A Baby in His Stocking
Laura Marie Altom
Wyatt Buckhorn is only a pal. If sharing scorching kisses that leave a woman feeble-brained means they're pals!But that's all the oilman-slash-rancher can be to Natalie Lewis. Five months pregnant and recently jilted, Natalie refuses to trust any man, least of all a man who is the definition of playboy. Throw in that every run-in turns into a fiery encounter, and "just friends" gets complicated. Which is a shame, because Natalie's life is messy enough. Besides, she knows Wyatt's secret—he's sterile, and so enforces a strict kid-free rule.But when circumstances have them caring for a whole clan of Buckhorn youngsters over the holidays, Natalie sees a side of Wyatt that's definitely kid-friendly. Weakening defenses, and even weaker knees, have Natalie determined to destroy Wyatt's anti-family policy…before he leaves town for good.
Daddy material?
Wyatt Buckhorn is only a pal. If sharing scorching kisses that leave a woman feeble-brained means they’re pals! But that’s all the oilman-slash-rancher can be to Natalie Lewis. Five months pregnant and recently jilted, Natalie refuses to trust any man, least of all a man who is the definition of playboy. Throw in that every run-in turns into a fiery encounter, and “just friends” gets complicated. Which is a shame, because Natalie’s life is messy enough.
Besides, she knows Wyatt’s secret—he’s sterile, and so enforces a strict kid-free rule. But when circumstances have them caring for a whole clan of Buckhorn youngsters over the holidays, Natalie sees a side of Wyatt that’s definitely kid-friendly. Weakening defenses, and even weaker knees, have Natalie determined to destroy Wyatt’s anti-family policy…before he leaves town for good.
“Just help me with a kiss, okay?”
Wyatt’s lips hovered above hers. Then, in true Buckhorn style, Wyatt claimed what he wanted. And then he wasn’t just kissing her, but transporting her to another world.
A place where she wasn’t alone and trying to hide that she was five months pregnant. When he finally released her, it was a struggle for Natalie to keep her rubbery knees from buckling.
“Damn...” Wyatt looked a little dazed himself. “Um, that went better than expected.”
Natalie managed a nod.
“We good?”
“Ah, in what sense?” she asked.
“You know, like we’re still pals?”
Pals? She choked back a laugh. If this was how he kissed a woman he thought of as his pal, she couldn’t fathom what he’d do to an actual lover. “Um, sure.”
“Thanks.” After landing a sucker punch to Natalie’s right shoulder, he nodded toward his scowling blonde date. “Pretty sure that did the trick.”
Dear Reader,
Wyatt and Natalie’s story marks the end of marriage-eligible Buckhorns! This makes me sad, but on the flip side, when I’m old and all the Buckhorn babies are grown, I suppose the saga can start over with all the new adult singles. For those of you who’ve read the whole series, can you even imagine what terrors Bonnie and Betsy will be while dating?
Looking back, it’s interesting to see how as my fictional family has changed, my own has followed suit. In the year it’s taken to write the four stories, my children have graduated from high school and gone on to college. I’ve gone from being an emotional train wreck over them leaving to now being buried under the pile of stuff they brought back home for summer! It’s taking some adjusting, getting back in the habit of grabbing all of their favorites from the grocery store, but I think I’ll manage just fine, as happy as I am to have them all snug in my nest.
In this last Buckhorn installment, Mama Buckhorn takes some grief from her offspring. They’re put out with her for always having an opinion. But as a fellow mom, I say they should just behave and do what their mother tells them. Ha! Fat chance. Wyatt and Natalie have proven to be my most stubborn couple yet!
Happy reading,
Laura Marie
Laura Marie Altom
A Baby in His Stocking
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After college (Go, Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy-girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.
When not immersed in her next story, Laura teaches art at a local middle school. In her free time, she beats her kids at video games, tackles Mount Laundry and of course reads romance!
Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or by email, BaliPalm@aol.com.
Love winning fun stuff? Check out www.lauramariealtom.com.
For eighteen-year-old dachshund Noodle Alisch.
You were a good dog and we loved you. Hope you’re off chasing a tennis ball on a never-ending beach!
Contents
Chapter One (#u3d053c13-8153-5e0b-94df-67d4529bd313)
Chapter Two (#u90230121-a426-510e-8b72-d6088399b06a)
Chapter Three (#ubed14ac3-159e-5b65-ab77-be06ab20b4a4)
Chapter Four (#u2c856cd7-ce76-5887-b831-a7f3ed64423c)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
If Natalie Lewis felt any more emotionally battered, she’d dissolve into a teary puddle right there in the middle of Georgina Buckhorn’s garden. Pregnant. Abandoned. Surrounded by dozens of happy, October-sun-drenched guests whose very presence dictated she force a smile. Around these parts, the christening of Josie and Dallas Buckhorn’s new baby was huge. But how was she supposed to get into a celebratory frame of mind when hours earlier Craig had shattered her world?
She’d loved him and had assumed they’d be married and raise a family together. But then, silly her, she’d only been waiting for that ring on her finger for three years. What was wrong with her that she’d ignored every sign that Craig avoided commitment the way some folks steered clear of root canals? From not wanting to even hold hands in public to bailing on too many important occasions to count, Craig made a habit of reminding her just how little she meant in the overall scheme of his life. He even refused to sleep over on the Friday nights they made love. Oh, he’d invented his own art form when it came to stringing her along. Promising to spend more time with her when his work slowed. Explaining he’d just bought a calendar to help remember their dates. Ha! Fat lot of good that’d had done when he’d left it in a junk drawer. And he worked for UPS! Did they ever slow down? God, she was such an idiot.
