Brenda Harlen

Maverick Christmas Surprise


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      “One. A six-and-a-half-year-old daughter.”

      “There’s no better teacher than experience,” Beth said. “But in the absence of experience, there are some good childcare books that help. Leighton had about half a dozen beside her bed when she was pregnant.”

      She didn’t tell him that she’d bought the books for her sister, or admit that Leighton hadn’t cracked the covers on most of them. Because her sister had never been a fan of book learning—preferring to figure things out as she went along.

      “I have to admit, that surprises me a little,” he told her. “The Leighton I knew wasn’t really the maternal type.”

      “I wouldn’t have thought so, either,” she admitted, as she settled into a chair at the table to give Cody his bottle. “But everything changed when she found out she was pregnant.”

      Wilder grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the carafe on a warming burner. “Are you a coffee drinker?” he asked.

      “Only on days ending in a ‘y,’” she told him.

      He chuckled at that as he reached for another mug, then filled it with the steaming brew.

      “Cream? Sugar?”

      “Cream, please.”

      He opened the fridge to retrieve the carton, then added a splash to her cup and set it in front of her.

      “Thanks.” She lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. “That’s good and strong.”

      “It’s the only way my dad knows how to make it.”

      “So this is his house?” she guessed.

      Wilder nodded. “When we first moved to Rust Creek Falls, in the summer, Xander and Finn lived here, too. But Xander and Lily have their own place closer to town now, and Finn and Avery renovated a cabin on the far side of the property, so it’s just me and my dad left.”

      “So you’ve got three brothers?” She wasn’t just making conversation; she was genuinely curious to learn more about his family, who might prove to be her nephew’s family, too.

      “No, I’ve got five brothers.”

       “Five?”

      He nodded.

      “Wow. Six boys. Your mom obviously had her hands full,” she remarked.

      “Maybe that’s why she took off before my first birthday,” he noted.

       Chapter Four

      Beth winced. “I’m sorry.”

      Wilder immediately waved off her apology. “No reason to be. You couldn’t know.”

      “All the more reason not to speak without thinking.” Then, in an apparent effort to smooth over the awkwardness, she quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about your brothers.”

      He responded readily, happy not to delve any deeper into the details of his mother’s abandonment—especially when he honestly didn’t know most of them. “Logan, the oldest, is married to Sarah. Hunter’s a year younger, the one with the six-and-a-half-year-old daughter, and now engaged to Merry—that’s with a capital ‘M’ followed by an ‘e,’” he clarified. “Although I suppose it’s also accurate the other way, too.

      “Anyway, next after Hunter is Xander, who’s married to Lily. Then there’s Finn, who’s married to Avery and expecting a baby in the spring, and finally Knox, who’s married to Gen.”

      “So all of your brothers are married or engaged,” she mused.

      He nodded.

      “You’re not feeling any pressure to follow in their footsteps?”

      “Not at all. I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is,” he assured her.

      Then his gaze slid in Cody’s direction, and when it shifted back again, the look on Beth’s face told him she knew that what he really meant was that he’d been perfectly happy with his life the way it was.

      He turned to the fridge, away from her knowing expression. “I promised you food,” he said. “What are you in the mood for?”

      “Oh, um, just some toast would be fine,” she said, as she settled into a chair at the table and positioned the bottle close to the baby’s mouth. Cody immediately latched onto the nipple and began sucking.

      “How about a sandwich?” he suggested.

      “That sounds even better,” she agreed.

      “Do you like turkey?”

      “Almost as much as coffee.”

      He pulled a cellophane-covered platter from the refrigerator.

      “That’s a lot of turkey,” she noted.

      “We had a full house for the Christmas meal, so my dad insisted on two birds to ensure we’d have leftover for sandwiches,” he explained.

      “I’d love a turkey sandwich—if you’re sure he wouldn’t mind sharing,” Beth said.

      “There’s plenty.” He pulled the plastic wrap off the meat. “I guess you didn’t get to enjoy Christmas dinner, did you?”

      She shook her head. “I mostly fueled myself on coffee and doughnuts.”

      More coffee than doughnuts, Wilder guessed, with a glance at her thin frame. He generally preferred the women he dated to look like women, with curves rather than angles. Beth was all angles, and yet, there was something about her—an innate warmth and sweetness that appealed to him.

      The observation made him frown. Because while he appreciated the female form in various shapes and sizes, Beth wasn’t a female to be ogled—she was Cody’s aunt. Leighton’s sister.

      And definitely not his type.

      “White or dark meat?” he asked, turning his attention back to his task.

      “Either or,” she said. “And I can make my own sandwich.”

      “You’re feeding the baby,” he noted. “And that’s something I’m not so good at.”

      “Your brother didn’t give you a tutorial?” she teased.

      “Apparently I’m not a very quick learner.”

      Beth smiled at that. “You’re lucky your family is so supportive.”

      “Is ‘supportive’ another word for ‘nosy and interfering?’”

      “When it comes to family relationships, there’s often some overlap,” she acknowledged.

      “Is your family supportive?”

      “There’s just me and Leighton—and Cody—now,” she told him. “Our parents were killed during a bank robbery gone wrong almost ten years ago. Innocent bystanders.”

      Though the words were spoken matter-of-factly, the flatness of her tone suggested that the passage of time had done little to dull the heartache. As someone who’d grown up without a mother, he understood how the pain of loss could linger and wished he could take back the question.

      “I’m sorry,” he said instead, sounding and feeling awkward.

      “Thanks.” She eased the nipple of the already empty bottle from the baby’s mouth and turned him onto her shoulder, gently rubbing his back.

      Was it a maternal instinct that allowed women to anticipate and respond to an infant’s needs? Or was it, as his brother had suggested, a parenting instinct? In which case, it was an instinct that Wilder obviously lacked.

      “He