Yuletide Baby Bargain

by ALLISON LEIGH,

It was the fact that he’d plucked Layla out of Maddie’s arms and held her up so she could see over the kids sitting on the ground in front of them.

  It was the fact that he’d finally, finally, had a smile on his face.

  The kind of smile that he used to have.

  The kind of smile that he was giving her now.

  He had mirrored sunglasses on his face and a chainsaw in his gloved hand and he used it to point at the tree again. “Well?”

  She glanced back at the truck. Layla was in her car seat, safely strapped inside. She’d fallen asleep before they’d even gotten outside of town. She hadn’t stirred a muscle since.

  Maddie waved her arm and tried to pretend she didn’t feel all warm and gooey inside every time she looked his way. “This isn’t an oil field.” There hadn’t been a single pump jack or derrick in miles. The snowy hillside where he’d driven them was more suited to a ski run. Their only stop on the hour-long drive had been at a dinky café also in the middle of nowhere. But the delicious coffee and breakfast sandwiches explained the surprising number of vehicles that had been parked outside of it. “How do I trust that you actually own it?”

  He made a point of patting the pockets of his down jacket. “Sorry. I must have left the deed in my other coat.” He extended one long arm. “This is the same hillside where my grandmother always got her tree. Her tree. Because Gus planted all of these firs for her about a million years ago. So, yes or no?”

  “If I say no, you’re going to drag us around looking at every tree here, aren’t you.”

  He considered it. “Maybe.”

  Maddie couldn’t help but laugh. If anyone had told her even twenty-four hours ago that they’d be standing together this way, knee-deep in snow, she’d have said that they were the ones who’d lost their minds.

  But it was just her.

  Mindless Maddie.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had a Christmas tree?”

  “I don’t know. Long time. Before college. You gonna keep asking questions or pick a tree?”

  “Pick,” she said, nodding toward the tree in question. “It’s perfect.”

  He started toward it. “Get back in the truck.” He braced the back of the saw against his leg and gave a pull on the start cord. The chainsaw whirred to life with a low rumble.

  Then he hit the throttle a few times, and it growled louder.

  It was stupid. But she felt a visceral jolt deep inside her when he easily swung the heavy-duty saw around to the base of the tree.

  It didn’t take him long. It was over almost as quickly as it began. The chainsaw buzzed, chips of bark flew, and a moment later, Linc was pushing the tree away from him. It fell, almost in slow motion, its deep bluish green branches sending up a cloud of snow when it hit the ground.

  He killed the chainsaw, then leaned down and grabbed the base of the tree and started dragging it back toward her.

  All manly, manly man.

  God help her.

  “Told you to get in the truck,” he said when he neared.

  “You should know by now that I don’t always listen well.” It was better to stay active than stand there drooling, so she lowered the tailgate herself and moved around the tall tree to help him lift it into the bed. She wasn’t much help. She barely grabbed a few branches before he’d shoved the tree into the bed. Since it had to be at least twelve feet tall, it stuck out well beyond the tailgate.

  “Close the gate when I lift it, would you?”

  She scrambled under the tree, squinting against the heady scent.

  “You’re not going to end up with another rash, I hope.” He lifted the tree.

  She nimbly closed the gate and popped back out from beneath the tree. “Never have before.” She brushed a few needles out of her hair. “It’s the artificial stuff that got me. Ali’s been on a tear about the fire hazards of real trees or we’d have had one ourselves.”

  “Yeah, well, this thing is so fresh, it’ll be good until February.” He unwound a bundle of rope and tossed it over the tree. She grabbed the end and went up on her toes to reach inside the bed, her gloved fingers searching. His boots crunched on the snow as he came around to her side. He gave her a surprised look when he realized she’d already looped the rope through the tie-down.

  “Come on,” she said. “Just because we were girls didn’t mean my dad made us sit in the truck staying all pretty and clean every time we went out for firewood and stuff.”

  He smiled faintly and threw the rope back across the tree, then headed around to the far side of the truck. “No cutting your own Christmas trees?”

  “Always picked them from one of the lots in town.” She caught the rope again when it headed her way. “My mother always opts for the scraggliest one—you know the one. The Charlie Brown tree. ’Cause she figures it needs more love. My dad always likes the fattest.” She closed her eyes, feeling along the inside of the truck bed for the next tie-down. Linc had a fancy bed liner, so it wasn’t quite what she was used to. “Which tree did we always end up with?” Her fingertip finally found the notch and she quickly slithered the long rope through it. “The scraggly one. Because my father has never been able to say no to my mom. They’re still besotted with each other. It was embarrassing when we were kids.”

  “And now?”

  She tossed the rope over the tree, missing by a long shot. But he still managed to snag the rope and pull it across. “Now?” It was what she wanted. What they all wanted. “Catching your parents making out?” she said with a tart laugh. “Still embarrassing.”

  He sent the rope back her way. “Better than finding them making out with other people.” His voice was dry.

  “Well, that’s true.”

  Between the two of them, they quickly had the tree secured beneath the crisscrossing rope. The branches would still blow a lot when they got back on the highway—no way to prevent it—but the tree was definitely not going anywhere they didn’t want it to go.

