The Pregnant Ms. Potter. Millie Criswell
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“I didn’t think you liked country living.” He clucked a few times and hitched the reins, urging the horse through the thick accumulation. The old sleigh’s rudders glided along, slicing through the snow like a hot knife through butter.
“I don’t, but I like the country. Besides, this is different country from where I grew up. We didn’t have all these pretty trees and mountains. Iowa’s pretty flat.” Her mother used to say that if you stood at one end of the state you could see clear over to the other side.
Maddy started humming Jingle Bells. It seemed appropriate, considering this was her very first time to go “dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh.” Her enthusiasm was catching and Pete soon found himself humming the same tune, then singing out loud in a deep baritone voice. They were laughing like giddy teenagers as they finished the second verse.
“What kind of tree do you want to cut?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t felt so carefree in years. It felt good. Damn good!
“A fir, natch. Is there any other kind?”
“Not to me, but I thought I’d be polite and ask anyway.”
She was tempted to remark that they had a lot in common, but knew that wasn’t really true. Pete was content to raise his animals and live a quiet kind of life. Maddy’d had that kind of life once before. She hadn’t liked it then, and it was doubtful she’d like it now, though admittedly she found her surroundings breathtakingly beautiful. And breathing in the pure mountain air was a welcome relief from the pollution of New York City.
They spotted a stand of fir trees a short distance ahead, and Maddy pointed enthusiastically. “There’s the one we should get. Do you see it? That big one over there, next to the decaying tree stump.”
Pete’s gaze rose up and up, and his eyes widened as he pulled the sleigh to a halt. “Are you crazy? That tree’s too tall. It’ll never fit in the family room. The ceilings are only twelve feet high.”
“But you could trim just a bit off the top and bottom, couldn’t you? I could help.”
He rubbed his chin, considering. “I doubt if I have enough lights and ornaments for such a huge tree, Maddy.” And there was also the problem of dragging it home. He doubted the old sleigh could take the strain.
She gazed imploringly at him. “But we could—”
“Improvise,” he finished with a wry grin. “Got it.”
“Oh, look—mistletoe! We’ll need some to hang in the doorway.” Then noting his odd look, she blushed, embarrassed by what he must be thinking. “I’m sorry. I guess we don’t—”
“We should have mistletoe,” he agreed. “It’s traditional, right?” And one never knew when it would come in handy.
Watch it, Taggart! You’re heading down a dangerous path.
But Pete couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like some strange spell had been cast on him and he was powerless to resist.
Maddy, the Madison Avenue witch, was proving downright intoxicating.
“I TOLD YOU IT WOULDN’T fit.”
Gazing at the huge tree, which took up half of the family room, Maddy’s eyes lit with appreciation. They’d had to move most of the furniture to the other side to accommodate it, but the effort had been worth it. “It’s beautiful.” She smiled happily. “Just perfect. And once it’s decorated it’s going to look even better.”
Pete looked skeptical. As he’d suspected, the Douglas Fir was much too big for the room. And it was a big room! “I can see you’re not the kind of woman to give up on an idea once you put your mind to it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “How do you think I became successful in a male-dominated profession?”
“I’ll need to trim a bit more off the top, if we’re going to put the angel up there. Then I can start hanging the lights.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll go and bake us some cookies. If it’s okay to use the oven, that is. I hope so, because you can’t have a tree-trimming party without cookies.”
“Might as well go ahead. And having cookies to eat will make the chore of decorating the tree somewhat palatable.” And he knew John would most likely bring extra gas when he came over to check up on him. His younger brother was worse than a mother hen.
“It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”
He shook his head. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to be tired all the time. You seem to be bursting with energy.”
“I refuse to let this pregnancy slow me down. Having a baby’s as natural as breathing, right?” She’d mentally challenged herself not to have any more bouts of morning sickness. So far she’d been successful. “I bet your great-grandma Maggie was out plowing fields right after she birthed those big strapping sons of hers.”
“Maybe branding cows. But Maggie would never have pushed a plow. The woman was a rancher, not a farmer.”
“Whatever,” Maddy said, not caring much about the distinction as she sailed out of the room.
City girl, he reminded himself. And would keep reminding himself whenever he started getting stupid ideas. He’d been having a lot of stupid ideas lately where Maddy was concerned.
He and Maddy Potter were about as different as any two people could be. He’d be wise to remember that fact.
Pete was up to his ears in lights and tree branches when Maddy floated back into the room an hour later, carrying a large tray laden with coffee and cookies. “Time for a break, Santa. I’ve brought treats.”
He descended the tall ladder, looking disheveled and twice as frustrated. “We’ve only got enough lights for the top half of the tree. It’s gonna look ugly. I tried to—”
She held a cookie out to him. The sweet smell of vanilla wafted up, and he inhaled deeply before taking it. “It’s going to be perfectly lovely. Once we get on the decorations you’re not going to notice how many lights there are. Besides, we’re not entering a contest. We’re merely doing this for our own enjoyment. Are you this much of a perfectionist about everything?”
He bit into his cookie and plopped down onto the sofa next to her. “Mmm. These are good.” A fire was blazing in the large stone fireplace. His parents had added the large family room three years before his dad’s death, and it was his favorite room in the old house. The bank of windows at the rear allowed in plenty of light, affording a magnificent view of the gently rolling landscape and mountains beyond.
“Yep. Can’t stand not being the best at everything. Just ask my brothers. It drives them nuts.” He seemed pleased by that notion and reached for a handful of cookies.
“I’d be happy to ask your brothers. When do you think I’ll get to meet them?” She hoped soon, because she doubted she’d be around too much longer. The thought saddened her.
Get real, Maddy! You’ve already made one huge mistake. Don’t compound it by making another. Pete Taggart’s got more baggage than Grand Central Station. And so do you, for that matter!
“I suspect now that the snow’s let up John’ll be making his way over to check up on me. He’s the worrywart of the family, too conscientious for his own good. He has a snowmobile, so he can get around better than most.”
“And is this adventurous, worrywart-of-a-brother of yours married?”
“Nope. John’s still a bachelor. Don’t think he dates that much. All of his passion’s been poured into his animals and veterinary clinic. He’s a fine vet. Sweetheart’s lucky to have him.”
“So all three of the Taggart men are single? And the only eligible woman for miles around is the spinster librarian? Does that about sum it up?”
He grinned sheepishly.