“I need a favor.”
Natalie glanced up to see Wyatt Buckhorn standing before her in all his glory. “I’m busy.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He pried her cookie-filled plate from her hands, setting it on the table alongside her wicker love seat.
“Hey,” she protested. “If ever there was a girl in need of cookie-therapy, it’s me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Cry me a river. Craig’s been an ass before, and I’m sure he will again. This is important.” Drawing her to her feet, he tugged her against him—tightly enough together a playing card couldn’t have been slid between them. Though Natalie and Wyatt had been pals since their first day in Weed Gulch Elementary’s kindergarten class, she couldn’t ever remember touching him—not like this. He was a Buckhorn, and had everything that came with the name. Criminally handsome, filthy rich, with enough charisma to charm a rattler into being a lap pet. That said, she’d always viewed him as someone to study from afar. He moved in vastly different circles than she did, which was fine. Back in high school he dated only cheerleaders and she’d had no wish to break her arm in a cheerleading pyramid, or, now that they’d grown, his usual date’s stiletto heels.
“Yeah,” she snatched a cookie from her plate, “so is my strict comfort-food regime.”
Fingers around her wrist, he playfully growled before biting off a good three-quarters of her treat. Before she’d worked up a protest speech, he finished it off.
“Back to business,” he said upon swallowing. “In about thirty seconds, I’m going to kiss you. If you play along, I’ll forever be in your debt.” With a tip of his cowboy hat, he looked as matter-of-fact as if he’d asked directions to the nearest bar.
Natalie lurched back far enough for the pool deck’s wrought-iron fence to bite into her lower vertebrae. “How much champagne punch have you had?”
“Promise,” he said in his lazy cowboy drawl, “I’m stone-cold sober. Plus, this whole godparent thing makes us practically family, and besides my date you’re the only single female under the age of eighty and over the age of seven. You’re my only hope.”
“No,” she insisted. “I’ve had the worst twenty-four hours in world history and—”
Leaning into her personal space, his warm, sugar-laced breath acted like a brick thrown against her resolve. In the lifetime they’d been casual friends, she couldn’t recall Wyatt having ever stood so close. Her pulse behaved badly, galloping over her common sense at an alarming speed.
Licking suddenly parched lips, she managed to mutter, “So, yeah, it’s been a lousy day for me and I probably should just go home.”
“Hell.” He inched still closer. “That’s what you want, I’ll drive you. Just first help me with a kiss.”
Where Natalie’s words used to live now resided hitched breath and the kind of tingly awareness she shouldn’t be feeling. But this was Wyatt Buckhorn standing before her, begging for a kiss. The scene didn’t make sense—not in her carefully ordered world.
“So we’re good?” Wyatt asked, hovering his lips above hers.
No! This assault against her senses was miles from good. But then, in true Buckhorn style, Wyatt claimed what he wanted, pressing his lips to hers. And then he wasn’t just kissing her, but transporting her to another world. A place where she wasn’t alone and trying to hide that she was five months pregnant, but shimmering with a slow, honeyed warmth spreading from her head to her toes. Wyatt’s kiss was firm yet gentle. Sinful and wicked, but in a heavenly realm of good.
When she moaned, he stole the opportunity to sweep her tongue with his. The broad, leisurely stroke was too much, drowning her in powerful, sexy heat. Arms on autopilot, they twined about his neck, and she pressed her fingertips to the back of his head, urging him in for still more. When he finally released her, it was a struggle for Natalie to keep her rubbery knees from buckling.
“Damn…” To Natalie’s credit, Wyatt looked a little dazed himself by the power of what they’d shared. Did that mean it hadn’t all been her imagination? “Um, that went better than expected.”
Breathing still shallow, Natalie managed a nod.
He glanced away, red-faced. “We good?”
“Ah, in what sense?” she asked, doing a quick check to make sure her clothes hadn’t spontaneously combusted from her superheated limbs.
“You know, like we’re still pals?”
Pals? She choked back a laugh. If this was how he kissed a woman he thought of as his pal, she couldn’t fathom the carnal gifts he’d dole out to an actual lover. “Um, sure.”
“Thanks.” After landing a sucker punch to Natalie’s right shoulder, he nodded toward his scowling date. “Pretty sure that did the trick.”
“Everyone line up for more pictures!” Georgina Buckhorn, Wyatt’s mother, was in her element. Parties were her thing, and the over-the-top angel-themed christening for Josie and Dallas’s second daughter together, Esther, was no exception. A trio of harpists provided ethereal song to the gorgeous Indian-summer afternoon. Buffet tables dripping in vintage lace and pearls held outrageously opulent cakes, candies and tarts. Antique-pink roses perfumed the air. “Natalie and Wyatt, you two hold the baby alongside the fountain. Dallas, throw glitter at them so they sparkle.”
“I’m not pitching glitter at my child,” Dallas barked, handing Esther to his brother. As the eldest of the Buckhorn men, he was also the least playful. A fact that, at the moment, served Natalie well.
“Again,” Wyatt whispered above the fountain’s gurgle for only her to hear, “I appreciate you helping me out with that kiss. I’ve been hinting to Starla for days that I’m not the kind of guy who’s in it for the long haul, but she refuses to listen. By helping me provide a few more visual clues, you made the perfect assist.”
“Sure. No biggee.” Liar, her conscience screamed. Part of her wanted to rail at him for including her in such a stupid stunt. Then there was the portion of Natalie still humming with awareness and craving more of whatever Wyatt cared to offer—and that girl wanted to thank him.
