The Bull Rider's Christmas Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Lord, woman, I didn’t say I was makin’ love to you in the pool. I’d just be getting an eyeful. Hell, if you want, I’ll let you look at me right now.” And to prove it, he unbuttoned his trunks.

  “Stop!” she screeched with her book over her eyes.

  “Okay, but if you ever want a peek, all you have to do is ask.” When he winked, her face turned red as a beet. “Until then, come on, let’s get you something pretty. There’s a specialty shop over in Fouke. I’ll bet they have something big enough to fit.”

  “Beast!” She threw her book at him. “First you want to see me naked, now you’re calling me fat?”

  “Never.” Leaning low to kiss her, he said, “Sorry if it came out wrong. I realize my big baby boy is making your stomach huge.”

  “Like that sounds any better?”

  “Whatever. I’m sorry if I offended you. Bottom line, it’s a freakishly gorgeous day and I don’t want to swim alone. Now, will you go shopping with me? Or is your refusal a subtle way of telling me you’d rather skinny-dip?”

  IMPOSSIBLE DIDN’T BEGIN to describe Cash.

  An hour had passed since his raunchy suggestion and Wren now stood in the dressing room of Fouke’s Baby Barn. Surveying her image in the mirror, she wasn’t sure if the pink floral suit made her look more like a cartoon hippo or a funky lounge chair. Either way, she wasn’t wearing the getup in public any time soon.

  “Does it fit?” Cash asked. He’d insisted on occupying the chair right outside her room.

  “Technically, yes. But that—”

  The dressing-room door creaked open. “Damn, woman…” Cash’s smiling image appeared in the mirror alongside hers. “You look hot.”

  “Get out!” she snapped, grabbing for the white T-shirt she’d worn to at least partially cover herself.

  “Have you seen the size of your—” At least having the decency to redden, he cleared his throat. “Suffice to say, our baby will be well fed.”

  To heck with modesty. She straightened her shoulders, giving him a real eyeful of her newly enlarged assets. “It’s a shame you’ll miss the party.”

  “Woman,” he said with a growl, “I am the party.” His agility meant he’d easily drawn her in for another kiss. “Shoot, if you weren’t already having my baby, I might hire you for the job.”

  “Stop!” she begged in a stage whisper. “You’re making a scene.”

  “So are you with your baby-enhanced boobs.” After a quick check over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking, he ducked into the already cramped room.

  “What are you doing?”

  Easing his hands around her, smoothing them in a lazy up-and-down motion that did wild things to her pulse, he said, “What’s it feel like I’m doing?”

  “Wreaking havoc?”

  “I should hope so.” He focused on her neck, nuzzling and kissing and flooding Wren’s body with aching, forbidden want.

  “Really,” she said, pushing him back the whole four inches the space allowed, “you have to stop.”

  “Why? It’s not like we haven’t already done all of this and more.”

  “I know, but…” It felt so good being back in his arms. Oddly right. What would it hurt indulging in this little bit of pleasure?

  What would it hurt?

  Try everything!

  Not only didn’t they have Doc Haven’s safety clearance, but she had way too much at stake to risk losing it all on a casual affair. Getting pregnant had been bad enough. As much as she now wanted her baby, she was that much afraid of how she’d manage being a good mother and a doctor. No way could she toss being a good girlfriend for Cash into the mix.

  Cash sidled right back beside her. “Just one kiss,” he whispered, his breath warm and moist in her ear.

  A knock sounded on the dressing-room door. “Is anyone in here?”

  Heart pounding, Wren answered, “Um, yes! A-almost done.”

  “Just one,” he urged, lips hot against the base of her throat. “Promise, if it’s that awful, you can pretend you’ve never met me.”

  “Need any other sizes?” the sales clerk persisted.

  “N-no, thank you.”

