THE MAVERICK'S THANKSGIVING BABY

by Brenda Harlen

  “Maybe you should keep your distance from him.”

  “He’s not dangerous.”

  “Probably not,” Jesse agreed. “But I’d rather you didn’t take any chances.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to risk our baby,” she assured him.

  “I’m not just worried about the baby.”

  She looked up at him, obviously surprised by his statement.

  “Don’t you realize how much I care about you, too?”

  Care. There it was—a four-letter word that described his feelings for her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the four-letter word she’d been hoping to hear.

  “Well, I’m not going to let anything happen to me or our baby,” she said lightly.

  He nodded. “Good. Now, how about a turkey sandwich?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re hungry again already.”

  “Turkey sandwiches are a Thanksgiving evening tradition.”

  “Not for me,” she told him. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “How about pie?”

  She started to shake her head again, paused. “Pumpkin?”

  He chuckled. “We’ve got apple and pumpkin.”

  “Maybe just a sliver,” she allowed, and followed him to the kitchen.

  “Sit,” he said, pointing to the breakfast bar. “I’ll get it for you.”

  She sat. He cut a slice of the pie his mother had sent home, slid it onto a plate, added a fork and set it on the counter in front of her.

  “I said a sliver,” she reminded him.

  “You’re eating for two.”

  Actually, her doctor had warned her that was a fallacy, but considering the fact that her weight wasn’t an issue—not yet, anyway—she picked up the fork and dug into the pie without further comment.

  “I wish we had some of that mac and cheese left over,” he said. “I barely got to sample it.”

  “It was a hit with the kids,” she agreed.

  “Not just the kids—even Brad had two helpings.”

  “But he wouldn’t try the coleslaw.”

  Jesse just shrugged and washed down his sandwich with a tall glass of milk.

  She expected him to push away from the table and escape to the barn with the excuse of one chore or another. Sure enough, he slid back his chair and stood up to clear away both of their plates, but then he surprised her by asking, “Do you want to watch some of the football game with me?”

  She shook her head. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready for bed.”

  “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t overdo it, did you?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just...tired.”

  And she was—not just physically, but emotionally. She was tired of wanting what she knew she couldn’t have, tired of pretending that their marriage was something it wasn’t, tired of hoping that he might one day love her the same way that she loved him.

  It was her own fault. He’d told her from the beginning that he didn’t want to fall in love—he just wanted their baby to have two parents.

  It had seemed like a reasonable request at the time, but after almost two weeks of living together, so close and yet with so much distance between them, she realized this was going to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. Not just difficult, but painful, and she wasn’t sure that she could continue like this for much longer.

  They’d been married for twelve days and living like roommates. She thought they’d made some progress today. They’d spent several hours together, shared some quiet moments and comfortable silences. And he’d admitted that he cared about her. True, it was a long way from caring to loving, but she had to believe it was a step in the right direction.

  Maybe she should stay up with him, at least for a little while. But being near Jesse wreaked havoc on her mind and her heart. What she really needed was distance—some time away from him to figure out what she really wanted and needed.

  “I talked to my mom yesterday,” she told him. “She invited me to LA for a shopping trip. Well, the invitation was to both of us, but I don’t imagine that would be your idea of fun.”

  “It’s not,” he agreed. “And it seems a long way to go to do some shopping.”

  “Aside from the fact that I’d also get to spend some time with my parents, there are some fabulous baby stores in SoCal.”

  “Rust Creek Falls might not be a shopping mecca,” he acknowledged, “but it has other advantages.”

  “I wasn’t making a comparison.”

  But obviously he thought that she was, because he said, “I just wanted to remind you that this is a great place to raise a child.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she reminded him. “So that we can raise our child in Rust Creek Falls, together.”

  “You’re sure this is where you want to be?”

  “This is exactly where I want to be,” she said, wanting to reassure him. But then she realized that while it was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. “Or almost where I want to be.”

  He frowned at the clarification. “Almost?”

  She hesitated, doubts creeping in. Did she really want to go down this path without knowing where it might lead? But she decided that she did, because it beat the alternative of continuing to live the way they’d been living for almost two weeks. She hadn’t married Jesse so they could live separate lives under the same roof.

  She’d married him because she loved him and she wanted to be his wife in every sense of the word. But she didn’t think he was quite ready for that heartfelt declaration just yet, so she only said, “I’d rather be in the bed across the hall from where I’ve been sleeping.”

  * * *

  Across the hall was...his bed.

  Jesse’s gaze locked with hers, silently seeking—begging for—confirmation.

  She didn’t falter, didn’t blink, and in the depths of her eyes he saw a reflection of the same desire that hummed in his veins. She wanted him—and he wanted her. He would be a fool to turn down what she was offering, and he never liked to be a fool.

