The Rancher's Expectant Christmas

And quite possibly the only two people who’d really understand what the other was going through.

He thought this was called working with what you had. Or were given.

Something.

* * *

By this point Deanna was so drained, both emotionally and physically, she was basically numb. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but that had been a lost cause. Shoot, there were tears when she scored her favorite ice cream in the freezer case; what on earth had she expected at her father’s memorial service? Stoicism? And right on cue, her chest fisted. Again.

And Josh was not helping. But asking him to go away would be mean. Not to mention self-defeating. Since as much as she wished he hadn’t come over, she didn’t want him to leave, either. Actually, what she really wanted was to curl into as much of a ball as her massive middle would allow and sleep the merciful sleep of the oblivious. Lord, pregnancy brain was a bitch. However, even if Josh hadn’t planted his large self beside her on the couch there was the will reading to get through. Honestly, it was like being in some old black-and-white movie, what with the drama and all—

He’d leaned forward, his elbows planted on his knees. Not looking at her. Just being there, like the old days.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Mostly. Sure.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “If you say so,” he said, and she sort of laughed, rubbing her belly. Babypie was apparently snoozing, thank God, although that hard little head still relentlessly gouged her lower back.

But anyway, Josh. Whose scent immediately brought back a slew of memories—maybe not so numb, at that—that made her think of things she’d refused to let herself think about then, and for darn sure shouldn’t be thinking about now. Or ever. God knew not all cowboys smelled that good—and there’d been plenty of times when Josh hadn’t, either, to be real—but right now it was all about leather and fresh cotton and something piney and yummy and her extraspecial pregnancy smeller was having a freaking field day.

“You need anything? Food or whatever?”

“No. Thanks. Your mom made sure I ate.”

“She’s good at that.”

Josh sat up a little straighter, scrubbing one palm over his knee. Jeans, of course, although his “good” ones. Paired with a black corduroy shirt with silver buttons, a tan sports jacket, the guy didn’t look half-bad. This late in the day a beard haze shadowed his jaw, giving him a sexy male model look, God help her.

Then he laced his hands together between his knees, frowning at the tops of his boots—also his “good” ones, dirt-and dung-free. “When’d Steve say the reading was again?”

“He should be here any minute,” Deanna said, and Josh nodded. The last of the guests—a couple from a nearby ranch, she didn’t even remember their names, so sad—stopped to give her the obligatory, “If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know,” before walking away, and Deanna huffed a tired little breath. From the time she’d heard until this very moment, everything had felt oddly surreal, familiar and yet not, like being in a play she ought to know her part in but she didn’t, really. Now, for some bizarre reason, it felt as though the stage lights were being shut off, one by one, leaving her and Josh on a bare stage, lit only by the eerie glare of a single, stark light. The good news was, she could stop pretending now, if she chose.

The bad news was, she still had no idea what her reality was. Or was supposed to be. But when she looked at Josh’s profile, saw that set jaw, the grim set to his mouth, it occurred to her she wasn’t the only one whose world was about to turn upside down. Or inside out. Heck, Josh had given his entire life to this ranch. Meaning whatever came next would probably affect him a lot more than it would her.

From the kitchen, a murmur of voices floated into the silent, cavernous room—his parents and Gus, she thought. Austin came over to climb in Josh’s lap; Josh wrapped his arms around his son from behind as though nothing, nothing, would ever come between them, and suddenly Deanna wanted to know so badly what’d happened between Josh and Austin’s mother it almost made her dizzy. She’d asked Gus, actually, but he’d said it wasn’t his story to tell.

“Hey,” she said softly, and Josh angled his head to look at her, the obvious worry glimmering in those soft goldy-green eyes punching her insides harder than the baby’s foot. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached over—awkwardly—to lay a hand on his knee, right beside Austin’s little sneaker. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He actually chuckled. “You telling me that? Or yourself?” he said, a moment before the lawyer arrived, looking a little windblown from the short walk from the driveway to the front door.

“Sorry I couldn’t make the service,” he said breathlessly as Josh stood to shake his hand. “Got summoned to a surprise court appearance in Santa Fe.” Sweeping hunks of unruly silver hair off his forehead, Steve Riggs gave Deanna a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry, honey, I really am. Your daddy was a good man. We’ll all miss him.”

The same words she’d heard no less than three dozen times in the past two hours. Still, she knew the sentiment was sincere.

“Thank you.”

“Well,” the attorney said, looking a little relieved at being able to move on, “I suppose I’m ready when you are. Do you need help?” he asked when she tried to cantilever herself to her feet. But Josh was already on the case, having set Austin down to come around the side of the sofa, bracing one arm across her back to hoist her upright.

The attorney’s brows spiked over his glasses. “My goodness. When are you due?”

Because she was not one of those women who only gained fifteen pounds and looked like she was carrying a cantaloupe. “Six weeks or so.”

“Well.” Steve’s favorite word, apparently. “If you gather the others, I suppose we can do the reading in Granville’s office. Unless...” His gaze swung to Deanna’s. “You’d rather do it elsewhere?”

“The office is fine.”

It didn’t take long. Her dad had left modest bequests to various people in the community who’d be notified in a few days. Gus got an annuity, Dad’s old Caddy and the right to live in one of the guesthouses as long as he wished. Since Dad had already given Josh’s parents a house in town after Sam’s retirement, his gifts to them now included a few stocks and bonds and a small Thomas Moran landscape painting Sam had always admired...and which Deanna knew was worth big bucks. Then, aside from a modest savings account which went to Deanna, there were a few disbursements to various charities Dad had always supported, particularly ones that worked with the local Native populations.

“And now,” Steve said, peering over his glasses at Deanna, then Josh, before clearing his throat. “‘I leave my ranch, known as the Vista Encantada, including the house, the land, any and all outbuildings and whatever livestock on said land at the time of my death, equally to my only daughter, Deanna Marie Blake, and my employee Joshua Michael Talbot.”

A moment of stunned silence preceded a dual “What?” from Deanna and Josh.

“Congratulations, kids,” Steven said, angling the will toward them so they could see for themselves. “You’re now co-owners of one of the prettiest pieces of property in northern New Mexico.”

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