A Baby in His Stocking

Chapter Two

“Sure this is what you want to do?”

Wyatt signed off on the last of the paperwork his attorney and friend, Brett Lincoln, had placed in front of him.

“Yes, it’s what I want to do, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have doubts as to what’s right for the company. Regardless, I’ve got to get out of here.” Here, meaning Oklahoma. Unbeknownst to Dallas, Cash, Daisy or Georgina, Wyatt sat in Brett’s high-rise Tulsa office, signing over the day-to-day running of the Buckhorn oil holdings to his more than capable second in command. Wyatt’s degree was in geology, and he couldn’t think of a more fitting way to get his head back in the proverbial game than to at least temporarily escape. Sooner the better.

He’d spend the next month or so tying up loose ends and then join forces with a major player in the oil exploration field in Ethiopia’s Rift Valley basin. As part of their team, he’d break down geographical leads, checking everything from source rocks to possible hydrocarbon traps. The work would entail long, thankless hours in miserable conditions. Wyatt couldn’t wait. The task could take years. As far as he was concerned, it could take forever.

Now, his only problem was telling his mother he wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

“WEMEETAGAIN.” WYATT didn’t remember Natalie having such amazing curves in all the right places. But then, up until their epic kiss, he hadn’t much thought of her at all. They had always been casual friends. Nothing more.

“What brings you to Weed Gulch Elementary on such a gorgeous Saturday morning?” she asked.

“Truth?” he asked with a contagious grin, setting a box loaded with donated goods on one of the tables designated for the day’s rummage sale. “Mom’s more than a little miffed with me, so I’m worming my way back into her good graces by doing her grunt work.” In the week since meeting with Brett, he’d let his family in on his decision to leave. Not only were they all less than thrilled, his mother in particular was flipping out. Apparently, she had no desire for one of her babies to spend a few years in Ethiopia. Go figure.

Eyeing the still-full load in the back of his pickup, Natalie noted, “You must’ve been really bad to warrant hauling all of that. Doesn’t she have employees for that sort of thing?”

“Sure, but at the moment, she thinks more of them than me.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it. I even got wrangled into helping at the Halloween blowout she and Josie are having.”

“Me, too,” she said with a wince. “I’m already tired.”

He laughed, surprised by how easy it was to shoot the breeze with his old friend.

“Well—” she aimed a thumb toward the kitchen “—I should probably let you unload. I’ve been assigned to brew coffee.”

Hands in his pockets, he nodded. “Sounds good. Nice talking to you.”

“Likewise,” she said with a backward wave.

Fifteen minutes later, the time it took Wyatt to haul all his stuff to its assigned places, Natalie had returned, bearing a coffee urn so tall she could barely see around it.

“Let me give you a hand.” Wyatt took it from her, carrying it to the area designated for a bake sale.

“Thanks.” She trailed after him. “That thing turned out to be a lot heavier than it looked.”

“What are you all raising money for?” he asked, for some unknown reason not wanting to say goodbye.

“Art and P.E. supplies. Our funding is perilously low. We barely have money for necessities like textbooks and paper, let alone the parts of school kids especially enjoy.”

“Sounds like a great cause,” he said. “Having always been a patron of the arts, I’ll cut you a check.”

She cocked her head, “Wyatt Buckhorn, last I remember of you in art class was when you and Owen glued everyone’s colored pencils to their desks.”

“That was my experimental art phase. It turned out bad. Now, I’m more into the classics.”

Their shared laugh was nice. Comforting in an odd sort of way. Around Natalie, he’d always been able to be himself. With none of the usual guy/girl chemistry, there’d also never been drama. Granted, their kiss had hardly been tame, but it had been an isolated, one-time thing.

“Right,” she teased. “Like the classic time you and Owen painted Claremore High’s concrete zebra with purple and pink stripes?”

“Exactly. See?” he said with a playful nudge. “This generation could learn a lot from an artistic genius like me.”

