Baby My Baby (A Ranching Family) (6 page)

Beth weaved her way slowly through the racks of clothes, keeping an eye on her former husband to make sure he was doing as he’d said he would and staying on the furniture side.

He was. In fact he was so interested in reading a potty-chair box that he seemed unaware she was around at all. Reassured by that, she nabbed a saleslady and asked for assistance with bras.

Unfortunately, the saleswoman, one of the few people in Elk Creek she didn’t know, happened to have a very loud voice. Beth had asked if bras existed that could expand along with her body so she wouldn’t have to replace them again from now until the end of her pregnancy, and the woman’s answering lecture might as well have been given over a loudspeaker.

Standing near the rack the woman had led her to, Beth shot a glance at Ash. This time his interest was not in potty chairs. It was on Beth. Specifically, on her breasts, as he apparently checked for evidence of the need for this particular new underwear. And to make matters worse, she felt the heat of his gaze like a blast furnace.

Damn him!

Damn the saleswoman!

Damn herself for responding to the appreciation in his expression and the awful memories of having more than his gaze on her and how good it had felt once upon a time!

“Thanks for your help but I’ll just browse myself now if you don’t mind,” she said in a hurry, taking a step behind a turnstile as she spoke. And if her tone was abrupt and offended the woman, at that moment she didn’t care. Her only concern was for stopping the loud talk of engorged breasts and ultrasensitive nipples, and escaping from Ash’s view of exactly those two things.

Hidden behind the rack, Beth looked for a back door to slip out of so she could escape. There wasn’t one and she had no choice but to tough this one out, too. But, Lord, how she wished she’d never come into this store! The fact that this errand had turned into one of the most embarrassing of her life seemed a direct result of Asher Blackwolf and his stubbornness.

Damn him anyway.

He was making her sorry she’d ever told him about the baby. He didn’t have any business here. Not in Elk Creek. Not in this store. Not in her life. And she was going to tell him so, she decided as she searched for her size and snatched three bras off their hangers. She was going to tell him in no uncertain terms to get out of town, that she’d keep him informed about the baby, but that was as far as she would go with him and he’d better just accept it.

And if he didn’t?

Then she’d leave. She’d pack up in the middle of the night and she’d disappear. She wouldn’t even let her brothers know where she was so there was no risk of one of them telling Asher Blackwolf.

Damn him anyway!

But then she stepped from behind the turnstile and caught sight of him again.

And some of the steam fizzled out of her.

He wasn’t watching her anymore. He was studying a crib. Very intently. Very seriously. Checking its sturdiness. Checking the movement of the side and how secure it was when it was up. Checking the width of the gaps between the spindled bars.

And there was something very touching about the big man so intent in thoughts of his child’s safety that it gave her heart quite a lurch.

Damn him anyway...

It struck her then that he was going to love this baby, just the way she was. Just the way she already did. That no matter what he’d thought or said before, now that it was on the way, he really did want it.

He really did want to be included in it all. And she knew she had to accept that, in spite of her own feelings about him. Feelings she was just going to have to control. No matter how difficult that might be.

Because regardless of what was between them, she couldn’t deny him the pleasure of planning for this baby any more than she could deny him the baby itself after it was born.

But she could keep hoping something would distract him or call him away, to ease the burden of those feelings for a man who no longer wanted her.

The saleswoman recovered from her pique at Beth’s curt dismissal and returned to take the bras to the register. She was still in a bit of a huff, which subdued her enthusiasm and, thankfully, her voice, so that Beth managed to pay for her underwear without more embarrassment.

When the transaction was complete, the baby furniture seemed to call to her, too, and she joined Ash.

“I think we should buy this set, tie it to the roof of the car and take it with us,” he informed her decisively over an oak dresser, crib and matching changing table.

“It’s too soon for that. And even if it wasn’t, until Linc and Danny move in with Kansas, there’s no room for it all.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but it seemed viable. The truth was that something about the purchase made Beth feel uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that she had any more than the usual concerns about carrying the baby to full term or delivering a healthy infant; this had more to do with Ash. With the awkwardness of their situation. With her unwanted and unrealistic wish that they were choosing furniture to put in the nursery of the home they’d share with their child instead of the house she shared with her brothers.

“I don’t think it’s too soon,” Ash persisted, oblivious to her thoughts and lost in his own. “But if you don’t like it, maybe I’ll have it sent to my place.”

Everything seemed to stand still for Beth. “Your place?”

“Sure. I’ll need the whole setup, too. For when the baby is with me on the reservation.”

Beth felt as if he’d hit her. Hard.

She could barely breathe, let alone respond to that. All she could do was turn and leave behind the store, Ash and the beautiful furniture while she dealt with the sudden harsh realization that he was right, that there would actually be times when she would have to hand over her baby to him.

Somehow, in all of her previous thinking, that hadn’t occurred to her. She’d pictured the baby with her. She pictured Ash spending—at most—a few hours or an afternoon with it. Not actually taking it across the state for days or weeks or
months...

Outside she took long gulps of air to fight off the tears and anger that were tearing at her insides like claws.

“Beth?” Ash came out of the store behind her, his voice and expression rife with concern.

She wanted to shout at him, to scream that this baby was hers, that he could visit with it but that he couldn’t buy furniture and set up a nursery and take her baby away!

But of course the rational part of her knew he could. That he would. That being the father would not be limited to visits.

“Are you all right?” he asked with an edge of panic to his voice.

“I’m going home” was all she could say, heading off around him with no idea of how she was going to get there.

But for the second time Ash stopped her, taking both her shoulders in his big hands and bringing her face-to-face with him. “Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?”

“No!” she yelled, trying to yank free of his grip, but he was holding her too tight to manage it. “I just want to go home.”

