The Rancher's Expectant Christmas

by Karen Templeton

  The baby squirmed; Dee palmed her daughter’s head, kissed it through the hat. Then she laughed. If you could call it that. “This is absolutely the perfect fit for me. And it’s mine for the taking. And yet...” Her shoulders lifted, gently bumping the baby.

  “You sound like you need convincing.”

  That got a sigh. “Which is nuts, because the last thing I want—or need—is anybody trying to talk me into anything. Or out of it, whichever.”

  Josh frowned: what the hell was up with the waffling routine? But you know what? After her speech the other day about needing to figure stuff out for herself, damned if he was gonna pry. Even if it nearly killed him not to.

  “So it’s a good thing, then,” he said, “that I’m the last person who’d do that. Since I learned a long time ago that people are gonna do what they want, anyway.”

  Her mouth tucked up on one side. “So basically you’re no help whatsoever.”

  Josh crossed his arms, waiting out the mule kick to his gut. “A friend’s job is to listen. Be a sounding board. But anything more? That’s just asking for trouble.”

  “Friends?” Dee’s eyes narrowed. “Like we were before, you mean?”

  Okay, why did he feel like somebody’d just switched the channel on him? “And will always be,” he said cautiously, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. If anything. Because God knew he was no stranger to imagining things that weren’t there. “I’ll always have your back, Dee. But I’ll never push you into something you don’t want. Or try to talk you out of something I think you really do.”

  Chuckling, she turned to the fridge for a jug of milk, a pitcher of tea. “I need more friends like you,” she said, setting the containers on the counter, then surprising him by curving one cold hand over his where it still gripped the edge. A nontouch, really, with little to no meaning behind it. Certainly nothing that should’ve scorched his skin the way it did. Not to mention a few other things. “Thanks,” she said, and he smiled.

  “Anytime.”

  Although once she left his friendship would be moot, wouldn’t it?

  * * *

  The first three nights Katie had only woken up once, leading Deanna to foolishly believe she’d gotten one of those dream babies who’d be sleeping through the night in no time, and she’d breeze through this new motherhood thing like a champ.

  Then Night Number Four arrived, and with it her daughter’s apparent newfound goal to never let her mother sleep, ever again. The problem was, Deanna had always been a Sleeper, never even being able to pull an all-nighter in college because her body had simply said, Um...no. So when this little critter woke up at midnight...and two...and four...screaming as though she’d never eaten in her entire short life...

  Muttering things loving mothers probably weren’t supposed to mutter, Deanna somehow roused herself from what felt like a drugged sleep to turn on the low-wattage lamp on the dresser, then lean over the bassinet. How on earth could something that small be so fricking loud? And hungry? Close to tears as she tried to shake herself awake enough to change her, Deanna fumbled for a clean diaper and the wipes, only to jump a foot when she heard her door squeak open.

  “Somebody giving you trouble?” Josh whispered behind her, and she swallowed, hard. Because wussiness was not an option.

  “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Waking you?”

  “You didn’t,” Josh said, gently shoving her aside and taking over the diaper changing duty. “She did. It’s what babies do.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Hey. You made dinner. Fair exchange.”

  Far too gone to argue, Deanna stood with her arms crossed under her leaking, achy breasts, watching Josh efficiently clean and rediaper Katie’s bottom in the chilly room. The old heating system never had worked very well in the bedrooms, and Deanna was too paranoid to use a space heater, no matter how safe they were supposed to be. Billie had only laughed and pointed out that’s what sleep sacks were for, the kid would be fine.

  “You’re good at this,” she said, watching him snap up the baby’s sleeper, then stuff assorted limbs into a little fleece sack big enough to hold three of her.

  Josh hmmed. “Between Austin and my nephews, I’ve had a lot of practice. It doesn’t really get gross until they start eating solids, though.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Deanna yawned, then raked a hand through hair that felt like a freshly scythed wheatfield. Charming. Somehow, the wailing got louder. “What if she wakes Austin—”

  “She won’t.” Josh stuffed the dirty diaper into the lidded garbage can by the table, then hauled Katie against his chest. Even in the dim light—and through the fog of exhaustion—that soft T-shirt left little to the imagination. Hers, anyway. “Kid sleeps through anything. Where do you want to feed her? Chair or bed?”

  “Bed. It’s warmer.”

  “Then get back in, I’ll bring her to you.”

  Yawning again, she did, stuffing two pillows behind her back and hiking the covers up to her waist before reaching for Katie. But instead of Josh handing her the kid and returning to his own bed, he set about making a fire in the fireplace. A small one that would burn out fairly quickly, but still. Deanna’s eyes burned. And not from the fire.

  “That’s...” She swallowed. “Lovely. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Apparently satisfied with his handiwork, Josh stood, staring at the flames for a moment before facing her, his forehead crunched. “I could hang out here until you’re done—”

  “You don’t have to do that—”

  “And I’m not taking any chances on you falling asleep before putting her back to bed.”

  Deanna had to smile. “And you won’t?”

  “Nope. I’ll just sit over here...” He settled into her mother’s old rocking chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Tightly. “You got an extra blanket or something, though?”

