THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Josie started to say something, then stopped. She gave him an odd look, but still didn’t say what was on her mind. Finally she asked instead, “How is Ginger’s preparation going for the Q and A sessions?”

  Rand tensed. “She won’t say.” But Rand had a feeling, given the way his new wife had been walking around the cottage, scowling and muttering to herself when she and Maria weren’t rehearsing together, not all that well.

  Finally he admitted, “I’m trying to give Ginger the space she needs.”

  Josie nodded approvingly. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”

  Did she? It was hard to tell. All Rand knew for certain was that Cordelia’s criticism of her daughter’s ability to participate in an effective marriage had put a damper on his relationship with Ginger. He wasn’t sure how to get them back on solid footing. He only knew that it wouldn’t happen until Ginger found out whether she had won—or lost—the biggest business opportunity of her life.

  * * *

  WHEN RAND WALKED in Monday evening Ginger was going through all the line-dried denim in her closet. He had missed her, during the hours he had been around, but there was no telling from her expression whether or not she had missed him.

  Glad to be home again, nevertheless, he went to her side, watching as she tersely checked out one label, then another, and another. “Wardrobe crisis?”

  Her lips twisted unhappily. “Something like that.”

  The shirt she had borrowed from him clearly wasn’t the problem. She looked pretty and ultra-casual in the oversize light green button-up.

  In no hurry to go anywhere, he lounged against the bureau, arms crossed at his chest. Steadfastly ignoring his presence, she shucked off the pair of paisley pajama pants she’d been wearing and pulled on a pair of denim. To her visible frustration, there was no way they would come even close to zipping. With a muttered oath, she took off the pants and tried another pair to the same result.

  “Maybe you should buy some maternity clothes,” Rand offered casually.

  She sent him an irascible look and shook her head. “It’s way too soon for that.”

  Rand didn’t really see what the big deal was. Yes, her waistline was thickening, but only because their baby was growing inside her.

  Ginger sat on the edge of the bed, the long tails of his shirt covering her bare thighs. “I am going to have to buy larger clothes, though.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  She flashed him a droll look. “To do what? Hold my purse?”

  Rand shrugged. “Or get sizes for you, or whatever.”

  Not above doing what had to be done to get to spend more time with her, and perhaps regain some of their previous closeness and make love again, Rand used what leverage he had. “If you want people to think our relationship is as authentic as our skills in the field, we’re going to have to be seen together at least some of the time. Otherwise, people are going to start to wonder what’s going on with us.”

  That got her. “Okay, fine.” Ginger vaulted to her feet and put on a pair of sexy black yoga pants with a roll top that ended several inches below her navel. “As long as we get dinner in town before we come back here.”

  Rand shrugged. “Fine with me.” He could use a good meal and some quality time with his new bride.

  Together, they headed for Summit, and once there, went straight to Callahan Mercantile & Feed, an old-fashioned general store that carried everything from camping gear to authentic Western wear.

  Rand accompanied her inside. “So what are you looking for?”

  She headed for the shelves of ladies’ jeans and plucked up several different sizes. “Loose-fitting, practical work clothes.” She handed him a stack of different styles and sizes, then moved on to the cotton vests and men’s twill shirts. Satisfied she had enough to try on, she found a unisex fitting room located in the middle of the clothing area. The look in her eyes said she did not want him to come in with her, so he waited outside the locked door.

  And then waited. And waited. And waited.

  Wondering what was going on in there, and hoping she wasn’t starting to feel sick again, he moved closer. “Ginger? Everything okay in there?” No answer. “Honey?” he prompted, a little louder.

  Hannah Callahan Daugherty, the proprietress of the mercantile, appeared at his side. Married and a mother herself, the slender brunette flashed an easy-going smile. “How’s it going?”

  Rand wished to heck he knew. “I’m a little concerned about my wife,” he confessed.

  A huff sounded from behind solid oak. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The dressing room door slid open slightly and Ginger reached for him. “Just come in,” she ordered, exasperated.

  Mindful of the soft, feminine hand suddenly fisted in his shirtfront, Rand shrugged good-naturedly. “Women!”

  Hannah laughed and moved off. “Just let me know if you need anything,” she said over her shoulder.

  Ginger tugged Rand the rest of the way inside. As he had feared, her eyes were red and glistening with tears. “Must you make everything such a big deal?” she snapped. He wasn’t the one who had locked himself in here, crying.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked quietly, as calm as she was emotional.

  She plucked at the sides of her jeans, which seemed to comfortably fit her thickening waistline but overwhelm everything else. Her lower lip trembling, she whispered back, “I look like I’m wearing jodhpurs, that’s what. But I can’t go down a size, because if I do, they won’t fit me in the waist and I won’t be able to get them zipped.”

  Rand eyed the pile of discarded garments. It certainly seemed as though she had been busy while he’d cooled his heels. “What about the other styles?”

  Ginger threw up her hands. “They’re even worse. I either can’t get them on...or I can and the tummy on them sticks out a mile, making me look a lot more—” She gestured comically as if outlining the belly of a whale. “Than I already am,” she finished finally.

