by Mindy Neff
“‘Bout damn time if ya ask me. Pardon my cussin’.”
Maddie wanted to ask what he meant about it being time, but Brice came in, bringing a burst of cold air with him. The steam from the bubbling spaghetti sauce fogged the kitchen window.
Brice glanced around at the homey scene—supper on the stove, Madison in sock feet, looking all soft and welcoming in a long green dress made of thermal cotton, baby bottles lining the counter top, Moe Bertelli holding the baby—
He did a double take, then grinned. The old man looked stiffer than a rooster’s comb, but highly pleased with himself.
“Loafing, Bertelli?”
Moe muttered something crass, then apologized to both the baby and Madison. “The day you catch me loafin’ is the day you find me pushin’ up daisies.” The baby wriggled and started in again on her crying. “Now see what ya done. Come in here bringin’ the cold and disturbin’ the peace. Best you get to washin’ that barnyard off, cuz you’re on next watch with the little girlie here.”
Actually, Brice’s palms fairly itched to hold Abbe. There was just something soft and soothing when that baby was in his arms—even if she was crying like a pitiful kitten.
But holding her reminded him of what he could never have.
Children of his own.
And Madison Carlyle.
“Last time I checked, I was still the boss around here.” He decided who took what watch. “I could use a shower before supper if that’s all right,” he said to Madison.
“Humph,” Moe muttered. “Thought you jest said you was the boss and here you go askin’ permission.”
Brice ignored his friend and left the kitchen before he did something stupid, like grabbing Madison and kissing that soft spot at the base of her neck where a tendril of blond hair clung.
“Brice?”
He turned, noticing she’d followed him out of the room. The shadows were back in her eyes—and something else he couldn’t read. A hesitant determination that put him on the alert.
“Did you find out anything?”
About the new guy. “He’s on the up-and-up. Just a drifter looking for work.”
Her shoulders relaxed. And now she was looking at him as if somehow he was her salvation.
“After supper, can we talk?”
He wanted to say no. Anxiety came out of nowhere, emotions he didn’t understand, had an idea he didn’t want to understand.
He confounded himself by nodding instead.
Supper was a subdued affair. Madison kept rehearsing her words over and over in her mind. And she could tell that Brice was anxious and leery over her request to talk later.
The men ate without complaint—even though the spaghetti had too much salt and the slightly acrid taste of scorched meat. They helped themselves to extra servings of garlic bread while discussing the cattle and the range and the weather. Apparently someone named Harvey Langford had lost some of his herd to wolves. Randy volunteered to scout around.
Maddie abandoned any attempt to eat after only a few bites. She was so on edge, she could barely get anything past her throat. After giving Abbe a bottle, she stood. That apparently was a signal for the men. Chairs scraped and they all shot to their feet, practically tripping over themselves to get to the dishes—probably needing an excuse not to finish that awful meal.
Worried over what she intended to propose to Brice, Maddie excused herself and took Abbe into the nursery and laid her in the crib. She wound up the mobile and smiled as the plush animals twirled slowly, playing softly the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”
Brice had done this for her.
But baby furniture and whimsical mobiles were small potatoes compared to what she was about to ask of him.
“It’ll be okay, Abbe,” she whispered, adjusting the soft pink blanket over her angelic miracle.
She left the door ajar and went into the living room. A fire crackled in the hearth.
Brice stood at the window—open again, she noticed. Oh, what must it have been like for him to be trapped in a well, a little boy alone, with no one to look for him.
Shadows from the flickering flames of the fire danced over the walls, over the solitary figure standing by the slightly open window. He looked so strong and capable with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world.
Would they be broad enough to carry her request?
He turned, as though sensing her standing there.
“You wanted to talk?’’ he asked, a hint of wariness in his tone.
She didn’t know how else to say it except flat-out.
“Yes. I was wondering...will you marry me?”
7
Brice went absolutely still. “Come again?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve got to file Abbe’s birth certificate, and I’m sure the Covingtons are searching every State data base in the country, looking for my name to show up. If I had a different name, if Abbe’s name was different, they’d have less chance of finding us.”
“You want to list me as the father of your baby? Give her my name?”
“Yes. Just your name. I won’t ask anything else of you. In fact, I’ll cook and keep house for you for free— for as long as you want.”
He blinked, staring at her as though he were unable to formulate a coherent thought or word.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear past the roar in her ears. “I know I’m not doing my job right now. But I’ll get better at it. I promise. We won’t interfere in your life...much,” she added. Of course they’d interrupt his life. And if she didn’t get the hang of cooking, they’d all lose weight in the bargain—whether they wanted to or not.
“Say something,” she pleaded when he just stood there like a statue. Well, who could blame him? It was a crazy idea.
She laced her hands together in front of her, trying to hide their trembling. He was going to turn her down. She knew it.
Shoulders slumping, she stared at the fire. “Never mind. It was a stupid request.”
She heard him move then, and glanced over in time to see him grab his hat and coat and let himself out the front door.
