Kidnapped At Christmas. Barb Han

the house before Wyatt could catch up to her.

      Inside, she made a beeline for the kitchen to prepare a bottle, which was difficult while trying to soothe a crying baby. Meg had more experience than she cared to think about, and a rogue thought had her wishing for a partner to help. Not just a partner, her mind protested—the child’s father. Wow, her thoughts were careening out of control.

      Aubrey belted out a cry that made Meg’s heart fist.

      “You’re okay,” she soothed, gently bouncing up and down while finagling the formula and the bottle. She couldn’t breastfeed and feared that was one hit in what would be a long line of disappointments for her daughter.

      Meg also noted that in seeing the cowboy, as Stephanie had called him, again that she longed for ridiculous things like a family and a home. What would she want next? A minivan? A dog?

      Where would that leave all the families who depended on her? And where would that leave her heart when the fairy tale didn’t come true?

      If her own mother could walk out on her and not look back, why would anyone else stick around?

      * * *

      “I HAVE A right to see Meg and her baby,” Wyatt insisted. He already realized convincing Meg’s friend to let him inside the house was a losing battle and he should walk away, give the situation some breathing room. He could admit to being part bull when he decided to dig his heels in. His were firmly ground this time.

      “I’m really sorry. She needs time,” Stephanie said.

      Arguing wasn’t going to do any good, but Wyatt almost laughed out loud at the thought Meg needed time. “How much? Another year?” There was more anger and frustration in his tone than he’d intended.

      Stephanie shrugged.

      “She’s already had...what?...nine months, plus the baby is how old? How much more time does she need,” he countered, clinging to his sinking ship. Wyatt didn’t normally lose his cool. He’d built a million-dollar chain of taco stands because of his ability to make good decisions under pressure. As much as he tried to convince himself this was no different, he failed.

      Another helpless shrug came from Stephanie.

      The timer he’d set on his phone beeped. If he didn’t get going he’d miss his meeting with the Butler family. He was tempted to walk away from all of this, from all of Cattle Barge, and never look back. Hell, he had enough on his plate as it was with the expansion of his taco chain. His intention in Cattle Barge had been simple. Put to rest once and for all the fact that he wanted nothing to do with being a Butler, and maybe have a little hot sex with an old flame. Okay, since he was baring his soul, he wanted to have a lot of hot sex with the woman he couldn’t seem to keep out of his thoughts in the past year. But that was about as realistic as getting water from a rock. Or, in this case, walking inside that house.

      Seeing Meg hold a baby—potentially his baby—should’ve been a bucket of ice water on the fire between them. Should’ve been. He was scratching his head as to why that didn’t seem to be the case.

      “She has my cell. If I don’t hear from her in the next few hours I’m coming back and I’m walking inside that door,” he warned.

      “Understood.” Stephanie’s hands came up, palms out, in the surrender position. “Like I said before I’m sorry for my friend. I think we’ve all had a rough morning and need a little time to calm down and sort this mess out.”

      Since pressuring Stephanie for answers was as smart and productive as firing the guy who runs the cash register because the girl on the line messed up, he decided to cut his losses.

      “Fine. I’ll be back,” he said, realizing it came off more as a threat than a promise.

      Wyatt stalked to his truck and took his seat, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

      Next up?

      Deal with the Butlers.

      Wyatt would thank Stephanie for her help when he returned. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in this predicament, and he didn’t need to take his frustration out on her. He could’ve done a better job handling his emotions when talking to Meg. There were a few words he’d take back if he could in hindsight.

      In his defense, this situation was emotionally charged without the attempted kidnapping. This also made him wonder if Meg and her baby were safe. He scanned the area. There weren’t many houses on this stretch of farm road. He’d been grateful for his truck, given the drive in. Stretches of road needed maintenance. Maybe he could convince Meg to move closer to town when she was thinking straight again. Being closer to supplies and conveniences would be better for her and the baby.

      Whoa. Where’d all that come from?

      Where Meg chose to live with her daughter was her business. The little girl in the house had gotten to him. He could admit it. Even though he still wasn’t ready to believe she was his child, she seemed like a good baby. A sweet helpless little thing. She’d done nothing to provoke a criminal to rip her out of Stephanie’s arms. Something had been bugging him since leaving the sheriff’s office. The sheriff seemed intent on Meg, but the baby had been taken from Stephanie. What was going on with Sawmill?