Rock-a-Bye Bride

by Tracy Madison

  Because this sensation of oneness, of pure wholeness, of being with the precise person she was, perhaps, destined to be with absolutely changed the status quo.

  This changed everything.

  * * *

  Delicious scents spilled from the kitchen when Logan walked through the front door a little over a week later. He’d spent the past five days in Wyoming and hadn’t planned on returning to Steamboat Springs until next week, to be with Anna for New Year’s Eve. But he’d woken that morning with the inescapable urge to see her, to talk her into joining him at Bur Oak for Christmas.

  So, here he was.

  He hadn’t warned her he’d be home early, and he wasn’t entirely sure if she’d even agree to go back to Wyoming with him, but he figured he might as well try. He wanted her to meet his family, and ever since that afternoon he’d found her in his bed, in that sheer getup, and the intimacy that had followed, keeping Anna out of his head had proved even more difficult than before. And yeah, he’d missed her while he was gone.

  Dropping his overnight bag on the sofa, he couldn’t help but grin at the explosion of Christmas decorations in the living room. Two rows of interwoven blinking lights were strung over the top of the curtains, around the door frame leading into the kitchen, and... Well, hell.

  Even his desk was surrounded by twinkly lights. And that tiny tree she’d bought was now taking center stage on the coffee table. Apparently Anna had gone on a holiday binge during his absence, and he’d bet money—based on the sugary, sweet smell wafting in the air—that she was now in the midst of a Christmas baking blitz. Cookies, most likely.

  In addition, she had the TV set to a music channel, and Christmas carols were playing loudly enough to explain why she hadn’t heard him enter the house.

  That was fine. A few extra minutes to find his composure, settle in a bit, before making his presence known seemed a bonus. He’d missed her, yes, and no, their quick-like evening phone calls hadn’t helped one lick in that regard, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind on the emotional-distance front. He hadn’t. Couldn’t, even if he was fool enough to have that want.

  His goals hadn’t changed. For the moment, he still refused to give any credence to what he thought he was feeling toward Anna. But he’d come too close to losing her altogether with his cold, cantankerous behavior. She seemed to want—perhaps even need—certain things from him. Some of those things were logical, even natural and expected. Such as a warm human being to share a home with, to talk to and laugh with and maybe, from time to time, even to vent to.

  Logan had intended on delivering all of those necessities to Anna from day one, and yeah, he’d failed there for a while, but he wouldn’t let her down again. And if she wanted a physical relationship, he’d give her that, too. He wasn’t a strong enough man to say no to sex with Anna. Not when he likely wanted it as much, if not more, than she did. So yeah, he’d give her what she needed, when she needed it.

  But he’d do so, for now, without making any guarantees about the future or uttering so much as a syllable of what was going on in his head. Or his heart. This decision was, primarily, due to his intense desire to protect Anna. But he couldn’t deny that vigilance for himself was at play here, too. What if his feelings didn’t change? Or what if they grew stronger?

  If she was 100 percent satisfied with their agreement as it stood—and she must be, based on her promise that sex wouldn’t alter their relationship—then yes, in that scenario, she would have the power to hurt him. Frankly, he disliked a potential future in which either one of them walked away in any form of pain.

  Therefore, he’d do his level best to keep them both safe.

  Logan shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet, purposely taking his time...purposely ignoring the adrenaline pummeling through his system in anticipation of seeing Anna. Half of him yearned to run into the kitchen, squeeze her tight in a hug and spend the next two hours talking—just talking, and the other half wanted to pick her up and haul her back to bed for another round of so-called meaningless sex. It hadn’t felt meaningless to Logan.

  Not even close.

  But he could pretend well enough, he figured, so long as she didn’t fire a whole bunch of nosy questions his way, about his feelings and thoughts. And he’d continue to pretend, for another three months or so—at a minimum—until his daughter was born and he could pull apart the twisty, tangled strands of his emotions to see what was what and what belonged where.