Wonderful, Maddie chided herself. She’d handled that with all the finesse of a charging bull. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, yet felt the aching lump in her throat, anyway.
So much for heeding your lessons, she thought. She’d learned as a child not to make waves, to be agreeable, lest she be exchanged for a better kid, one who wouldn’t rock the boat or demand too much.
Well, she’d certainly demanded plenty this time. And judging by the rigid set of Brice’s jaw as he’d walked out of the house, Maddie figured it was time she packed her bags.
Brice had cleaned every piece of tack in the barn. Twice. There wasn’t a speck of tarnish or rust on any of the silver. The smell of saddle soap and leather was heavy in the air. Every rope was coiled and hung symmetrically on the wall. Even his horse was giving him strange looks as he went to work on the stall, replacing perfectly good straw with a new layer.
He shouldn’t be considering Madison’s proposal, but he was.
He latched Samson’s stall and moved to the open barn door. Stars winked in the inky sky, promising a clear but cold day tomorrow.
Cows lowed in the stock pens, and an owl hooted. All around him were the familiar sights and sounds he loved.
And that’s what made him really consider Madison’s crazy proposal. At one time he’d envisioned a dynasty of ranchers bearing his family’s name.
But those images hadn’t jelled. His brother, Kyle, had opted for corporate life instead of staying on the ranch. And if Kyle ever settled down, it wasn’t likely that any of his future children would be interested in the Flying D legacy. A love of the land was bred by familiarity, by working every section, by living the life.
And as for children of his own, well, Sharon’s accusation that it had been his fault they hadn’t conce
ived had killed that dream.
So Madison’s stunning, unexpected proposal took on a certain merit.
Still unsure of his answer, he walked slowly back to the house, automatically skirting the patch of ground where the well used to be. His father had filled it in shortly after the incident of his childhood, but superstition and caution had him giving it a wide berth regardless. He didn’t trust the ground to hold him.
Just like he didn’t trust most people not to let him down. Women at least.
He found her in his bedroom. He hardly recognized the room as his own, even though she hadn’t moved anything. It held the essence of her presence, though, her springtime scent mingled with baby lotion.
He noticed the open dresser drawers, saw the suitcase standing in the corner.
His heart lurched. She looked determined, yet so alone as she sat on the end of the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I figured you’d want me to pack up.”
He didn’t know what he wanted. “You thought wrong.”
She frowned at his churlish tone. “You walked out.”
“I needed to think.”
She nodded. “I understand. It was wrong of me to dump my prob—”
“I’ll marry you.”
Her head snapped up. “You will?”
“It makes a crazy sort of sense. I’ve got nothing to lose, provided you’ll agree to sign a document waiving claim to my property.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She picked at a loose thread on the quilt. “What made you decide to do it?”
He shrugged. “I care about what happens to you and Abbe. And I guess I like the idea of somebody out there having my name.” He wouldn’t tell her that family was his deepest yearning. That having a child— even if it was by default...and only for a little while— was an offer he couldn’t turn down.
He’d had a hand in bringing that baby into this world—his world. It seemed fitting that she be the one he passed his legacy on to.
Now the hard part was going to be in keeping his emotional distance.
Regardless of the fact that he was helping Madison out, there was still the real possibility that she wouldn’t stay.
And to that end, he needed to set a time limit, some parameters. If he was prepared, his heart couldn’t suffer.
He was determined that wouldn’t happen.
“We’ll give it a three-month trial and reassess after that, get an annulment if you like. By that time you should know whether or not the grandparents have given up. And you’ll have a real good idea of what winter on a remote cattle ranch is all about. It’s a far cry from glamorized advertisements of dude ranches.”
“Oh. I’m sure it’ll be...fine.” Maddie had expected a prenuptial agreement. If he hadn’t suggested it, she would have. But she hadn’t been prepared for talk of an annulment before they’d even said, “I do.”
He nodded. “I’ll call my attorney in the morning, have him fax over an agreement. If you’re up to it, we’ll go into church this Sunday. After the services, I’m sure Pastor Glen won’t mind performing a quick ceremony.”
“I’ll be up to it. Thank you.”
She watched him walk out of the room, saw him automatically duck his head in the doorway, even though he wasn’t wearing his hat. The habit of a tall man.
A really wonderful man.
Goodness! Her heart was racing and her palms were damp.
He’d actually agreed to marry her! It was what she wanted, so why was she suddenly feeling so bereft? As though there was a detail missing.
Like a handshake to seal the bargain. Or a kiss...
Oh, Madison, don’t be greedy.
Her wedding day dawned bright and crisp. Ice dripped from the eaves as the sun attempted to pierce the freezing temperatures.
Brice had been up before daylight, tending to the animals or whatever else he did at those ungodly hours.
But Maddie was struggling with another problem.
What to wear to church services—and to her wedding.
Her selection of clothes was minimal. And not a single thing remotely resembled bridal.