  “You know you want me.” His raspy whisper caused hot and cold shivers. Of course she wanted him. Want wasn’t the point. Sanity dictated she keep her distance. A repeat of their Vegas adventure would only make it tougher for her to eventually say goodbye. “C’mon…”

  Glancing into his green eyes was her undoing. Everything about him invited her in. He represented the world of forbidden pleasure she’d spent her lifetime working to resist. Chocolate and staying up too late and dating rather than becoming one with her anatomy tomes.

  “I—I want to,” she said, licking her lips, “but…”

  Kisses on her forehead, her cheek, the palm of her hand gave her only a sampling of what he ultimately offered.

  “Ma’am?” The sales clerk rapped again. “If you’re finished, we have a line waiting for the room.”

  “All right,” Wren answered.

  Cash made a face toward the door.

  Abandoning her logical side, Wren slipped her hands behind Cash’s head and pressed her lips to his. It took everything in her not to groan, and when he eased his hands under the top of her tankini-style suit, skimming them along her sides, teasing the sensitive skin near her breasts, she feared her legs would crumple from pleasure.

  “Need help getting out of that sexy thing?” Cash teased.

  Thank heavens they were in a public setting or she might’ve taken him up on his latest offer.

  “Ma’am?” The clerk’s tone had turned sharp. “Is someone in there with you?”

  When Cash launched into a fresh set of mocking faces, Wren couldn’t hold back a giggle, which quickly turned into a laugh.

  Snatching the tag from her suit, Cash opened the door. “We’ll take it,” he said, handing the clerk what she’d need to ring up Wren’s purchase.

  Wren cringed in horror, tugging the door closed before dragging her shirt and maternity jeans on over the ugly suit.

  Leaving the room with her bra shoved into her purse, Wren strove for a devil-may-care attitude on her walk of shame past the gaping crowd of moms and grandmothers. A scowling grandfatherly type clamped his hands over a squirming toddler’s eyes. Wren opted for the long route to the front of the store, zigzagging through clothing racks and a towering infant car seat display to eventually stand alongside Cash.

  “Will the swimwear be all?” The clerk glared at them over the top of her reading glasses.

  “Sweetheart,” Cash said to Wren, kissing the crown of her head, “need anything else? Thongs? Bras? Guess there’s no need for condoms.”

  “Sir,” the clerk admonished, handing Cash his change, “this is a family establishment.”

  “And clearly,” Cash said with a pat to Wren’s tummy along with his trademark grin, “we’re in a family way.”

  “YOU’RE AWFUL,” WREN noted an hour later while lounging on a hot-pink air mattress in the center of the pool.

  “I’m also the one who made your current comfort level possible.”

  “That may well be, but as long as I live, I’ll never get that clerk’s horrified features from my mind.”

  He dived under the heated water, popping up alongside her. “Admit it, that was the most fun you’ve had in a while, if not ever.”

  In the glare, all she could focus on was the white of his smile and water beads gathering on his muscular, sun-kissed skin. Mouth dry, she managed, “I will admit nothing.”

  “Because you’re ashamed of craving more of the same?” He formed a cup with his hands, scooping water into them and trailing it over her overheated chest. “It’s okay to admit. Promise, I won’t turn you down.”

  Lips pursed, she sighed. “What’s wrong with you? In a single day you’ve transformed from all-around good guy to raving horndog.”

  “It’s your fault,” he complained, “parading around with your goodies on display.”


  “My goodies were safely tucked away in a dressing room!” Rolling off her pool toy with as much grace as she could muster considering she carried her own built-in floatie, Wren sloshed toward the shallow-end stairs.

  Unfortunately, Cash followed. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  Out of the pool, she took her towel from a lounger, wrapping it sarong-style—only, it didn’t cover her bulging belly. Great.

  Hands over her shoulders, causing unwitting havoc with the simplest of touches, he said, “Guess I’ve gotten used to having you around. I don’t know if it’s the unseasonably warm weather or what, but it felt good not worrying about anything and just having fun. I should be working my knee. I need to make amends with my mom, and now Dallas.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Cash released her, slicking the water from his hair. “What’s that expression you used? Same CD, different track?”

