A Baby In His Stocking (The Buckhorn Ranch Book 4)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “No,” he said, “but I will.”

  Natalie had put Mabel on the floor, where she proceeded to grab fistfuls of dry dog food from a stainless steel bowl.

  “Honey, no!” Natalie scooped Mabel up, only to pass her off to Kolt. “Hold her while the twins and I find Prissy.”

  “Okay, whoa.” With a shake of his head, Wyatt said, “Seven kids and Wren’s high-maintenance pooch?”

  “And Kitty!” Betsy said, reminding them to watch out for Josie’s cat.

  “Poke a fork in me,” Wyatt said. “I’m done.”

  “Congratulations.” Natalie’s tone was as lackluster as her expression. “We’ve been parents all of an hour and already you’re throwing in the towel?”

  Esther began to cry.

  As did Callie.

  And Robin.

  Betsy and Bonnie clamped their hands over their ears.

  “Prissy!” Mabel squirmed free from Kolt, charging as only a toddler can across the kitchen and midway up the back staircase.

  The spoiled-rotten Yorkie/Chihuahua mix took one look at the drooling, pinching menace headed her way and ran off yelping.

  At which point, Mabel plopped her behind on a stair and joined her cousins’ wailing.

  “Ohmygosh,” Natalie said in a rush. Her complexion had grown red and splotchy and the way she stood with her hands on her ever-growing belly made Wyatt wonder if she was having second thoughts about becoming a mom. Forcing deep breaths, she now waved her hands in front of her face. “I’m a school counselor. I’m with kids every day. Granted, not kids this little, but I’m thinking we have to be going about this wrong. What are we missing?”

  Bonnie raised her hand.

  Wyatt asked, “What do you need, squirt?”

  “I was just gonna say if you feed us all ice cream for dinner then the babies won’t cry.”

  Sighing, Wyatt said, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “No deal,” Natalie said above the tears. “That’s like rewarding them for poor behavior.”

  “They’re just babies,” Kolt pointed out. “They don’t even know what’s going on.” He took a bag of corn chips from the pantry. “And you guys still haven’t told us where all the other grown-ups are.”

  Natalie held Esther and Callie.

  Kolt sat on the stairs alongside Mabel and Robin, coaxing smiles from them with chips.

  The sudden silence—save for blizzard-strength winds—struck Wyatt as deafening. It also brought the same brand of quivery relief as the calm after being violently ill. Like he’d survived, but now what?

  “Where’s my dad and mom?” Bonnie asked.

  Natalie put the children down and sat on the center of one of the lower steps, patting the empty spaces alongside her. “Come here. What I have to tell you might sound scary, but I promise, everything’s going to be fine.”

  TWO HOURS LATER, WYATT SAID, “That was really messed up.”

  “What?” The younger kids were in bed, the three oldest playing Monopoly. Natalie scrubbed Georgina’s kitchen. Dinner had been a full-on catastrophe. Wyatt sat at the table, bare feet resting on the chair opposite his. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt a size too small from what Natalie guessed had been too many washings. The way it hugged his chest ought to be criminal. It showcased far too many of his muscular assets. Not a good thing, considering she was stuck with him at least until the end of the storm. The only help he’d given at dinner was to second guess her every decision. “You going to tell me I’m as lousy at dishwashing as I am cooking?”

  “Point of fact,” he said, nursing a longneck beer, “your stew hit the spot. My problem is more in the way of how you promised the girls their parents were going to be fine.”

  “They are.” Natalie refused to think any other way.

  Feet planted on the floor, he leaned forward with his palms on the table. “Both Dallas and Josie have more wrong than right. What are you going to tell the twins if their parents’ recovery doesn’t go as planned?”

  “Are you purposely trying to make this situation worse than it already is?” Natalie abandoned the dishes to face him. “Like it or not, the two of us are the only thing standing between a bunch of kids and the worst winter storm this state has seen in years—if not ever. Trust me, I’m not any happier than you about being stuck here together. If I had my druthers, I’d put you on a plane this second.”