Brice passed by her open bedroom door, then doubled back and paused in the doorway. “Better shake a leg, sunshine. It’ll take about forty-five minutes to get to the church. Services start at ten.”
She tightened the sash of her robe, still peering into the closet. Articles of clothing were strewn on the bed behind her. What should have been the happiest day in her life was starting off in disgust.
Then again, this wasn’t a real marriage in the fairytale sense. It was silly to have giddy expectations under the circumstances.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Half my clothes still don’t fit. And what does fit doesn’t seem suitable for church.” Or my wedding.
He came up behind her, smelling of crisp, wintery air and hay. “You should have said something. We could’ve placed an overnight order online.”
Just that quickly, her mood lightened. She glanced at him, feeling an unexpected thrill at the way his hat was cocked low over his brow, the way his height and breadth surrounded her in a protective cocoon.
“I’m already on a first-name basis with the UPS guy. Many more trips out here and people are gonna talk.”
“They’ve been talking for years. I do a lot of mail-ordering.”
“How did you get on so many catalogue lists?” Especially Victoria’s Secret.
“My ex spent a lot of time and money ordering stuff. When she left, she got a cash settlement. I got the bills and the junk mail.”
“You could have had them stopped.”
He shrugged. “It’s convenient.”
It felt strange discussing his ex-wife on their wedding day. Again, Madison had to remind herself that this wasn’t the everyday, run-of-the-mill marriage.
And she had to keep reminding herself not to wish it were.
“How about that green dress you were wearing the other night?”
Thermal cotton instead of silk. She shook her head. “It has baby spit-up on the shoulder.”
He flicked through the sparse hangers in the closet, pulled out a wool skirt and soft blue tunic sweater. “This would look pretty with your eyes.”
Astonished, she looked at him, and couldn’t find her voice. He was so close. It was their wedding day. They were standing in his bedroom, and she wasn’t wearing a stitch under her robe.
Possibilities flitted through her mind. She saw his pupils widen, whether it was from desire or the shading of his hat she wasn’t sure.
The moment spun out, charged.
Then he stepped back. “We’re going to be late.”
Maddie let out a trembling breath, watched the shift of his broad shoulders beneath his chambray shirt as he left the room, watched his hat brush the top of the doorjamb.
Get a grip, she told herself. Just because it was her wedding day didn’t mean she should start thinking about sexy things like her wedding night.
But there was something really special about Brice DeWitt. He was good at protecting, she realized, the type of man who quietly took care of everyone around him. He employed more ranch hands than he needed, hired any old drifter who showed up, agreed to marry a woman he barely knew.
She wondered who took care of him, and vowed that from this day on, for as long as she was with him, she would make it her job to give back to him, to do for him in any way she could think of.
She couldn’t get the skirt zipped all the way up, but the tunic sweater hid the fact. A pair of tights and knee-high boots completed her wedding ensemble.
With Abbe strapped in her car seat they pulled up at the small, white Methodist church. In the back seat, Moe looked clearly relieved that they’d finally arrived. He’d insisted Madison sit in the front with Brice, and had winced over every bump in the road that had jostled the baby.
Brice shut off the Jeep’s engine. “Stay put,” he said to Maddie, then came around to
the passenger door and opened it for her, giving her a hand out. “You want to hold Abbe, or carry her in the baby seat?”
“Since she’s sleeping for the moment, let’s leave her in the seat. If she fusses we’ll go to plan B.”
“She wouldn’t dare fuss in church.”
“Ha. Optimist.”
Brice ended up carrying the infant seat, since Maddie wasn’t too sure about her footing on the ice. The four of them entered the church, causing a stir of both speculation and welcome.
Women cooed over the baby, Brice kept a fairly stoic expression on his face, and Moe beamed like a proud grandpa—from a safe distance of course.
Maddie felt out of place and conspicuous. These were Brice’s friends and neighbors. What would they think when they found out he was marrying her?
It wasn’t as though they could admit to their reasons. The less people knew, the safer it was for Maddie and Abbe.
Seated in the back pew—so they could make a quick exit if Abbe threw a fit—Maddie voiced her uneasiness. She leaned close to Brice’s ear. “What are we going to tell people about our sudden marriage?”
He turned slowly, glanced down at her. “That Abbe’s my daughter, and I’m finally making an honest woman out of you.”
Her heart pounded like a drum at the sensual drawl in his voice, the lazy tip of his head, the utter intimacy of his look. She cleared her throat. “But Doc knows that I’m just the housekeeper.”
The corners of his lips pulled into a sexy grin. “So, he’ll think it was love at first sight. Especially if the men mention your cooking.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Those are fighting words, DeWitt. And I’m betting you’ll eat them before long.” She’d left herself wide-open with that statement, but he didn’t comment as she’d thought he would.
Sitting next to him, their thighs and shoulders brushing, was having a profound effect on her equilibrium. Especially when he graced her with that sexy grin. His aftershave teased her senses, smelling clean and masculine and making her heart race. She’d forgotten how sensual the scent of a man’s cologne could be.