The Rancher's Baby Proposal

by Barbara White Daille

Jed fought to hide a smile.

  When two young folks looked that uncomfortable in a crowd, their chance of loosening up with each other often improved once they were alone. Nothing he could do about that now, short of clearing out the entire hotel. But he had other means of helping the situation.

  He crossed the room. After nodding at the trio in greeting, he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Young man, I’ve been looking for a chance to talk with you. Can you spare me a few minutes of your time?”

  “Sure.”

  As Wes rose, Jed smiled a farewell to Ally and Reagan.

  * * *

  REAGAN FELT SOME envy as he watched the two men walk out of the sitting room.

  Why couldn’t he have been the one Jed had wanted to talk to?

  Then again, maybe that wouldn’t have been the best thing, if his conversation with the older man only continued to run along the lines it had before dinner. Weddings and marriages... Babies and their moms...

  Not one of them a topic he wanted to discuss.

  Still, considering the way his willpower had deserted him yesterday, it definitely wasn’t a good thing to be left sitting here on this couch with Ally.

  “Dinner was great, wasn’t it?” she asked. It was the first thing she had said to him directly since he had arrived.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  That he could agree with. But all through the meal, he had the sensation of a boulder dropping into the pit of his stomach, a reminder of the way he’d felt when he had walked into the dining room and spotted Ally with her hand on another man’s arm. When she had then turned deliberately and smiled at that other man.

  The trouble was, he had no cause to have that feeling. As Ally herself had said last night, their kiss was just a kiss. He had no claims on her, and she had none on him. And that was exactly how things needed to stay.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked teasingly.

  She had left her hair loose today. No bandanna holding back her tumbling curls. She swept a fall of those curls over her shoulder, and another boulder hit the pit of his stomach.

  During dinner, he had listened to her talk and laugh. Once, he had seen her tug at her hair, probably without realizing it. He had watched her brush her napkin with her palms to smooth it across her lap. Every sound and every movement had driven him a little more crazy.

  Thinking about her that way was completely insane.

  She raised her eyebrows and stared at him.

  “What?” he blurted, hoping she hadn’t read his thoughts.

  “I asked if the cat had your tongue.” She smiled. “It’s an expression we use around here. It means—”

  “Very funny. You know we both know what it means.”

  “Well, maybe so. But I thought all your years in the big city might have made you forget.”

  “No, it didn’t. And you didn’t give me much chance. You were doing enough talking and laughing for both of us. And Wes.”

  Abruptly, her smile disappeared. “Wes doesn’t have a lot to laugh about lately. Neither do his kids.” She ran her hand along the edge of Sean’s carrier and sat silently.

  Finally, she said in a low voice, “Wes’s kids don’t have a mama, either.”

  She hadn’t come right out and asked about Sean’s mother—about his ex—but he could hear the hint of a question in her statement.

  He was struggling not to think about this woman sitting beside him. He couldn’t tell her the woman he’d thought he’d loved had dropped him without a second’s hesitation.

  Instead, he kept the conversation on Wes Daniels. “Jed told me he had lost his wife not long ago.”

  She nodded. “Yes. From cancer. She was gone almost as soon as they found out. It happens that way with so many people.”

  “Like my mom.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  “I know,” she said sympathetically.

  She would know. Everyone in town did. If there was one thing Cowboy Creek could be depended upon, it was sharing news—bad or good—and pulling together to support one of their own.

  Sean stirred in his sleep and gave a little startled cry.

  He reached for his son at the same time Ally did, and their hands brushed in the air over the baby. She pulled her hand back and rested it in her lap.

  Sean began to wail.

  “He’s overtired, a couple of naps behind where he should be for the day.” He took his son from the carrier and settled him against his shoulder, patting the baby’s back with his free hand.

  He thought again of Ally saying she had left his son’s blanket upstairs.

  More things he didn’t want to acknowledge nudged at him.

  He needed to get out of here.

  Sean let out one of his more strident cries.

  Good baby, always willing to help Daddy.

  He rose from the couch and grabbed the infant seat. “I should go,” he told Ally. He didn’t miss the irony. She probably hadn’t, either.

  Those were nearly the same words he had said to her yesterday.

  * * *

  WHEN ALLY PARKED outside the ranch house with Sean on Monday afternoon, she took him with her directly to the barn. Somehow, she knew that was where she would find Reagan.

  They had made good progress in the living room on Saturday. Together. But after the way he had dismissed her that afternoon...and then considering how he had run off from the Hitching Post at the first opportunity yesterday...

  Well, she knew better than to expect he would be ready and willing to play house with her again.

  And she was right.

  As she reached the barn, she heard the screech of metal scraping metal. She came to a stop in the doorway and surveyed the area in amazement. Reagan had more parts and equipment spread out over every horizontal surface than the hardware store had in stock.

  “What happened?” she asked. “It looks like a wrecking crew went to work in here.”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m getting some of the equipment ready to sell.”

