A Baby in the Bunkhouse

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Jacey’s throat went dry. “Now, why would I want to do that?”

  “I don’t know…” He moved away, headed into the aisle-way. “Yet.”

  She hurried to catch up. As she passed the first stall, the horse inside snorted loudly and pawed the concrete floor. Startled, she jumped back.

  Rafferty came to take her arm and lead her past the securely quartered animal. “I take it you haven’t spent much time around horses,” he said.

  Not sure who wouldn’t be a little nervous around a thousand-pound animal that stood a good two feet taller than she did, Jacey grimaced. “That would be correct.”

  “How come?”

  “I grew up in the suburbs of San Antonio, remember?” Even if she had wanted to take riding lessons, which she hadn’t, there would have been no money for it.

  “So I take it you don’t know how to ride.”

  “Also correct.”

  He stopped in the office, next to the door, at the other end of the stables. He switched on the light and led the way inside. “Ever want to learn?”

  “Not sure.”

  She studied his expression, unable to tell if he was disappointed…or relieved. “Do you think I should?” she asked finally.

  His lips took on an implacable slant. “I don’t think anyone should do anything they don’t want to do.” He sat down at the scarred wooden desk and opened up a file with Rocket’s name typed across the front.

  She watched him update the medical record by hand. “You told me that Angelica was an accomplished horsewoman.”

  He rocked back in the old wooden swivel chair, folded his hands behind his head. “Riding was the only thing she liked about being here.”

  Jacey came around to sit on the edge of the desk, next to him. “She knew that going in and married you anyway?”

  He turned his gaze away, admitted candidly, “She loved the ranch at first. Really enjoyed the fact that she had her pick of horses and could ride for miles on such beautiful and challenging terrain.”

  “How did you meet?” Jacey asked.

  Rafferty exhaled. The way he looked at Jacey just then let her know he didn’t talk about this to just anyone. “She was doing a photo shoot not too far from here for one of the big fashion magazines,” he said, a cynical glint coming into his eyes. “It was a southwestern theme, so they had ’em in evening wear and jewels, out among the cactus. Really ridiculous, if you ask me. But Angelica grew up in Texas, so for her it was like coming home. She thought Summit was a charming little mountain town, and she liked the idea of hooking up with a real cowboy.” A shadow crossed his face. “We dated off and on for a couple years. She’d jet in—I’d pick her up—we’d come back here. It was never more than a weekend at a time, for a few months at a time. Maybe if we’d spent more time together…I don’t know…” His voice turned gruff as the memories enveloped him. “Anyway, it was toward the end of her career. Thirty is old for her business. She wanted kids. I did, too. So we got married and she got pregnant right away. I thought she’d be as happy as I was about starting a new life. Having a child.”

  “But she wasn’t,” Jacey guessed.

  Rafferty shook his head. “She was bored out of her mind. She didn’t like to cook. She didn’t want to decorate. There was nothing—and no one—in town who interested her.”

  “Sounds pretty miserable,” she noted, her heart going out to him.

  “For all of us,” he conceded. “And I blame myself for that. I talked her into making what we had permanent. I’ll never do that again. Try to convince a city girl to stay with me against her better judgment. Because city girls don’t belong on a remote ranch like this.”

  Jacey protested, “I’m a city girl.”

  “And, after little more than six weeks, already planning to leave.”

  Not because she felt hemmed in or bored, Jacey amended silently. “Which is why you’re so open to a fling,” she observed, suddenly not so sure that was a good thing, after all.

  His lips compressed. He looked as discontented as she felt. “I’m well aware it might be all we ever have.”

  “And yet…” Her heart began to race.

  He caught her by the waist, pulling her off the desk and onto his lap. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let the chance to be with you go by unrealized.” He lifted the veil of her hair and kissed his way down the exposed column of her throat, to her collarbone.

  Unable to help herself, Jacey moaned low in her throat. She splayed her hands across his chest. “This isn’t why I came down here.”