  Suddenly, the off-key trill of Anna’s voice reached his ears. The gal couldn’t sing, that was for darn sure, but she was giving “Frosty the Snowman” her best—and loudest—effort. It was real cute, though, and appealing enough that it made him forget his previous consideration of taking some time before announcing his arrival.

  Maybe she could use some help with those cookies she was baking.

  Striding forward, he went to the kitchen doorway and paused, waiting for her to see him, so as not to scare her into dropping the piping-hot cookie sheet of Christmas cutouts she’d just pulled from the oven. Yup, she was singing...or giving it her best effort, at any rate. She was also moving her hips in a jaunty little cute-as-could-be jig as she all but pranced across the room, her attention so focused on her baking that she’d yet to notice his presence.

  He might as well have turned to stone, he became so transfixed.

  By her out-of-tune singing. By her dancing. By her still painted cherry-red toenails. And, though he’d likely be smart to keep this particular appraisal to himself, by the size of her stomach. It had been only five measly days since he’d last laid eyes on her, but in that time, their baby must have had one helluva growth spurt, because Anna’s belly had morphed into the perfectly round shape of a bulging basketball. His smile grew even larger.

  God, she was beautiful. Flawlessly so. From the top of her head all the way down to her ten painted toes, including that adorable baby bump that was his daughter smack-dab in the middle. Well, he couldn’t rightly state that her singing was flawless, but he liked it just the same.

  “Anna?” he said, not speaking too loudly but with, hopefully, enough volume to be heard over the music and her warbling. A ripple of shock went through her spine and she pivoted, the cookie sheet in one hand and now a spatula in the other. Her mouth dropped open. A tear—a friggin’ giant tear—and then another rolled down her cheeks.

  And the sight of those tears had him moving toward her. Fast.

  “Logan? Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked as she set the cookie sheet on the counter. “You’re not supposed to be here until after Christmas.”

  “I wanted to—” He broke off, shook his head, re-formed his thoughts and shrugged. “I was thinking it might be a good idea for you to meet my family, especially my mother, before the baby is born. Figured I’d come home, see if you’d go back with me.”

  She blinked. “To the ranch, to meet your mom? I... Yes, I think I’d like that.”

  And then, without any warning whatsoever, she all but threw herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling her head against his shoulder. Pure contentedness settled deep in his gut, rooted itself there and started to grow. Logan didn’t think or question or hesitate. He just reacted and pulled Anna in close for a proper hug.

  The soft whisper of her hair floated against his jaw, adding to the sense of all being right with the world. His world, at least. Whether he’d feel the same tomorrow or the next day or four months down the line remained unknown, but for now, he was about as happy as a guy could be.

  So he went with the happiness and kissed her—lightly, sweetly—on her mouth. Her lips were warm and soft and tasted like hot chocolate and...peppermint.

  Instantaneously, an image tried to surface in his mind’s eye—brought on by the peppermint—of some long-ago moment shared with his father. He shook it off—now was not the time to
be thinking of Denny—and focused on Anna. Just Anna.

  “If Lola can spare you at the coffeehouse,” he said, making no move to separate them, “I thought we’d wait to leave until Wednesday afternoon, since you have your doctor’s appointment that morning, and stay until a day or two after Christmas. What do you think?”

  “Um... I’m not sure.” Stepping out of the embrace, she rolled her bottom lip into her mouth. “It isn’t my job that’s the problem, I don’t think. Lola can fill in my absence easily enough, and she won’t say no. But we’ve made plans for Christmas since I thought you wouldn’t be around, and...well, I hate leaving her alone for the holidays.”

  Ouch. How had he not considered Anna’s aunt? “Easily solved. She can go with us, sweetheart. We have plenty of room, and my family will welcome her. No doubt about that.”

  “Lola won’t leave the Beanery during our busy season,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I’ll talk to her, see what she says about me being gone, but... I can’t promise anything, Logan. I’m the only family she has here, and it’s my first year back.”