  But he realized now that he had been. Living in close proximity to Maggie since the wedding had been a delicious torture. She’d been close enough to touch, but he hadn’t been certain she wanted his touch. He’d let himself be swayed by her brother’s concern that she didn’t know what she wanted instead of asking her what she wanted.

  “I put your stuff in the other room because I didn’t want to assume we’d share a bed just because we were married.”

  “I kind of hoped we’d share a bed because we wanted to,” she told him. “If that is what you wanted.”

  “It’s what I wanted—what I want,” he confirmed. “I haven’t stopped wanting you since the first day I saw you, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I pushed you into marriage, and then it bothered me to think that you only married me because I pushed.”

  “If you knew me better, you’d know that nobody pushes me to do something I don’t want to do.”

  “You wanted to marry me?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you. And I’ve never experienced anything like the pleasure I’ve known in your arms.”

  In response to that, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

  He set her back on her feet beside the bed and lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes drifted shut as her lips parted, welcoming a deeper kiss. Her tongue danced with his, a sensual rhythm that had his blood pounding in his veins, hot and demanding.

  It took him a minute to figure out the wrap-style dress she was wearing. He thoroughly enjoyed running his hands over her torso, tracing her feminine curves in an effort to find the hidden zipper, but he really wanted to feel her bare skin
beneath his palms. When he finally discovered the tie at her side—when she finally guided his searching hands to it—he nearly chuckled with giddy relief. With one quick tug, the knot loosened and the fabric parted. Then he was touching her, and the silky softness of her skin was even more tantalizing than he remembered.

  He pushed the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then he took a step back to look at her. She was wearing a pale pink bra, matching bikini panties and those thigh-high stockings that he’d always suspected were designed to drive a man to his knees. Literally.

  He dropped to the floor in front of her, splayed his palms on her belly then slid them around to her back, pulling her closer to kiss her belly. Then his mouth moved lower to nuzzle the sweet heat between her thighs. Maggie sucked in a breath. He stroked her with his tongue, through the thin barrier of lace, and felt her thigh muscles quiver. He wanted her to tremble for him, but he didn’t want her to sink to the floor.

  He rose to his feet again and peeled away her bra, her panties, one stocking and the other. Then he eased her back onto the mattress and started to lower himself over her.

  She lifted her hands, holding him away. “I want you naked, too,” she told him.

  He quickly stripped away his own clothes, then glanced at her with his brows raised. She answered his silent question with a smile and lifted her arms to embrace him.

  He kissed her again, softly, sweetly. “You are so beautiful,” he told her.

  When Jesse looked at her the way he was looking at her right now, with warmth and affection in his gaze, Maggie felt beautiful. When he touched her the way he was touching her now, gently and reverently, she knew he saw her that way.

  But if she was beautiful, he was breathtaking.

  Maybe the life of a rancher wasn’t as romantic as it was depicted in the movies, but there wasn’t any big-screen star who could hold a candle to Jesse Crawford. She let her hands roam over him, absorbing the smooth texture of bronzed skin stretched taut over all those glorious muscles, sculpted not in some Hollywood gym to look like a cowboy but through years of hard work actually being a cowboy.

  She’d never known anyone like him, had never felt the way she felt with him, and the memory of what he had done—could do—to her body left her breathless and aching for him.

  “Jesse...please.”

  “I will please you,” he promised.

  And he did. He made his way down her body, kissing and caressing every inch of her. Loving her with his mouth and his hands until everything inside of her twisted and tightened—and released.

  He held her close—he was her anchor in the storm as endless waves of sensation washed over her. When those waves gradually subsided to ripples, he finally parted her thighs and buried himself in the wet heat between them, and the storm started all over again.

  As they moved together in the thrillingly familiar rhythm of lovemaking, she felt connected to him in a way that was so much more than physical. And the way he looked at her, their gazes linked as tangibly as their bodies, she was sure that he must feel it, too.

  Afterward, he held her tight against him, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. And she fell asleep listening to his heart beating, steady and strong, beneath her cheek and knew she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  * * *

  Maggie wasn’t sure why she’d awakened—a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table confirmed that it was still early. Not surprisingly, Jesse was already up—and getting ready to walk out the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You’re awake.”

  “After last night, I didn’t expect to wake up alone.” She sat up, tugging the sheet to cover her breasts.

  “I got a message from Sutter.”

  “It’s the day after Thanksgiving—a holiday for almost everyone in this country who doesn’t work in retail.”

  “One of his friends has a yearling with some behavioral issues and he asked me to take a look at him,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “And you have to go right now?”

  “I told him I would.”