She rolled her eyes. “At the moment, they could learn more from your muscles. Want to help lug the cooler and milk?”

“If you’ll admit what a great stunt that zebra bit was.”

The grin she shot his way turned his insides to mush. Had she always been so pretty? “Since there aren’t any impressionable young minds around, I’ll admit our rival’s zebra never looked better, but if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

“Whatever.” He answered her grin with one of his own. “Show me what you want me to carry.”

Following her into the school, Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if her backside had always been so juicy.

In the massive school kitchen, they filled a cooler with ice and kid-size cartons of milk. Wyatt carried it outside, Natalie beside him with napkins and a huge bowl of apples.

Midway down the school’s front hall, Natalie tripped. As she went down, so did the apples, rolling in bursts of red, followed by an elegant snow of napkins.

“You okay?” Instantly by Natalie’s side, Wyatt set down his load to help her.

“I think so,” she managed through a messy sniffle. Crying? Over a few apples? “B-but I made a huge mess and the PTA president is waiting for all of this and—and—”

“Hey…” Cautious in his approach, he eased behind her, awkwardly patting her back. “In case you missed the memo, you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk or apples.”

“I—I know,” she said, laughing through more tears while taking a tissue from her pocket to blow her nose. “But lately, everything seems to be going wrong and all I wanted to do this morning was sleep in, but I love helping out with events like this, but I’m so tired and emotional and all because I’m…” Rather than finishing her sentence, she waved her hands around as if announcing her next batch of tears.

“You’re what?” he pressed, more than a little concerned by her uncharacteristic emotional meltdown. “Sick? You don’t have cancer, or anything, do you?”

“N-no.” Her answer launched a fresh round of wails. “I—I’m pregnant.”

As if she’d delivered a physical blow, Wyatt recoiled. “Pregnant?”

She nodded.

“Wow. Ah, I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks.” Though she’d stopped crying, her voice sounded defeated. “Could you please help me with this mess? The apples are going to have to be rewashed.” On her knees, she gathered all of the nearby fruit and napkins.

“Sure.” Her condition had nothing to do with him, so why were Wyatt’s eyes now stinging? Things like this—random reminders of his own shortcomings as a man—were why he had to get out of Weed Gulch. At times, it seemed as if the whole damned town was turning up in this condition.

Just after Dallas’s evil twins, Betsy and Bonnie, had been born and their mother, Bobbie Jo, had died, Wyatt suffered his own near death with a hellish bout of mumps. At the time, he’d been holed up in a dorm on an Alaskan North Slope drilling field, knowing there was no medical cure. So he’d stayed in his room, doing his damnedest not to infect others. Best he could figure, he’d caught it from a suspiciously snotty kid at Fairbanks International. A few months ago, during a routine physical, he’d mentioned the incident to Doc Haven, who in turn had worried aloud about the disease being a cause of male infertility. Always having assumed he’d one day have a big family, Wyatt opted to have his “equipment” tested.

Bad call.

Ever since, he’d felt like less a man.

The more babies his brothers and sister had, the more of an outsider he’d become. He’d tried to forget about the fact that he’d never have what they had. He’d tried to forget with willing women like Starla. It hadn’t worked.

Now, with Natalie’s joyous news, Wyatt’s own inadequacies once again slapped him in the face.

“Think we got ’em all,” he said once her load had been reassembled. “But how about you find a nice place to sit down, and I’ll get this stuff outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. My ego’s more bruised than my body. Sorry about flipping out on you like that.”

“No problem,” he said on the return trip to the kitchen. “We all have our moments.”

Standing alongside her at one of the kitchen’s commercial sinks, Wyatt couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He should be home, studying geographical charts. Instead, he wanted to know if that UPS dude Natalie had been dating was her baby’s father. If so, why wasn’t he here with her today? Where had he been at the christening? Had she mentioned they’d had a fight? Most of all, Wyatt wondered why he cared.

He’d known Natalie forever, yet it was funny how when it came right down to it, they hardly knew each other at all. Not the way it mattered. “You and your baby’s father tying the knot?”

