Maverick Christmas Surprise

Though he had no reason to doubt her claim that she was Leighton’s sister, he couldn’t see any obvious family resemblance. Leighton was a spirited blonde, and his first impression of Lisbeth was of a solemn brunette. With her messy ponytail and shapeless coat, Beth bore no physical resemblance to her curvy sister with the infectious laugh and lust for life.

And yet, there was something about Beth that sparked an unexpected—and unwanted—awareness inside him. Or maybe it was her obvious connection to her nephew that tugged at him. She’d wasted no time in making the trip from Dallas to Rust Creek Falls when she learned that he was there, which made him wonder again why Leighton had made the same trip to leave her baby with him when she had a sister who obviously would have been happy to care for the kid.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get an answer to that question—or any other questions—tonight. So he reached for the baby, intending to return him to the crib. Beth’s arms instinctively tightened around the baby and her eyes flew open—a warrior ready to battle.

“I’m just putting him back in his bed so that you can go to yours,” he told her.

She blinked, and he noticed then that she had really pretty eyes—the color of dark chocolate and fringed by a sweep of long, dark lashes.

Those lashes fluttered again as the confusion slowly cleared from her gaze. “Oh. Okay.” She whispered her response as she finally relinquished her hold. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”

“You can sleep now,” he said, as she rose from the chair.

She nodded. “Thank you. For letting me stay here tonight.”

He didn’t point out that the offer had been born of necessity rather than kindness, because he couldn’t have her knocking on the door of Strickland’s Boarding House at this late hour. And the only other option nearby was Maverick Manor, but he’d heard the owner proudly remark that the hotel was fully booked through the holidays.

“Go.” He steered her toward the open doorway across the hall. “There’s an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste in the adjoining bathroom, if you need them.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He turned back to peek at the baby again, exhaling a weary sigh of relief that the little guy was still sleeping soundly—at least for the moment—before starting toward his own room.

Thanks to the attention and efforts of his family, the baby had been well cared for the previous day. But eventually they’d all headed back to their own homes, leaving Wilder and his dad alone with the infant.

As a father of six boys, Max had had more than his fair share of experience with diapers and bottles, but he’d insisted that this baby was his youngest son’s responsibility. Wilder didn’t think it was fair that his father was willing to assume that he was the kid’s dad just because some woman had scrawled his name at the top of the note.

“And because you admitted that you had a relationship with the mother,” Max had explained, when Wilder challenged the assumption of paternity.

He couldn’t deny that argument had some merit. That it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility that he could be the father.

And that possibility scared the bejeezus out of him.

And if Leighton had paused long enough to consider the implications of that possibility before depositing her child at his door, it would have scared the bejeezus out of her, too.

What had she been thinking?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question was probably that she hadn’t been thinking.

By her own admission, she wasn’t much of a planner. It was more fun, she’d once told him, to live in the moment and embrace whatever surprises life had in store for her.

When Wilder had confided that he wasn’t a big fan of surprises, she’d surprised the heck out of him by inviting him back to her place.

And yeah, he’d liked that surprise.

This “surprise, you’re a daddy” thing—not so much.

And if he really was the kid’s dad...well, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little guy, because there was no chance Wilder was ever going to win a “Father of the Year” award.

Chapter Three (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)

Beth didn’t remember her head hitting the pillow.

She fell asleep quickly and slept deeply, and when she opened her eyes again, the clock on the bedside table read 12:48 p.m.

Certain that number couldn’t be accurate, she pressed the button on the side of her watch to illuminate its face.

12:48.

She jolted upright, shocked to realize that she’d slept for almost fourteen hours!

Her first thought after that: Cody.

She immediately pushed back the covers and hurried across the hall. Her heart, which had been pounding furiously against her ribs, settled into a more normal rhythm when she found her nephew in the crib, sleeping soundly.

She didn’t believe for a minute that he was still sleeping. More likely, Cody had been up at 6 a.m.—as was his habit—and was now down for his second nap of the day. And because he was napping, she decided to steal a few more minutes for herself and indulge in a hot shower.

And it was an indulgence. She had no idea how old or new the house was, but it was apparent that the bathroom had been recently renovated with a mosaic tile floor and glass-walled shower. She stood for a long time beneath the rainfall shower head, letting the warm water wash over her body, easing the tension and aches in her muscles.

She used the shampoo and bodywash in the enclosure, as her own toiletries were in the duffel bag that she’d left in her car. Which meant that the change of clothes she’d packed for her overnight stay at her sister’s apartment was still in the car, too.

As she wrapped herself in a thick, fluffy towel from the heated rack, she considered that ranching was obviously a much more lucrative profession than teaching. Not that she’d ever trade her class of kindergarteners for a field of cows, but she suspected that her sister might not have been so quick to discount the idea of spending her life with a cowboy if she’d known Wilder was a wealthy cowboy.

Of course, thinking about Leighton led to worrying about Leighton, even though Beth knew it was an exercise in futility. She had no way of getting in touch with her sister, so all she could do was monitor her social media accounts, check in with her friends and wait for Leighton to contact her—and ensure that Cody was taken care of while he waited for his mom to come back.

Because Leighton would come back. Notwithstanding what she’d written in the note she’d left with Cody, Beth knew that her sister wouldn’t abandon her baby. She loved him too much.

Reassured by this internal pep talk, Beth toweled off and got dressed in her old clothes. As she finished towel-drying her hair, she heard voices across the hall in her nephew’s temporary bedroom.

No, only one voice, she realized.

Deep and masculine, murmuring in a quiet tone.

Wilder’s voice.

Her heart skipped a beat then, as it had the night before when he’d appeared in the door: six-feet-plus of rugged masculinity that, even in her worried and sleep-deprived state, she couldn’t help but respond to.

She’d had two brief conversations with him: the first on the telephone, when he’d called looking for Leighton, and the second last night, when she’d arrived at the ranch, unannounced and uninvited. Although she should have been expected, as she’d told him she’d be on her way to Rust Creek Falls to get her nephew as soon as possible. Regardless, Wilder had been more hospitable than she’d had any right to expect.

Or maybe he’d been relieved to see her. Because standing in the doorway of the room across the hall, it was obvious to Beth that this cowboy had absolutely no clue how to take care of a baby.

“I know you can’t do this on your own,” Wilder said to the baby. “But is it too much to ask for just a little bit of cooperation?”

Of course Cody didn’t respond, and Beth stayed quiet, too, watching as Wilder struggled to get the baby’s legs out of his sleeper, opting to stretch the fabric rather than attempt to bend his limbs.

When that was finally done, he unsnapped the fasteners of the onesie and peeled it back to reveal the diaper.

“Or maybe this is some kind of test that only someone worthy of being called Mommy or Daddy can figure out,” Wilder considered, as he opened the Velcro tabs. “And I think it’s pretty obvious to both of us by now that I’m not worthy.”