  He threaded his hand through the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her head beneath his, pressed a kiss to the top of her head and her cheek. Yet another on the corner of her lips. “Why did you?”

  Her face rested against the incredibly smooth-shaven warmth of his. Had it ever felt so good to simply be held? she wondered. Had she ever felt as safe and protected and wanted as she did when she was in his arms? “Your Christmas stocking.” She snuggled against the rock-solid heat of his body. “The fellas and I wanted to know where you wanted that put up—the bunkhouse mantel along with everyone else’s, including your father’s—or in the ranch house.”

  He bent his head and kissed her full on the mouth. “Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, holding her still as he kissed her even more thoroughly this time.

  Forcing herself to ignore the excitement racing along her limbs, Jacey regarded him with mock censure. “It should matter,” she said. It should matter a lot. He should want to be as much a part of the Lost Mountain Ranch family gatherings as she did.

  His eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t identify, he released his hold on her. “It doesn’t,” he stated mildly. “Sorry.”

  Knees trembling, she slid off his lap and took a deep, bracing breath. “I’m not giving up on winning our bet.”

  He traced the line of his jaw with the flat of his hand. “Useful information to know,” he drawled. “I’m still not going to let you win.”

  Jacey wished she could kiss some sense into him. “I don’t expect you to cry uncle.” She mocked his deadpan tone.

  “Good.” He rocked back in his chair and propped his booted feet on the edge of the desk. “’Cause I’m not going to.”

  “I’ve got to get back.”

  He stayed where he was. When she was halfway out the door, he called after her, “Make sure they all know I’m as ornery and uncooperative as ever.”

  Jacey rolled her eyes and headed for the bunkhouse.

  The fellas were waiting for the verdict.

  “Well?” they wanted to know.

  Jacey hoped it didn’t look as if she had just been kissed. “He said it would be fine if I want to put it on the mantel here.”

  Mouths dropped open, agape.

  “Or the mantel in the ranch house,” Jacey quipped as they all began to chuckle. “Or anywhere. He didn’t really care.”

  “That sounds like him,” Gabby remarked.

  “Yes, I know.” Jacey sighed, not sure why she felt so disappointed—given the likelihood of success—but she was. Despite her best efforts…“Rafferty and Ebenezer Scrooge have a lot in common.”

  “YOU SHOULDN’T TAKE my son’s lack of holiday spirit personally,” Eli told Jacey as he walked her and Caitlin back to the ranch house. “Rafferty’s been this way for years. It started when he was in college, or maybe a little earlier, I can’t recall. I just remember every year he got a little less into the spirit of things, and it really used to annoy my wife.”

  This was news, Jacey thought. She had wrongly assumed it was because he’d lost his wife and unborn baby around the holidays, two years prior. Apparently, his alienation was more deep-seated.

  Jacey sheltered her daughter from the brisk December wind. “It didn’t bother you?” she asked his dad.

  Eli shrugged in the way men did when they didn’t want to admit to a particular emotion. “I was just happy to have him around. My wife and I waited such a long time to be blessed with a child, and
we only ever had the one…So I figured every moment I had with Rafferty was a moment to count my blessings, and I didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about things that in the great scheme of things didn’t matter one whit. So Rafferty didn’t want to decorate our tree or pick the menu for the holiday dinner. So what? He was here and helped take care of his mom when she was sick. When arthritis forced me to slow down, he stepped up and took over the ranch. And let me tell you, he’s done a fine job there, too. He’s a good son. And a good man. And one day he’ll make someone a fine husband and a fine father.”

  Jacey chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were matchmaking.”

  “Hmm.” He held the door for her.

  Jacey removed the knit cap from Caitlin’s head and set aside the thick blanket that had kept the baby warm on the walk across the yard. “I notice you’re not denying it.”

  Eli’s blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He looked, at that moment, a lot like Santa Claus. “I’m an old man. Forgive me for wanting everyone around me to be happy.”

  The backdoor opened and closed. Rafferty walked in.

  Eli looked at his son. “As long as you’re here,” he started in a voice that brooked no argument, “I want to talk to you about the Christmas stockings.”

