He lifted his head, rebunched his pillow and closed his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
“Happy Thanksgiving!”
Greer smiled at her mom as she walked into the house where she’d grown up. Layla was walking at her side. Her steps were the sweet, plopping sort of steps that all toddlers took at first. She had one hand clasped in Greer’s, the other in Ryder’s. “Happy Thanksgiving. Smells great in here.”
Despite the bare, frozen ground outside, the house was warm. Greer noticed Meredith’s feet were typically bare as she hurried out of the kitchen and across the foyer to give them a hug. The tiny bells around her ankle jingled and Layla immediately crouched down, trying to catch them. “Bell,” she said clearly.
“That’s right, darling. Grandma’s bells.” Meredith scooped up the baby and nuzzled her nose. Layla’s rosy-gold hair would probably never be as thick as Greer’s mom’s, but it might turn out to be just as curly. “Did you get it?”
Greer held up the envelope she was carrying. “It’s official. I picked up our copy of the final adoption decree yesterday just before the recorder’s office closed for the holiday.” She pulled out the document and handed to her mother.
“Well.” Meredith was teary as she paged through it before setting it on the entryway table. Her gaze shifted from Ryder to Greer. “Congratulations, Mommy.”
If they only knew.
Greer blinked back the moisture in her own eyes. She glanced at Ryder and quickly looked away. She still hadn’t told him that she was pregnant. She hadn’t told anyone, except her doctor.
“It’s a fabulous day,” Adelaide practically shouted in greeting, coming inside behind them. She was carrying Brutus inside his expensive leather transport. “Meredith, I’ve decided I need to photograph you.”
Her mom’s eyebrows flew up. “Whatever for, Adelaide?”
“Just be glad she’s out of her nude phase,” Ryder commented drily.
He was still wearing the closely cut beard he’d started before Layla’s birthday. Now the stubble was full-on beard. Still short. Still groomed. But his dimple was hidden.
“She’d still be a fine-looking nude,” Carter said as he walked past. He was carrying two bottles of beer and handed one to Ryder.
“Dad!”
Meredith was smiling, though, and the look that passed between her parents was almost too intimate to bear.
“Pardon me while I go throw up,” she muttered for effect as she walked around them and headed into the kitchen. Her mother’s laughter followed her.
Fortunately, Greer’s after-dinner morning sickness had faded. Unfortunately, she knew she was going to have to fess up sooner rather than later to everyone—her husband most particularly. So far, she hadn’t even let her belt out a notch; her stomach was as flat as ever. The obstetrician she’d sneaked over to Weaver to see had needlessly reminded her it wasn’t going to be long, though. When Maddie was carrying Liam, she’d been visibly pregnant at four months. Same with Ali, who was now six months along.
Greer could either admit the truth in the next few weeks, or she’d be showing it, if her sisters were anything to go by.
But that didn’t mean she was going to worry about the fallout today.
Not when it was Thanksgiving. Not when she felt positively ravenous and there was a veritable feast for the taking.
Every inch of kitchen counter was covered with trays of food. She grazed along, plucking olives and candied pecans with equal enthusiasm. Within minutes, she could hear more people arriving. More family members. More friends. Even Vivian, despite the ongoing animosity between her and Greer’s dad and uncle. And soon the house was bulging at the seams.
There was laughter and squabbling and it was all dear and familiar. And despite the secret she harbored, Greer felt herself relax. Even when she and Ryder were sitting so close to each other at the crowded table that the length of his strong thigh burned against hers, and they couldn’t lift their forks without brushing against each other.
After the glorious feast, it was football. The options were to watch it on television or play it on the winter-dead front yard, where Archer was warming up, tossing the football around with their cousins and their brothers-in-law.
Ali intercepted the ball and looked toward her sisters and their cousins. “Guys against the girls? Cousins against cousins? What’d we do last year?”
“Cousins,” Maddie reminded her with a laugh. “And it was a slaughter.”
“Only because Seth turned out to be a ringer.” Quinn was the eldest of their cousins and, like Archer, had only sisters. “I say Templetons against the spouses!”
His wife, Penny, rubbed her hands together and laughed. “I’m game for that. Means I’ve got nearly all the guys on my side!”
Ali looked toward Greer where she stood on the sidelines.
“Count me out,” Greer said hastily. She had her hands tucked into her armpits and was stomping her feet to keep them warm. The snow in October had been a onetime occurrence and melted away, but the temperatures had hovered around freezing ever since. “It’s too cold!”
“What a wuss you’ve become,” Ali chided with a laugh. “Go find Maddie, then. And Ryder. It’s his first Thanksgiving game, same as Grant and Linc.” Her smile was devilish. “Gotta initiate these men of ours into the family just right.” She tossed the ball from one bare hand to her other. “Rules are same as always. No tackle. Just touch.”
“Think you’ve been touched enough,” Archer called to her. “Don’t know what’s bigger, that football or your belly.”
Ali preened, tucking the ball under her arm as she framed her bulging bump against the Green Bay sweatshirt she wore in honor of their father’s favorite team.
Then Grant, the guy responsible for her baby bump, came up behind her, poked the ball free, and the game was on in earnest even though the teams weren’t entirely present and accounted for.