  Then Linc stored the chainsaw in the bed, too, and they got back inside the truck.

  Layla had slept the entire while.

  “Sure,” Maddie murmured as she leaned over the back of her seat to adjust the blanket over the baby. “You can’t sleep three hours straight at night, but when it’s daylight?” She lightly brushed the red cap on Layla’s head and then pushed herself back into her own seat. She felt a little breathless and she loosened her coat and pulled off her gloves before fastening her seat belt.

  Linc was just sitting there, watching her.

  “Don’t tell me you’re out of gas,” she warned. But of course, she knew they weren’t. The truck had been running the entire while they’d been messing with the tree.

  “I should have hired you some help with Layla.”

  She gaped at him, then shook her head, trying not to feel as flustered as he made her. “I am the help, remember?” She gestured at the windshield. “Come on. Get moving. There’s a tree yet to be decorated.”

  He put the truck in gear and slowly turned until he was lined up once more with the tracks they’d made in the snow on their way there. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory and you cleared me up once on that point. You’re not a babysitter.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s when I thought the reason you called me was to get Layla off your hands.” Which seemed a lot longer ago than it really had been.

  She realized she was staring at his hands. He’d taken off his gloves, too. His fingers were lightly wrapped around the steering wheel.

  “So.” She swallowed, looking away. “I hope you kept your grandmother’s tree ornaments. Otherwise we’ll be stringing a lot of popcorn to get that sucker covered.”

  “Should be in the attic. I didn’t get rid of anything of hers. Just moved a few things around to make room for some new.”

 
Of course he hadn’t. “New like your den.”

  “Home office. Master bedroom. Much as I appreciate my grandmother’s antiques, I draw the line at the dinky beds.”

  Red flashing lights of danger there. Maddie did not need to be thinking about his bedroom. Much less his bed.

  So, of course, she did. His room was at the very end of the hall. She’d learned that much over the past week. It was several doors down from hers.

  Seven doors, to be exact.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, blindly studying the landscape outside her window.

  “Marry me and you could make whatever changes you wanted. Even choose a scraggly tree next year.”

  She shot him a look.

  He shrugged, looking anything but innocent. “Just sayin’.”

  She exhaled noisily and looked out the side window again.

  And she absolutely did not feel a smile tugging at her lips.

  Four hours later, the tree was standing tall and stately next to the staircase.

  Linc had dragged two boxes of ornaments down from the attic and a ladder up from the basement.

  It was obvious at first glance the ornament boxes hadn’t been opened in quite some time. Probably not since his grandmother died.

  She’d vowed right then and there to make certain every single item got placed on the tree. Even the popsicle-stick ones that were in major danger of falling apart as soon as she touched them.

  She was wearing Layla in the fabric carrier. At Linc’s request, she’d made another batch of homemade brownies. She’d added hot chocolate to the menu. And Christmas music.

  With the snowflakes blowing around outside the windows, they probably looked like a very normal family enjoying the holiday season.

  But they weren’t normal.

  And they weren’t a family.

  And it was more than a little worrisome that she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

  “Here.” She reached into the box and pulled out a wooden nutcracker. The paint on it was faded. Layla reached for it, but Maddie avoided the little grasping hands, giving it to Linc where he stood on the ladder. “Only thing that’s left in the box is the star.” She bent down and retrieved it, too, pulling the silver and white tree topper carefully from its protective nest of shredded paper. Layla grabbed at it and promptly started crying when Maddie held it out of her reach. “Sorry, baby.” She brushed her lips against Layla’s cheek. “This one’s not for you, either.”

  “Should have got some rattles for her to hang,” Linc said, stepping down the ladder. “Here, give her to me.”

  Maddie stared. Then she hurriedly set down the star next to their cocoa mugs and unzipped the pack, working Layla out of it.

  The baby kicked, almost squirming out of Maddie’s hands, but she held fast until Linc took her.

  Layla looked as surprised as Maddie felt when he lifted the baby up to look into her face.

  She kicked a few more times.

  She stopped crying.

  Then she gave him a few gurgling sounds that quickly developed into her distinctive chortle that charmed Maddie every single time she heard it.

  He wasn’t immune, either. She could tell by the way he grinned.

  He adjusted his hold on the infant, tucking her against his chest, and stepped up the ladder with her. “Hand me the star.”

  Maddie sucked in her lip. One part of her wanted to warn him to be careful on the ladder with the baby.

  The other part wanted to savor the moment forever.

  She handed him the star.

  He went up two more rungs.

  She quickly dragged her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of him as he reached up to put the star in place on top of the tree.

  “How’s it look?”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat and slid her phone away before he could see. The star was listing slightly to one side. Layla was grabbing for the nearest thing, which happened to be Linc’s shirt collar. “It’s perfect,” she said huskily.

  He came down the ladder and looked up to survey his handiwork. “You need glasses.”

  She laughed softly, shaking her head. She handed him a brownie. “Don’t argue. I said it was perfect.”