  An awkward silence drifted into the room, making Logan wonder if Anna’s response to his invitation was as honest, as valid, as it seemed. Could it be that she had used her aunt as a handy excuse to hide her dismay at the possibility of being stuck with him for Christmas?

  Improbable, he supposed, seeing how Anna tended to lay her cards on the table quite regularly and with remarkable ease, but the thought—the potential, no matter how slight—chewed his insides to dust. He disliked these thoughts and their effect in equal measure.

  “Of course. If we can make this work, then that’s great,” he said in a relaxed, doesn’t-bother-me-regardless-of-what-happens tone. “If not, that’s also fine. My...ah...mother will get over her disappointment, and you two will eventually meet.”

  “Thank you for understanding. I don’t want to hurt Lola’s feelings,” Anna said softly. “I’d like to go, if I can. I think it would be nice to spend the holidays with you and your family.”

  She returned her attention to her cookies, sliding one cutout after another off the sheet onto a cooling rack. And Logan felt like a heel. For doubting the veracity of her words, or the intention behind those words, even for a millisecond.

  Coming up behind her, he placed his hands on her hips and rested his jaw on the top of her head. Breathed in the fresh, clean scent of her hair and said, “It’s always beautiful at the ranch, but this time of year is my favorite. Life is slower, for one thing, and the layers of snow covering the land create this thick blanket of silence. It’s...serene and, to me, almost reverent.”

  “Oh.” Anna leaned backward, trusting him to hold her weight. “That does sound lovely, Logan. I’d like to experience that for myself. If not now...maybe soon?”

  “We can do that, and...well, I’d like to show you where I grew up,” he said quietly, feeling out the words as he spoke them, “how I grew up. And our daughter will spend a considerable amount of time there, as she grows, climbing the same trees, and...maybe she’ll even learn to ride a horse there.”

  And he liked those ideas, too. A lot. But he found he liked them better when he imagined Anna there, with him and their daughter, experiencing these moments together.

  “Hard to visualize, isn’t it?” she asked. “That this big ol’ stomach is hiding a baby who will someday be a little girl who will ride horses and climb trees.”

  “Not as hard as you might expect,” he said. “I can see it, clear enough.”

  They stood that way, with her leaning her full weight against him and his jaw on the top of her head, for several minutes of absolute harmony. Another type of reverence stole in, warming Logan through and through. Along with all the other crazy, unexpected, confusing emotions this woman ignited, she also brought him...peace. And wasn’t that something?

  Finally, Anna pulled herself free, saying, “These cookies aren’t going to finish baking themselves, despite how much I wish they would. And I still have to frost them tonight, which could take a couple of hours.” Twisting around, she gave him a coaxing grin. “Unless I can talk you into helping? What do you say, Logan? Feel like frosting a bunch of cookies with me?”

  “I guess that depends. Do you want them to look nice when they’re done?”

  “That would be preferable.” Her lips twitched in near laughter. “I plan on handing them out as gifts...to my aunt, Gavin and Haley, the rest of the Fosters and a few of my favorite regulars at the Beanery. Oh, and I was going to send several dozen to you and your family.”

  “You were, huh? That’s sweet. Everyone will love them, I’m sure.” A true enough statement, without doubt, but he didn’t have the heart to confess that his mother and grandmother had already completed their own baking blitz. Cookies were not in scarce supply. “Well, here’s the thing. I’ll help if you want, but I can’t promise anything more than presentable results.”

  Barely, if that. He’d been excused from cookie-frosting duty a couple of decades ago, with a great amount of relief on his mother’s and grandmother’s parts.

  “I want your help,” she said simply. “It will seem more festive with the two of us, and I’m sure you’re exaggerating your shortcomings. I mean, who can’t frost cookies?”

  Ha. If she only knew. “Then sure, Anna. Whatever you need.”

  “I’m so glad you said that.” Suddenly, her smile took on a definite devilish gleam. “As I have a few other ideas that fit perfectly into that specialty of yours.”

  “Ah...what specialty would that be?”