But that was always how it went.
The most basic rule of Templeton Family Football was for everyone to have fun. The second basic rule was for everyone to stay out of the hospital.
Greer was smiling as she went back inside. She found Maddie in the study, nursing Liam while she ate another piece of pumpkin pie with her fingers. Greer let her be and went to find Ryder. He wasn’t in the family room, where her dad and uncle were sprawled out in front of the large-screen television. Nor in the kitchen, where her mom and aunt were still cleaning up the dishes.
“Have you seen Ryder?”
Meredith pointed toward the screened sunporch off the kitchen. Beyond that, Greer could see him and Adelaide sitting outside on the park-style bench in the middle of the flower garden. Right now, the only flowers in view were the brightly painted metal ones that were planted in the ground on long metal spikes. Layla was chasing after Brutus as he ran around the yard sniffing every blade of dead grass.
Greer smiled at the picture they all made and opened the kitchen door, going out to the sunporch. She peeled back a corner of the thick clear plastic that her dad hung up in the screened openings so that Meredith could enjoy the space whether it was cold or not. “Ry—”
“Why haven’t you?” From all the way across the yard, Adelaide’s voice wasn’t quite megaphone-ish, but it was still audible.
Something about the tone made Greer swallow the rest of her husband’s name.
“It’s my decision, Adelaide.” Ryder’s voice was much quieter. Underlaid with steel.
Disquiet slithered down her spine. One part of her urged retreat. The other part refused. Morbid curiosity kept her pinned to the spot, prepared to witness disaster.
“If I wanted to give her the ring, I would have.”
“It’s a mistake, Ryder.”
Oblivious to their audience, Ryder shoved off the filigreed bench. “Consider it one more mistake I’ve made when it comes to m
arriage.” He whistled sharply. “Brutus. No.” The dog had started digging near the base of a tree. His words had no effect on the little dog. “Adelaide—”
“Brutus, come.” At least the pug sometimes listened to his mistress. The dog retreated and hopped up onto Adelaide’s lap.
Ryder swung Layla up high and she laughed merrily, sinking her hands into his hair when he put her on his shoulders as he headed in Greer’s direction.
Closer. Closer.
She exhaled, finally managing to drag her mired feet free as she hurried back into the house before he could see her.
She caught the glance her mother gave her as she scurried through the kitchen. “Cold out there,” she said a little too loudly.
“Your dad’s got a fire going—”
Greer waved her hand in acknowledgment as she fairly skidded around the corner and escaped into the hallway by the front door.
She sucked in a breath, pressing her palm against her belly, knowing she had to keep it together even though inside she felt like she was unraveling.
Ryder never said what he didn’t mean.
No matter what he’d said the day they got married, he obviously considered the business of their marriage as one more mistake.
“There you are.” The man in her thoughts rounded the corner of the hallway and she froze. Layla was no longer on his shoulders. “Adelaide’s getting pretty tired. I thought I’d run her back to the ranch.”
“I can do it,” she heard herself offer. “Layla’s going to need her bath and bed soon, anyway. Your...your presence is wanted on the football field.”
Even as she said the words, the front door flew open and Grant rushed in. His hair was windblown, his cheeks ruddy. “Tell me you played football.”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Running back, but not since high school. Helluva while ago.”
Grant beckoned. “Better’n nothing.” He looked at Greer. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been sandbagged. Archer—”
Any other day, Greer would have enjoyed the moment. “All-state quarterback.”
“And my wife? What was she? All-state sneak?”
“Track. All three of us.” She spread her hands, managing a smile even though it felt as brittle as her insides. “We grew up on football. Dad didn’t care whether we were girls and more interested in horses and ballet or not.”
“Should’ve known.” Grant turned to Ryder. “We spouses lose this game and you know it’s gonna follow us the rest of our married lives.” He clapped his hand over Ryder’s shoulder. “It’s a matter of pride.”
Ryder looked her way.
“It’s a matter of pride,” she parroted. “Vivian’ll give you a ride home. I’m sure she’d be happy to detour to the ranch on her way back to Weaver.”
“She’d be happy, but I’ve seen her drive.” Still, he was smiling a little as he went out the door with Grant.
As if all was right.
As if it mattered to him that losing this first game might seal his fate for all their Thanksgiving football games to come.
She looked out at the two of them jogging out to join the scrimmage. She called after them. “Just remember, no tackling!” If her voice sounded thick, it didn’t matter.
She was the only one who noticed.
She closed the door.
The adoption decree was sitting on the table against the opposite wall. She picked it up and slid it carefully back into its envelope.
Then she went to retrieve her daughter and Adelaide and her yapping dog, and they went home.
She was glad that all of her passengers fell asleep on the way.
It meant that they never saw the tears sliding silently down her cheeks.
* * *
“Here.” Ali handed Greer a hanger. “Try that one.”
Greer slid the red tunic off the hanger and pulled it over her head. It hung past her hips over her long black palazzo pants She turned sideways to view herself in the full-length mirror.
The small bulge of her abdomen was disguised among the ridges of the cable knit.