  Her heart jumped to her throat. She tightened her grip on the baby carrier. “You have a buyer for the property?”

  “No. But in case it takes a while to find someone who’s interested, I may go ahead and put some of this up for sale separately.”

  “Oh. Well, if you need anything, Sean and I will be in the house.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be out here for a couple of hours, at least.”

  “I can see that.” She had hoped for that. She needed time to put her plan into action.

  She went back to her car and retrieved the sacks and the cooler she had left tucked on the floor behind the driver’s seat. “Your daddy can hide out in the barn for as long he likes,” she told the baby. “But whatever time he decides to come in for the night, he’s going to get a big surprise.”

  Inside the house, she set his carrier on the table while she stored the contents of the cooler in the refrigerator.

  Then she settled Sean in his playpen, where he lay looking up, his blue eyes fixed on her. Going to her knees in front of the playpen, she crossed her arms on the padded rail and rested her chin on her arms.

  “Okay,” she began, “this is the deal. I’m going to be just a teeny bit deceitful with your daddy. But don’t you worry. Everything will work out all right. You’ll see. He and I get along well, Sean. I mean, really well.”

  Her face heated, partly from the memory of what had happened between her and Reagan in this house, partly from the knowledge that she planned to share the details with his one-month-old son. “The other night, you weren’t in the living room with us, but your daddy kissed me.” She nodded emphatically. “Yes, he did. And, oh, my, what a kiss—”

  She snapped her mouth closed and cleared her throat. “I’ll stop w
ith that. There’s such a thing as too much information.”

  And there were some things she couldn’t put into words.

  No matter what Reagan had said about being out of line with her and his action being uncalled for, the truth was, it had happened. He had kissed her. And she couldn’t miss the way his body responded. She couldn’t misunderstand what the reaction meant. He had enjoyed that kiss as much as she had. No matter how much he protested or pretended to believe she was still too young for him, he was interested.

  “So that’s what happened,” she said to Sean. “Never mind the play-by-play—and that’s a sports term your daddy will explain to you someday—but for now, just trust me. That kiss proved what I’m telling you. He and I get along.”

  She smiled. “And tonight, we’re going to get along a lot better.”

  * * *

  A COUPLE OF hours later, Ally attempted to light a tall white candle with a match that bobbed and shook and went out in her hand.

  She struck another match and tried again. She had to get these candles lit.

  “When you’re planning a seduction,” she told Sean, “you need to set the right mood.” She shot a look across the room at him in his infant seat. “But don’t go getting any ideas, you hear me? You’re way too young to think about seducing a girl.”

  Finished with the lighting ceremony, she waved her hand, gesturing at the candles and pewter holder she had brought from home, the china and glasses and silverware she had found in the dining room hutch here and had washed in the kitchen sink, and the vase of hot-pink and flaming-red tulips she had picked up at the L-G Store.

  “What do you think, baby? Is it all a go?”

  She walked over to stand beside him. To be safe, she had placed his seat on one of the sturdy pine captain’s chairs from the kitchen set, which she had moved far away from the candles on the table.

  As she looked down, Sean shifted his arm.

  “Oh, you think it deserves a fist bump, huh?” She reached over to touch her knuckles to his tiny hand. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  For a moment, her own confidence began to flicker like the flames on the candles. Then she lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. With her arms held straight out at her sides, she twirled once slowly in front of Sean. “And what do you think of this?”

  When she looked down at him again, his eyes had closed. He had drifted off to sleep.

  “Great,” she whispered. “I hope that’s not your way of telling me what to expect with your daddy.”

  She walked over to the kitchen sink. It was just dark enough outside for the east-facing window above it to provide a reflection against the glass. She looked at the slightly hazy outline of herself and nodded in satisfaction. “Not too bad.”

  The reflection showed her from the waist up. She couldn’t see her shoes but knew the heels gave her a couple of extra inches of height. She couldn’t see the lower half of her knit dress but could feel the hem of it snuggling against her, a few inches above her knees.

  She could see the top of the dress, with its wild bright pattern, gauzy short sleeves and deep V of a neckline. In the light from the kitchen the silver chain she wore sparkled, and the little silver tassel hanging from the chain dangled just above the V.

  V for victory... She smiled.

  Through the window, she saw Reagan exit the barn. Tall and broad-shouldered, he walked in that loose-limbed, easy way he always had. Whether he was running down a court or field or just walking across the school cafeteria, he always seemed comfortable and in control.

  Her reminiscing had left her standing still by the sink. Reagan had almost reached the house. She stumbled back a step, catching one heel on the floor mat and almost tripping over her own feet.

  “Settle down, girl,” she said, sounding like a cowhand from Garland Ranch trying to calm one of Jed’s mares. The thought made her break into a nerve-induced giggle.

  Then the kitchen door opened and the giggle died.

  Reagan stepped into the room. He took one look at her and froze.

