THE MAVERICK'S THANKSGIVING BABY

by Brenda Harlen

  He didn’t realize that his chest felt tight until he saw that her rental car was behind his truck in the driveway and the tension lessened. He’d been left with nothing more than a note on his kitchen table once before, and he didn’t want to go through that again. He hadn’t chased after Shaelyn—he’d had no interest in forcing her to stay in Rust Creek Falls when it was obvious she didn’t want to be there.

  But the situation with Maggie was different—she was carrying his baby, and that meant they had to figure out a way to work things out. If she had gone, he would have chased after her. He was glad he didn’t have to.

  He retrieved his jeans from the floor and tugged them on, then shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and headed down the stairs. He found her standing at the stove, a spatula in her hand. The pressure in his chest eased a little more.

  A glance at the numeric display on the stove revealed that it was after eight o’clock. “I guess we skipped dinner.”

  She looked up and offered a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind—I woke up hungry, and I thought you might be, too.”

  “I don’t and I am,” he told her. “French toast?”

  “Is that okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  She flipped the last piece of bread out of the frying pan and onto the plate, then carried the plate to the table, already set for two.

  As she sat down across from him, he put a couple of slices on his plate, then liberally doused them with maple syrup. She took one slice, slowly ate it, cutting neat little squares that she dipped in a tiny puddle of syrup on her plate.

  “I thought you said you were hungry.”

  “I was.” She popped the last piece of toast into her mouth, then folded her napkin and set it on top of her plate. “And now I’ve eaten.”

  “You had one piece of French toast.”

  “I had two.” One corner of her mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I ate the first one as soon as I flipped it out of the frying pan.”

  “Two whole slices?” He transferred another two to his own plate. “You must be stuffed.”

  “Don’t make fun of me—I’m just happy to be able to keep down what I’m eating these days.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely contrite. “That must have been awful.”

  “It wasn’t fun,” she agreed.

  “You should have called me.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  He wanted to stay angry with her, but what was the point? Nothing could change what had happened since she left Rust Creek Falls in July, nothing could give them back the first four months of her pregnancy. But he couldn’t help but think that, if she’d told him sooner, they might be in a different place right now.

  Instead, he’d spent weeks dealing with the tangled emotions inside of him. He’d been hurt and angry and frustrated that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried to get over her—he’d even let his younger brother, Justin, set him up with a friend of the girl he was going out with. The date had been a complete bust, primarily because he couldn’t stop thinking about Maggie. But recently he’d managed to convince himself that he was starting to forget about her—right up until the minute he saw her standing outside the paddock at Traub Stables.

  “So,” he began, thinking that a change of topic was in order, “things have been busy for you at work over the past couple of months?”

  She nodded. “Busier than usual. Maybe too busy.”

  “Can you cut back on your hours?”

  “Not if I want to keep my job.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course,” she answered immediately, automatically.

  Then her brow furrowed as she picked up her glass of water and sipped.

  “Tell me about your new job,” she finally suggested. “When I was here in the summer, you were working here, at your family’s ranch, and now you’re training horses.”

  “I still help out here, but it’s the horses that have always been my focus.”

  “I heard they call you the horse whisperer in town—what exactly does that mean?”

  “It’s not as mystical as it sounds,” he told her. “It just means that I don’t use restraints or force when I’m training.”

  “How did you end up working at Traub Stables? I thought there was some long-standing feud between the Crawfords and the Traubs.”

  “There is,” he acknowledged. “Although no one really seems sure about its origins, whether it was a business deal gone bad or a romantic rivalry. Whatever the cause, I think my sister’s marriage to Dallas Traub in February has helped build some bridges between the two families.”

  “So your family doesn’t mind that you’re working for Sutter Traub?”

  His lips curved in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he acknowledged. “My father saw it as a betrayal. My mother warned that I was being set up—for what, she had no idea, but she was certain it was some kind of disaster in the making.”

  “Did you take the job despite their objections—or because of them?”

  “Despite,” he said. “I’ve wanted some space from my family for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and respect them.”

  “And you don’t mind that your boss is a Traub?”

  “Sutter’s a good guy who values the animals in his care and appreciates what I bring to his stables.”

  “I read a series of books when I was a kid, about a girl who lived on a ranch and raised an orphaned foal,” she told him. “She fed it and trained it and entered riding competitions with it. After reading those books, I was desperate to experience the feeling of racing across open fields on horseback. I begged my parents to put me in a riding camp for the summer.

  “They were always encouraging us to try new experiences, so they found a local camp and signed me up. I was so excited...until the first day. I’d never seen a horse up close until then,” she confided. “And when we got to the Northbrook Riding Academy and I saw real, live horses galloping in the distance, I was terrified.”

