A Baby in His Stocking

“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.”