  With her hands as shaky as when she’d tried to light the candles, she ran her palms down her hips, pretending to smooth her dress, attempting to flirt with him without saying a word.

  His gaze followed, running down her body.

  She swallowed a satisfied smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  His gaze shot to hers again. He sat heavily on the bench by the door.

  Oh, yeah, that’s interest. Just don’t scare him away.

  “Hungry for supper, I mean,” she said lightly. “I made lasagna. Mexican lasagna. Nice and spicy.” Truthfully, she’d more or less watched Mama make it. But a woman couldn’t spill all her secrets. And, of course, she would have mastered the recipe by the next time she served the dish to Reagan.

  “I ate a late lunch,” he said, his tone flat.

  She froze. Maybe there won’t even be a this time.

  And that was the worst excuse to miss a meal she had ever heard.

  The double thunk as his boots landed on the floor might have been the sound of her heart, broken in two and dropping inside her chest.

  Almost, she wanted to roll her eyes at her own dramatic thought. Only almost, because she wasn’t quite sure it was all drama.

  How hard would it have been for him to say yes? To make an attempt? To offer the slightest bit of encouragement? To give her a chance?

  Those questions threatened to burst from her, but somehow she managed to hold them back.

  Just as she had earlier when her confidence had threatened to desert her, she lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. She might not have Reagan, but she had pride...even if it had taken a beating. “No problem. Supper will be all mine...and I’m a big fan of nice and spicy.”

  That snapped his gaze to hers again. Then he looked down—but not away. He started at her shoes, moved up her legs to her dress, lingered on that victorious V and the tassled necklace, rose to her face. Every inch his gaze traveled felt as warm and intimate as a physical caress.

  He looked at the table she had set with the candles, the china and glassware, the flowers.

  Then he looked back at her and shrugged. “Seems like you went to a lot of effort.” He cleared his throat. “I need a good shower. By the time I’m done, I could probably go for a bite.”

  Chapter Eight

  Forget the bite. He wanted the full meal.

  Reagan gripped his fork and attempted to focus on his plate. He’d needed a good shower, all right. And he had taken one. A good, long, cold shower—and it still wasn’t enough to cool him down.

  The “nice and spicy” lasagna wasn’t helping, either.

  Neither was Ally in that outfit she’d worn. That first sight of her when he’d walked into the kitchen had floored him, and while he would never admit his legs had given out, he’d been thankful for the bench near the door.

  Every move she made pulled the stretchy fabric of her dress tight in one place or another. A couple of her go-rounds with the pepper shaker over her plate had left him breaking out in a sweat.

  “Don’t you like the lasagna?” she asked. “You haven’t eaten much of it.”

  “I’m savoring,” he said truthfully. But as good as the dish tasted, that wasn’t what he’d referred to.

  He had to fight to tear his gaze from her and transfer it to his plate. And as good as she looked, that wasn’t what had hit him hardest of all.

  What had done him in was the sight of her with her shoulders squared and her chin tilted up. A defensive stance.

  Against him.

  She had come on to him and he’d tried his best not to acknowledge the fact—in his conversation with her, anyhow. His body had already made its own response clear.

  She had gone to a lot of trouble to make dinner
something special, and he’d turned down her invitation. The least he could have done was take her up on the meal.

  So he’d changed his mind, then gone upstairs to shower and change his clothes. And now look where it had gotten him. Sitting across the candlelit table from Ally. Those candles made her eyes sparkle. Made her hair shine. Made that little silver tassel dangling just above the V of her dress shimmer every time she so much as took a breath.

  He struggled to take a gulp of air.

  “Had enough?” she asked.

  “Not nearly enough.” His voice sounded strangled. He forked up another piece of the lasagna. “I mean, this is good stuff. I could eat the entire tray of it myself.” Even in the candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Maybe you should go into business making and selling it.”

  “Maybe not.” But she laughed.

  That silver tassel danced. It reminded him of the afternoon he’d found her dancing in the living room. He inhaled heavily again and focused on his meal. Along with the lasagna, she had made a green salad and dinner rolls. Everything tasted great, and luckily, the fork and the rolls kept his hands occupied. If only he could say the same about his mind.

  He needed a diversion. Conversation would have to do.

  “If you’re not going into the food industry,” he said, “do you plan to stay in hardware and feed?”

  “I might. The job has a lot of perks. It’s close to home, fairly easy work and I meet a lot of nice people. I sometimes complain about the pay, but let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of places to spend money in Cowboy Creek, anyway. Unless you hit the Bowl-a-Rama.”

  “Or the Big Dipper.”

  For some reason, that made her roll her big brown eyes. “Or there.”

  “Not much of an internet shopper?” His ex was. They had shared a credit card account, and long story short, that was one thing he didn’t miss.

  “Oh, no. Not me. You can’t make sure you’ll get the right size if you order something from a website. When I go shopping, I want to try everything on. Like this dress.” She raised both hands held wide, palms up, and the stretchy material stretched. The tassel shivered.