“Nope.” She quickened her pace, in the process dropping the fruit she’d been trying to wash.

“But you two have been together for a long time. What’s the problem?”

Upon placing the last apple in the bowl, she turned off the water. “Short story, Craig had no interest in becoming a father.”

“What the hell?” What was wrong with that guy? Here, Wyatt would’ve given anything to have his own son or daughter, yet the loser Natalie had hooked up with was running away?

How is that any different from what you’re doing?

The thought stung. But Wyatt knew damn well his reason for leaving was far from cowardly. He wasn’t so much shirking responsibility as chasing self-preservation.

The faint grin tugging the corners of her pretty lips contained the sadness of an abandoned basket of kittens. “Yeah, what the hell pretty much sums it up. Craig initially tried the whole commitment thing, but in the end said he wasn’t ready to be a father and that was that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Wyatt said, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

“I get that, but you shouldn’t have to just be fine. You should be over-the-moon happy.” Wyatt couldn’t imagine the joy he’d feel were he in this Craig character’s position. His heart would feel so full it’d hurt. Thing is, he’d never get the chance.

“Really,” Natalie said, “I’ve got this whole single-mom thing figured out. Sort of,” she tagged on with a sad little laugh.

“Aw, you’re going to make a great mother.” Wyatt abandoned the napkins he’d been straightening to give her a hug. In his arms, she felt small and fragile. The man in him wanted nothing more than to protect her and make everything okay. She smelled of sweet apples and barely there floral perfume. She reminded him of the kind of take-home-to-mom girl he’d always planned to marry—at least until fate had thrown him a screw-you curveball. Now, no kids. No marriage. No life he’d always imagined.

“LADIES…” WYATTTIPPED his cowboy hat.

“Hey.” Was it wrong that a simple grin from the man had Natalie ready to swoon? The Buckhorn Halloween extravaganza was in full swing, and the chilly night air came as a welcome reprieve to the stuffy, kid-loaded barn.

“You’re just in time,” Josie said to Wyatt. “If we’re going to keep to Georgina’s schedule, we need to hitch the horses to the wagon ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave his sister-in-law a salute, but Natalie received a wink. Oh, she knew full well he was just playing around, but the gesture returned her fertile imagination to that epic kiss, compounded by his small kindnesses at the school rummage sale. For all the years they’d been acquaintances, she was only just now seeing what an asset he’d be as a true friend.

While Wyatt set about readying their ride, Josie returned to the party, leaving Natalie on her own with the man. And his dizzingly well-fitting jeans. Even in the dark, his size was impressive. Tall and broad in all the right places. Their kiss had also educated her on the full extent of his strong muscles.

Mouth dry, she looked away, disappointed in herself by the realization she’d been staring.

“It’s okay,” he said, leading a large draft. “You’d be a fool not to look.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know you like what you see.” After another wink, he smacked his butt.

“You’re nuts.” Natalie tried playing it cool, but instead, burst out laughing. “And annoyingly handsome.”

“Thanks.” He cinched the horse’s lead. “I was just thinking the same about you. Only with more feminine adjectives.”

Their banter was all in good fun, but as Wyatt returned to his task and Natalie busied herself helping two dozen children and a few parents onto the wagon, she couldn’t help but reflect on how differently her life might have been if Craig hadn’t turned out to be such a flake. But then it wasn’t all Craig’s fault she’d ended up pregnant.

The few times he had forgotten a condom, she could’ve stopped their lovemaking. But honestly, she’d secretly hoped to become pregnant. She’d foolheartedly believed a baby would magically drive Craig to the altar. Oh—it’d driven him all right, straight to the nearest highway out of the state.

With the wagon jolting to a start, surrounded by sweet-smelling hay and singing children, stars twinkling above, Natalie choked back a sudden yearning. For all of her brave talk to Josie about how she’d be fine raising her baby on her own, she didn’t want to.

