The Rancher's Unexpected Baby Read online

  “I was hoping to catch you before you did something crazy and tried to drive home in that little buggy car of yours.”

  Emma rolled her eyes at Luc’s comment, head shaking. “Gage was planning to drive me home in the Jeep.” She conveniently left out the part about her wanting to take it and go without him.

  “Can you put Gage on, too?”

  Emma switched the phone to speaker. “Okay, we can both hear you now.”

  And have been able to this whole time.

  “It’s an absolute mess out there. Kohl has been rescuing people out of the ditch.” Luc’s voice jumped down an octave. “Which, strangely enough, he does for fun. He’s fished out three cars in the last hour. Gage, do not let Emma leave your house in this. Make her stay.”

  Make her stay. Pretty much the opposite of his be-careful-around-Emma/don’t-let-her-know-how-you’re-feeling/protect-her-at-all-costs plan.

  But then, sending her out into weather like this, with or without him, wasn’t exactly keeping her safe, was it?

  Gage forced his voice into functioning mode. “Of course she’ll stay. I’ve got the guest room.” Or he could sleep on the couch. “My sister left a few things last time she was here. We’ll hunker down.”

  “Do I get to have an opinion about this?” Emma piped up.

  “No,” they answered simultaneously.

  “Sounds a little like last weekend.” She raised an eyebrow at Gage and crossed her arms. But her mouth twitched, which gave him hope that she was teasing.

  “What do you want us to say, Em?” Their gazes tangled. Hopefully, his held the softness and caring he felt. “Risking the drive isn’t worth it.”

  Her lips stretched from crescent moon into a full arch. “I agree. I’m just messing with you.” She pointed at the phone even though Luc couldn’t see her. “But someone has to keep you two meddlers in check.”

  Luc’s low laughter rumbled through the line. “Can’t help watching out for you, Emma. You’re my baby sister.”

  Then what was Gage’s excuse? Because he definitely did not think of Emma as anything close to a sister.

  “And if Mackenzie was out and about, you’d make this same phone call to her?”

  “Yes, I’d boss her around, too. Though there’s less of a chance of her actually listening.”

  Emma laughed. “All right, you win. Gage loses because he’s stuck with me.”

  “Ha.” Gage’s voice came out gravelly and a bit desperate. “Not true.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want Emma around—it was that he did. Exactly why he wished she could make it home tonight. “I’ll keep her safe.” He barely resisted shaking his head after the words because they sounded chauvinistic. No doubt Emma could take care of herself. But, much like Luc, Gage couldn’t resist the urge to protect her.

  Even if it was from himself.

  * * *

  “Pretty sure my tab is close to two million now.” A freshly showered Gage, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved Copper Mountain T-shirt peeked over her shoulder at the simmering pasta sauce that Emma stirred. He smelled amazing. Fresh-from-the-shower looked good on him, the tips of his almost black hair shiny from the remaining moisture.

  “Methinks you overestimate my value, Counselor.”

  “And you underestimate.” His quirked eyebrow and playful grin ignited those pesky girlish hopes and dreams she’d attempted to dodge over the last few weeks. But they hung on to her like flies on cattle. Not ready to pack up and head out anytime soon.

  Gage got out plates from the cupboard for the two of them, then a plastic bowl for Hudson that suction cupped to his high chair tray.

  “I don’t know how I’m ever going to truly thank you for everything you’ve done for Hudson and me.”

  “You just did.”

  He added silverware to his stack and delivered the items to the table. “You’re way too easy on me, Emma. On everyone.”

  “Oh, stop.” Some people made it easy to be easy. She used the wooden spoon to dig a square of ravioli from the boiling water, then tested the softness to see if it was done. Perfect.

  Emma placed the stainless steel colander in the sink and dumped the water and pasta in, the steam rising to her face like a mini spa treatment. She closed her eyes and imagined she was in the Wilder hot spring, muscles unwinding, a good book in her hands. Not stuck with Gage and Hudson, even if that’s exactly where she wanted—and shouldn’t want—to be.

