” Grady said.

  That’s when Natalie buried her face in Josh’s hair and giggled like a little girl. Lucas stopped in the middle of a whole flock of chickens and stared at her. Was she laughing or crying?

  Natalie looked up and shook her head. “That was the funniest sight I’ve seen. Men, dogs, and chickens. Feathers flying and rooster crowing. I wish I’d had my video camera out here.”

  The rooster crowed once more and then flew down the hall. “Hold on to Josh and don’t move. I’ll be back to get that rooster soon as I get all these damned chickens back out to the coop.”

  When the hens were all out of the house, Lucas raised an eyebrow at Natalie. “I bet that cantankerous old boy is in your bedroom. You got a problem with me going in after him?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “The whole scene would have been a hoot to send in for America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

  A grin tickled the edges of his mouth and finally he just gave in and let it materialize. “Well, let’s hope the rooster goes without too much trouble.”

  The damned old bird was roosting on the edge of the portable crib, crowing like he’d just found a brand-new harem of hens. Lucas reached out to pick him up, and the rooster flogged him, pecking and tearing at his arms.

  “You rotten old bastard, I swear to God, we’ll have you with dumplings tonight,” Lucas yelled.

  Natalie stepped inside out of the hallway, still holding Josh in one arm.

  The rooster flew away from Lucas and lit on her shoulder.

  “What are you, a damn animal whisperer?” he asked.

  “Never have been before. If you’d quit inviting them inside, this wouldn’t happen. Be quiet. I’ll see if I can simply walk him out to the coop.”

  “You can’t take that baby out there like that. One of his socks is even missing,” Lucas said. “Give him to me.”

  The rooster flogged Lucas again when he reached for Josh. Lucas backed off and the old boy flew back up and sat on Natalie’s shoulder.

  “Okay, I’m going to pick up Josh’s blanket and wrap him in it. And I’ll hurry,” Natalie said. “This bird does not like you!”

  “Isn’t too fond of you either, or he wouldn’t have just left his calling card running down your back,” Lucas said.

  “One more time, you rascal, and I’ll be
the one who wrings your neck and puts you in the boiling pot,” Natalie growled.

  Lucas went ahead of her and told Grady and Jack not to make a sound. Grady held up two eggs. “Found these on the back porch. Feels like they’re probably frozen solid.”

  Natalie came through the kitchen, baby in her arms fighting against the blanket, rooster on her shoulder, crowing away. He rode there all the way to the coop, hopped off, flapped his wings, and strutted into the coop like the king of the whole world.

  Lucas lined up with Grady and Henry, noses pressed against the window as they watched her hurry back to the house.

  “That has got to be the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Grady said.

  “Your grandpa ain’t goin’ to believe a word of it,” Jack said.

  “I’m not sure I do,” Lucas said.

  ***

  Natalie had planned on meatloaf for dinner, but she changed her mind. If they were going to put up a tree, then she’d make a big pot of vegetable beef soup, corn bread, and a pan of brownies for dessert. Supper could be leftovers with a side dish of cheese and crackers.

  Grady came inside from the cold and went to the coffeepot. “If them pups crawl out again, I’ll swear they are magic. When do y’all put up the tree?”

  Evidently, the folks at Cedar Hill were a lot like those over at the Circle A in Silverton. The front door was used for company, not family.

  “Usually two weeks before Christmas. Daddy and Momma have had their own tradition since before they had kids. They go out on a Saturday afternoon hunting just the right cedar tree, and believe me, that’s not easy in a land where there’s little but plowed pasture and sky. But they always bring one home and then on Sunday we all are there to help decorate after church and dinner. Momma don’t abide excuses on that day. Her boys and their wives are expected to be home. Only sickness nigh unto death or maybe the birth of a grandchild is reason not to be home.”