In the dark shadows she drank in Wyatt’s strong profile, imagining him with her in a more simple time. In Oklahoma a hundred years earlier. Wyatt was a man’s man. She could all too easily see him leading a cattle drive down the Chisholm Trail. He might handle the oil side of the family business now, but in high school, he and Dallas had often been hired by her father to help with their cattle. As a little kid, Wyatt’s favorite game at recess had been wagon train.

Too bad her imagination was the only place any of them were perfect. For all of Wyatt’s physical attributes, when it came to how he treated women, Wyatt was no different than Craig. Oh sure, he might be far more smooth, but his basic noncommitment routine was much the same. Maybe worse—at least Craig had told Natalie to her face he was done. Wyatt’s kissing stunt had forced Starla to do the work.

The only reason Wyatt treated Natalie with respectful kid gloves was the knowledge that they would never be more than friends, never mind the glimpse of chemistry they’d shared.

“Miss Natalie,” seven-year-old Bonnie Buckhorn said, “I thought you were s’posed to tell us a ghost story?”

“Yeah.” Bonnie’s twin, Betsy, climbed onto Natalie’s lap. “And if you don’t tell the story, then when Uncle Cash jumps out in his costume, trying to scare us, then nobody’s gonna be scared.”

“Hush,” Natalie halfheartedly scolded. “That’s supposed to be a surprise for your friends.”

Betsy folded her chubby arms. “Then Daddy shouldn’t’ve been talking so loud with Grandma, because I know all about it.”

Laughing, Natalie gave the pint-size know-it-all a squeeze. Was it wrong to pray her child wasn’t quite as precocious?

By the time the story had ended and all of the kids save for Betsy were sufficiently spooked, Wyatt pulled the wagon alongside the old stone mill where a bonfire crackled. Dancing flames only added to the already ghoulish scene. Gnarled oak limbs cast monster shadows held at bay with plenty of marshmallows, chocolate and laughter.

Natalie had just assembled a giant s’more when a couple of Bonnie’s masked friends ran into her during a ghost-hunter chase. They apologized, but only after having caused Natalie to fall.

“Lord, woman…” Wyatt sprung from the crowd gathered around the fire to help her to her feet. From there, with surprising tenderness, he brushed gravel from her palms. His warmth came as a shock, causing her breath to hitch. Awareness of his size, his strength, the decadence of melted chocolate on his breath, melded into a confused knot in her chest. Was she coming down with something? “There you go,” he said. “All better. Damned kids. Should’ve watched where they were going. But you need to be careful. This is starting to be a habit.”

“Th-thanks.” He released her hands, but not her gaze. Which, if only for a few seconds, was too intense.

He looked away before asking, “Is the rest of you all right? You know, like the baby?”

Natalie nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” Hands in his pockets, he looked to the sky, then the wagon. “Well, I should check on the horses.”

Just like that, Wyatt was gone.

Natalie should’ve been fine with his leaving, but oddly enough, she felt lonely.

“WHATWASTHATABOUT?” Dallas asked.

“What do you mean?” Wyatt checked the horse’s harnesses.

“That thing with Nat. You’re not thinking of starting something with her, are you? In case you forgot, you’re breaking your mother’s heart in just under a month.”

Wyatt shot his brother a dirty look. “For the record, your daughter’s hellion friends knocked Nat down. I was doing a good deed. As for Mom, with as many rug rats as you’ve got running around the ranch, she’ll never notice I’m gone.”

“Trust me, she’ll notice. She already asked if she should hire a bodyguard for you in case your trip gets dicey. Don’t know why you can’t just stick around here and pop out some grandkids for her like the rest of us. Would that be so hard?” Stroking one of the horse’s cheeks, no doubt when he thought Wyatt wasn’t looking, Dallas rechecked the harnesses. Classic Dallas. Always in his business. Never trusting Wyatt to competently handle a job. Ignoring the fact that since Wyatt had taken over the oil side of the ranch, they’d made money hand over fist. Ever since his big brother had the twins, he’d seemed to equate success with the number of kids a guy had. Considering his own shortcomings in that field, Wyatt figured he’d had just about all of his brother’s wisdom he could handle.