Georgina, camera in hand, directed, “I need a few with just the godparents. Natalie, you hold Esther. Wyatt, put your arm around Nat—and for heaven’s sake, smile.”
Unbearable didn’t come close to describing the next five minutes. As much as Natalie had always viewed Wyatt as a fixture in her life, like a brother, she had to admit—if only to herself—he’d grown into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Tall and lanky with spiky black hair and impenetrable brown eyes, he was the dark horse to his fair-haired brothers and sister. He’d been the epitome of Weed Gulch High cool. Star quarterback for football. Pitcher for baseball. He’d changed girlfriends as often as clothes. Wiley Wyatt, he’d been nicknamed for his refusal to commit.
“Nat,” Josie Buckhorn called, “scoot closer to Wyatt. He’s not going to bite.” Natalie’s best friend, a petite redhead with freckles and a perpetual smile ever since marrying Dallas, gestured for Natalie to sidle up to Wyatt.
“I might. Bite, that is.” He aimed a wink toward his already miffed blonde date, which sent her stomping toward the open bar.
Natalie sighed. Wyatt’s action was perfect. Just the sort of thing needed to plant her feet solidly back on the ground. Their kiss might’ve been scorching, but it was also make-believe. And from a guy apparently every bit as commitment-phobic as Craig.
“Just a few more,” Georgina said, adjusting Esther’s bonnet, “and we ought to have enough.”
The baby started to fuss.
“You’re done,” Dallas growled at his mom and the high-priced Tulsa photographer. Taking the baby into his arms, he too headed for the bar.
Josie chased after him carrying their other daughter, Mabel.
Leaving Natalie on her own with her pal.
He cleared his throat, extending his hand for her to shake. “I really did appreciate your help. Sorry if our kiss got a little too, well…nice.”
“Apology accepted.” Nice wasn’t the word she’d have chosen for the hot tingles still coursing through her body from his touch. Now she wholeheartedly understood why women flocked to him. She’d just never counted herself as being among his groupies.
The afternoon wore on and on and on.
Around three, Natalie searched out Josie to say her goodbyes.
Unfortunately, her best friend wasn’t going to let her run out that easily. “Don’t even think about getting out of here before spilling every detail of that kiss.”
Josie held Esther. Judging by the baby’s fitful cries, the one-month-old didn’t realize that the party in full swing was in her honor. “Does this mean you and Wyatt have finally succumbed to your base urges to make out and then get married?” As usual, Josie made zero attempt to hide her desire for Natalie to hook up with Wyatt. She’d launched her campaign nearly two years earlier, when she’d married Dallas, and had yet to see the futility of her actions.
“Give it up,” Natalie said with a heartfelt sigh. “I know you mean well, but trust me, this bizarre dream of yours will never come true.”
“Then why’d you kiss him?” Josie winked.
“He kissed me. A sad tactic to unload his date just in time for all-night poker.” While most guests still mingled around the pool and Georgina Buckhorn’s renowned garden, Wyatt and his posse—the same guys he’d hung out with through high school and college—could be seen through the den’s picture window setting up for the game. They played during or after most of Georgina’s parties; just because this was a christening made no difference to their routine.
“Still,” Josie said, “it looked hot. Was it?”
Lie! Natalie’s voice of reason screamed. If she showed the smallest chink in her Anti-Wyatt Wall, Josie would use it to her advantage. Shrugging, Natalie said, “I’ve had better.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Mark my words, one of these days you two will discover each other, and when you do—pow!” In the process of waving her arm, she startled the baby into a full-blown wail. “Oops. Shh…” Jiggle, jiggle. “Sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn’t mean to scare you. She was just trying to make Auntie Nat see how much she secretly adores Uncle Wyatt.”
“On that note…” Natalie kissed the crown of Esther’s downy head. “I’m exhausted, but still have a few baskets to make for school tomorrow.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Josie’s expression said she wasn’t buying Natalie’s exit speech. “See you in the morning.”
“Looking forward to it— Oh, and if you get a sec after the festivities, would you mind rounding up any clothes Betsy and Bonnie have outgrown? I’ve got a few families in desperate need.”
“Absolutely,” Josie said, ambushing Natalie in a hug. “Thanks again for coming—and agreeing to be this one’s godmother. It means the world to Dallas and me.”
Natalie was Weed Gulch Elementary’s counselor, where Josie taught kindergarten. Though it wasn’t in her official job description, Natalie made care baskets she delivered anonymously to community families. Usually, she looked forward to organizing donated goods into utilitarian gifts, but as she climbed into her white VW bug all she truly wanted to do—aside from reliving Wyatt’s criminally hot kiss—was take a nice, long nap.
“SINCEWHENAREYOU macking on Fatty Natty?”
Wyatt lowered his cards, giving his old pal Owen Fletcher a glare. “Lay off. Since Dallas married Josie, Nat’s practically family, and I’d appreciate you treating her as such.”
“Touchy,” Owen said, getting up from the table for another beer. “This something we should know about?”
“Yeah,” West Graham piped in, “what happened to the blonde you had hanging all over you less than an hour ago?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Starla was starting to get too serious.”
Owen, a hulking former Weed Gulch and then University of Oklahoma offensive lineman, opened his beer. “Yeah, but you could have had a lot of fun with her on the way to full-on serious.”
“Well, I didn’t feel like having fun with her anymore,” Wyatt grumbled. “Are we here to play or what?”
Owen’s eyes widened. “All right, man. Jeez, what’s wrong with a little fun, is all I’m saying.”