  He finished his beer. “You don’t mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t.” No matter how badly her throat ached from the effort of holding back tears, she wasn’t about to let him see her cry for a second time in one day. His every word reinforced her vow to stay single. She’d forgotten a man’s capacity to hurt. “Every chance you get, you tear me down. Why? What have I ever done to deserve you treating me like scum you wiped off your boots?”

  “Now you’re being—” Before he could finish his sentence, a low descending hum signaled the house powering down. “Swell.”

  “I’ll find candles,” Natalie said.

  “Where are the lights?” Betsy asked, Bonnie close on her heels.

  “I told her,” Kolt said, “the electricity went out because of the snow, but she’s too dumb to listen.”

  “Don’t call your cousin dumb.” Natalie sensed Wyatt behind her. His size, the chemistry that crackled between them was unnerving. Her brain knew she’d had enough of Wyatt, but her body didn’t get the memo.

  “Excuse me,” she said to him, fumbling through a drawer where she’d seen matches.

  For an instant, his hand touched hers. “Sorry.”

  Did he feel it, too? The heat, tightening his stomach whenever she was near? Natalie prayed she wasn’t the only one being tortured.

  “Found them.” Thrilled for the distraction, Natalie struck a match against the box. Her eyes fought the flame’s glow. “Betsy, Bonnie, could you please help me find the cupboard where your grandmother keeps her candles?”

  “This will work better.” Wyatt brandished a flashlight, waving the beam in her face.

  “Until the batteries go dead.” The match burned down to her fingers, scorching in the second before she’d blown it out. Acting on instinct, she lifted her stinging finger to her mouth, licking where it most hurt. In the process, her gaze met Wyatt’s. Her mind’s eye had him kissing not only her finger, but so much more. Which was wrong and disturbing in ways she didn’t dare explore.

  Bonnie held up her treasure. “Here’s some candles, Miss Natalie, but Grandma only lets people use them on special days.”

  “I got some, too,” Betsy said.

  “Thanks.” Natalie took the girls’ offerings, but still headed to the dining room not only for holders, but to escape Wyatt. The house was enormous. Why did his presence have it feeling cramped all of the sudden?

  Without the electrical hum of appliances and central heat, the wind’s howl took on a frightening tone.

  “I’m scared.” Betsy hugged Natalie’s waist.

  Bonnie followed suit.

  “Tell you what,” Wyatt knelt in front of them, “if you ladies light candles, Kolt and I will make a big fire. Then, we’ll roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories just like we did on your Halloween hayride.”

  “I want princess stories.” Betsy frowned at the deep, dancing shadows the candlelight formed.

  “Princesses are dumb.” Kolt turned to Wyatt. “Come on, let’s get wood.”

  Natalie asked, “How long until it gets cold upstairs? Think we should take the babies from the nursery?”

  “Check on them,” Wyatt said, “but the house is well-insulated. They’ve got plenty of blankets, so they should be fine till morning. If the power’s still off by then, we’ll make pallets nearer the fire.”

  She nodded.

  The more candles Natalie lit, the more the home looked pretty as opposed to spooky. Beyond the great room’s towering windows, the storm blew. But inside, all was calm. Except for her runaway pulse. How much longer was she destined to be stranded with Wyatt?<
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  ALONG WITH MORNING, FOR WYATT, came the realization that not only was it still snowing, but the power was still out and his back hurt like hell from crashing on the floor while the Terror Twins were snug on the couch. Even worse, Kitty had camped out on his chest and Natalie looked seriously hot with sleep-mussed hair, cradling snoring Prissy in her arms.

  Blaming the observation on cabin fever, he rolled away from her only to face Kolt.

  “Let’s have a snowball fight,” the kid suggested, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they’d had about two hours’ rest.

  Wyatt groaned. “Love to, kid, but with the power still out, we’ve got man chores.”

  “Like what?” Kolt wriggled from his sleeping bag with his video game in hand. Had he held it through the night like a preteen teddy bear? “Because after we have a snowball fight, we can build a fort. Then we can fight in the fort. It’s gonna be awesome!”

