Baby My Baby (A Ranching Family) (11 page)

Linc looked at his older brother as if he were out of his mind. “Not even Shag could have kept a pregnant woman from crying.”

Jackson stared at Ash directly again. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Ha! I wish I knew” was Ash’s only answer.

“Stay out of it,” Linc told Jackson then, firmly this time.

“Just seems to me two people should be married when they’re havin’ a baby,” Jackson said, as if he felt it his duty to get the words out.

But Ash didn’t agree or disagree.

He was too lost in thought again.

Wondering what the hell it meant that his kiss had made Beth cry.

* * *

It was after dark by the time Beth heard Jackson, Linc and Ash come in the ranch house’s back door. She was in her room working on the bridesmaid dress for Kansas’s sister Della, and her first inclination was to rush downstairs.

She curbed it and just sat listening.

The house had been so deadly quiet all day and evening, and suddenly it was alive with the hum of deep masculine voices as her brothers and former husband apparently raided the refrigerator.

Then she heard them go outside again. She moved to the window where she saw Jackson slap steaks on the grill before he, Ash and Linc—now in swimming trunks—dived into the pool like three boys.

It felt good not to be alone anymore, even though she wasn’t really with them. But when she analyzed the feeling, she knew it wasn’t really her brothers’ return she was glad for. It was Ash’s. In spite of all her arguing against his hanging around, she’d missed him.

That was a terrible sign.

Since the air-conditioning was on in the house, her window was closed. She eased it open and propped a hip on the sill.

Tall, wrought-iron Victorian-style streetlamps surrounded the bricked patio but didn’t cast much illumination on the pool, so she couldn’t actually see them in the water. Rather than try, she closed her eyes, leaned against the window frame and merely listened, eager for the sound of Ash’s voice joking and teasing her brothers as if he were a member of their close-knit club.

They weren’t saying anything important. In fact they sounded slaphappy, no doubt from putting in a fifteen-hour day of backbreaking work in ninety-six-degree heat. But it was still good to hear. In fact, it made her smile.

Twice the ringing of a timer sounded to remind them to turn their steaks. They argued about who would get out of the water to do it, but both times Jackson did, grumbling about ruining good beefsteak. When the timer went off a third time, Beth opened her eyes and watched as they all got out, not bothering with towels, and disappeared from her view, no doubt to sit at one of several tables closer to the house to eat.

That they did in silence, making Beth smile again at the seriousness with which men attacked a steak. Or maybe they were all too tired to say anything, because their meal was over quickly, and once again Beth heard chairs scraping the brick. Both Linc and Jackson announced they had to get some sleep, inviting Ash to stay in the guest room.

Beth’s pulse doubled, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the thought that he might accept or that he might decline.

He declined. “Beth wouldn’t be happy about that,” she heard him say. “I’ll just lie here and rest a minute and then I’ll go back to the lodge.”

She couldn’t see him but assumed he’d moved to one of the loungers. And with the thickness in his voice as they all said good-night, she knew he was halfway asleep by the time her brothers came inside.

There’d be dishes to clear in the morning, because she didn’t hear so much as a single plate hit the sink before her brothers climbed the steps, mumbled more good-nights and closed their bedroom doors behind them.

She could tell that Linc immediately threw himself on his bed and that was that. From Jackson’s room there were sounds of him puttering around a little before his bedsprings squeaked and all grew quiet.

Then there was only silence in the house again.

And outside of it, too.

She didn’t have to see Ash to know he was sound asleep down there, and for a moment she considered just letting him be. But she hated to see him spend the night in a lawn chair after the work he’d done to help her brother. She decided to go down and offer to drive him to the lodge so he could get some decent rest.

There was also the fact that she had an irresistible urge to see him, but she didn’t want to think about that.

She was still dressed, wearing a pair of cutoff jeans that barely peeked out from beneath her sleeveless chambray shirt. Her feet were bare, but she didn’t bother to put shoes on.