“I don’t know.” In truth, Wyatt did know, but he wasn’t about to spill the secret he hadn’t even shared with his brothers. He tossed chips into the center pot. “I’m in and raise you five.”
West, one of Weed Gulch’s finest fullbacks, tossed in his chips, as well. “Sounds like someone’s trying to change the subject.”
“Not at all.”
Owen added his chips to the pot.
“I’m just tired of chit-chat when I need to focus on taking you two for all you’re worth.” Not to mention getting his mind off Natalie’s kiss.
INHERTEDDY-BEAR-THEMED office Monday morning, Natalie nursed a Sprite while making notes for the school’s upcoming fifth-grade assembly on setting future goals. Before losing the kids to middle school, she drummed into them the importance of choosing a path and then following it. Ironic, in light of the mess she’d managed to make of her own life.
She nibbled a saltine, wishing the computer screen would quit swaying with each rush of nausea. How did she get the memo to her body that morning sickness was supposed to be gone by her second trimester?
Realizing she wasn’t going to make it through reading the next sentence, Natalie dashed for the bathroom. She’d just rocked back to sit on her heels when Cami Vettle, the school secretary, pushed open the door.
“You ever going to admit you don’t have a perpetual flu?”
Managing a sad laugh, Natalie said, “Is it that obvious?”
“To me. But then I spend five mornings a week with you. Who’s the daddy?”
“If I had an ounce of energy—” Natalie rested her head against the cool, tile wall “—I’d jump up from here to smack you.”
“I figured it was that gorgeous UPS guy,” Cami said while passing a paper towel beneath cold water, “but you never know.”
“Seriously?” Natalie groaned in pleasure when Cami placed the towel on her forehead. “You, of all people, know Craig’s the only guy I’ve been with for the past three years.”
After helping Natalie to her feet, Cami said, “When are you getting married?”
“We’re not. The day after I told him our blessed news, he applied for a transfer. I never thought he’d really go, but voilà, five months in and baby’s daddy up and moved to Miami.”
“Oh, no.”
Returning to her office, Natalie stretched out on her sofa.
Cami ruined Natalie’s temporary peace by asking, “What are you going to do?”
In the months she’d had to ponder her situation, Natalie had given that particular question a lot of thought. She’d always wanted to be a mom. Sure, in her little-girl fantasies she’d been happily married when giving birth, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as Craig wanted nothing to do with their child, she looked forward to holding her baby in her arms. “I’ll do the only thing I can—raise my child on my own.”
“What do your parents think?”
Nausea struck again. “It’s my fervent prayer they’re not as observant as you.”
THATAFTERNOON, NATALIE felt much better. She’d managed to eat a little lunch and now stood in the empty auditorium, facing the twenty baskets lining the edge of the stage. She’d already rolled clothes, tying them with ribbon. Now she needed to add food, gift certificates from local merchants, books and toys.
The task she usually enjoyed felt daunting. One thing she hadn’t expected with pregnancy was to be so tired. Not just the kind of slump fended off with coffee, but a deep-down exhaustion that clung to her shoulders, weighing her down. Moodiness was another symptom she hadn’t expected. Everything from a dead fly to a Hallmark commercial made her cry.
She’d never been a fan of formfitting clothes, so hiding her condition for so long had been easier than she’d thought. That said, much more moodiness and it’d be her hormones giving her away rather than her baby bump.
“Hey,” Josie’s voice echoed through the lofty space. “Cami said I’d find you in here.”
“Are your kids in art?”
“Yep. I should be grading, but yesterday’s sugar has me feeling hungover.”
“I know the feeling.”
Familiar with the basket drill, Josie stepped up to help. Tucking canned chili between pint-size blue jeans and a puzzle, she said, “Cami told me you were sick again this morning. Also that you let her in on your secret. What prompted you to finally share your news?”
“I didn’t. Turns out she’d guessed a long time ago. Anyway, it’s not like I can keep my baby a secret much longer.”
Josie attacked Natalie with a hug. Then she grabbed some more cans of food. “Have you been feeling any better?”
“No. I’m tired, cranky and my body refuses to choose between ravenous or nauseous.”
From down the hall in the choir room came muted singing.
Natalie pressed her palms to her suddenly throbbing head.
“Honey,” Josie asked, setting her cans on the stage floor, “what’s wrong?”
Tears sprang hot and messy from nowhere. For weeks, Natalie had tried controlling her panic, but something about holding sweet Esther and that surprise dreamy kiss with Wyatt and then getting sick had her hormones about as stable as a four-wheeler on a pot-holed dirt road. “I—I thought I could be strong—you know, raising this baby on my own, but I’m scared.”
“Everything’s going to be okay.” Being wrapped in another of Josie’s warm hugs should’ve made Natalie feel better, but if anything, her friend’s kindness only served as a reminder to how easily she’d given her heart to Craig only to have him crush it like a recyclable aluminum can. “Sweetie, you know I’ll be here for you every step of the way. Heck, our house is big enough to hold half the county. If you have this baby and feel overwhelmed, move in with us and we’ll all help out.”
Her friend’s offer brought on fresh tears. “Why couldn’t Craig have been as perfect as you?”
Josie laughed through her own tears. “Wish I knew. I’d offer to drag him back and knock sense into him, but one of these days, if and when you’re ready, you can do much better in the man and baby-daddy department. I want you to find someone as dreamy as Dallas. Not just for emotional support, but the little things like helping with late-night feedings and deciphering all those mysterious burps and coos.”