  “Slow down.” Edging upright, Wyatt eyed Natalie, who’d taken the other couch. She’d offered it to him, but what kind of jackass would he be to have made a pregnant woman sleep on the floor? “We’ve got to build up the fire, then check the horses and other animals. We’re going to need to hook the plow to the truck, so we can make it up to your house, too. Not only do we need to check your horses, but make sure no pipes froze last night.”

  “Stop,” Natalie said in a raspy tone that did little to help Wyatt’s already frustrated condition. “You’re making me want to hide under the covers.”

  From the baby monitor she’d placed on the coffee table came fitful cries.

  Natalie said, “Esther’s going to be none too pleased to find she’s dining on formula this morning instead of her usual fare.”

  “Does that mean we’re out of boob milk?” Kolt looked genuinely distraught.

  “Afraid so.” Natalie pushed back her covers and emerged wearing comfy gray sweatpants and a matching University of Tulsa hoodie.

  Kolt asked, “Can’t you make her more from your boobs?”

  Lips pressed tight, Wyatt had never wished more for a sudden heat wave to melt the snow, allowing for a quick escape.

  “That’s a great question,” Natalie said, disgustingly patient for barely 7:00 a.m., “but mothers are only able to make breast milk when they have babies.”

  “But my mom said you have a baby inside you,” Kolt persisted.

  “True,” she said, “but my body won’t make milk until the baby is born.”

  “Oh.” Wyatt’s nephew took a few seconds to let this sink in before digging in his sleeping bag to pull out his socks. “Can we hurry with the man stuff, because I really want to play.”

  “Me, too.” Wyatt ruffled the kid’s hair, then stoked the hearth’s glowing coals before adding more logs and coaxing a flame.

  Natalie had gone upstairs and now descended with Esther in her arms. Even huffing from tears, his niece was a beauty. As was the woman carrying her. Wyatt didn’t have to be friends with a woman to admit she possessed positive assets.

  While Kolt ran off to find snow gear, Wyatt said, “I’ve gotta give you props for the way you handled Kolt’s question.”

  “Thanks.” Cradling the baby, Natalie’s bewildered expression made him think she’d been caught off guard by his compliment. “But in my line of work, I’ve had some doozies. That one was pretty tame.”

  Sitting in front of the fire, storing up heat for his trek to the barn, Wyatt said, “I’m sorry for last night. What I said about you promising the girls Dallas and Josie are going to be all right. Guess the way things have gone for me lately, I’ve gotten used to expecting the worst.”

  “In one respect, you have good reason.” Natalie nuzzled Esther’s downy hair. “But as soon as this storm clears, we’ll get word that Josie and Dallas are fine. Then you’ll be off on your adventure. When you get back, you’ve got a great family and job and home. Tons of friends.”

  All of which Wyatt was thankful for. But it still stung that he’d never have more. Best as he could tell, the holy grail of his family—hell, the whole state—was getting married and starting a family. Being stuck with his nieces and nephew proved he wasn’t even capable of being a good father, which should’ve made his condition easier to bear. At the height of the previous night’s screaming fiasco, he’d have been thrilled to never see another kid again. But morning had a way of washing away the strongest resolve. The brush of Esther’s long lashes against her cheeks brought on that old familiar yearning for something he’d never have.

  “You all right?” Natalie stood close enough for him to reach out and take the baby from her, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. For him, holding a child was akin to an alcoholic holding a drink. Pointless. Why, for even a moment, grow enamored with something he could never have?

  Chapter Six

  “How are you gonna feed your baby, Miss Natalie, when you’re not very good at feeding ours?” Bonnie had always had a knack for cutting to the heart of any matter and this time was no different.

  “Yeah,” Betsy said.

  “How about you two help?” Natalie sat on the sofa nearest the fire attempting to bottle-feed Esther while spooning pureed blueberries into Callie’s clamped mouth. Mabel and Robin happily fed themselves Cheerios, but not without making a mess.

  She would have never considered feeding children in the elegant Buckhorn living room, but since the temperature in the kitchen felt perilously low, there had been no other option. She had at least placed trash bags over the handwoven rug.

  “I want the baby.” Bonnie held out her hands, pinching her Pop-Tarts-sticky fingers. “You’re not sanitorily,” Betsy said. “You feed Callie.”