  “Why, fulfilling my needs, of course,” she said lightly, darting her gaze away from his. And damn if he didn’t want to see her eyes, to ascertain if only amusement existed or if something else lurked. Heat or desire or longing or, preferably, an intoxicating blend of all three. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait and see if there’s any frosting left over.”

  “Wait a sec,” he said, trying to catch up. “Frosting? What does that have to do with—” Oh. She couldn’t mean... Could she?

  “Yes, frosting. Might get a bit messy, though.” Now she glanced his way, and a hot kick of lust balled in his stomach. Hard and fast and unrelenting. She had that look. The same look she had the day he’d found her in his bed. “Tell me, do you mind a little mess, Logan?”

  Her innuendo was clear enough, even if he didn’t know the specifics. And he’d be a fool—an absolute fool—to put up any objections. Not that he had any. “Nope, sweetheart. Can’t say that I do.” Though he was interested in discovering precisely what she had in mind. “That being said, I am curious. What are you thinking we’ll do with any leftover frosting?”

  “Oh, I’d hate to disappoint you by telling you now,” she said with a cute little wink. “Look around the kitchen. I baked dozens and dozens of cookies. Decorating all of them will require a ton of frosting, and I’m out of confectioner’s sugar, so I can’t make more. We might use every drop of frosting I have...and even if we don’t, why ruin the surprise?”

  Yeah, well, surprises were all well and good in the proper scheme of things, but when it came time to frost those cookies, Logan used his allotment sparingly. Very, very sparingly. So yes, his diligence assured that they had plenty left over, and yes, Anna was right.

  They certainly did make quite the mess.

  Chapter Eight

  Closing her eyes, Anna tipped her face to the gently falling snow and, as she’d done as a child, stuck out her tongue to catch a mouthful of icy snowflakes. It was Christmas Eve morning, and she and Logan had been at the Bur Oak Ranch—named, she imagined, for the numerous bur oak trees dotting the land—since late yesterday afternoon.

  They’d driven onto the property just before sunset, and she’d glimpsed an old-fashioned wooden swing on the sprawling red-shingled house’s wraparound porch. And she had the thought that it would
be nice to sit and swing and think about nothing at all.

  Waking up in an empty bed with no sign of where Logan might have gone, and finding the main floor empty—save for a trio of snoring border collies stretched in front of the fireplace—had inspired her to take advantage of the peace and slip outside.

  She was still surprised she was even here, in the place Logan called home. Leaving her aunt alone for the holidays hadn’t felt right. But Lola had insisted, stating that Anna shouldn’t put off meeting Logan’s family any longer, and had sworn she’d be just fine. After eliciting a promise that they’d celebrate Christmas upon her return, Anna finally relented.

  So. Here she was, sitting in the cold morning air, catching snowflakes on her tongue and feeling as if she’d somehow wandered into a mystical winter wonderland.

  Yesterday, between her nervous anticipation at meeting Logan’s family and her near-crippling exhaustion, she hadn’t really looked at the details of the ranch. Now, after a good night’s sleep and without the anxiety-inducing presence of Logan’s mother, grandmother or stern grandfather, she was able to relax enough to take in her surroundings.

  A group of buildings—maybe fifty to sixty feet away—faced the main residence in a half circle, and behind them stood several more structures. Most were, she assumed, housing for the cattle, horses and the herding dogs that weren’t lucky enough to sleep in front of a roaring fire. The other structures were likely storage for machinery, tools, equipment, feed and...well, whatever else a ranch required to function. Then directly next to the rear group of buildings were medium to large plots of land squared in by fences, resembling a neat if oversize checkerboard.

  In the opposite direction existed a variety of snow-covered trees—pine, bur oak and others she didn’t recognize—and a long, winding creek that bent and wiggled its form around the land’s natural slopes and ridges, before cutting a path between a thick cluster of pines and disappearing from view. And extending along the other side of the family house was a seemingly endless expanse of wide-open land that, at the moment, was coated in a heavy layer of snow.