The concern in his features edged toward confusion, but she had no intention of enlightening him. What could she say, after all? That she was feeling selfish and possessive and couldn’t bear the fact that this baby she was carrying might say its first word or take its first step during his time with it instead of hers? That the reality of sharing this child had just struck her like a ton of bricks?

“I just want to go home,” she repeated.

“Then let’s go,” Ash answered, turning her in the direction of his car.

Neither of them said any more as they drove back to the ranch. Beth was lost in her own thoughts, her own regrets that this baby would be brought into such a complicated situation. By the time Ash pulled up in front of the house she wanted only to go in and be alone.

But he wasn’t having any of that. He insisted that he wasn’t leaving until he’d made sure she had a well-balanced meal and really was okay.

And so they fixed dinner together. Ash barbecued two steaks while Beth prepared a salad, a fruit cup and sliced bread, all in silence, punctuated with loud closings of cupboard doors and the clattering of dishes, glasses and silverware placed heavily on the kitchen table.

She could feel Ash watching her as if he thought she’d lost her mind and might run screaming into the night at any moment, but it didn’t matter. She almost felt as if she
could
run screaming into the night at any moment.

“Are you going to let me know what I did wrong?” he finally asked as they began to eat.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, her tone belying the words.

“You always have a violent reaction to the suggestion of buying baby furniture, is that it? Is something wrong that you aren’t telling me?”

“Everything is fine. Just drop it.”

Still, his black eyes bored into her while he chewed a bite of steak. “Do you want this baby, Beth?”

Her own fork stopped halfway to her mouth as she stared back at him. “Of course I want this baby. Not having one of our own was your plan, not mine.”

Both his bushy eyebrows rose at that. “You never disagreed with it. If you wanted to have a baby, why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t really think you’d ever find a big enough break in your schedule to work it in either way.”

“But what if I had? Would you have just gone along with the adoption idea and resented it rather than speak up and tell me how you felt?”

“I didn’t say I resented anything.”

“You didn’t
say
a damn thing.”

She merely went on eating without saying anything now, either.

He frowned at her. “Did you get pregnant on purpose?”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do something like that, in the first place. And in the second place, why on earth would I have willingly gotten myself into what’s a long, long way from being ideal circumstances to bring a child into?”

“But you do want it now that it’s on the way?”

“I said I did.”

“You just don’t want to buy a crib for it.”

He wasn’t going to get her to admit to what had hurt her in that maternity shop. To let him know that the idea of his taking the baby to the reservation was a weakness she had, a vulnerable spot. No way. Never. Shag Heller’s daughter knew better than that.

“It’s just too soon,” she repeated.

He went on watching her as if he knew she was lying but didn’t understand why.

Beth wished he’d leave. That he’d take his finely chiseled bones and his penetrating eyes and his broad shoulders hugged by that tight T-shirt and get out of her kitchen, her town and her life once and for all.

He finished eating and pushed his plate away, resting his hands on the table where his fingers drummed against the top in a slow rhythm.

She stared at those hands with their long, blunt fingers and she had a flash of what they felt like against her bare skin. Against her breasts. Against her nipples that were erect and straining within the too-small confines of her bra.

And then she noticed something else.

She noticed that there was a very faint tan line on the third finger of his left hand where his wedding ring used to be. And two things struck her. One—that he must not have taken it off until recently, even though the divorce had been final for a long time.

And, two—that even though it might have been belated—or even reluctant—he
had
taken it off.

And that fact was yet another jab at her heart.

Of course it was unreasonable. They were divorced. She’d taken off her rings, certainly he had to take off his.

But somehow, looking at that bare finger, where she’d once placed his ring, where it had stayed throughout their marriage, was painful, and she felt tears well up behind her eyes.

As she fought them, he spoke again and she had the sense that he could see some of what was going on inside her, because his deep voice was very quiet, very solemn, raising the lid on more unwanted feelings. “I wish that, just once, you’d let me know what’s going on with you. Did you ever think that I might be able to make even one thing easier if you did?”

She snatched up her plate and took it to the sink. “You could make things easier for me if you’d go back to the reservation and leave me alone,” she said, meaning for it to be curt and cold, yet it came out softly, almost a plea.

She set her plate on the counter, but she didn’t turn back to him. She stared down into the sink as pure weariness washed through her and splashed against the tension in her neck like tidal waves against rocky cliffs.

“Why can’t you just go away?” she nearly whispered, digging her own fingers into her nape.

She heard his chair scrape back and the sound of his heels on the tile floor as he came up behind her.

He stopped very near and took her hands away to replace them with his, kneading the tension with strong, capable fingers that seemed to know the exact spot and the perfect pressure to ease the taut muscles and tendons.

Her gazillionth wish for that day was that it didn’t feel so wonderful or work so well.

But it did, and little by little she felt herself relax beneath his expert ministrations, even leaning toward him until she was almost resting against the hard expanse of his torso.

“I only want to help,” he said in a husky voice, just before he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck with warm lips.

And then, somehow, she was facing him, gazing up into his inscrutable eyes as his mouth lowered to hers, capturing hers in a kiss that had nothing to do with stress relief.

She knew this kiss well. The tenderness in it. The anticipation. The sweetness before the storm of passion. And more than being familiar, it awakened things inside her that had no business being awake. Desires. Yearnings. Cravings for what she knew could be so good between them.

But it was the only thing that was any good between them, and she also knew that indulging in it would only further complicate an already too-complicated situation.

Besides, deep inside she carried with her the vivid memory of the loneliness that had followed that last time they’d made love, the loneliness of her entire marriage to him. Nothing was worth revisiting that.