  “She’s gross.” Bonnie made a face. “Look at her. She’s like a purple monster baby.”

  “That’s mean! I’m telling Aunt Daisy you called her baby ugly!”

  “Did not! And anyway, she is all covered in purple stuff!”

  “Ladies…” Natalie had forgotten just how delightful the twins could be. “Please, let’s just get all of the little ones fed as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  Oh, from then on out, the twins were quiet, they just continued to torment each other by sticking out their tongues and making faces.

  Finally, Esther had eaten her fill and drifted off to sleep in her blanket-topped carrier.

  As for Mabel, Callie and Robin, Natalie wasn’t sure how to tell when they were full. Taking an educated guess that when there was more throwing and playing with food than eating that they were done, she launched the long cleanup process.

  “Girls,” she said to the twins, “while I’m picking cereal off of the floor, I need you to put on your coats, then go upstairs to bring down lots of baby toys. We’re going to move the furniture to make a giant playpen.”

  “Can we play in it, too?” Bonnie asked.

  “Sure. We’ll need all of the diaper supplies, too.”

  Betsy said, “Bonnie doesn’t like the way poop diapers smell.”

  “Thank you.” Natalie took a deep breath, vowing to keep her cool. “We won’t need dirty diapers. Just the clean ones.”

  The back door opened and closed. “Hello?”

  The twins ran over. “Uncle Cash!”

  Wyatt and Kolt entered behind him.

  “Hey, squirts.” After removing his boots, Cash gave both girls hugs. “How are you holding up, Nat?”

  “I’m good. How are Josie and Dallas?”

  “Kids,” Wyatt said, “how about getting on your snow gear and making sure the horses’ water isn’t frozen.”

  “Didn’t we just do that?” Kolt said.

  “With it this cold,” Cash said, removing his heavy coat and gloves, “we can’t be too careful.”

  Once the big kids were out of earshot, Natalie asked, “What’s going on? Are Josie and Dallas worse?”

  Cash rubbed his whisker-stubbled jaw. “Let’s just say there’s not been as much improvement as their doctors would like. Josie’s drifting in and out of consciousness and Dallas is fac
ing possible surgery. Daisy and Luke are staying with Mom. The E.R. has been swamped, so Wren stayed, too. But we all figured Wyatt would need a hand with the animals.”

  Hand over her mouth, Natalie mumbled, “I’m going to be sick.” She ran to the powder room, kneeling in front of the commode.

  Cash started to follow, but Wyatt stopped him. “Let me handle her.”

  “She doesn’t need handling, bro, but understanding.”

  Wyatt shot his little brother his dirtiest look. “Give me some credit.”

  Cash shrugged. “Just sayin’. Where’s my girl?”

  Wyatt nodded toward the living room where Natalie and the twins had assembled a massive playpen.

  From down the hall came sounds of Natalie alternately crying and being sick. Taking pity on her, Wyatt went to the bathroom, bringing along the flashlight to erase the dark.

  After running one of Georgina’s designer tea towels beneath cold water, Wyatt fell to his knees beside Natalie, holding the cloth to her forehead. “I—I know you’d rather have Josie, or one of your other girlfriends in here, but I’m afraid I’m all you’ve got.”

  Trembling, she sat on her heels.

  He flushed the toilet, then freshened the cloth to wipe her face. Once he’d wiped away her tears, he sat behind her, spreading his legs to draw her against his chest. Neither of them had had a good night’s rest and exhaustion couldn’t be good for her or her baby.

  “That’s it,” he murmured, stroking her long hair. “You’re going to be okay. So is everyone we love.”

  “What if they’re not?” Her voice sounded small and defeated. He liked her better loud and argumentative. This crying shell wasn’t his Natalie. They’d shared a connection since grade school and now, because of Esther, they always would. No matter how much they’d lately seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves, he’d always carry a soft spot for her. “Cash made it sound like they were both at death’s door.”

  Wyatt snorted. “We both know Cash is a drama queen.”

  She laughed, and the sound stirred something deep within him. He’d done that—given her comfort. That fact made him feel, if only for an instant, better about the crap storm fate had made of their lives.