Just Her Luck (87 page)

“Damn,” he whispered, giving my neck a quick peck. “We’ll finish this later, my little love muffin.”

“Mama! Look! Mama!”

It was Rutherford, the oldest, Ford for short, running as fast as his skinny little eight year old legs could carry him as he rushed towards me, his dark wavy hair a floppy mess as he tried to push it out of his large hazel eyes.

I ruffled his messy mop.

“You need a haircut, bud.”

He laughed and shooed my hands away, waving a paper around frantically.

“Look, Mama! Look!”

“If you’d quit shakin’ it like that, son, maybe she could,” Reeve chuckled, coming up the stairs, holding baby Thomasine in his arms.

She was chewing on her fist, her pretty little cheeks pink with excitement, babbling away happily as she sucked on her curled up fingers, her other chubby hand clutching her Daddy’s hair, laughing when he winced at every sharp tug.

“Whatcha got there, half pint?” Thatcher grinned down at his son.

Aware of his audience, Ford beamed proudly, exposing a missing front tooth.

“Dad! Look! It’s my math test! See!” he handed the paper over. “Remember what Pa said if I did good?!” He danced around with excitement. “I get to ride my horse this weekend!” he crowed, ignoring my cringe.

“Bear! Bear!” Thomasine squealed suddenly, trying to crawl over her Daddy’s shoulder.

Bo was coming up the stairs, grinning when he saw Thomasine chortling, calling out for him.

He made grumbly growling noises, tickling her belly before he scooped her up and blew a raspberry on her cheek.

She giggled and gave him a slobbery kiss.

“Who loves their Papa Bear?” He bounced her in his arms.

She slapped his face with wet hands.

“Bear! Bear!”

He kissed her forehead, his hands cascading over the short blonde curls.

“Love you too, baby girl.”

“You spoil her,” Reeve warned, smiling just as huge.

“Oh, please,” I rolled my eyes, hooking my thumb at Bo, “You’re worse than he is.”

Reeve looked at me innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, woman.”

Ford frowned up at his Daddy.

“Of course you do! She reminds you all the time!” He looked at me worriedly for a minute. “Maybe he is gettin’ old, Mama. He’s forgettin’ stuff.”

I burst out laughing, kissing the top of his head before he ran off to show everyone else his test.

Reeve scowled down at me.

“Look what you did, gremlin. Now you got him sayin’ it too.”

I was the one who played innocent now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, moonshine.”

“Moon!” Thomasine gurgled, clapping her hands, brown eyes lit up. “Daddy moon!”

I hurried past Reeve, before he could snatch me up, heading towards the living room.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, studying all the pictures as I went.

There was the one of Sawyer and me on the beach for our wedding, just the two of us, holding each other close as we eloped quietly, Sawyer sneaking off with me late one night to pull it off.

I laughed at the memory, the grumbling he had to put up with for weeks afterward.

In fact, whenever he runs out of verbal ammunition, that’s the first thing Thatcher tries to use against him.

Not that it’s ever worked or anything.

Sawyer had no problem being labeled a selfish bastard in their eyes.

He’d said the look on my face alone when he’d surprised me with our impromptu private beach ceremony was worth it.

Thatcher’s picture was next.

I chuckled a little, just looking at it.

He’d truly meant it when he’d said he would top all the rest.

He’d topped it alright, just not in the way you’d think.

My blonde rakehell knew I had an unnatural love for historical novels, so he went with that, opting to dress the part of dashing rogue, somehow convincing his brothers to join in.

I’ll never figure out how he got them all to don breeches, vests, frock coats and neck cloths, but the eye candy it resulted in will forever be imbedded in my mind.

Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

Something I’ll forever be grateful to him for and never forget.

Thank you, Thatchiepoo!

I couldn’t keep my hands off any of them all night, especially my dashing groom.

I sighed wistfully at the memory, staring at us smiling back from the picture, my burgeoning baby belly covered up with an elegant gown with an empire waist, a beautiful soft blue, the same color as Thatcher’s waist coat.

And then there was my grumpy lothario, Reeve.

I wanted to purr inside just thinking about it.

Mmm, forget sinister, he’d looked downright delectable with that devilish smile, permanent sneer firmly in place, and tight black breeches, hugging his thighs and tight ass lovingly.

Yum!

A touch of melancholy hit me momentarily when I reached the next photograph, straightening the picture of Ruthie holding Ford.

He was only a few days old.

Though her eyes had dark circles, her thin frame much thinner in her last few months, she had a huge, proud smile on her face, bursting with joy, cradling little Ford close, her eyes watering with unshed tears as she rocked him happily, crooning to him quietly.

This picture means so much to me.

I wiped quickly at my eyes, missing Ruthie at times like this, wishing she was still here.

“I like that picture too,” Sawyer said softly, coming up behind me to hug me, leaning down so he could rest his chin on my shoulder, bussing my cheek. “She was awful excited to get her hands on that baby. I don’t think I ever saw someone so excited.”

“I know,” I whispered, “it’s too bad she didn’t get to see the rest of the kids…”

“Ah, don’t think about it like that, honey. You know Ruthie, she’d have blistered your ass for even goin’ on like that.”

I laughed because that’s
exactly
what she would have threatened to do.

“It just would have been nice for her to get to meet them all, that’s all.” I put his hands over my stomach, holding them there. “This one too.”

He grinned against my cheek, pulling back to turn me around.

He caressed my tummy gently, his soft brown eyes dancing excitedly.

“Really, brat? You’re pregnant?”

I shrugged and winked.