  “What happened?” he asked, both curious about and grateful for this voluntary glimpse into her childhood.

  “I begged to go home as passionately as I’d begged for the camp, but they made me stay. My parents are very big on commitment and follow-through. I was the one who wanted the experience, and they weren’t going to let me quit.”

  “Did you ride?”

  She shook her head. “The instructors tried to help me overcome my fear of the horses, but whenever I got too close, I would actually start to hyperventilate. Of course, the other kids made fun of me, which made the whole experience that much worse.

  “Then I met Dolly. She was a white Shetland pony who was too old and lame to do much of anything, but she had the softest, kindest eyes.

  “I spent most of the week with her. I brushed her and fed her and led her around her paddock. At the end of the week, I still hadn’t been on the back of a horse, but I’d fallen in love with Dolly. For the next six months, I went back to Northbrook once a week just to visit her.”

  He didn’t need to ask what had happened after six months. Considering that the pony had been old and lame, he was certain he knew. Instead he said, “Did you ever get over your fear of horses?”

  “I haven’t been around them much since that summer.”

  He pushed away from the table. “Get your coat and boots on.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I want to introduce you to someone.”

  She shook her head. “I got over my childhood fascination with horses—I’m good now.”

  “Not if you’re still afraid,” he told her.

  “I wouldn’t say afraid,” she denied. “More...cautious.”

  He took her coat from the hook, brought it over to her.r />
  “I need to clean up the kitchen.”

  “The dishes will wait.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?”

  He took her hand and guided it into the sleeve of her coat. “Not pushy—persuasive.”

  “I’m not feeling persuaded,” she told him, but she put her other arm in her other sleeve. “My boots are still, um, upstairs.”

  In his bedroom, where he’d taken them off her along with the rest of her clothing before he’d made love with her.

  “I’ll get them,” he said.

  When he came back down, she had her coat zipped up to her chin, a hat on her head and a scarf wrapped around her throat.

  He held back a smile as he knelt at her feet and helped her on with the boots. To someone who had lived her whole life in Southern California, Montana in November—even the first of November—was undoubtedly cold, but he knew it would be a lot colder in December, January and February.

  He hoped she would be there to experience it.

  * * *

  Maggie could tell that Jesse was amused by her efforts to bundle up against the climate. As she carefully tucked her hands into woolen mittens, he stuffed his feet into his boots and tugged on a jacket, not even bothering to button it.

  She stepped outside and gasped as the cold slapped her in the face and stole the breath from her lungs.

  “It was seventy-two degrees when I left Los Angeles,” she told him.

  He slid an arm across her shoulders, holding her close to share body heat—of which he seemed to have an abundance. “The weather takes some getting used to for a lot of people.”

  She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the cold—or wanting to. Thankfully, the barn was only a short distance from his house, and she was grateful to duck into its warm shelter.

  The facility was brightly lit and immaculate. The alleyway was interlocking brick and the wooden walls fairly gleamed. Jesse pulled the door closed and stood beside her, giving her a minute.

  “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

  She nodded, because she wanted it to be true, but she wasn’t entirely certain. She’d heard that the olfactory sense was one of the strongest for evoking memories, but she’d never experienced it herself until she stepped inside the barn and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. Suddenly her brain was flooded with memories of that long-ago summer camp, and with the memories came apprehension and anxiety.

  “Just breathe,” he said.

  It was only then that she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out now, and drew fresh air into her lungs. But that fresh air carried the same scent, and made her heart pound hard and fast inside her chest. “I feel stupid.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m scared,” she admitted.

  “I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised.

  “It’s late,” she said. “I should get back before Lissa starts worrying.”

  He took her hands, holding her in place. “Do you trust me?”

  She nodded without hesitation.

  “So let’s just stand right here for a minute until you relax.”

  “I’m not going to relax in here.”

  “You just need to focus on something other than the horses,” he said.

  And then, before she could assure him there was absolutely nothing that would take her focus off the enormous beasts behind the flimsy wooden doors, his lips were on hers. And within half a second, her mind went completely, blissfully blank.

  He released the hands he’d been holding to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Then his hands slid up her back, and even through the thick layers of clothing, she could feel the warmth of his touch. Or maybe the heat was all in her veins, stoked by his caress. His tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. Her mouth parted on a sigh, not just allowing him to deepen the kiss, but demanding it, as her tongue danced in a slow and seductive rhythm with his.

  Her blood was pumping and her head was spinning as she gave herself over to the pleasure of his kiss. She could still smell hay and horses, but mixed in with those scents was the essence of Jesse. His heat, his strength, his heart.

