Claiming the Texan's Heart

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Makes sense.” Even if it would cause a lot of temporary upheaval.

  Adelaide removed the coated elastic band from her wrist, gathered her wavy dark hair into a knot on the back of her head and secured it there. “Unfortunately, the babies can’t be around construction dust and fumes. It’s not safe.”

  The good thing about Adelaide was that she could be easily persuaded to do what made sense logically. The bad thing was that she often came to regret her ready acquiescence if the situation did not continue to align with her wants and needs. Still, she was also known for making the best of whatever situation she found herself in. A propensity he knew would be helpful to both of them in the coming months. Briefly he covered her hand with his own. “You and the babies can stay at Wind River with me. I’ve got plenty of room at the ranch.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked even more stressed than she had in Jackson McCabe’s office. “That will cause a lot of talk.”

  Why did people always think gossip was the worst thing in the world? When what really sucked was hiding the truth out of fear of scandal. He shrugged. “There’s going to be a lot of talk anyway.”

  Adelaide looked like she wanted to thrust herself against him and hold on to him for comfort. But of course she didn’t.

  She ran her finger along the edge of the granite countertop. “How are we going to handle that?” she asked anxiously.

  Wyatt worked on keeping his emotions in check, too. This situation was hard enough without adding messy feelings to the mix. He looked Adelaide in the eye. “For starters? By getting my family together.”

  * * *

  Adelaide couldn’t recall ever being this nervous. “Are you sure you want to do this right now?” she asked, as she bundled up the twins and strapped them into their car seats.

  Wyatt grinned, as confident as she was on edge. “Sage already knows something’s up. Garrett works at the hospital, so he may have heard we were there with the twins earlier in the week. Then there’s the court-ordered bloodwork, the fact that both our attorneys were at your house with us. Singularly, none of those details may have caused much gossip, but all together...”

  Trying not to notice how he towered over her when they stood side by side, she shut the rear passenger door.

  “Besides—” he rested his big hands on her shoulders “—the fact I have two children, that the twins have a daddy to love and watch over them, is fantastic news.”

  “You’re right.” She stepped back, aware having his kids was, in many ways, her deepest held romantic fantasy come true.

  She’d never imagined it would actually be possible, though. Or dreamed he would ever be able to forgive her for changing her mind about marrying him. Because it had been more than his pride that had been destroyed that day. Her actions had eradicated his trust in her. And in them. She still wasn’t sure his faith in her would ever be resurrected, at least not entirely.

  And without that, even becoming friends again would be a challenge.

  But, given the situation, there was nothing to do but try to forge some peace.

  Go on from there.

  * * *

  They took both vehicles out to his mother’s ranch, the Circle H. By the time they arrived, the Lockhart family was already there, save Wyatt’s brother Zane, who was on assignment with Special Forces.

  The rest were gathered in the main room of the bunkhouse. Garrett and Hope, and her eleven-month-old son, Max. The newly engaged Molly and Chance, and her three-year-old son, Braden. Wyatt’s sister, Sage, and his mother, Lucille.

  Adelaide settled the twins, who were still fast asleep in their carriers, at one end of the long plank table, while Wyatt asked them all to have a seat toward the other end.

  “So what’s up?” Sage asked.

  Adelaide’s pulse raced as Wyatt moved to stand beside her. She hadn’t expected to ever want to rely on him again, but right now, she did.

  Especially with his family looking at them so curiously.

  “Adelaide and I eloped in Vegas on Valentine’s Day, when we were eighteen,” Wyatt announced, as if it were no big deal.

  Brows rose all around.

  “We thought we annulled it before we left the state, but apparently we were mistaken.”

  Garrett cocked his head, clearly as shocked and disbelieving as everyone else. “So you’re still married,” he concluded.

  Adelaide lifted her hand. “Yes, but we’re getting a divorce,” she clarified quickly.

  Wyatt frowned. “Eventually,” he said.