She padded noiselessly through the house as far as the sliding door in the kitchen that led to the patio. But instead of going out, she stood at the screen, studying Ash.

Just as she’d imagined, he was on one of the redwood loungers. But he wasn’t exactly lying on it. It appeared that he’d sat on the end of it and just lain back, because his head was midway up the seat and his feet were still planted on the bricks of the patio.

It couldn’t have been too comfortable, yet apparently he was so tired it didn’t matter. He was out like a light, his arms crossed over his flat stomach and one big thigh drifting like a yardarm in a breeze.

And for some reason she couldn’t have explained if her life depended on it, the sight touched her.

He really was putting a lot of effort into smoothing the waters here. With her. With her brothers. And what he was getting for it was hard work, her bad attitude, and a feeling that he should be grateful just to be allowed to hear his baby’s heartbeat for a few moments.

Maybe he did deserve a night in the guest room. Even if it would be difficult for her to know he was right next door.

She finally went out to him, standing at the foot of the lounger, between his knees. Although this man had been her husband for five years, she suddenly felt it an invasion of his privacy to be watching him as he slept. She was also trying not to pay attention to his bulging biceps or his thick, muscular thighs and well-defined calves.

“Ash?” she said softly so as not to startle him. “Ash, wake up.”

His forehead knitted in a frown, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Come on, you don’t want to sleep out here. Come inside.”

Still, his eyes remained closed, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in what could have been called a drunken grin, except that she doubted he’d been drinking. Then his long, thick lashes finally made a leisurely sweep to half-mast. “Is this an invitation?”

“To the guest room,” she said, still quietly, as if she might wake someone else.

“Nah, that’s all right. I know you don’t want me here.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna get going to the lodge. Soon as I can move.”

“Maybe you are drunk,” she muttered, referring to the slow motion of his words and the ridiculous smile on his face.

“Did somebody say I was?”

“You just seem so silly.”

“Do you like it?”

She did. A little. For once Mr. Take-Care-of-Every-thing-and-Everyone couldn’t even seem to take care of himself. But she wouldn’t admit it. “Have you been drinking?”

“Water. Lots of it.”

“So you’re just tired.”

“Haven’t done this kind of work since I was a pup.”

“Well, come on and put your old bones to bed upstairs.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I can move just yet.”

Beth didn’t want to touch him. Any physical contact between them would be like holding a match head to a hot burner. But she didn’t think he could move on his own, either, so she held out her hands to him. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

A loopy, one-sided smile curled his mouth and he raised his arms, clasping her hands in his. But the moment he did, his weakness disappeared, and he pulled her down gently on top of him—chest to chest, stomach to stomach. With his thighs still spread wide, she had no choice but to bend her knees and let her feet fly like flags in the air, making her contact with his lower regions all the more complete.

“Very funny,” she said.

“I thought so.”

She tried pushing herself away but his arms were crossed over her back, a hand on each hip, locking her to him. The best she could do was raise her head and shoulders slightly above his.

“So much for being weak and tired,” she said, trying not to be too aware of the feel of him beneath her.

“I missed you today,” he told her in a way that left her wondering if he was joking.

“You saw me this morning.”

His smile stretched into a grin. “That was something, wasn’t it?”

She had the urge to rest her cheek on his chest, to relax atop him, let herself ride the hard hills and valleys of his big body like water over rock, and talk about the wonders of what they’d created together.

But of course she couldn’t do that.

The best she could do was agree. “Hearing the heartbeat is incredible.”

“I think I did pretty well at this baby making. Gave him a strong heart.”

Beth laughed. “What should I take issue with first? That you’re so cocksure the baby is a boy? Or that you’re taking all the credit?”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re both true,” he goaded.

“Seems to me that you only contributed one ingredient. I’m doing the rest.”

The sun had darkened his skin to a ruddiness that she could see even in the golden glow of lamplight, and it gave a sharper edge to his facial structure, which made her think suddenly of a warrior, especially when his features contorted into a mock menacing expression.