  Rafferty looked irritated. He shot her a glare that left her feeling as if she was most definitely not on his side. “I already told Jacey she could hang mine wherever she wants.”

  Hard to believe the two of them had just been kissing a few minutes ago.

  “So she told everyone in the bunkhouse.”

  Rafferty waited, looking more impatient than ever.

  “I think we should put something in them,” Eli continued.

  Now, there’s the spirit, Jacey thought.

  “Bonus checks,” Rafferty suggested.

  “In addition to that,” Eli specified.

  Rafferty’s lips took on a cynical slant. “Like what?” he queried. “An orange or some candy?”

  “I was thinking along the lines of something more personal that the boys would treasure.”

  Nice, Jacey thought.

  Rafferty looked flummoxed. “Like what?”

  “Well, I was hoping you would help me think of what.” Eli mocked his son’s uncooperative tone.

  “I don’t know what they’d want,” Rafferty grumbled.

  Eli beseeched Jacey. “What do you think?”

  Jacey shot Rafferty a pointed look, then turned back to Eli. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Then maybe you should be in charge of doing it.” Rafferty stomped off.

  Eli and Jacey were left facing each other. “I’ll help you figure something out,” she promised.

  Rafferty stuck his head back in the kitchen. “I think bonus checks would be fine. We can add extra to each one.”

  Like money solved everything, Jacey thought, knowing it would never replace the personal touch.

  “Add extra,” Eli said. “We’re still getting gifts. And since you won’t help, Jacey will assist me.” Eli pivoted back to her. “Want to go tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure thing,” Jacey said, happy to be of assistance to the ranch family that had done so much for her.

  Eli smiled. “Nine o’clock fine with you?”

  Jacey ignored Rafferty’s dark, parting glance. “Nine o’clock is great.”

  RAFFERTY KNEW the moment his dad got up the next morning he was not feeling well. His arthritis was obviously acting up. He could hardly get around. “Listen, Dad, I’ll go with Jacey today.”

  Breakfast over, Eli moved stiffly back toward the ranch house. Every step seemed to be causing him a great deal of pain. “You will not. This has to be done right.”

  Rafferty tossed a glance at the cowboys spilling out of the bunkhouse, headed for the barn. “Dad, I’ll do it.”

  Eli shook his head. “We’ve not done right by Christmas and these cowboys since your mother died and it’s wrong. The fellas are family to us and should be made to feel that way! I might not have realized that till Jacey came along, but now I do, and we’re not going back to half-baked ways.” Eli regarded Rafferty sternly. “I mean it, Rafferty. If you can’t do it with the right spirit, it’s not going to be done by you.”

  Rafferty held the door for his father. “I’ll do it with the appropriate attitude. I promise. You promise me you’ll give those aching joints of yours a rest.”

  Eli grasped the frame and moved unsteadily through the portal. “I think I might go back to bed.”

  “The fellas can handle the chores. I’ll see that Jacey and Caitlin have a proper escort. We don’t want her getting lost to and from the ranch.”

  Jacey came up behind them, Caitlin bundled in her arms. Clearly, Rafferty thought, she was still upset with him, too. She’d hardly said a word to him all through breakfast.

  “I think I can make it to and from town now, Rafferty,” she stated irritably.

  Figuring time alone together was exactly what he and Jacey needed, Rafferty shrugged off her disclaimer with the same un-yielding look she was giving him. “One never knows,” he said mildly. “And as Dad just said, this needs to be done by either him or me—as well as you. And it looks like it’s going to be me.”

  “YOU’RE JUST DOING THIS to be alone with me,” Jacey accused the moment they hit the road.

  Rafferty shot her an amused look. “What man in his right mind would give up a chance to spend the day with a beautiful woman by his side?”

  Not Rafferty Evans, it was clear. “Even if the assigned task is Christmas shopping?” she teased.

  A satisfied smile curved his lips. “I prefer to concentrate on the perks.”

