A Cold Creek Baby. RaeAnne Thayne
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her into with his stupidity and his out-of-control desire.
“I put fresh sheets on your bed. You’re good to go.”
“Thanks. I’m okay, though.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “Go ahead and sleep for a couple of hours. I can keep an eye on the baby while I work on ranch accounts, at least for a little while until Burt and the boys get here.”
Burt McMasters was the longtime foreman of the ranch who had taken over the job after Easton’s father and mother were killed in a car accident when she was sixteen.
Cisco had already enlisted in the Marines at the time of their accident and was stationed across the country. He had flown home for their double funeral and Easton’s devastated grief had destroyed him. Completely wiped him out. The moment he walked into the ranch house, she had flown into his arms and sobbed as if she had only been keeping herself together until he showed up.
“I don’t need two hours,” he said now, pushing the grim memory aside. “Just one should charge me up for the rest of the day. If you don’t mind keeping an eye on Belle, I would really appreciate it.”
She gave him a critical look and he knew he looked like crap on a stick. He felt like it, too. His head throbbed and the quick sandwich he’d grabbed at an all-night drive-up somewhere in northern Utah sat like greasy tar in his stomach.
Easton opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it again abruptly. “Sure. Take an hour,” she finally said. “Burt and I have some things to do later in the morning, but I’m free until then.”
“I didn’t bring Belle here to find a free babysitter.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
He could hear the unspoken question in her voice about why he did bring the baby there. He couldn’t answer it.
His vision seemed to be growing hazy around the edges and he knew if he didn’t find a horizontal surface soon he was going to embarrass himself by falling over.
“Thanks, Easton. I owe you.”
She didn’t answer him, turning instead to the baby. He thought he caught something strange in her deep blue eyes, a shadow of an old pain, but she blinked it away.
“You’re making a mess, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Belle giggled and clapped her hands. Easton smiled at the little girl, her features bright and lovely, and something hard twisted inside him, something he preferred to pretend didn’t exist.
He turned away. “I only need an hour,” he said again. “Thanks. And, uh, I’m sorry about this.”
“Go to sleep, Cisco. I can handle things for now.”
He nodded. She could handle anything. His Easton.
He wasn’t sure how but he managed to make it up the stairs to his bedroom, although he was covered in sweat by the time he reached the top step.
It smelled like her in here, sweet and flowery. Perfect.
He ought to take a shower to wash off the travel stink before he climbed into those nice clean sheets, but he didn’t have the energy. He would just lie here on top of the quilt, he decided.
Just an hour. That’s all he needed.
An hour in a room that smelled like heaven and Easton—although, really, wasn’t that the same thing?
“I’ll be there when I can. I’m sorry, Burt. I didn’t exactly expect this little complication today.”
Easton swallowed her sigh at her ranch foreman’s pithy response. Burt McMasters was a great ranch foreman—hardworking and dedicated, always willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. She adored him, colorful language and all, and without his firm guidance, she would have had to sell the ranch when Jo was first diagnosed with cancer.
But he did tend to be sulky and impatient when his plans went awry.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a pain. I can’t help it. Just start the immunizations and I’ll be there when I can. Can you and Luis handle it without me for a while?”
“I s’pose.” She could swear she almost heard the glower in his voice.
“You be careful up there,” he went on in his gravelly voice that always sounded like he was choking on trail dust. “I don’t like the idea of that boy being back in the house. I know Jo and Guff loved him just like the others, but in my book, that one has always been nothing but trouble.”
She fought the impulse to jump to Cisco’s defense. Yes, he had been fast-talking and imaginative and as a result he had managed to land himself—and the others—in plenty of mischief when he was a teenager.
Burt had never quite forgiven Cisco for a prank he’d pulled at their grazing allotment up in the high country when he had somehow convinced the prickly, proud ranchhand that he thought a black bear might be stalking their camp.
Burt had been deep in the woods early one morning answering the call of nature when Cisco had sneaked around behind him making appropriate bear grunting noises and Burt had come running back to camp in a panic, his pants half-down and biodegradable toilet paper flying out behind him.
For the most part, Easton would have to agree that Cisco was trouble. Except Burt was wrong about one thing: He was far from a boy.
“He would never hurt me,” she blatantly lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. “You know that. He’s family.”
He harrumphed over the cell phone he abhorred almost as much as he did Cisco del Norte. “I still don’t like it. Doesn’t he know we have work to do around here? Maybe he’s been gone from these parts so long he doesn’t remember how busy this time of year can be on a cattle ranch.”
She contained her sigh. “I’m sure he remembers, Burt. He lived here for a long time. But he needed a place to stay for a few days and this was his best option. He owns a good share of the ranch, don’t forget.”
“As if I could,” he muttered. Easton would have smiled if not for the fretful baby in her arms.
“Look, I have to go. I appreciate you and the boys stepping up without me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Yeah, okay. Be careful,” he warned again before ending the call.
Too late, she thought as she turned once more to the baby, who looked at her with huge blue eyes that swam with tears.
“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get you a bottle and then we’ll go see what’s going on with that rascal Burt was just talking about.”
She headed into the kitchen and found the can of powdered formula Cisco had left on the countertop. Easton was grateful she’d had a little practice the last few months as honorary aunt to Joe and Abby or she would have been all thumbs with things like changing diapers and mixing formula.
She tested the temperature of the formula on her forearm, feeling a great sense of accomplishment at her own competence, then handed the bottle to the baby, who clutched it in her chubby hands and began sucking greedily, her darling cupid’s bow of a mouth pursed around the nipple.
Something soft and tender tugged hard at Easton’s insides. She settled the baby a little closer to her, trying not to look at the clock.
Three hours.
Cisco had promised he would be back downstairs in one. He lied, something he seemed to do with consummate skill.
Three hours and counting, actually, and Easton had work to do.
Not that there weren’t compensations to this. Belle sucked her bottle a little more vigorously and snuggled her head closer to Easton’s chest. Her eyes drifted shut, her eyelashes so long and curly that they looked almost fake.
She smelled of warm milk and baby shampoo,