  Rand knew when he was in over his head. “Want me to call Hannah in?” Surely the storekeeper would know how to get a better fit.

  “No!”

  He leaned close enough to her ear, then dared ask, “Want me to take you to a maternity store up in Fort Stockton?”

  Her glare turned lethal. “How do you know where the closest one is?”

  Damn, she was pretty when she was agitated. He shrugged. “Same as always. I researched it online.” He paused to smooth a lock of silky copper hair from her face. Tenderly, he tucked it behind her ear, then murmured, “You could always order something off the internet.”

  “There’s no time for that. I have to find something to wear right now, that I won’t look ridiculous in.” Moisture flooded her green eyes. She dashed away her tears with her knuckles, before they could fall.

  He tried to simultaneously problem-solve and tease her out of her dejected mood. “You could borrow a pair of my jeans, the same way you do my shirts. Because those probably would work, since they’re just sort of straight up and down.” He illustrated with his hands. “Instead of all nipped in or curvy.”

  It had been a shot in the dark, born of sheer desperation.

  Ginger’s eyes lit up.

  She let out a low, delighted laugh and palmed the center of his chest. “Out of the mouths of the unenlightened,” she blurted.

  Grabbing her phone, she quickly looked up the measurements on the pants she’d been wearing. He helped her convert them to men’s sizing.

  An hour later they left the store. Ginger had half a dozen pairs of men’s jeans, a few men’s shirts and a couple new ladies’ vests—in a larger size, to accommodate her blossoming breasts—bundled together in a mercantile shopping bag.

  She was wearing a new pair of men’s jeans, too. “Feel better now?” Rand asked, winding a protective
arm around her waist.

  Ginger leaned into him briefly, looking happier and more relaxed than he had seen her in days. “Much. I should have gone for the ‘Southwestern’ Annie Hall slash Katherine Hepburn style of dressing much earlier.”

  He tucked her in closer to his side, predicting, “You’ll have people talking.”

  “But it will be about why I’m suddenly electing to wear all men’s clothing.”

  Her triumph was as much an aphrodisiac as her temper. In fact, everything about her got his engine running.

  “And you’ll say...?”

  She winked. “That I would have done it a whole lot sooner if I had only known how much more comfortable guy’s clothes were than gal’s.”

  Rand grinned, glad she had solved her problem, and would be able to get through the next few weeks, or months, comfortably. Playfully he tweaked her nose. “So, back to the dinner you promised me...” His stomach was growling hungrily. As was hers.

  She slanted him her usual feisty look. “We’re having pizza. And I’m paying.”

  “Works for me.” Matter of fact, anytime he was with her, anywhere he was with her, worked for him.

  They paused to lock her new clothes in his pickup, then walked down Main Street. They were nearly to Salvio’s Pizza Place when they saw Maria standing in front of the fire station, where her truck was parked. Conrad was standing next to her, and they were talking. It didn’t appear to be a particularly pleasant conversation.

  “What do you think that’s about?” Rand asked.

  Ginger looked pained. “I don’t know.”

  His protective instincts kicked into high gear. “Want me to intervene?”

  “No. Maria has three teenage sons, a husband who is not always known for his work ethic and a crew of roughnecks working for her. She can handle Conrad the same way she does all the rest.”

  They watched as Maria shook her head firmly and walked past Conrad, who still seemed to be pleading his case, even after Maria got in behind the wheel.

  “Well, whatever he wanted, he didn’t get it,” Ginger observed when Conrad got in his vehicle and drove away, too.

  Rand let out a low sound of agreement. “At least he’s not still bothering you.”

  Briefly, guilt flashed across Ginger’s face, but she recovered quickly as they continued down the street. Then she paused, presumably to look at the menu posted in the window. “Actually, Conrad is still texting and calling and emailing me, every day, telling me it’s not too late. I can still come back to Profitt Oil.”

  Rand had assumed that had all stopped, and was dismayed to find it was still ongoing. Although he did understand why Profitt would be loathe to let Ginger slip out of his life. Rand felt the same way.

  He leaned a shoulder against the glass. “What do you say to him?” he asked, curious.

  Ginger made a noncommittal sound. “Nothing. I already answered him once, in person. There’s no reason to do so again. Eventually he’ll get the message.”

  Rand hoped that was so.

  Ginger rocked forward on the heels of her boots and studied him thoughtfully. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  He lifted his brow. “Should I be?”

  Chapter Eleven

  What did it mean if Rand was jealous? Ginger wondered, trying not to read too much into his droll retort. Especially if he wasn’t the kind of guy to ever get jealous?

  “No, of course there is no reason for you to be even the tiniest bit jealous.” Although she knew she was playing with fire, feminine devilry made her pursue the issue. She narrowed her gaze. “Why on earth would you be, anyway?” It wasn’t as if her ex had anything on the incredible man in front of her. Rand was not only ruggedly sexy in that all-man-to-her-woman way. He was funny and charming to boot.

