THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  His blue eyes gleamed. “So you’re proposing to me?”

  Why did she suddenly feel as though that was a bad thing? “I know that’s typically a man’s domain.”

  He lowered his head, until they were nose to nose and she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Uh, yeah!”

  His gruff words were a direct hit to her carefully constructed defenses. Aware there were times when he made her feel very safe, and times—like now—when he made her feel very off-kilter, Ginger shrugged nonchalantly. “But I didn’t want to wait for you to get around to it.”

  He smiled. “You think I’d take my sweet time about it, is that it?”

  He certainly took his sweet time about a lot of things. In bed, anyway. Ginger flushed, disturbed that the only way they knew each other all that well, was sensually.

  She waved off his assertion. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” She moved to put her sunglasses back on, but stuffed them in her vest pocket instead. “I just want a ring on my finger before any more time elapses. So that by the time I’m showing and we have to start telling people I’m pregnant, we’ll already be married, and it won’t be such a big deal.”

  His eyes never left hers as he stood there in that utterly disarming way that he had. “Oh, it’s a big deal, all right,” he said in a low, soft voice that sent ribbons of sensation coasting down her spine.

  She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “You know what I mean, McCabe. If we’ve already been hitched for three months or so before I have to start telling people I’m expecting, then people aren’t going to think much of it. It’s going to be old news a lot faster than it otherwise would be.”

  “Or in other words—” his eyes never wavered from her face “—you don’t want people to think we had to get married.”

  Determined to keep him at arm’s length, Ginger fought the waves of sexual magnetism that always existed between them. “There’s no such thing as having to get married in this day and age. But...”

  He frowned. “There’s always a caveat with you, isn’t there?”

  So what if there is? Ginger liked to be prepared for any eventuality, especially the bad stuff.

  She stiffened her spine and plunged on. “Since the majority of the clients I want to put under contract are very traditional in their outlook, it makes sense for me—us—to be married. So that I will appear more...”

  “Settled?”

  She gave him a withering look before finally conceding, “Traditional, too.”

  Rand rubbed the flat of his palm across the nape of his neck. “Except for the fact that anyone who knows you at all kind of knows that you aren’t conventional, Ginger. Not in the slightest.”

  True, she hadn’t been. Until she’d realized they had a baby on the way. Knowing she had to provide for someone other than herself had changed everything. Made her yearn for as much stability as possible in her personal—and professional—life. Which included finding a way to land her first big contract as an independent oil woman, ASAP.

  “Marrying you will show everyone that I’m finally ready to settle down. That it’s safe to trust my skill as a geologist, and to sign with me.”

  And that, in turn, would give their child the safe harbor he or she would need, even after she and Rand parted ways.

  He sighed. “So this isn’t just about the baby. It’s about oil, too?”

  Ginger nodded, as ready to be totally upfront about that as everything else. “The word on the street is that Summit County is going to lift their temporary moratorium on horizontal drilling any day now. When that happens, there’s going to be a stampede of wildcatters trying to get landowners signed up.”

  “In particular Dot and Clancy Boerne.”

  A brief smile flickered across her face. “The fifty-thousand-acre Boerne ranch is where the most oil is expected to be.”

  “You think being pregnant and unmarried would eliminate you from the running?” he asked, sliding her a long, contemplative look.

  In a word, yes. Ginger shrugged. “It’s no secret that I’ve had an uphill battle trying to convince people to do business with me because I’m young, and female and a lot less experienced than some of the others vying for business.”

  He grinned, as if admiring her moxie. “And yet you persist.”

  He was darned right she did. “Just because wildcatting is still primarily a man’s domain, doesn’t mean it needs to stay that way.”

  Rand spoke with the respect of a son of the best lady wildcatter in the state of Texas, Josie Corbett-Wyatt McCabe. “Of course not.”

  “Furthermore, I’ve already demonstrated time after time I have a knack for coming up with drilling plans that get oil out of places that were previously considered inaccessible.” Drilling plans that should have had her promoted at her previous job with Profitt Oil, if there had been any fairness involved. Which there hadn’t been. “I just need a chance to show everyone what I can do now that I’ve ventured out on my own.”

  He rubbed the flat of his hand beneath his jaw. “Well, as long as you’re confident...”

  “I didn’t expect you to cheer me on. Since all you want to do is stop people from drilling—”

  “Irresponsibly,” he interrupted, adding that important qualification. He had nothing against getting oil out of the ground, as long as it was done safely and with minimal environmental impact.

  Ginger planted her hands on her hips, aware they were on the verge of yet another of their famously passionate arguments. “Well, I’m not irresponsible.”

  “And yet you’re pregnant.”

  Ginger flushed. She should have known he would bring the conversation back to their lovemaking. He always did when they clashed, probably because he knew the topic got her even more worked up. “You get half the credit for that, cowboy. And it’s not as though we didn’t...”

  “Use protection?” A hint of amusement filled his voice.

  Ginger shook her head. “If the condom hadn’t broken that one time...”

  “There’d be no baby on the way.”

  No reason for them to be together now.