  “My new goal is to get you to learn to take a compliment.” Gage’s voice came from very close by, and her eyes popped open to find him at the edge of the sink. He faced her, hip resting against the countertop. “Let’s start now. Dinner smells amazing, Emma.”

  “It’s just a jar of marinara sauce and a frozen package of—”

  His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

  Um. “Thank you?”

  He let loose with a deep laugh, the kind that filled the kitchen and had his head jutting back. He grabbed her hand and spun her in a circular dance move as Hudson joined in with a giggle from his play saucer in the living room, banging his sippy cup against the tray.

  “Much better.” Gage dipped his head until their heights matched, his blue eyes doing that crinkly thing again, rendering Emma a willing victim. “Just don’t make it a question next time.”

  He moved to the stove. “Sauce ready?”

  Emma would answer him, but the man had completely messed with her voice box when he’d twirled her around as if them dancing in the kitchen was a normal, everyday occurrence. And suddenly Emma wanted exactly that—on repeat for the next handful of decades.

  What was a casual gesture to Gage had taken her out like an amateur on a black diamond slope.

  “Emma?”

  “Sure.” Her answer came out as a croak. “It’s ready. We can just add the pasta to the sauce.”

  He delivered the pot of sauce over to her at the sink and she added the ravioli. Gage moved their dinner to the table while Emma washed her hands with cold water. Not so much because anything was on them, but because she needed a moment to collect herself.

  He’s not up for grabs. At least not for you. Don’t do this to yourself, Emma Wilder. Do not fall for the wrong guy. Again.

  “All set?” Gage stood next to the high chair where he’d strapped in Hudson.

  Water still cascaded over Emma’s now frigid hands. “Yep.” She flipped the faucet off and used the towel, then joined them.

  Emma cooled ravioli on her plate, cutting it into quarters before scooping it into Hudson’s bowl. He dug in, capturing a fistful and attempting to shove the contents into his mouth. Some slipped into the pocket on his bib and he returned for more, slurping in the next batch.

  Gage paused with a forkful of salad hovering over his plate. “I think he likes it, and he’s not even—” his comment was interrupted by Hudson running a hand through his hair, almost as though he was making sure to cover each individual follicle with red sauce “—making a mess.” He finished the statement with slow sarcasm, and they laughed.

  Hudson made a silly face, added an overzealous smile, then joined in.

  While they ate Gage told her about growing up Frasier. How he and his sister had always been close and that when Nicole had taken off, his sister had flown out to spend a week commiserating with him. Helping him piece his life back together.

  Their relationship only reiterated why Gage wanted that same kind of childhood for Hudson. Which was probably a good reminder for Emma. Though she’d never comprehend why Gage didn’t realize that he could be that family for the boy, even if it was just him. All it took was love, and Gage had that going for him in spades.

  Hudson announced—loudly—that he was done with dinner, so Emma cleaned him up and set him free before he began playing with the food or, worse yet, dropping chunks to the floor as he was apt to do when eating no longer held his at
tention.

  She plunked him down near his toy box, which was a plastic bin stationed at the back of the living room space. Close enough that they could watch his antics. He pulled out an item, chewed on it, then tossed it to the side as Emma rejoined Gage.

  When they finished eating, Gage stacked their plates. “I’ll do the dishes. You go relax.”

  What? “No, I’ll help.” She stood and picked up the ravioli pot. “You’ve been out in the freezing weather all day. You should be the one crashing.”

  Gage’s hand snaked out and stalled hers, which, in Emma’s book, practically qualified as hand-holding. And that showed exactly how few relationships she’d had. Gage peeled her fingers away and took control of the pot. “Not happening.” The growl to his voice made her stomach do jumping jacks. “Get out of the kitchen.” He flashed a don’t mess with me grin.

  Why did he insist on flirting with her? Did he somehow not understand that doing the dishes equaled exactly that?

  Her arms crossed of their own accord, the toe of her boot tapping against the wood floor. “And what do you propose I do with myself while you clean up?”