  Then he smiled, too. “Okay. It’s perfect.” He wolfed the brownie in two bites and dropped his arm over her shoulders as he looked again at the tree. “My grandmother would have liked it,” he said after a moment.

  Her chest tightened. “Yeah.” It was all she could manage. She shifted, enough for the casual arm around her shoulders to fall away. She could breathe easier, but did she really want to? “I, uh, I should probably fix us something more substantial to eat than brownies.”

  He took the last one from the plate and grabbed her wrist, looking at her watch. “A little early for dinner, isn’t it?”

  She retrieved her tingling arm and needlessly adjusted her watchband. “Not when there’s an infant in the house who needs bathing and rocking before she’ll even entertain the idea of sleep.”

  He considered that. “I don’t usually eat much here.”

  “I noticed. Aside from baby formula, your pantry was mostly shelf-paper and saltines.”

  “So how’d you make the brownies?”

  “Wiggling my nose? We shopped, obviously.” She picked up the plate and the mugs and carried them into the kitchen, leaving him still holding Layla.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” He’d followed her.

  “Well. It’s done. You have peanut butter on your pantry shelf now.” She turned on the faucet to rinse out the mugs. “Live with it.”

  “I’ll take you out to dinner.”

  She nearly dropped the crockery in the sink. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Not for you, maybe. But how do I know you can cook? Brownies aside—”

  “Oh, nice! Just for that, you deserve to buy me dinner. An expensive one.” She shut off the water and flicked her wet fingers at him. Layla laughed and bumped her head against Linc’s chin. “Layla agrees.”

  “Expensive restaurant.” He narrowed his eyes in exaggerated thought. “In Braden.”

  “Okay. So maybe not expensive. But not takeout.” She slid Layla out of his hold. “We want proper sit-down with table service. Isn’t that right, Layla?”

  The baby batted her blue eyes and gave her gummy smile.

  Then, because it was feeling much, much too homey standing in his kitchen together, Maddie forced herself to move away.

  “Where are you going now?”

  She gave him a quick grin that hopefully masked her odd breathlessness. “Young ladies of a certain age need to dress properly for every occasion. Particularly those of the three-ish month range who have a drawer full of pretty things with their price tags still on.”

  * * *

  “So much for the proper dress,” Linc said a few hours later when he came into the nursery to find Layla in the middle of a diaper change. He made a face and took a step back toward the doorway. “What’s in that stuff she drinks?”

  Maddie chuckled and finished wiping Layla’s tiny little butt. “Wonderful nourishment. And trust me. This is better than it’ll be when she starts eating pizza like what we just had.” She twisted up the soiled diaper and wipes and nudged her toe against the diaper pail. The lid popped up and she dropped it inside. She left the lid to close automatically and picked up the naked baby.

  “You don’t put ’em out in the garbage?”

  What happened to the manly manly-man? “You are such a priss,” she accused on a laugh as she went into the bathroom. “You bought the diaper pail!”

  “Terry—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Your receptionist and gatekeeper. I know.” She leaned over and turned on the water and while it warmed
, grabbed the usual stack of towels. “Just warning you now that you’d better put Terry on a budget where choosing stuff for Layla is concerned, or one day you’ll have a very spoiled little girl on your hands.” She went down on her knees alongside the tub and tucked a towel between Layla’s rear and her jeans. Just in case.

  He’d moved to the doorway. He was standing on the threshold, his boots close, but not crossing it. “Got enough towels there?” His voice was dry.

  “Probably not.” She flipped the stopper and made a production of adjusting the water temperature. “You going to stand there and watch, or help?” Then she tucked her tongue between her teeth, reminding herself that Rome hadn’t been built in a day. The Christmas tree? The noisy pizza joint with Layla banging the table and spilling his beer?

  Miracles had already happened. It was greedy—foolish—of her to want more.

  His boot slowly moved forward. “We should be doing this in my bathroom,” he murmured when he crouched down beside her. “Lot more room there.” His shoulder bumped hers. “Now what?”

  Maddie quickly shut off the water, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shaking hands. “Make sure the water isn’t too hot for her.”

  “How am I supposed to know what’s too hot for her?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She grabbed his hand and splashed it into the water. “Is it too hot for you?”

  His gaze slid over her and she nearly stopped breathing. Beneath the warm water, his palm rested against hers. “Feeling pretty hot to me.”

  Her mouth opened. But no words came. She quickly pulled her hand away from his and lifted Layla into the tub. Even before her toes made contact with the water, she started kicking and squealing. By the time she was sitting in the few inches, she’d churned up her usual miniature tidal wave.

  “Holy—” Linc sat back when a cascade of water splashed up the side of the tub, right into his face.

  Maddie laughed. “I guess that ought to cool Uncle Linc off, right, Layla?” She grabbed the small, soft washcloth and dunked it in the tub, shooting Linc a look. “Now you see why we need all the towels.”

  * * *

  “What if she turns onto her stomach,” Linc whispered, leaning over the crib as he lowered the baby onto the mattress. “That’s supposed to be bad, right? Sleeping on their stomach?”