“What can I say, my husbands just can’t keep their hands off of me. Those terrible brutes are insatiable.”

He whooped and twirled me around.

“What’s all the hollerin’ for?” Ephraim sounded like he was coming in from the kitchen with the bobbsey twins, Caleb and Moira, probably playing referee again for those two over some silly thing or another.

I swear, those two are always arguing about something.

They’re worse than Ephraim and Thatcher!

“Hey, ‘E’?” Sawyer called, “You’re gonna be a Pa again, what do you think about that?”

“Really?” Ephraim’s head poked around the corner and sure enough, Caleb and Moira came squabbling after.

“But, Pa! You don’t understand!” Moira whined, her blonde pigtails all askew, more than likely from Caleb, green eyes glaring at her brother, spitting fire.

“She started it, she called me an idiot! I am
not
an idiot!”

Caleb looked worse off than she did, dirt all over his face, mud encrusting his shirt, the soft brown cowlicks in his hair covered in filth, his blue eyes just as fierce and adamant as his sibling’s.

“Mama warned us this would happen if we had them too close together,” Sawyer whispered, grinning over at them.

“It’s a little over two years,” I said defensively, “besides, I thought that only counted if they were both boys.”

Moira huffed.

“I can hear both of you, Mama, Da.”

“Good,” Ephraim tugged teasingly on one of her pigtails, “then maybe you’ll realize how ridiculous you two fightin’ and carryin’ on sounds to the rest of us.”

“Hey!” Thatcher shouted, rushing over. “Don’t you pull on my princess’s hair!” He made a big show of putting her behind him, making her giggle while Caleb rolled his eyes at his Dad’s antics. “Be careful, fiend!”

Ephraim snorted, gesturing at him.

“Would you rather I braided yours and gave one a tug? She’s a girl, not a china doll.” He winked at Moira, who giggled hysterically.

“Watch it, jolly green, them’s fightin’ words,” Thatcher huffed.

“Enough!” I bellowed, calling a cease fire. “Quit squabbling or I’ll make you two hug it out again!”

Thatcher and Ephraim mock shuddered.

I pointed at my two babes. “That goes for you two. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mama,” they both said in unison, sticking their tongues at each other when they thought I wasn’t looking.

Bowen walked up, handing Thomasine over when I held my hands out for her, cooing at my sweet baby girl.

“Last warning,” I called as I went to the kitchen to start dinner, bouncing their little sister on my hip.

“How does she know?” Caleb whispered to his younger counterpart.

I smiled to myself.

“Must be like Da says,” Moira whispered back, “she’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

I laughed quietly to myself, picturing Sawyer saying something like that, setting some crackers down in the highchair before I set Thomasine down so she could munch away.

Smiling, I kissed her forehead.

“There you go, baby girl. That should hold you over for a little while.”

With that, I turned to start dinner.

Reeve came up behind me, backing me into the counter.

“What’s gonna hold
me
over?” he growled playfully, grinning when Thomasine heard and started giggling, pointing at us.

“Daddy bear!”

“That’s right, baby girl,” Reeve chuckled, blocking her from seeing what he was doing to me, using his back as a shield, “Daddy’s a hungry bear.”

She chortled and stuffed another cracker in her mouth, her legs kicking back and forth happily.

“Hey! None of that in front of my baby,” Bo boomed out, making me jump.

He laughed when I broke away from Reeve and slapped at him.

“Papa Bear! Papa Bear!” Thomasine cheered.

“Papa Bear is gonna be a bear skinned rug if he doesn’t stop scaring Mama like that,” I warned.

“Aw, come on, girly,” he teased, stealing a kiss, “You know I was only playin’. And you know how I like watchin’ you jump.”

I squeaked when he pinched my ass, shooing his hands away.

“Is it true?” Thatcher grinned as he skidded into the room.

I nodded and grinned when he shouted and elbowed Bo out of the way.

“I’m gonna be a Dad!” he crowed.

“You’re already a dad,” Ford informed him, walking in and trying to steal a cookie from the cookie jar.

“I’m gonna be a dad,
again!”
he crowed, snatching the cookie out of Ford’s hand to take a huge bite, cackling hysterically when he took another one and ran from the room with it.

“Hey! Get back here with my cookie, old man!” Ford bellowed, running after his Dad. “That was the last one!”

He paused, ran back to me and hugged me.

“I’m happy for you, Mama. I like havin’ babies around.”

I hugged him back.

“Thanks, bud. I do too.”

Then he went to dash off.

“Ford?”

He paused.

“Yeah, Mama?”

I gave him a cookie from my secret stash and he grinned, taking a huge bite.

He kissed my cheek and ran into the living room.

“Haha! Mama loves me more!” he shouted.

“What? There’s more? Where?” Thatcher asked, a thread of hope in his voice.

I burst out laughing when I heard them bantering back and forth from the living room.

“You have a bun in the oven, my little hell cat?” Reeve murmured huskily, nuzzling my neck, squeezing my hips.

“Mmm, hmmm,” I hummed.

“Does little Thomasine want a baby brother or sister to play with?” Reeve asked her, grinning when she looked at him wide eyed and nodded, his big strong hands rubbing my belly.

“You do?” I laughed, leaning back against Reeve’s chest.

She nodded again, her sweet little face very serious all of the sudden.

“Baby little for Thommy. Mommy baby little for Thommy.”

“Yes, baby,” Bo piped up, “Mommy has a baby little for Thommy.”

She clapped happily and then focused all of her attention back on her crackers.

“I’m never going to get dinner started if you keep nibbling on me, pervert.”