  Still not looking all that concerned, he shrugged. “Because I don’t want my wife being pursued by another man.”

  Admiring his confidence, she reiterated, “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. The only man I want is you.” Realizing belatedly how that sounded, she wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t meant to be so possessive, either. “You know what I mean,” she added hastily.

  He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth barely turning up, and waited for her to continue.

  Reluctantly she did. “I mean, we’re married. And hence, exclusive.”

  “Anything else?” He studied her, his expression inscrutable.

  Actually there was. But Ginger didn’t want to get into that now, didn’t want to open herself up to hurt. “Yes. I’m starving.” She let her glance fall discretely to her tummy, then stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “And I’m pretty sure you-know-who is, too.”

  As always, the mention of the baby they were having united them in a common cause.

  “So what are we waiting for?” He brushed a kiss to her cheek, then, hand to her waist, ushered her inside the pizza restaurant. They settled in a cozy booth in the back, and placed their order.

  As Ginger had expected, their dinner was delicious. And Rand was a charming dinner companion. They finished off the pizza and salad, then lingered over a huge slice of cheesecake, topped with fresh blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream.

  Aware she’d eaten her half of the shared dessert, and maybe a little more, Ginger put a hand to her tummy and groaned. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

  He took out his wallet and put his card on the receipt tray. The waitress took off with it before Ginger could stop her.

  She frowned at Rand. “Hey, I’m supposed to pay!”

  He shook his head, as intent on being in charge as ever. “Really can’t let you do that...”

  Why did he always have to be such a man?

  “Then I’m just going to owe you.”

  His eyes twinkled. He seemed more than ready for whatever she sent his way.

  “That sounds fine.” He leaned over and kissed her slowly, lingeringly on the lips. “More than fine, actually.”

  Ginger hadn’t meant to respond, but when he dipped his head and kissed her again, even more evocatively this time, she found herself kissing him back, just as sweetly.

  When he finally moved away, a round of applause followed.

  Ginger flushed at the reaction of their audience. Rand smiled even more wickedly, and then moved to kiss her again. “Playing Mr. Newlywed to the hilt, aren’t you?” she commented when they finally pulled apart.

  His eyes darkened emotionally. “I’m definitely starting something.”

  She knew he was.

  She just wasn’t sure where it would lead.

  Where she wanted it to lead.

  They were quiet on the drive home. Taking advantage of the blessed silence, Ginger turned her attention to the passing scenery and mulled over ways to keep the expectations they’d started their union with intact.

  And only when they had turned into the lane leading to their cottage at the Red Sage, did she finally turn to him and speak what was on her mind.

  “Do you think we should add sex to our marriage contract?”

  * * *

  RAND HAD TO hand it to Ginger. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her, she went and laid something like that on him. “I don’t know.” He cut the motor on his truck.

  The spring evening was pleasantly warm and serene. The sun was setting, against a backdrop of granite mountains in a blue-gray sky. Closer to the cottages, well-tended beds of red sage and a collection of other wildflowers and natives grasses bloomed.

  “Do you really think we need to do that?”

  Ginger inhaled a deep breath. She seemed apprehensive again. “Well...maybe.” She shrugged and released the catch on her seat belt, then sat back against the sea
t. “It’s clear we still desire each other.”

  He wondered if she had any idea how cute she looked in men’s clothing. Or how much he wanted to unbutton her shirt right now.

  “And always will.”

  The stubborn tilt was back to her pretty chin. “We don’t know that.”

  Body hardening, he watched her exit the cab, her movements as graceful and feminine as the rest of her.

  She reached around to open the rear passenger door. She stuck her head in, and continued her argument determinedly. “My body is going to change, and that may change the way you feel about having sex with me.”

  “You’re probably right.” Ignoring her quick look of surprise, he circled around his truck to help carry her shopping bags inside. He set them down and watched as she closed the door behind him. “Probably, as time goes along, I’m going to want to make love to you even more.”

  Her rosy lips took on an even more mutinous twist. “I’m serious!”

  He walked around, shutting the blinds one by one, while she paused to take off her boots, then turned on the lamps, lighting the cottage with a soft, romantic glow.

  If she needed reassurance, he was here to give it. “So am I.” He caught her against him and stroked her hair with the palm of his hand. “You’re only...what? Three months along? And already your breasts are full and luscious and spilling out of the cups of your bra.”

  She moaned. “Rand.”

  He moved around behind her until there was no space between them, nothing but pleasure. “Your tummy has this intriguing little slope.” He ran his hand sensually over the baby bump.

  She shuddered in response and her eyes drifted closed.

  He pressed a smile into the softness of her hair. “And your thighs. I don’t think they’ve ever been this silky.” His hand slid between them. “Or the most delectable part of you, so...” He unzipped her jeans and slid his hand inside. “Wet.”

  She throbbed at the tender stroking of his palm. “That’s because pregnancy fills me full of hormones.”

  “That’s part of it,” he murmured, turning her to face him.

  “What’s the rest?”