  And because Jesse was nothing if not a man of his word, she nodded. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  It wasn’t just the noncommittal response, it was the way his gaze kept shifting away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her, as if he was already out the door.

  No—she wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. They’d had a fabulous night together. She wasn’t going to assume anything was wrong and sabotage the closeness they’d shared.

  “Will you be home for lunch?”

  “Probably.”

  But he didn’t say that he’d keep her posted, and he didn’t kiss her goodbye. He just said, “I’ll see you later,” and then he walked out the door.

  She sat there for another minute, naked in his bed, staring at the empty doorway through which he’d disappeared and trying to make sense of what had just happened. But she couldn’t, and tears welled up along with her frustration.

  She didn’t understand what was going on with him. The night before, she’d felt so connected to him, not just physically but emotionally. She’d been certain that they’d turned a corner, that they were finally going to start living as husband and wife, building a life and preparing for the birth of their child together.

  She’d expected to wake up in his arms; she’d even hoped they might make love again. She knew he had things to do around the ranch, that even on the day after Thanksgiving, stalls needed to be mucked out and animals fed, so she didn’t expect he’d stay in bed with her all day. But she’d hoped he’d at least show some reluctance to leave her side.

  Instead, he’d already been up and dressed and on his way out the door when she’d awakened. She wasn’t just hurt by his disappearing act, she was baffled. Why was he so anxious to put distance between them? Did he really not have any feelings for her?

  No, she didn’t believe that. There was no way he could have kissed her and touched her and loved her the way he had unless he felt something. But she was tired of guessing the breadth and depth of those feelings. She couldn’t keep doing this—she couldn’t keep putting herself out there only to have him pull back every time they started to get close. She couldn’t continue to live under the same roof with the man she loved if he didn’t feel the same way.

  She dried her tears and picked up the phone.

  When the call connected at the other end, she took a deep breath and said, “Nina—I need to ask you a huge favor.”

  * * *

  Jesse was more than halfway to Traub Stables before he finally acknowledged the question that had been hammering at his mind since he’d responded to Sutter’s text: What was he doing?

  Why had he walked away from the beautiful—and naked—woman who was still in his bed? What was he afraid of?

  Maggie wasn’t Shaelyn. The woman he’d married wasn’t anything like the girl he’d been engaged to for a short time so many years before. Maggie was smart and beautiful, warm and compassionate, sexy and fun. She was also making a real effort to meet people and make friends, to fit in—and she was succeeding. He’d heard nothing but positive comments from everyone who had got to know her, his brothers and sisters all liked her, and even his parents were starting to come around.

  And most significant to Jesse, she’d left her job and her family in LA and moved to Rust Creek Falls so that they could raise their baby together. He’d been so grateful for that decision he hadn’t really asked why. He hadn’t dared let himself hope that she’d made the choices she had because she loved him—as he loved her.

  And with sudden clarity, he realized that was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

  They’d both agreed to this legal union in order to give their baby a
family. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to fall in love. But apparently his heart hadn’t got that memo, because that was exactly what had happened.

  He should have known, from day one, that he was fighting a losing battle. Because he’d started falling the first day he met her—no, even before then. The first time he saw her.

  Had he really thought he could share a life with her—his home, his bed—and keep his emotions out of it? If so, he was obviously a bigger fool than he thought.

  He might not have wanted to fall in love, but that’s what had happened. And now he wanted more. He wanted everything.

  So why was he pulled over on the side of the road near Traub Stables instead of with Maggie, telling her how he felt?

  His tires kicked up gravel as he made a quick U-turn and headed toward home.

  As he took the stairs two at a time, he could hear Maggie moving around in the spare bedroom. He paused in the doorway to catch his breath and saw she was removing her clothes from the dresser. At first, he actually thought she might be moving her things across the hall to his room.

  Then he saw the suitcases open on the bed.

  For just a moment, his heart actually stopped beating.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looked up, and he saw the wet streaks on her cheeks, evidence of the tears she’d recently shed. His heart, beating once again but in a slow, painful rhythm now, twisted inside his chest, because he knew that he was responsible. He’d hurt her and made her cry, and he’d never wanted to do that.

  “This is your house,” she said to him. “Instead of you always making excuses to run off, I figured it made more sense for me to go.”

  “Go,” he echoed numbly, not wanting to believe it. He’d rushed home to tell her that he loved her—and she was leaving him? He felt as if she’d reached inside his chest and ripped his heart out.

  And yet, there was a part of him that wasn’t really surprised, that understood he’d been on tenterhooks since their wedding in anticipation of this exact moment. But expecting it didn’t mean that he was prepared for it—especially not now. Not when he’d finally accepted how much she meant to him.