  Propose. Maybe not her best word choice. Not with her standing and Gage sitting. Her mind generated all sorts of farfetched scenarios with that prompt.

  “Go read a book. I’ve no doubt there’s one tucked into your purse for emergencies like this.”

  She laughed. How did he know her that well? “Fine.” Emma would argue more, but getting out of the kitchen when Gage was in it might not be a bad idea.

  She retrieved the romantic comedy she was currently reading from her purse, left her boots by the front door—she’d put them on earlier when there’d still been a hope of getting home tonight—and dropped onto the couch. Emma covered her lap and legs with a blanket and read with only half of her typical attention span as Gage cleared the table, packed up leftovers, wiped everything down and loaded the dishwasher. Because she had the sinking feeling that any romance going on at the Frasier Ranch was in her heart instead of her book.

  Chapter Ten

  Hudson emptied his toy bin, tipped it onto its side and crawled into it. He backed out, surveyed his work, then scooted back in, pleased with the game he’d invented. Gage hung the dishcloth to dry on the edge of the sink and joined them in the living room. He lay on the floor by Hudson, and the baby crawled over to him, investigating his long-sleeved shirt and jeans, checking the width of his shoulders, earning a bark, meow, growl or other silly sound when Hudson tugged on his ear, squeezed his nose, or pressed a finger into his cheek. This was obviously not their first go-around with this game, and Emma suddenly felt every inch the intruder. The stalker. And yet, she stayed glued to the spot. She was finally getting a glimpse of Gage and Hudson’s evening ritual, and it was enough to make her consider an all-out toddler tantrum.

  Because she wanted all of this. She was never going to get it with Gage, but she kept leaning in his direction anyway. Not heeding all of the warning signs directing her to turn around. Head the other direction. Anywhere but here.

  God, isn’t it a waste for a guy like that not to get married and have a family someday? I’m not even saying he has to be for me...though that would be nice if You’re taking impossible requests. Can’t You change his mind?

  No reply resounded in her soul. No affirmative whisper that she’d be awarded the answer to her prayers. If only God would grant her some understanding. Because watching Gage be so amazing with Hudson while knowing he didn’t believe he was the right fit to be the baby’s guardian hurt her in soul-deep places.

  Unable to resist their pull, Emma closed her book and deposited it on the coffee table, then joined Gage and Hudson on the floor. Gage sat up and offered her a toe-tingling grin. A welcome that settled into her bones, cementing her to the spot.

  “Where did this come from, by the way?” Emma spun a dial on a new toy that had appeared yesterday. It was full of gadgets for Hudson to explore. Some that squeaked and others that spun. “Did you go pick up more of Hudson’s things?”

  “No, I...ordered it.” Gage scooted the base up, turning it into a walker. “I saw it and thought it would be perfect for when he’s ready to start walking. He’s been trying to stand more, lately, and I wasn’t sure how fast it would all go.” He shrugged, endearing. “I like to be prepared.”

  But what if you give him away before then? Emma didn’t crush any of Gage’s sweet spirit, but her own was drowning.

  “It’s perfect for him. He’ll love it. Already does.”

  By the time Hudson’s bedtime approached, the ups and downs of watching Gage interact with Hudson had left Emma feeling as if she’d run the emotional gamut of a 5K.

  “I’ll read to him a little before bed.” Gage picked up Hudson, switching to the recliner. A basket of books was stationed to one side.

  Gage read about rubber ducks while Emma meandered into the kitchen. Her phone was on the butcher-block island, and she checked it. A new email had come in from a girl who would be helping in Kids’ Club this summer. She wanted to know if her boyfriend could apply for a job, too. Emma’s nose wrinkled. Wilder Ranch didn’t have a hard and fast rule about staffers not dating, but something about this scenario smelled like trouble. Especially with them coming in already attached. She told the girl to have her boyfriend contact Mackenzie about a wrangler position. And then Emma sent a quick text to her sister outlining her concerns over the situation.