  Oh, for pity’s sake... “Why don’t you get into the bed with us?”

  Brows crashed. “You sure?”

  As if. Especially since the double bed wasn’t exactly roomy. “Of course.”

  Josh still hesitated, then crossed the few feet to the bed and climbed in beside them, his scent, his body heat immediately swamping the space, making Deanna feel small and warm and safe and scared out of her wits. Because she had this ambivalence thing down, boy. Josh crammed the other two pillows behind his own back, then his arm behind his head.

  “We should have a movie to watch or something.”

  Deanna chuckled. “Aside from there being no TV in here...what would that be?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. Anything but a chick flick. Or one of those things where everybody’s talking in a weird accent.”

  “God, you are such a rube.”

  “Yep,” he said, shifting a little in the bed, much too close. Much too there. “This is kind of nice, actually.”

  “If weird.”

  “Weird is subjective. And that’s as profound as I get at four in the morning.”

  Then he scrunched down under the covers on his side, his head propped in his hand, and it occurred to her that her whole idea of having a man in bed with her had just gotten turned on its head. That in this moment, under piles of bedclothes and fully dressed—well, except for the half-exposed boob so her daughter could feed—she felt closer to this man than she ever had naked with anyone else.

  Weird? Heh. Not even close.

  “So you decided yet about that job?”

  She managed a weary laugh. “Can I get back to you on that after I’ve had some sleep?”

  “I’m serious. Because it sounds perfect for you.”

  “And you sound pretty sure about something you basically know squat about.”

  “I don’t need to
. But I’m guessing you do.” He poked her hip. Through three layers of bedding. “Which is why that dude is so hot to get you on board. So you need to ask yourself—is this what you really want? Would it make you happy?”

  Deanna looked down into that dear, sexy, aggravating face, forgetting for a moment how wiped out she was. “And what happened to not taking a position one way or the other?”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t encourage you to do something I really think you want to do. Or...am I wrong about that?”

  “No, but...” Focusing again on her daughter, she tucked the blankets more tightly around her, shoving aside a disappointment she didn’t even fully understand. “You make it sound so simple.”

  A moment passed before Josh said, very quietly, “I think the problem is, most people make things too hard. Harder than they need to be, anyway. But then, that’s always been the difference between us, huh? Even when we were kids, you’d think things half to death before making a decision, while I’d go with my gut.” He paused again. “Mostly, anyway. Since my gut and I didn’t always agree. I’d hear it, sure. But I didn’t always listen.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story there,” Deanna said, trying to lighten a suddenly heavy mood.

  The covers went every-which-way when he sat up again, leaning much too close. And not nearly close enough. “All I know is,” he whispered, looking at the baby, who’d sacked out in Deanna’s arms, “people have a right to be happy. Otherwise, what’s the point of living? She done?”

  “Um...yeah. It’s just...” Tired as she was, she smiled at her precious little girl, then barely touched her soft, soft cheek. “She feels so good, right where she is. It’s hard to give her up.”

  Josh’s rumbled chuckle vibrated through her, gentle and warm. “I can see that. But you’re not going to be much good to her if you’re dead on your feet. So hand her over, cupcake. I’m the best burper in these parts.”

  So, reluctantly, she did, her heart doing a slow turn in her chest as she watched him snuggle her child against that broad chest, as though she were the most precious, fragile thing in the entire world. Her eyes stinging, Deanna rehooked her nursing bra, her eyes immediately going heavy as she sank back underneath the warm bedcovers, barely hearing Josh getting up to put Katie back into her bassinet. And for a moment she felt the way home was supposed to make you feel, safe and loved and peaceful.

  For a moment, she thought as tears pushed at her eyelids, she could almost believe in fairy tales.

  * * *

  “Now can I put stuff on the tree?”

  His hands full of silver tinsel garland, Josh grinned down at Austin, a half dozen ornaments dangling from the kid’s grimy fingers. It’d nearly killed the boy to wait while Josh strung the lights on the nine-foot fir. Especially since this was the first year Austin really understood that Christmas—and cookies and Christmas trees and presents—was an annual event.

  “Go for it,” he said, figuring he’d work the garland around his son’s enthusiasm. Which would probably fade after five minutes, anyway. If that. Focusing wasn’t a huge part of a preschooler’s skill set.

  He’d managed to hold off on getting the tree until two weekends before Christmas, although Josh wasn’t sure who’d bugged him more about it—Austin or Dee. But even through the holiday excitement, not to mention the preparations for the party, Josh couldn’t completely shake the dread of knowing what came after, that the ranch would go on the market, and most likely sell to some random stranger who’d do God knew what with it.

  That he and Austin would have to find someplace else to live.

  That in all likelihood Dee would take that new job back east. And very likely never return. Because why would she?

  Josh glanced over at her, sitting cross-legged in leggings and a baggy, sparkly sweater on the couch, chattering to her daughter as Thor guarded them both, his head on her knee—

  “I don’t know where to put this one, Daddy. There’s no room!”

  Hauling his head out of his butt, Josh chuckled. The kid had hung five of the six ornaments on the same branch. “Come over where I am. Yeah, like that. See? Plenty of holes to fill up.”