  “That’s the one.” Taking another towel from the pile Mrs. Cahwood had thoughtfully set outside, Wren put it around her still-tingling shoulders.

  Perching on a low rock wall, he said, “I get where they’re coming from—the whole give-our-baby-the-Buckhorn-name thing. But it’s not like you don’t see Hollywood types not marrying.”

  “Considering where you live and your family’s standing within the community, I wouldn’t expect that argument to hold water.”

  “That’s such B.S.” Now pacing, he said, “My big brother is well on his way to following in our dad’s footsteps, as is Wyatt, but I’ve always been a disappointment.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.” Wren’s heart went out to him. All her life she’d wished for a family, but never once had she considered the pressure of living up to their expectations. “You’re a rodeo star. Every ranch needs one of those.”

  “Mom and Dad dreamed of me becoming a veterinarian. What I do is a far cry from that.”

  Not thinking, just following her gut feelings, Wren went to him, wrapping her arms around him for a hug. “What you do is entertain everyone who sees you. You give them an escape from their everyday drudgery. If your mom and brothers don’t see the importance in making people smile, then that’s their problem.”

  “Who knew I had a little scrapper living with me?” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “First off, there’s nothing little about me. Second, I’m not sure what I expected to find just dropping in on you like I did, but in light of the circumstances, you’ve been as welcoming as anyone could be.”

  “Thanks. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

  “Why from me?”

  Releasing her to pace again, he said, “You’re a family virgin.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, since you haven’t had a real, blood-related family, you don’t know what a pain in the ass they can be. Which is one more reason why for us, marrying would be stupid.”

  But we’re not blood related. The only thing linking them was smoking-hot chemistry.

  A fact she’d be better off forgetting.

  Chapter Eight

  “Am I cleared?” Cash winced while hopping off the exam table in the National Bull Riding Team’s Dallas facility.

  His longtime friend and team doctor, Mack Duggan, consulted MRI images on a computer screen. “’Fraid not.”

  “Why? I’ve rested for six weeks.”

  “Right, and I told you after that time we’d take another MRI and reassess. Bottom line, just as I’d suspected, you have a nasty anterior cruciate ligament tear and I’m not clearing you to rejoin the tour until you’ve had corrective surgery. Even then—” he patted Cash’s back “—there are no guarantees.”

  Though in his heart Cash had feared the news had been coming, that didn’t make it easier to stomach. Slamming the nearest wall with the heel of his right hand, he said, “Dammit, I don’t need this right now. Can’t I just man up and deal with the pain?”

  Making notes on Cash’s chart, Mack said, “If you want me to lose my job. C’mon, work with me. Have the surgery. We’re talking six months recovery max, and then we’ll reassess.”

  With a sarcastic snort, Cash added, “Yeah, with pissed-off sponsors and no income.”

  “Look,” his friend said, “you’ve already earned more at rodeo than a lot of people do in a lifetime. You’re a young man. This isn’t a death sentence. Worst case scenario, a possible change in your life’s course.”

  Cash’s drive home was long.

  He was used to a lot of time on the road. What he wasn’t accustomed to was having his mind run faster than his truck’s engine.

  News that he’d have to go under the knife wasn’t what most bothered him. It was the fact that on the off chance the surgery didn’t go well, he might never ride again, at least not at a professional level. Screw the money—time on the road was his lifeblood. It was the only place he got validation that he was okay. He sure as hell didn’t hear that news from Dallas or his mother. Yes, he was a screwup with women, but he’d always been a phenomenal bull rider. No matter what, he’d always had that to fall back on for all of his financial and emotional needs.

  Without it, where did that leave him?

  Worse yet, he had the added worry of sweet, funny, very pregnant Wren. Was she faring all right on her own? If he went under the knife ASAP, who would care for her then?