  Kenzie would handle it from there.

  “‘And the tractor goes vroom.’”

  Gage’s deep voice reading to Hudson curled inside of Emma. Warm. Liquid.

  “‘The cow goes moo.’”

  And the girl goes swoon. How was Emma supposed to resist Gage reading to Hudson? That was like the mother ship calling her home.

  When he paused to switch books, Emma turned. “Should I make him a bottle?”

  Crinkly eyes flashed with gratitude as Hudson gummed the corner of their next book. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Emma put the ingredients together and shook the bottle. She met Gage and Hudson at the butcher-block island. “Want me to put him down?”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got him.” Hudson lunged for the bottle and then crashed back into Gage’s arms.

  “Good night, sweet boy.” Emma kissed his forehead, ran a hand over his incredibly soft hair. “Sleep well.”

  “You pick out a movie for us to watch while I lay him down. And make it a chick flick. Those are my favorite.” Gage winked and took off down the hall.

  Silly man. As if Emma would force him to watch one of her movies.

  Though, if they were going to watch a movie of any sort, popcorn was a necessity. Emma crossed to the cupboards, found the oil and a pot. She’d become quite at home in Gage’s kitchen since Hudson’s arrival.

  By the time Gage came back, the kernels were sizzling. The newness of the situation—of it being just them—slithered along her spine. Awareness danced through her.

  “Thought I’d make some popcorn.” The ting-ting of popcorn hitting the lid filled the kitchen.

  Duh. He could probably have figured that one out on his own. No more needless explanations or filling the silence. Chill already. You can be alone with the guy and be normal. Or at least pretend not to be shaking in your boots about it.

  “Sounds good. What can I do to help?”

  “Melted butter would be great.”

  Gage got out a small dish and lopped off some butter, then microwaved it.

  “Hey, just so you know, we have a group this next weekend. It’s only one day—Saturday. There’s no Kids’ Club, but we’re all going to pitch in and help so that we don’t have to hire temps.” During the summer they had staff that stayed at the ranch, but this time of year, it was better to hire on an as-needed basis. And for a group this size that was only using the lodge space for the day, it was bette
r to handle it themselves and save the money. “So I’ll be here Saturday morning for a few hours to watch Hudson and then I’ll plan to head home around noon.”

  “Okay, no problem.” Gage opened the microwave and removed the now-liquid butter. “Glad you let me know. And good job not thinking we can’t live without you over here. I mean, we can’t, but we’ll still be fine.”

  Sweet man. Emma laughed. “I’m only a phone call away if something is wrong.”

  “And that’s exactly why I’m not going to panic.”

  She mixed the popcorn in a large bowl, adding butter, salt, and then they moved into the living room.

  Panic of the thirteen-year-old girl variety at being trapped in the vicinity of a boy ignited. How should they sit? Should she have poured some into a second dish so that Gage could occupy the recliner?

  Emma’s steps stuttered when she reached the middle of the couch. “Should I get another bowl?”

  Gage’s head tilted, questioning. “No need. Let’s just sit on the couch.”

  Right. Which she was completely and totally fine with. Heart palpitations could be a good thing, right? Certainly Emma could find an internet doctor to confirm her self-diagnosis.

  She dropped onto the far cushion. Gage did the same on the other side of the sofa. And she placed the popcorn between them.

  A buffer. Just in case she got any crazy ideas about putting the moves on Gage during the movie. And by that she meant holding hands. Letting her head rest on his shoulder.

  Gage tossed her the remote. “Okay, chick flick it up.”

  “Um, no.”

  “Why not? I have zero doubt that you’d choose that if I wasn’t here.”

  “True.”

  “So hit me with it.”

  “Are you trying to punish yourself?”

  “I’m just extending my apology from last weekend.”

  “Oh, stop. What would you watch if I wasn’t here?”

  Gage fisted some popcorn. “Not sure. Maybe SportsCenter. Or a documentary. But that will just put me to sleep tonight. So you’re up, batter. Swing.”