  Another silence fell, this one slightly less combative.

  Aware that if she wasn’t careful she really would fall under his spell, Ginger stepped back and turned away. Needing a moment to pull herself together again, she swept off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, doing her best to restore order to the tousled strands. For a long moment her gaze traversed the winding creek, fields of wildflowers and the granite mountains rising in the distance. With the blue sky overhead, and a warm breeze flowing over them, it really was a beautiful spring day. Quiet, too, since the Trans-Pecos region of far west Texas was not just rugged and vast, but sparsely populated.

  But that, too, would change if what everyone was predicting, the oil boom that had already hit many other areas of the state, actually happened here in Summit County.

  With a sigh, Ginger turned back to Rand. Realized all over again just how devastatingly handsome he was. As she finally met his eyes, she sensed she wasn’t the only one feeling conflicted about everything that was going on. “Look. I know it goes against your grain, having to get hitched to me, even temporarily. That when the time comes for you to really settle down, you’ll want someone a lot more...more...” She grasped for the right word.

  He leaned forward and helped her out. “Demure?”

  Irked, she narrowed her eyes at him and slapped her hat back on her head. “Whatever.” Although to be truthful she couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. “As far as you and I are concerned, however, this is only a temporary arrangement. One that can be undone as soon after the baby is born as possible.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  Ginger shrugged. “We don’t even have to live together. Well, not really,” she added hastily. “Especially
if you end up working in another part of the state—”

  “Not happening. I’m consulting in Summit County until the boom is over, same as you.”

  She had been afraid of that. “Then we’ll get a place with separate bedrooms.”

  “Why?” He smirked in a way meant to infuriate. “We’ll only end up in the same one.”

  “No. We. Won’t. Sleeping together is what got us into this mess.”

  He rubbed his jaw with maddening nonchalance. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” The corner of his mouth twitched in barely checked amusement. “That’s one vow you’ll never keep.”

  Flustered by his blatant delight at her frustration, Ginger shoved her hand through her hair. She didn’t know why she let him get to her this way. “I don’t know what it is about you and me that has us arguing every time we’re around each other,” she complained.

  The wicked gleam in his eyes said he did.

  “But right now,” Ginger continued single-mindedly, “we need to focus on the least disruptive and most expedient way to say our I Do’s.”

  Rand looked no more eager to head home and involve their families than she did. “Right here in Summit County is fine with me.”

  “Me, too,” Ginger breathed, glad they were finally in concert about something. But then she felt the compelling pull of his gaze and her relief fizzled away. Steadfastly ignoring the shimmer of awareness sifting through her, she went back to her truck to collect the research she had already gathered, in preparation. Returning, she handed him his copy. “So here’s the plan....”

  * * *

  RAND HAD NEVER been one to let a woman take the lead. It just wasn’t in his nature. However, he knew that Ginger was right; they needed to get married as quickly as possible. Otherwise, Ginger was likely to change her mind and bolt again. Only this time she’d be taking his unborn child with her.

  So the two of them left the creek bed and went straight to the county clerk’s office in Summit, Texas. They applied for a marriage license and made an appointment with a justice of the peace for as soon as the three-day waiting period expired.

  “So I’ll see you here Thursday at noon?” Ginger said on the courthouse steps after they had finished the paperwork.

  Rand nodded. “You want to meet here? Or have me pick you up?”

  “We can meet here.”

  He had figured she would say that. Although that, too, was going to have to change. Married people rode in the same vehicle, at least from time to time.

  Pausing again, Ginger eyed him cautiously. “I’m just going to wear jeans...”

  He shrugged. What did it matter since this wasn’t a real marriage? “Okay.”

  “So no tie or anything,” Ginger persisted.

  He hooked his thumbs through the loops on either side of his fly. “Shirt and shoes optional, too?”

  Flushing slightly, she told him archly, “You know what I mean.”

  He sure did. He rocked forward on his toes. “How about flowers? You want a corsage or anything?”

  “Certainly not!” She appeared insulted at the thought.

  He lowered his face until they were nose to nose. “You’re bringing your own?”

  She scoffed in disgust and stepped back in a drift of orange blossom perfume. “I’m not having any.”

  Of course she wasn’t. Aware Ginger brought the D to difficult, Rand retorted, “Is everything about us—as a couple—going to be this nonsensical?”

  “Ultra casual,” she corrected. “And probably.”

  Rand could only imagine how their families were going to take to that. His parents didn’t necessarily want everything to be fancy, but they did expect occasions such as weddings to be incredibly special. He’d only met Ginger’s mother once—in passing—but Cordelia Rollins had struck him as the ultimate helicopter parent. And one who would definitely want a big elaborate wedding for her only daughter. Not a hasty elopement.

  “All right, then,” Rand said finally, making note not to adorn his new bride with any gift of a sentimental nature. “Good to know.”

  Ginger’s hands flew to her hips. “You don’t have to be so caustic.”

  As if he had started it. He let his gaze drift lazily over her before returning to her beautiful, emerald eyes. “You don’t have to be so prickly,” he shot back.