Sighing, Natalie broke Josie’s hold to pace the center aisle. “I’m happy for you and Dallas—really, I am—but as much as I thought you two were made for each other, that’s how much I know I’m done with men. Before Craig, there was Neil. Remember him? The guy who took two dates to the same party? And who could forget Sam? The one who dumped me for a woman old enough to be his mother. Face it, when it comes to guys, my track record is one hundred percent awful.”
“Granted. Which is why I’ll leave you in peace to lick your wounds.” Josie took a bag of peanut M&M’s from her skirt pocket. She’d suffered an addiction ever since her pregnancy with Esther. What other kinds of baby afflictions did Natalie have in store? Popping a green one in her mouth, Josie added, “But soon, all bets are off. You’re too beautiful inside and out to announce yourself a spinster before you’ve even turned thirty-five.”
“Stop,” Natalie begged her supposed friend. “I know you mean well, but seriously, when it comes to dating, I’m done.”
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.
“Good. Line the can in your sight, then pow. Blow all your frustrations away.” He’d whispered that one little word, causing more damage to her resolve to resist his charm than she’d ever do to the can.
“This one’s for you, Georgina.”
“Sounds intriguing,” he teased.
She pulled the trigger, and found that the noise and thrill were just the ticket to clearing the angst buildup.
An hour later, having finished off the box of shells, Natalie sat alongside Wyatt in the old truck, warming her hands in front of blowing heater vents. “Thanks for this. It turned out to be exactly what I needed.”
“Happy to oblige.”
After a few moments’ comfortable silence, cocooned in the truck’s dark cab, Natalie said, “I haven’t yet found the nerve to tell my folks about my pregnancy. Their world’s pretty black and white, and having an unwed daughter with a baby on the way wouldn’t even begin to compute.”
“Sorry. When it comes to family disapproval, mine wrote the book.”
“Oh, please.” Twisting on the seat for a better view of his handsome profile, she asked, “What have you ever done that the mighty Buckhorns disapproved of?”
“Like your folks,” he said, narrowly avoiding a fallen tree, “they would prefer I be married. Oh—and they can’t stand my house.”
“Really? Town gossip says it’s pretty amazing.”
“I like to think so.” His smile warmed her far more efficiently that the heater.
“And lately, they’re mighty pissed about me leaving.”
“Hmm…Josie told me about your great Ethiopian adventure. Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Something to be done before you finally do settle down with a wife and those requisite 2.5 kids.”
Natalie had expected Wyatt to appreciate her support. Instead, his expression hardened.
She asked, “Did I somehow offend you?”
He shook his head and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Then why the one-eighty in your mood?”
After a glance out his window at the inky nothing beyond the glass, he exhaled. “What the hell? I’ve needed to get this off my chest for a while now, and I like you, Natalie. Always have. Most girls fell for my Buckhorn hype, but not you. You always treated me like a regular Joe.”
Stomach sour, Natalie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear whatever Wyatt had to say.
“I appreciate that. Outside of family, and a few close friends, there aren’t a lot of people I can trust to keep my private issues private. Know what I mean?”
She nodded. “I feel that way about Josie. As happy as I was to see her marry Dallas, part of me mourned to have lost her. Sure, we’ll always be close, but not the way we were before she began bursting with family.”
Wincing, he said, “There’s that word again. The bane of my existence.”
“Family?” Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I would think however your relatives are, they’re still your blood and you love them.”
“Love has nothing to do with it. Their expectations for me to be just like them is what brings me down—especially since no matter how much they bitch and nag about me marrying and having kids, their hopes will never come to pass.”
“Why? You’re young. How can you arbitrarily decide you never want to be more than a bachelor?”
“Easy.” Thumping the heel of his hand against the wheel, he added, “Especially since it wasn’t even my decision. I’ll never have a son or daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“To spell it out, I’m sterile.”
Heart aching for him, eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold in, she asked, “H-how do you know?”
“Nasty case of mumps. Doc Haven tested me. That’s why I’m so desperate to get out of Weed Gulch. No one knows, and the last thing I want to do is tell them. I don’t want their pity or well-meaning lectures on the wonders of adoption. I need to be left alone, you know? Just come to grips with this in my own way.”
Hand on his forearm, she asked, “How long have you known?”
“A few months, and damned if the more kids my brothers and sister pop out, the more disconnected I feel. I will forever be the lone man out and it—”
When his voice cracked, Natalie scooted across the seat to put her arms around him.
He stopped the truck, killing the engine.
Though Wyatt never shed a tear, Natalie could only imagine how much his diagnosis had hurt. For a guy like him, his macho manliness no doubt meant the world. To never be able to have his own namesake must be crushing.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, holding him for all she was worth. “Ironic how your family wants nothing more than for you to produce a child, and mine is going to be peeved for that very fact.”
“Which is why I need to get the hell out of Dodge. For the most part, family is great, but this is one time when I just want to escape.”
Not sure what the politically correct thing to say was at a time like this, Natalie said the first thing that popped into her mind. “I don’t blame you. The Buckhorns are a pretty intense bunch. I can just imagine Georgina catching wind of this. Demanding you have every test in the book done, ignoring the fact that you’re a big boy and no doubt already double- and triple-checked this for yourself.”
“True.”
She gave him another hug. “You go off on this adventure of yours, and once you get back, maybe you’ll feel better about your lot, maybe you won’t, but at least you’ll be out there, living life to its fullest.”
Easing back, he said, “You’re amazing. How is it I never dated you?”
“Simple,” she teased, “I’m too smart to ever fall victim to your charm.”