  Lucille pressed a hand to her heart, her joy surfacing as the reality sunk in. “You’re going to give the marriage a try?” The matriarch of the Lockhart clan looked delighted. There was nothing she wanted more, Adelaide knew, than to have all five of her children married and living happily-ever-after.

  “No,” Adelaide corrected hastily, glad to see that at least Lucille did not look disappointed in them. At least not yet. “But we have to learn how to live together because...” She cleared her throat. Oh heck, she really did not know how to put this.

  The man of the hour did.

  Casually, Wyatt related, “We hooked up a while ago, at a wedding, when Adelaide thought she was already pregnant via artificial insemination, and long story short—” he couldn’t quite suppress a triumphant grin “—we just found out the twins are mine. Ours.”

  A second really shocked silence reverberated around the table.

  Glad to see this, too, was happy news, Adelaide added, with an outer confidence she couldn’t begin to feel, “Naturally, we want to do what is best for everyone. So Wyatt and I have decided to join forces and move in together at his ranch, until such a time as we can figure out a way to be a family without being married or living under one roof.”

  Chance and Garrett exchanged looks. “How long do you expect this to take?” Chance asked.

  Adelaide had no clue. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was in no rush to let the twins out of her sight for more than a few hours every day. Given how quickly he was stepping up to the plate, she assumed Wyatt would soon feel the same.

  “A year. Maybe more,” Wyatt said.

  “However long it takes us to consciously uncouple,” Adelaide agreed.

  Sage tilted her head, looking every bit as happy as her mother, Molly and Hope. “Well, if it works for the Hollywood stars, why shouldn’t it work for the two of you?”

  Chance and Garrett both guffawed.

  “This is serious.” Lucille frowned. “Under the circumstances, I think you should both forget about ever getting divorced. And have a proper wedding, here on the ranch, as soon as possible, with all your friends and family present.”

  The pressure of that kind of public hoopla made Adelaide reel. “Not going to happen, Mom,” Wyatt said. A little too quickly for Adelaide’s taste.

  Was the thought of doing what was best for the twins in the conventional sense really so distasteful to him? Did he hate her that much?

  On the other hand, she knew he was certainly being practical in wanting to go into the arrangement with their eyes wide open.

  “We should at least have a party to officially welcome Adelaide and the twins into the family,” Lucille insisted.

  “Once the dust settles on the news, that is probably a good idea,” Hope concurred, her considerable expertise as a crisis manager and public relations expert coming into play.

  “How do we get the word out?” Sage asked.

  Hope smiled. “The usual way—via announcement.”

  The women promptly went to work. Fifteen minutes later, they had a rough draft of the whimsical announcement. There was a border of hearts, with a stork across the top, carrying two babies, one in pink, one in blue. Followed by the words:

  And just when you think you’ve heard it all...

  Nearly ten years ago,
on Valentine’s Day, at the tender age of eighteen, Adelaide Smythe and Wyatt Lockhart eloped.

  They soon got cold feet. And had it annulled. Until fate intervened, and they met up again on another starry romantic night.

  Twin babies and a surprisingly still legal marriage were the result!

  Please join us on the Circle H Ranch, on Saturday March 1, at 4:00 p.m., to welcome Adelaide and the twins, Jake and Jenny, into the Lockhart family, and celebrate the unconventional events that brought them all together. And brought all of us such happiness and love.

  “It can be a combination belated wedding reception slash baby shower,” Lucille decreed.

  Wyatt and Adelaide exchanged worried looks. Adelaide was willing to go along to get along, to a point. Not add more deception to the mix. “I think we might want to add something about our plans to eventually amicably divorce,” she said. “Otherwise, we will just face even more scandal down the road.”

  “Nonsense,” Lucille huffed. “If you two want to consciously uncouple, that is your business and can be done privately until such time as you are actually ready to divorce. Right now, the emphasis has to be on the twins. They deserve the kind of fairy-tale entry all children merit as they enter this world. When they look back on these events, as they certainly will someday, I want them to see an unconventional beginning brimming with love and joy.”