  Austin flashed him the dimpled grin that shredded his gut every time. Then Dee called Austin over to where dozens of boxes of glittery decorations lay all over the floor, the coffee table, the other sofa.

  “Did you see the box of birds, sweetie?”

  “Where?” he said, looking every which way. Smiling, Dee touched his shoulder, gently steering.

  “Right...there, that’s it. Those were my mother’s favorites. Mine, too, actually. Mom told me she brought them home from a trip to Germany when she was a teenager.”

  Austin had already carefully pried one of the jewel-like ornaments from its tissue paper nest, cradling it in both hands like it was a real bird. “Where’s Germany?”

  “It’s a country in Europe. Far away from here.”

  “Like Albuquerque?”

  “Even farther. We can look it up together on the globe later, how’s that?”

  Meaning the giant antique globe in the study, where Josh had caught Dee and his son “exploring” more than once in the past few days, their heads touching, her arm around his waist...

  “’Kay,” Austin said, gingerly carrying the bird across the room, where—after several seconds’ serious consideration—the child who routinely broke every toy he’d ever received reverently placed it on the perfect branch.

  “Good job! Only eleven more to go!” Dee said, and Josh realized she hadn’t told the child to be careful, even though the delicate ornaments had to hold a special place in her heart. What kind of woman trusted a four-year-old like that?

  The same kind of woman who showed little boys where to find countries on a globe. Who calmly explained breastfeeding like it was no big deal. Who never lost her cool when Austin did spill or break or mess up something. Who understood he was a child without ever treating him like one.

  In other words, he thought as his son solemnly found a “home” for the next bird, the woman was seriously messing with Josh’s head. And that’s not even counting that night he’d spent in her bed. Okay, not a whole night, and not exactly in a way most people would define that sentence. Still. Who knew there could be such intimacy in innocence? That seeing how tender Dee was with her new daughter, that watching her sleep after he’d put Katie back in her little crib, had aroused him in ways he wouldn’t’ve thought possible? Hell, all he’d wanted to do was crawl back under the covers with her and wrap himself in her warmth, wrap her in his, keeping her safe from whatever made her forehead crease as she slept.

  Whatever had caused that single tear to trickle down her cheek.

  Even though he’d meant what he’d said, his own brow creasing as he moved to the back side of the tree—that she needed to do whatever made her happy. Made her happy, not anybody else. Certainly not him. And for damn sure not the ghosts still lingering in the house. No, he didn’t believe in all that supernatural mumbo jumbo, spirits moving stuff around, making doors slam shut and all like that. But memories, expectations—the crap inside a person’s head—could haunt a person every bit as bad. If not worse.

  And he could tell, Deanna was haunted. By what, he wasn’t sure. Nor was he sure he was the one to shine the light on her fears, convince her they weren’t real.

  Never mind that’s exactly what he wanted to do. As in, so badly it almost hurt. Even though he wasn’t sure about why that was, either.

  Releasing a breath, Josh turned back to the tree to twist the garland around the next soft, sweet-smelling branch, finally admitting to himself how much he ached to be what he knew she’d never let him be. What Jordan had never let him be, either. Oh, sure, his ex had done all but shove the baby at him—she’d had no qualms about letting him take care of their kid. Not that he’d minded. Especially since t
he alternative—that she might’ve taken him from Josh entirely—would’ve been far worse. Any more than that, though...

  Of course, Jordan just didn’t want the obligation that came with being in a real relationship, the give-and-take of it. Dee, he strongly suspected, was simply flat-out scared.

  And Josh had no idea how to get past that. Or even, frankly, if he should try. Since when all was said and done, they wanted very different things from life. On the same page? Hell, they weren’t even in the same library.

  Austin’s laughter blending with Dee’s made Josh peek from behind the tree as he tucked the garland’s end into a branch. The kid had smushed up against her, giggling when Katie screwed up her face as her mama talked to her, like she was trying so hard to figure out what Dee was saying...and it was this frickin’ picture-perfect moment like he’d always dreamed of, even if he didn’t know it until this moment. His throat got all tight, that history was repeating itself, that he was falling in love with a woman he knew was all wrong for him, even as he watched her with his son and saw how right it could be.

  For all of them.

  Josh shoved out a soundless laugh—clearly the fumes from this damn tree had hallucinogenic properties. But he really did have to wonder why, in the name of all that was holy, that God, or Granville, or whoever, would plant Deanna Blake smack in front of him, like the grapes the fox could never reach in that dumb story he read to his son the other day.

  Although, unlike the stupid fox who decided he was wasting his time trying to reach a bunch of probably sour grapes, Josh knew full well these grapes were sweet as could be.

  Which made not being able to reach them all the more frustrating.

  Chapter Ten

  Inordinately pleased with herself, Deanna leaned against the archway separating the great room from the dining room, a glass of sparkling cider nestled in her hand and a smile touching her lips. To be sure, between the band’s no-holds-barred rendition of “A Holly Jolly Christmas” and the laughter, the madness of God knew how many kids running around and thousands of twinkling lights and shimmering decorations, her senses had given up trying to cope an hour ago.