ONEWEEKLATER, FIVE rows from Weed Gulch Elementary’s stage, Wyatt sat crammed between his sister-in-law Wren and his nephew Kolt. Wren’s nearly three-year-old daughter, Robin, sat on her lap, smelling like she might be having an issue with whatever she’d eaten for dinner. Trapped in a room bursting with families, Wyatt had never been more keenly aware of his own deficiency.
The one person who’d made him feel better about himself and his decision to leave town was Natalie.
Daisy’s dark-haired eleven-year-old son, Kolt, wrinkled his nose. “Aunt Wren, Robin really stinks.”
Just then Natalie stepped out from behind the blue velvet stage curtains. Natalie was the night’s MC. She looked good in a rusty-orange sweater over brown pants. He liked her hair, too. Loose and wavy. Pretty—like her smile.
Cash’s wife, Wren, laughed. “I know, hon. I told your uncle to not feed her bean soup, but he didn’t listen. She’s almost totally potty trained, but not good enough for that much fiber.”
“Shhh.” Weary of baby talk, eagerly awaiting whatever Natalie was about to say, Wyatt crossed his arms and prayed for the family portion of the night to end.
“What a wonderful turnout!” Natalie said with a bright smile. Had she always looked so good? “On behalf of our students and staff, thank you for taking time to attend our fall concert. The kids have worked hard, and can’t wait to show off their skills.”
Once the program started, Wyatt had to admit all of the songs and hand motions were cute, but instead of focusing on his nieces’ talent, he felt trapped under his own dark cloud. How different would the night be were he watching his own children perform?
The show droned on for two hours, during which every baby and toddler present screamed in turns. By the time the twins took their last bows, Wyatt was more than ready to bolt. But no. First, he had to have cake and punch in the deafening cafeteria. Why, why hadn’t he driven himself?
“Not that you probably deserve it,” teased a warm, familiar voice from beside him, “but come on. You look like a man in dire need of silence.” Natalie led Wyatt by his arm out of the chaos and into the bliss of her deserted office. She gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa. She parked behind her desk.
Hands to his throbbing forehead, Wyatt asked, “How do you stand being around here all day, every day?”
“It’s usually not this crazy. When school’s in session, rules and procedures keep the noise to a minimum.”
“Still…” He managed a grimace. “I’m starting to loathe kids. Which in my case is a good thing, right?”
“Oh, stop.” Tidying a pile of papers, she added, “The night hasn’t been that bad. And anyway, it’s over now.” Natalie looked awfully grown-up seated behind her big desk. How many crying kiddos had been in here for her to soothe?
He sat a little straighter.
She reached for an apple-shaped candy dish mounded with Hershey’s Kisses. “Want one?”
Shaking his head, he said, “I’m maxed out on sugar.”
Apparently she wasn’t, as she proceeded to unwrap three of the treats before popping them in her mouth. Her expression was one of pure pleasure. Damned if she didn’t look in the throes of an orgasm. The notion produced pressure beneath his fly, along with the asinine urge to lick a speck of chocolate from the corner of her lips.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I, ah, wasn’t going to come tonight.”
“Why?” Was she aware that when she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk, her shadowy cleavage popped into view? “This was a big deal for the twins. I know they wanted their favorite uncle here.”
Wyatt snorted. “Cash is everyone’s favorite.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. The girls talk about you all the time. Bonnie refers to you as her favorite oil king.”
“Nice,” he said with a chuckle. After taking one of her candies, he added, “My Ethiopian residence card came today.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yes and no. As much as I’ll be relieved to get out of here, it’s strange to think the next time I see Esther, she’ll be walking.”
“How does that make you feel? Any regrets?”
He took more candy. Had Natalie always smelled so good? Like a mix of flowers and chocolate and the faintest hint of a just-sharpened pencil?
“Wyatt?” she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wyatt.”
“Huh?”
“I asked if any part of you regrets leaving.”
Funny, but at the moment, the one thing Wyatt knew he’d miss about Weed Gulch was Natalie. His whole life she’d been right under his nose. How could he have not taken the time to know her before now? “Other than hot and cold running water, electricity and reliable meals, I think I’m good.”
She laughed, which made him smile, too.
Which was nice. If only for a little while.
“IS WYATTHERE?” ON Saturday morning, Natalie had found a travel book on Ethiopia at a yard sale. Hoping she’d run into Wyatt at Georgina’s latest gathering on Sunday afternoon, she’d brought it along.
“No,” his mother said, “he hasn’t even left the county lines, but for all the time he spends with me, he might as well already be gone.” Georgina, dressed in a Victorian period costume complete with a huge feathered hat, daintily sipped her chamomile tea. While all of the ladies present looked to be enjoying high tea, Cash and Dallas had holed up in the movie room. The mere thought of manly Wyatt eating petit fours and discussing the perfect Thanksgiving side dishes brought on a smile. “He said he had business in Tulsa, but I was up all night and this morning with indigestion and never saw him leave.”
“Hmm…” Natalie hid behind her orange spice.
Truth was, she hardly knew him well enough on a personal level to be disappointed by not seeing him today, so why did she now feel pouty? She’d been looking forward to giving him her gift. She’d never met anyone brave enough to just pack up and run away. Sure, lots of people talked about it, but Wyatt had the balls to actually do it. She admired him for that. And as anxious as she was about tackling the frontier of single-motherhood, she planned on adopting Wyatt’s fearless attitude when it came to raising her child.