Wyatt said, “How about I take the truck back to my place and you handle the wagon?”

“Won’t work,” Dallas said. “We need you here to—”

“How about making it work.” Beyond angry, Wyatt strode to the vehicle. Nine times out of ten, Dallas left the keys in the ignition.

This time was no exception.

Wyatt started the engine, hit the lights then bucked it into gear, in the process damn near hitting Natalie.

“Where are you going?” she called over the ancient V-8.

“Home. Had enough family togetherness to last the next year.”

“Me, too,” she said, fumbling with her fingers at her waist. Had it always been huge? How could he not have noticed? “Would you mind taking me to my car?”

For a split second, Wyatt thought about turning her down, but then his mind flashed on just how pleasant his past couple meetings with her had been. Natalie was the anti-Dallas.

Meeting his brother’s glare, Wyatt said to Natalie, “Hop in. Let’s go lookin’ for trouble.”

Chapter Three

“What was that about?” Natalie asked once they were well away from the bonfire’s glow.

“You really don’t wanna know.”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” She rolled down her window. Sweet wood smoke laced the air rushing across her flushed cheeks and chest. “Your mom, bless her heart, just pressed my hot button nine ways to Sunday. Way I see it, I’ll tell you my frustrations, then you can vent yours.”

“Deal. Do you like shooting?”

Forehead furrowed, she angled on the seat to face him. “Haven’t done it since I was a kid, but it was fun then.”

“Oh,” he said with a sharp laugh, “you’re gonna love this.”

Twenty minutes driving across dark prairie landed them alongside an old wood outbuilding and trash pile from the land’s previous owners. One of the latest parcels added to the vast Buckhorn spread, the old Spring place wasn’t fancy, but according to Josie, Dallas had gone after it with a vengeance.

“Come on,” Wyatt said, taking a 30-30 rifle from the back window. “And grab the shells from the glove box.”

Moonlight shimmered off a pond. From somewhere—Natalie hoped far away—coyotes yipped. After handing Wyatt the ammo, she hugged herself to ward off a chill.

“Cold?” he asked, boots crunching on hard-packed dirt.

“A little.”

He removed his ranch coat, settling it about her shoulders. It was still warm and smelled of him—a delicious blend of leather and soap and citrus that quickened her pulse.

“Thanks.”

He cast her a faint, unreadable smile before fishing rusty cans from a burn barrel. After lining ten along the crooked posts of a barbwire fence, he took the rifle from under his arm and the shells from his back pocket and loaded the gun.

Handing it to her, he said, “Ladies first.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, “but it’s been a while. As a refresher course, I’ll watch you a few times.”

Shrugging, he said, “Suit yourself. I’ve got to work some of this frustration out before I say something to Dallas I’m gonna regret.” Aiming at the farthest can, he fired, blowing it to smithereens. “Damn! Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Natalie laughed above her still-ringing ears. “Hand me that gun, cowboy. Training camp’s over. I want a turn.”

He loaded it before handing it to her. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No, but how hard can it be?” She prepared to fire, but he stopped her.

“A pose like that is going to give you one helluva bruise. Try this…” Behind her, he drew back the butt of the rifle, landing it square against her shoulder. His proximity set off explosions that had nothing to do with gun powder. The tall, lean length of him radiated heat to her shoulders and back and butt, igniting a tingling swirl in her belly. What was wrong with her? She’d never been attracted to Wyatt. He was the kind of guy she knew she could count on if she had a flat tire. He wasn’t the kind of guy a single, pregnant woman turned to for a rebound fling. He was renowned for breaking hearts—never saving them. “Feel better?”

With his warm breath in her ear, she most certainly did not feel better. What she truly felt was a yearning hunger for another kiss. Ludicrous, but undeniable. Forcing a breath, she nodded.