She exhaled. “Okay. This one’ll work.” She dashed her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t had it cut in months. Not since she’d left the PD’s office. With the help of her prenatal vitamins, it was growing even faster than usual. It was already down to her shoulder blades.
Unfortunately, her good hair days weren’t making up for all that was wrong.
Ali just shook her head, looking decidedly Buddha-like as she sat cross-legged on the counter in Greer’s bathroom at the Victorian. “You should’ve told him by now, Greer.”
“I will.” She lifted her chin as she peered into the mirror and applied some blush so that her face wouldn’t look quite so washed out against the brilliant vermilion tunic. “Adelaide is leaving the day after Christmas. I’ll tell him about the baby after she’s gone. That’s only four days from now.”
Ali folded her hands atop her round belly. While Greer was hiding the changes in her body, her sister was delighting in showing off hers. At that moment, she wore a clingy white sweater and burgundy leggings that outlined every lush curve she’d developed.
And why not?
Ali and Grant were besotted with each other. She had no reason whatsoever to want to hide what that love had produced.
It was Greer’s bad luck that she’d somehow fallen in love with her own husband. She knew when he learned about the baby, she wouldn’t be just another mark in his column of marital mistakes. She—and their baby—would become his next “right thing to do.”
And it was almost more than she could bear.
She didn’t want to be his responsibility. And she didn’t want to be his business partner in this sterile marriage.
“I still can’t believe Ryder hasn’t noticed,” Ali was saying. “Maybe you can hide that bump under thick sweaters and shapeless pajamas, but your boobs are another story. Is the guy blind?”
Greer tossed the blush in the vanity drawer and pulled out the mascara. They’d met at the Victorian—which was still undergoing renovations—to finish wrapping the Christmas gifts they’d been stashing away there, before heading over to Maddie and Linc’s place. They were hosting a party for his employees at Swift Oil.
Grant was waiting downstairs in what was originally the living room, but was now a framework for a reception area and two offices.
Ryder hadn’t come at all. He’d been moving the bulls to their new pasture that day and the task was taking longer than he’d planned.
Greer suspected he was just as relieved as she was that he had a valid reason to miss the party.
“He doesn’t have to be blind when he doesn’t look to begin with.” Her voice was flat.
“I don’t know.” Her sister was unconvinced. “You guys still share a bed.”
Greer cursed softly when she smudged her mascara. “A bed where he stays on his side and I stay on mine. And never the twain shall meet.”
“Seems to me you could twain your way over to him if you wanted to. You did it before. That’s how you got yourself in the family way.”
Greer ignored that as she snatched a tissue from the box next to Ali’s knee and dabbed away the mess she’d made.
It was too bad she couldn’t dab away the mess of her marriage with a simple swipe.
“I should have never confided in you in the first place,” she told her. Not about the rainstorm. Definitely not about the great divide that existed between her side of the bed and his.
“I think you needed to tell somebody,” Ali said quietly. Her eyes were sympathetic. Ali was always easier to take when she was full of sass and vinegar than when she wasn’t.
Greer cleared her throat as she balled up the tissue and tossed it in the trash. “You just happened to catch me in a bad moment.”
“Sure. Sitting on the side of
the road near Devil’s Crossing bawling your eyes out. A little more than a bad moment in my view, but if that’s what you want to call it.”
She’d been on her way back from an appointment with her obstetrician in Weaver. She’d started blubbering near the spot where Ryder had rescued her that day in August, which now felt so long ago. She had pulled off the road before she ran off it. Ali, in her patrol car, had spotted her. And the entire story had come pouring out of Greer, along with her hiccupping sobs.
“Hormones.” Finished with the mascara, Greer capped the tube and tossed it next to the blush, then shut the drawer with a slap. “I’m ready.” She tugged her pants hem from beneath her high heel where it had caught.
“More like a broken heart,” her sister was muttering under her breath as she unfolded her legs and slid off the counter. “I warned you that something like this would happen.” She followed Greer through the bedroom and downstairs.
While Greer didn’t appreciate the “I told you so,” she did appreciate Ali’s return to form.
“Finally,” Grant said when he spotted them. “Sooner we get to this deal, sooner we can leave. We’re already going to be late.”
“Party animal,” Ali joked. She lifted her hair when he helped her on with her coat.
Grant’s smile was slanted. “I’ll party your socks off when we get home.”
“Well, now, that is a good reason to get moving along.”
Greer grabbed her coat and headed out the door. She didn’t begrudge her sister’s happiness. Truly, she didn’t. But her hormones were at work again, and she really didn’t want to have to go back upstairs and redo her mascara again.
She paused on the front porch as she pulled on her coat. Every house down the hill from the Victorian was outlined in bright Christmas lights. There still hadn’t been any snow since October, but it was pretty all the same.
At the ranch, Ryder had put up the Christmas tree he’d cut down himself. He’d left the decorating of it to Greer and Adelaide, though. The results had been interesting, to say the least. Adelaide’s unusual eye might be highly regarded at MoMA, but Greer was probably a little too traditional to fully appreciate the strange paper clip–shaped objects juxtaposed with the popcorn garland she was used to.
The Rancher's Christmas Promise Page 17