He covered the sides of her rib cage with his splayed fingers. “Don’t make me tickle you into taking that back, woman,” he threatened.

“Tickle me and you’ll never see daylight again,” she countered, squirming a little to try to escape.

Not a good idea. She felt the bulge inside his swimming suit rise against her.

“Come on, let’s just get you set up in the guest room,” she said, in a hurry to end this play before it led to anything more.

But Ash wasn’t so inclined. He did a slight, speculative tickling of her sides. “Admit what a good job I did making this baby.”

“It’s me who’s making this baby.”

“You’re asking for it,” he warned, giving her another taste of what was to come.

She tried again to push herself out of his grasp but it was useless. He held tight.

“Last chance,” he said. “Tell me what a good job I did.”

“I might holler for help and get my brothers down here after you, but that’s all you’re hearing from me.”

“Okay. You asked for it.”

Beth hated to be tickled and he knew it. A devilish smile played on his lips again and those fingers began to torture her sides.

She couldn’t help writhing and wriggling even as she tried to get free. But all she accomplished was to bring herself closer in contact with him. Her traitorous nipples kerneled and strained inside even the bigger sized bra she wore, until finally she shouted amidst her own miserable laughter, “Okay, okay, I give up.”

He stopped tickling her, letting his hands follow the curve of her ribs instead, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the sides of her breasts. “Tell me what a good job I did,” he demanded in a voice grown husky since it had last been used.

Her arms were tiring and if he didn’t let her go soon, she wasn’t going to have any choice but to collapse completely on him. “You did a wonderful job,” she deadpanned insincerely.

“Not heartfelt enough,” he claimed, curling his fingers for a second assault.

But just as he did, the baby gave the biggest kick Beth had felt yet. A kick big enough and close enough to the outside of her stomach for even Ash to feel it.

He stopped short, staring up into her eyes with a sudden look of shock and alarm. “What was that?”

Beth laughed at him. “What do you think it was?”

“The baby?”

Then it happened again.

“Is it all right?” Ash demanded.

Beth laughed again. “You did know they kick, didn’t you?”

“This soon?”

“Sooner. I was feeling it by the time I went to see Cele, but then it was only a fluttering and I just thought I had butterflies in my stomach or was hungry or something. It’s only been what I’d call kicks for the past couple of weeks, but this is the first time it’s been this hard. It must not like to be tickled, either.”

But everything that had come before seemed lost on Ash. His bushy brows were beetled and he sat up, swinging Beth to his lap at the same time and beginning to place a hand on her stomach.

He didn’t quite make it before apparently remembering that he didn’t have the freedom.

“Can I feel it this way?”

“You can try, but there’s no guarantee it’ll happen again right now.”

He placed his hand over the bulge of her middle as carefully as if she might break, staring down at it as he did.

There were all sorts of shoulds and shouldn’ts that went through Beth’s mind, but she quieted them and let herself enjoy the moment.

It felt good to be there, perched across Ash’s thighs, the heat of his body all around her, one of his long arms bracing her back, his big hand palming the mound his baby made as if it were a small basketball.

He was so intent, so serious, so awestruck. All the playfulness had gone out of him, and he waited motionlessly, soundlessly, as if he meant to hold that pose no matter how long it took for him to feel the baby kick again.

Then it did, but much farther to the side.

“It moved,” she told him, redirecting his hand just in time for yet another kick, though this one was more like what she’d been feeling before, just a gentle thump.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“No,” she answered with yet another laugh, hearing the sensual timbre of her own voice.

Being so close to Ash, having him touch her with a certain amount of intimacy, was getting to her.

Her own hand still covered his where it rested over her stomach, and she was suddenly very aware of the texture of his skin, of the sharp bones of his knuckles beneath her palm, of what it felt like to be caressed by that hand—for he was caressing her.

Somewhere along the way he’d stopped just waiting for the baby to move again and begun to knead her middle much the way she’d known him to knead her breasts in times past.