  He eased his mouth from hers, but continued to hold her close as they each took a moment to catch their breath.

  “What are you thinking about now?” he asked.

  “That I won’t ever be able to walk into a barn without thinking about you and remembering this moment.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  “My heart’s still racing.”

  “But not because you’re afraid,” he guessed.

  “No.” She blew out a breath and tipped back her head to meet his gaze. “Is that your usual method for helping people overcome their apprehensions?”

  “It’s not one I’ve ever used before,” he told her.

  Her brows lifted. “So I was a guinea pig?”

  “No, you’re the woman who makes me forget all thought and reason.”

  The words, and the sincerity in his tone, mollified her.

  “But I haven’t forgotten why we came out here,” he said, looping his arm around her waist and gently guiding her along the alleyway.

  They’d moved only about six feet when a huge head appeared over the top of the door of the closest stall. She let out a squeak and immediately jumped back.

  Jesse’s arms came around her, holding her steady. He didn’t force her to move any closer, but he didn’t let her back any farther away, either.

  “This is Honey,” he told her. “And she is as sweet as her name.”

  “She’s...beautiful,” Maggie realized. The animal had a sleek chestnut coat that gleamed in the light, a white blaze, glossy mane and tail and eyes the color of melted chocolate. “And...big.”

  The horse tossed her head, almost as if she was nodding, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile.

  Jesse chuckled softly, and she felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck.

  “Do you see how her ears are turned forward?”

  She nodded.

  “That shows that she’s relaxed and paying attention to you.”

  “Is she hungry?”

  He chuckled again. “No, she’s had her dinner,” he promised, reaching around Maggie to tug her mittens off. Then he took her hand and guided it toward the horse’s long muzzle.

  She felt herself start to tremble and had to fight against the urge to snatch her hand away.

  “Steady,” he murmured.

  The mare watched her, its huge, liquid eyes patient and trusting. With Jesse’s guidance, she stroked the smooth hair of its blaze. Honey blew out a breath—an equine sigh of contentment—and Maggie fell in love.

  “Now I really wish I’d learned to ride,” she admitted.

  “I could teach you,” Jesse said. “Not now, obviously. But after.”

  After.

  The word seemed to hang in the air for a long minute, teasing her with possibilities. Neither of them knew what would happen after—they didn’t even know what the next five months would hold, but she couldn’t deny that she liked the idea of after.

  “I think I’d enjoy that,” she finally said.

  * * *

  “What are the rest of your plans for the weekend?” Jesse asked Maggie, as they made their way back to the house.

  “I didn’t really have any other plans,” she told him. “I came to Rust Creek Falls to tell you about the baby, and I’ve done that.”

  “Maybe we could spend some more time together,” he suggested. “Get to know one another a little better before we bring a baby into the world.”

  “That baby’s coming in another five months whether we know one another or not,” she pointed out.

 
“Then we shouldn’t waste any time.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Nothing too crazy,” he assured her, opening the back door to lead her into the house. “Maybe a drive up to Owl Rock to see the falls or a walk through town. Dinner at my parents’ house.”

  “I’m sorry—what was that last part?”

  “Dinner at my parents’ house,” he said again.

  “You want me to meet your parents?”

  “And I want them to meet the mother of their grandchild.”

  She blew out a breath. “I didn’t think about the fact that our baby will have a lot more family in Rust Creek Falls than a daddy.”

  “We don’t have to tell the grandparents-to-be right away. I just thought it might be nice if they had a chance to meet you before I told them that I got you pregnant.”

  “I guess that’s reasonable,” she allowed.

  “We don’t even have to spend a lot of time with them,” he promised. “In fact, I’d prefer if we didn’t.”

  She smiled at that. “Are you trying to talk me into—or out of—this?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, we’ll have dinner with your parents.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “It’s a long way for them to come for dinner.”

  He managed a wry smile. “Don’t you think I should meet them?”

  “Maybe not,” she teased. “Because they already know I’m pregnant.”

  “Then they should also know that I want to marry you.”

  “I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t a good idea.”

  “You said it wasn’t a good idea, then we spent some time together in bed, proving that it is, in fact, a very good idea.”

  “That is definitely my cue to be going.”

  “Or you could stay.”

  She shook her head. “If I stay, we’re both going to start thinking that this is something it’s not.”

  “What do you think it isn’t?” he challenged.

  “A relationship.”

  He hung his coat on a hook. “We’ve had sex, we’re having a baby, but we don’t have a relationship?”

  “We’ve spent the past four months in different states,” she reminded him. “Does that sound like a relationship to you?”