  Jacey settled back in her seat and looked out at the peaceful Texas countryside. As long as they were alone, she figured she might as well work on his attitude, even if doing so risked his ire. “Your dad told me you liked Christmas a lot when you were a kid.”

  He gave her a curious glance. “What else did he tell you?”

  Jacey reached for her travel mug of decaf coffee and took a sip. “That your enthusiasm began to wane somewhere around your college years.”

  Rafferty was silent, his attention focused on the highway.

  “Why did you lose interest in the holidays?” Jacey asked softly.

  For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, he shrugged, and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

  “Somewhere along the line Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s became like every other day. The food maybe was a little better, and unless there was some sort of emergency, no one had to work on the ranch. But other than that, it was simply no big deal.”

  Jacey studied his handsome profile. “And when you were a kid, it was,” she guessed.

  His forehead creased. “Well, yeah.”

  “What did you like about the holidays?”

  He sent her a quelling glance. “Picking out the tree.”

  “Which you skipped this year,” she pointed out.

  “Decorating it,” he continued.

  “Which you kind of did.”

  “And music. My mom used to play Christmas music all the time. Sometimes she’d even start listening to it before Thanksgiving.” Rafferty grinned as he remembered and shook his head.

  Jacey unwrapped a breakfast pastry she had packed and handed him half. “What else did you like about the holidays?”

  He accepted the cinnamon roll gratefully. “All the baking my mom used to do. Every day I’d come home from school and there would be a new kind of cookie or candy. Most of which went to friends in the form of holiday dessert platters but there was always plenty for me and Dad to have. And then there was the gingerbread house she would make every year. I believe I mentioned helping my mom with that the first time you grilled me about Christmases past. Any way, those gingerbread houses got pretty elaborate.”

  Jacey tried to imagine him enjoying Christmas as a young kid. “Sounds nice.”

  He smiled, r
ecalling. “It was.”

  “So all that stopped when you were in college,” Jacey guessed.

  “No. She continued to keep up the traditions. I just wasn’t around until the day or so before. I always had to work my part-time jobs off campus, and usually be back around the twenty-sixth or twenty-seventh, so there wasn’t a lot of time to join in on the festivities. And, as the years went by, I kind of phased the whole Christmas thing out…”

  Jacey considered that. “So really, the fact you’re not as into Christmas is as much your fault as anything else.”

  Rafferty grew silent as they finished their pastries. But she noted he didn’t dispute her estimation.

  “You want my advice?” Jacey asked finally.

  He smirked. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to avoid it.”

  Thinking that if she could get through to him, this could be his best holiday ever, she pressed on. “If you want to get more out of the holiday, try giving more of yourself.”

  RAFFERTY WOULD HAVE LIKED to disagree with Jacey’s assessment, but he knew in his heart it was true. He had stopped participating in holidays when he was working in retail to help pay his expenses while he was in college. To him back then, all December had meant was the pressure of semester exams, combined with long hours, crabby customers and too little pay. There’d been no time to enjoy the kinds of holiday activities he’d had when he was a kid. Instead of lamenting what he was missing out on, he had convinced himself that it wasn’t something he had wanted anyway and hence did not matter.

  “You’re going to enjoy the holidays this year, even if the fellas and I have to tape a smile on your face,” Jacey predicted.

  Ironically, Rafferty already was. He just hadn’t admitted it. But to admit it would be to willingly put an end to their bet, and hence, Jacey’s constant attention. And he wasn’t ready for that. “I’m not sure you can get that holiday spirit back once you lose it,” he fibbed.

  “We’ve got seven more days before Christmas is here.” Jacey winked. “And believe me, miracles have happened in less.”

  Soon after, they arrived in Fort Stockton. They had barely started shopping when Jacey’s cell phone went off. Her voice lit up at whatever she was hearing on the other end of the line. “That’s great.” Her smile broadened. “Yes, that would be fine. Just a minute, please.” She put the caller on hold with a push of a button then looked at Rafferty. “Would you mind taking charge of Caitlin for a few minutes? I really need to step outside and take this call while you continue shopping.”