  Her chin lifted in that all-too-familiar way. She sized him up for a long, thoughtful moment, then stepped a little closer. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re so impossible.”

  He shortened the distance between them even more, until only mere inches remained, then drawled, “And why, pray tell, is that?”

  “Because then it won’t be a surprise to anyone when we decide to go our separate ways a year from now.”

  “Or sooner,” he allowed with a sigh, not seeing at that moment how they were going to make it one month as a married couple, much less all the way to their baby’s birth.

  “So...I’ll see you Thursday?” she said finally.

  He held her gaze, aware that for reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he was looking forward to their next step every bit as much as she seemed to be openly dreading it. “At noon.”

  Her mouth twitching with satisfaction, she decreed, “I’ll see you then,” and sashayed off toward her pickup without a backward glance.

  Chapter Two

  True to her word, Ginger showed up on the courthouse steps Thursday at noon. In worn jeans, fancy Western boots, a white, lace-trimmed knit shirt and rose-colored vest, she looked pretty as a picture. “Ready?” she asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” Rand returned, more than ready to get the formality over with, too.

  They walked into the courthouse, side by side. Only to promptly discover, to their mutual dismay, that all was not as it should be, after all.

  “What do you mean we can’t get married today?” Ginger lamented when they found out the justice of the peace set to conduct their ceremony was not even on the premises. “We made an appointment to get married at noon!”

  “I know.” The middle-aged court clerk swept a hand over his buzz-cut hair. “And believe me, the justice is sorry, but it can’t be helped. It’s a ‘family’ thing.” Then he continued, a little lamely, “So if you all want the J.P. to marry you, you’re going to have to reschedule...”

  Not about to give up that easily, Rand asked, “Is there someone else who could perform the ceremony?”

  “Not today. But...” The clerk studied the calendar on the computer in front of him. “The J.P. could fit you in a week from now, at three.”

  A week was too long to wait. Rand could see his bride-to-be thought so, too.

  Ginger swung toward him, her body nudging his in the process. “What are we going to do?” she asked plaintively. “You told your parents you’re coming to Laramie this evening to see them.” She threw up her hands. “My mother is expecting me in San Angelo first thing tomorrow morning.”

  They hadn’t told either of their families they weren’t coming alone. That news, they had figured, could wait until they arrived, announced their “elopement” and introduced their new spouse, all in one fell swoop.

  Aware she was sounding a little more emotional than usual—probably due to her pregnancy—Rand felt a surge of protectiveness rush through him. He gave Ginger’s hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. “And we’ll keep those promises,” he said.

  He dropped her hand and turned back to the clerk with a possible solution. “Do we have to get married in Summit County for our license to be valid?”

  The beleaguered clerk perked up. “No, sir. Anywhere in the State of Texas is fine.”

  Rand thanked the clerk and they left the justice of the peace’s office.

  Ginger shot Rand a sidelong glance as they walked toward the exit. Their foots
teps echoed on the polished marble floors. “I gather you have a plan?” she asked.

  “I do.” He held the door for her, and accompanied her out into the midday heat of the spring day and down the broad limestone steps. “Even better, the place is sort of a McCabe family tradition. Which means—” he paused to give her a level look, hoping she would cooperate with him just this once “—it’ll give our union an air of authenticity we probably wouldn’t get any other way.”

  Although they hadn’t talked about it, Ginger seemed to know what a hard sell their surprise elopement was going to be—for both families. Their eyes met and held once again. After a moment she took a deep breath, squared her slender shoulders and vowed softly, “Then I’m all-in.”

  * * *

  AT RAND’S INSISTENCE, they would leave her truck behind and take his pickup for the drive north.

  At Ginger’s insistence, they phoned ahead to their destination, to make sure that Jeff-Paul Randall could marry them. The internet-certified minister slash business owner promised to be there when they arrived around five o’clock.

  Relieved to have that arranged, Ginger climbed into the passenger seat of Rand’s gray hybrid pickup and settled in beside the tall, broad-shouldered Texan.

  Trying not to think about the fact he would soon be her husband, at least in name only, Ginger turned her attention to the rugged scenery. The creosote flats peppered with yucca and cholla cactus gradually gave way to elevations of higher rainfall, pinyon pine and scrub oak. Oil wells, cattle ranches and the occasional wind farm abounded, but towns were few and far between as they traversed the canyons, landed on Interstate 20 and gradually left the desert prairies and majestic mountains of the Trans-Pecos behind.

  Rand said little during the four-and-a-half-hour drive. Ginger was quiet, too. In truth, there wasn’t much to say. She just wanted the elopement to be over and done with. Although he didn’t say as much, she was pretty sure Rand felt that way, too.

  Finally they hit the outskirts of Laramie County. Minutes later they approached their destination: J.P. Randall’s Bait and Tackle Shop. The squat, flat-roofed building with its peeling white paint was in the middle of nowhere, and just rundown enough to make it disreputable without being dangerous. Frequented by sportsmen and campers en route to Lake Laramie from the west, as well as people looking to fill up their gas tanks, or to be wed in a hurry, it was usually populated by a few cars and trucks.