  True, Mrs. Cahwood handled the household feeding and cleaning, but Wren needed rides to the library and plenty of chocolate-dipped cones at Queenie’s. Who would make sure Wren didn’t capsize in the pool or always had fresh wildflowers on her nightstand?

  By the time he’d turned onto the road leading to his home, it was well past midnight. He’d expected the house to be dark, but lamplight shone through the windows, and on the couch he saw Wren curled up with one of her books. The sight of her warmed him. Made him feel oddly whole. As if even though his professional life was quite possibly shot to hell, everything would turn out all right.

  Out of the truck, knee throbbing, Cash tried shaking out the stiffness. As usual, it didn’t work. But for once, mounting the porch steps, the pain was okay. For better or worse, it was part of him. Just like the woman waiting up for him inside.

  “Did you win?” Wren asked, sleepy eyed and hair tousled. She rested her book atop her baby bulge.

  “Nah.” He’d told her he’d spent the day competing. He hadn’t needed her questions or pity. Now he almost wished he’d taken her with him. She’d have been able to not only explain the medical implications of surgery, but alleviate his no doubt irrational fears of possibly never riding bulls again. “Didn’t even place.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rising, she slipped her arms around him for a hug. “Mrs. Cahwood made blackberry cobbler. Want me to warm you a piece?”

  “Sounds delicious,” he said, nuzzling her sweet-smelling dark waves. “Do we have ice cream?”

  She laughed. “That’s like asking if I’m ever up all night, peeing.”

  Trailing her into the kitchen, he settled in at the table, appreciating her curves while she bustled to prepare his snack. “I should be waiting on you.”

  “Give me a break,” she said with a pretty grin in his direction. “I’ve been sitting all day. It feels good to be productive.”

  While the cobbler was being nuked, she smoothed the hair back from his forehead, rubbing his temples and then aching shoulders. “You’re one big knot.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Still kneading, she asked, “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Shot of Jim Beam.”

  She leaned over to view his expression. “Seriously?”

  “Better make it two.”

  “All right…” Ignoring the beeping microwave, Wren pulled out a chair and tried straddling it, but her belly got in the way. “Rats.” Once she turned the seat back around and plopped down in the usual way, she said, “Pardon that brief interruption. Now, what happened that’s got you turning to drink? Did you get hurt physically, or is this an ego thing?” />
  Should he tell her the truth?

  “Cash?” Her eyes begged him to let her in, but was he strong enough? If she knew all of his secrets and fears, what else stood between them to keep their attraction at bay?

  Leaning into her, he rested his head atop their baby. “I’m sorry. I lied about where I’ve been.”

  The color drained from her face. “Were you with an other woman?”

  “What?” Raising his head, he took her hands. “Trust me, it’s nothing like that. Why would that even cross your mind?”

  “I don’t know.” She lowered her gaze. “It’s stupid—and none of my business. If you want to be with somebody, then…”

  He kissed her. Nothing fancy or calculated to make her want more, but brimming with emotion straight from his heart. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

  Hands to her lips, she said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I know. But how else could I get my point across that there’s no other woman?”

  “That’s my point.” Taking his cobbler from the microwave, she said, “We don’t have that kind of relationship. Because of the baby, we’ll always share that connection, but nothing more.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re working overtime to convince yourself that’s what you want?”

  Ice cream in hand, she slammed the freezer door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Can we call a truce?” Standing behind her, he pinned her at the counter, fighting his every instinct to nuzzle her neck.

  “Fine.” After topping his dessert, she pushed him aside to return the frozen treat to the freezer.

  “Does that mean you’ll share this with me?” Knowing full well she’d never met a sweet she didn’t like, he wagged the bowl.

  “Thanks, but I’m ready for bed.”

  So much for telling her why he’d lied. She hadn’t even cared. Chalk this up as just one more reason why Cash didn’t need a woman in his life.

  WREN CLOSED HER BEDROOM door and leaned against it.