  As much as Adelaide wanted to, she could not argue that.

  Chapter 4

  “Why are they crying?” Wyatt asked in alarm several hours later. He and Adelaide carried both twins in the front door and set the carriers on the sofa.

  Adelaide eased Jake out of the straps and hooded jacket and blanket confining him, and handed him to Wyatt to hold. “A lot of reasons.” Tossing her own coat aside, she bent to retrieve Jenny from her carrier, too. “They saw a lot of new faces tonight.”

  No kidding, Wyatt thought. After the news had set in, everyone in the family had wanted to congratulate them and cuddle the twins. His mom had persuaded them to stay for an impromptu family dinner. He’d agreed as readily as Adelaide. Mostly because he hadn’t figured out how to be alone with her yet, under the startling new circumstances.

  He wished he had one-thousandth of Adelaide’s ease as a parent.

  Horses, he knew. Kids, not so much. He’d never had the golden touch with them. Well, except for his nephews Max and Braden. Those little tykes had taken right to him. Maybe because he bore a resemblance to their own daddies...

  “Do you think they’re still hungry?” He and Jake edged closer to Adelaide and Jenny. His daughter hadn’t lessened her wailing, either. “Because they were fed and burped right before we left the ranch.” Less than thirty minutes ago. “Their diapers changed, too.”

  Adelaide inclined her head, indicating he should follow suit. She carried Jenny up the stairs. “I think they’re just wound up and overtired.” They moved into the nursery. “Nothing a little walking the floor with them won’t cure. Unless...” Adelaide squinted at him thoughtfully. The crying was so loud now she had to practically shout to be heard. “You’d like to go on home now?”

  Wyatt shook his head. He had responsibilities now. “I’ll stay until they are asleep,” he vowed firmly.

  She pressed a kiss onto the top of Jenny’s head. He did the same with Jake.

  “Your horses...?” she asked.

  “Troy and Flint, my hired hands, have already taken care of them.”

  Briefly, Adelaide looked disappointed. As if she’d been counting on his work to take him away from them. Heaven knew it wasn’t the first time she’d used an excuse to put distance between them. It stung, just the same.

  He told himself her reaction was understandable. Had it not been for the babies they now shared, he would have been out the door hours ago, new dissolution papers filed.

  Instead, he was here with the three of them, trying to make sense of what had happened. Figure out how the heck they were going to proceed on a practical level.

  It was one thing to promise to care for the kids together.

  Another to actually make the situation work.

  Luckily, right now, all they had to concentrate on was easing the persistent crying of their children.

  He watched as Adelaide shifted Jenny’s head onto her shoulder and tried somewhat awkwardly to do the same. While Jenny cuddled sweetly against Adelaide’s soft breast, her head resting against the slender slope of her mommy’s neck, Jake resisted doing the same. Recalcitrant, he arched his little spine, tilting the back of his neck against Wyatt’s gently supporting palm.

  Wyatt was tempted to give up, hand his son over. But given the fact that Adelaide had her own hands full, and Jenny was finally starting to settle down, just a little...

  Adelaide mouthed the words, “Move him up a little higher. So his head is...”

  Wyatt tried. Little Jake arched again. Opened his mouth wider and the largest belch Wyatt had ever heard came out. Followed swiftly by a flood of curdled, really foul smelling sour milk. Like an erupting volcano, the messy goo went all over Wyatt’s shoulder, the front of his shirt, inside the collar, onto his neck. Trying not to get it on Jake, too—who was remarkably unscathed by the flood—Wyatt lifted his son slightly away from him, still holding him gently with both hands, and that’s when two things happened. Jenny finally fell sound asleep. And Jake spit up again, this time all over the rest of Jake’s shirt and pants.

  Gently, Adelaide eased Jenny into her crib. The little darling slumbered on.