“I’m tired of talking about my horrible son,” Georgina said above a classical crescendo, “let’s talk about you. I’m concerned. I spoke with your mom the other day at gardening club and she said she’s afraid you’re hiding something from her.”
Natalie lightly shook her head. “Mrs. Buckhorn, I don’t mean to be rude, but my personal, private business aside, you just called your son horrible for following his heart. I don’t mean any disrespect, but as the one woman in his life he loves above all others, shouldn’t you support his decision?”
“It’s not that simple.” Georgina set her cup and saucer on the table. “We need Wyatt here. His leaving is selfish. I need him here.”
“For what? From what he’s told me, he’s set up your oil holdings to practically run themselves.”
The older woman sighed. “Your frown tells me you don’t understand. My kind of clarity on these matters only comes with age.”
To be polite Natalie nodded, while inside, she vowed to never be so far removed from her son or daughter to stop communicating with them not just on the daily superficial matters, but on issues that truly matter.
Fed up with small talk and hearing advice on everything from getting Craig back to shedding those few extra pounds she seemed to have put on, Natalie didn’t bother consulting Josie before sneaking out the back door.
Cold November rain hitting her cheeks came as a welcome relief. As did the sweet smell of a wood fire. The house had been stifling. Too much perfume fighting for attention.
Once in her car, for the longest time Natalie rested her forehead against the wheel. What was wrong with the people of this town that they all felt not only obliged to share their opinions on the most personal aspects of her life, but downright entitled?
Wyatt was right to leave. If she hadn’t gone and done a stupid thing like believing Craig loved her, she might still be in a position to do some running herself. As it was, she couldn’t afford to abandon her job or support system—no matter how annoying they all might be.
Backing out of her parking space, Natalie had just decided to make an emergency ice-cream run when it occurred to her that maybe an even better way to spend her afternoon would be by talking out her frustrations about Georgina with the only other person who seemed equally annoyed by her pushy manner—Wyatt.
Before chickening out, instead of aiming her car for the main road, she steered down the blacktop lane leading to his home. In all the years she’d known the Buckhorns, she’d never seen Wyatt’s house. Come to think of it, not that many folks around town had.
Cash and Wren lived in a clean-lined home not half a mile from Georgina. Josie and Dallas lived with the Buckhorn matriarch in the main house, and Daisy and Luke resided in Luke’s cabin until renovations were finished on the historic wreck they were lovingly restoring. Wyatt, however, resided in the woods. Reportedly a good ten miles from the rest of the clan. Rumor had him living in everything from a tin shed to a mobile home to a playboy-style mansion.
Three miles into her trek, rain drummed her car roof. Poor visibility had her slowing to a ridiculous pace. Mile after mile, the blacktop road snaked through dense forest. Just when Natalie was convinced she must have driven all the way to Kansas, there it was. Wyatt’s house. Only town gossip hadn’t done it justice.
Like the oil rigs he spent most of his time working, the structure was steel, clinging to a wooded hillside. At first glance, a haphazard series of staggered boxes. Upon closer inspection, the hard metal bones had been covered in glass skin that even on such a dreary day, reflected forest and sky. The place was spellbinding. All the more so when through one of the center panels she spied Wyatt lounging on a couch, watching TV.
Parking alongside his black truck with its Buckhorn Ranch insignia on the doors, she left her purse in the car, struggling instead with an umbrella and his book.
At the end of a gray flagstone walk, she faced an imposing, cranberry-red door. Dripping, trying to keep her umbrella from flying away in the wind, she was on the verge of bailing on her impromptu mission, when the door opened and there stood Wyatt. Bare-chested, wearing faded jeans and nothing else.
“Thought I heard a car. What’re you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too.” Leaving her umbrella, she brushed past him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded. Guess I’m surprised to see you. Thought you’d be holed up with my family all day.”
“I was—for most of it, anyway. Then your mother ticked me off, and I just wanted out.”
“What’d she do now?”
“I’ll tell you just as soon as you show me where the nearest bathroom is,” she said, her teeth chattering.
He pointed down a shadowy hall. “First door on your left.”
Natalie finished with the necessities that her pregnancy had created and took one look in the mirror and cringed. The humidity had transformed her formerly straightened long hair into a frizz ball. Her mascara ran, and her complexion sported a vampire pall. If she’d brought in her purse, she’d have at least had a ponytail holder to tame her hair. As it was, she settled for using tissue to fix her face.
“Took you long enough.” Wyatt hadn’t left the entry hall.
“Are you the bathroom police?”
His white-toothed grin stole her breath. “I’ve seen feral cats look better than you.”
“If I had the energy, I’d beat you to a pulp.”
“Yeah, right.” He helped her remove her coat. “You tried once in fourth grade and failed miserably.”
“Only because Dallas came to your rescue.”
“That could be debated.” He tossed her coat onto an antique sideboard. The eclectic mix of furniture was genius. Had he done it himself or had help?
“Come on.” Taking her by her arm, he said, “Let’s get you warmed up.” He led her down a short flight of stairs to a room so awe-inspiring she literally couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. Three walls were composed of floor-to-ceiling glass. Centered on the furthest wall was a river-stone fireplace, glowing with warmth. A mammoth plasma-screen TV hung above the mantel and a custom U-shaped sectional occupied the center of the cathedral-ceilinged space. A sumptuous white area rug covered maple floors. The overall effect was as if they were floating through the forest on a magic carpet.
“I shouldn’t be here.” Natalie nodded to her still damp clothes and specks of mud on her shoes. “I’ll muss something.”
Kneeling alongside her, he removed one of her black heels, then the other. His knuckles grazed her ankles, shocking her with the unexpected intimacy of his touch. “Next excuse?”