  Wyatt expected Adelaide to reach for Jake, who, now that he’d emptied the contents of his tummy, was looking incredibly sleepy, too. Instead, she disappeared into the hall bath and came back, a damp washcloth in hand.

  By then, Jake had put his head on the only other spit-up free zone of his daddy, Wyatt’s other shoulder. His eyes were drifting closed.

  Adelaide wiped the curdled milk from her son’s face. “Want me to take him?” Adelaide murmured softly.

  Wyatt shook his head, feeling incredibly proud and relieved he had done what just a few minutes ago had seemed impossible—nearly put his wildly upset son to sleep. “I’ve got this,” he said.

  And to his surprise, he did.

  * * *

  Adelaide had seen new dads cuddling babies. But nothing had ever affected her the way the sight of Wyatt, so tenderly cradling their son, did.

  Aware she was near tears that if started would not stop, she turned away. She went into the bathroom, grabbed the lone towel off the rack and returned just as Wyatt was easing Jake into his crib. Her son slept on, looking incredibly peaceful and unscathed.

  Wyatt, on the other hand, was a mess.

  He looked like he’d been hit by a massive eruption of spoiled milk. He had a little bit in the edges of his hair, along his nape. He smelled even worse. She handed over the towel and another damp washcloth. He dabbed ineffectually, smearing spit-up into the terry cloth rather than removing it from his shirt.

  She knew exactly how he felt. “I don’t suppose you have any clean clothes in your pickup truck.”

  He shook his head regretfully.

  Adelaide winced. She had nothing that would fit, and even worse, the smell of the sour milk was clearly making them both feel ill. “Experience has taught me the best way to clean up is just get in the shower. If you want to do that and toss the clothes out to me, I’ll put them in the wash. An hour and fifteen minutes—you’ll be good as new.”

  For a second, she thought he would argue.

  A deep breath had him wincing in disgust and simply saying a gruff, “Thanks.” He disappeared into the hall bath.

  Twenty seconds later, the door eased open. The clothes, soiled towel and washcloth were handed out. Adelaide took them and disappeared down the stairs.

  Luckily, the denim shirt, jeans, black boxer briefs and heavy wool socks could all go in one load. The sno
wy-white T-shirt and towel would have to go in another. Trying hard not to breathe in the stench, she pretreated the stains, added a detergent that was formulated for baby laundry and switched on the machine. Then she went to thoroughly wash her hands.

  Wondering what she was going to give Wyatt to wear, which was maybe something she should have figured out before she had him strip down to nothing, Adelaide started back up the stairs.

  Then went back down to get a fleece-lined navy lap blanket from the back of her sofa.

  Halfway to the second floor of her cottage she realized two things. First, the shower had stopped. And second, in her urgency to get the river of baby vomit off him, she had neglected to give Wyatt something even more important.

  A towel.

  She hurried all the faster, reaching the upstairs hall and rounding the corner. Wyatt, never one to stand around waiting to be rescued, had quietly begun his own search for the linen closet. Never mind he was dripping wet and smelling of her lavender shampoo, from head to toe, his only clothing a pale pink washcloth that had already been in the shower, held like a fig leaf over his privates.

  The ridiculousness of the scene, the sheer unpredictability of their situation, coupled with the sight of all those sleek, satiny muscles beneath the whorls of hair covering his tall body, had her catching her breath.

  Memories flashed.

  Laughter bubbled up in her chest.

  He grinned, too—sheepishly now. But blissfully, kept his hand, and the washcloth, modestly in place.

  That, too, hit her, hard.

  The laughter came out.

  Wilder now.

  Uncontrollable.

  Then, just as swiftly, turned into loud, wrenching sobs.

  The kind that could wake her babies.

  Tears streaming down her face, hand pressed against her mouth, smothering the increasingly hysterical sounds, Adelaide stumbled into the master bedroom.

  The next thing she knew Wyatt’s hands were on her shoulders. Warm. Soothing. He was spinning her around, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. And still she cried, and laughed, and cried some more. Her emotions spinning as out of control as her life.