“Th-thanks.” Her teeth still occasionally chattered, but she suspected now more because of her erratic pulse than cold. His actions had been kind. Something Josie might’ve done—only with plenty of teasing and a goofy smile.
“No problem.” Taking the TV remote from the sofa, he muted a football game. “Coffee? Have a seat and I’ll put on a fresh pot.”
“Thanks, but—” she pointed to the bump beneath her billowy blue blouse “—no caffeine for me.”
“Right. I forgot.” Hands in his pockets, he looked to the floor, then met her gaze. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You being pregnant. All the fertility around here is what’s driving me to leave. A wise man wouldn’t have let you in this house.”
“What’s that make you?” She couldn’t resist zinging back.
“Ouch.” His smile blocked all rational thought. “Guess that makes me not-so-wise, but seriously, it’s nice to see you.”
“Likewise.” They shared an awkward moment of silence, gazes meeting, then breaking, only to meet up again. Unable to cope with her awareness of his size, and how easy it was to recall every detail of their kiss, she struggled to remember her reason for being at his home. “I, um, brought you a book, but left it in the bathroom.” Hitching her thumb that way, she said, “I’ll go get it.”
“Let me,” he said, already halfway there. “You have a seat.”
She did, but mostly because of her rubbery knees than because he’d asked.
“This is great,” he called from the hall. Entering the living room, he flipped through the glossy pages. “I ordered one online, but it hasn’t come. Where’d you find it?”
“Yard sale. It was only a quarter, but I thought you might enjoy thumbing through.”
“I will. Thanks. Ethiopia doesn’t get a lot of coverage on travel sites.”
“Are you afraid of violence?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I’ll be working with a major oil player, though, so there will be security.” He sat on the opposite end of the sofa to her, still leafing through his gift. “The poverty aspect is tough, too. It bothers me that we’ll have the latest in gadgetry and freeze-dried gourmet when the locals are barely scraping by. But then on the flip side, our base camp is set up at a safari resort. Up until researching this trip, I never would’ve thought anyone went to Ethiopia on vacation. Turns out it’s a beautiful country.”
“Hmm…” Reflective, with her hand over her tummy, Natalie said, “All in all, it still sounds like a wonderful adventure, which is why I’m so miffed with your mom. She called you horrible and selfish for leaving.”
His only reaction was to shrug. “She’s told me her opinion to my face. At first, it stung. Now, I’m over it.”
“Still… Have you considered letting her in on your reasons for leaving?”
“Next topic.” He added a couple logs to the fire. “In general, how was the party?”
“The usual. Over-the-top food, decorations and conversation. When I left, Daisy was counting how many times she’d seen contractor ‘cracks’ at her new house. They had to tear down the new north wing and start over.”
He winced. “Makes me doubly glad I missed it.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” she said, “why didn’t you at least want to spend time with your brothers?”
Stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles, he took his sweet time to answer. “Suffice to say it’s complicated.”
“I do have my master’s in counseling.”
He snorted. “That your not-so-subtle way of comparing my brainpower to that of a third grader?”
“Wyatt, I’m serious.” Though the rain outside fell harder, his complexion appeared red and overheated. “I get that your issues must be like a slow death inside, but you can’t run forever—well, you could, but you’d miss out on a lot.”
“Master’s or not,” he said, “feel free to drop it. You’re making me wish I’d never told you.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you?” he snapped. “You sit there judging me when you already have the one gift I never will. Think about it.”
Throat tight, Natalie sighed. She slipped on her shoes and coat and made it all the way to the door without him saying a word.
She’d just stepped back out in the rain when Wyatt called, “Hey, Nat?”
“Yes?” Was it wrong for her to hope he’d repair the gaping hole now between them?
“Thanks again for the book, but it’s probably best you don’t come around anymore.”
Chapter Four
“Look how big you’re getting.”
Thanksgiving morning, Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as he crouched in front of his mother’s fireplace. Josie patted Natalie’s growing baby bump and for whatever reason, the sight irked the hell out of him. She hadn’t been that pregnant last time he’d seen her, had she?
“I know.” Natalie raised her shirt to show off elastic-banded black slacks. “I had to go up a size in maternity pants. Suffice to say, my secret is completely out.”
“You look adorable,” Josie gushed. “Almost makes me want to have another baby.”
Laughing, Natalie said, “You might want to consult Dallas about that.”
As if he weren’t even in the room, the two women chatted right past him. Just as well, Wyatt figured while he lit kindling in the hearth. His latest conversation with Natalie still stung. Issues? What the hell did she know about what he was going through? If she’d tried for years to have a baby, but kept miscarrying, would she find it enjoyable to hang with the most fertile family in Oklahoma?
Just as soon as his Thanksgiving duties were over, he was heading to Tulsa. The Mayo Hotel had a rooftop bar. He’d get a room, a few drinks, meet a hot woman looking for a good time. With luck, they’d share fun and breakfast. Time to act like the eligible bachelor he was.
At dinner, his seven-year-old niece Bonnie turned to him and said, “Uncle Wyatt?”
“Yes, ma’am?” He helped himself to seconds of green bean casserole.
“Could you please cut my meat?” She held up a thick slice of turkey and waved it.
“Just eat it like that.”
“I can’t.” She dredged her free fingers through gravy, then licked them like lollipops. “It’s bad manners.”
“And what you’re doing isn’t?” he asked.
Betsy, her twin, who sat on his other side, said, “She likes eating her gravy like that. Me, too.”
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