A Baby in His Stocking (6 page)

Eyes wide, she put her hand to her forehead. “Is this really happening?”

“Me washing dishes?” He forced a smile. “Do it all the time.”

“I'm not kidding, Wyatt. Josie's like a sister to me.”

“News flash—Dallas
is
my brother. Trust me, I'm just as concerned as you. But if we lose our cool, where does that leave the kids who are now in our care?”

She averted her gaze. “You're right. Let's go.”

Slapping his hat on his head and boots on his feet, Wyatt followed her out the door. Odds were his brother and sister-in-law would be fine. Wyatt was the real one in trouble. How was he supposed to survive the night with not only uptight Natalie, but all those screaming kids?

Outside, horizontal snow pelted Wyatt's cheeks. The cold was brutal enough to burn his lungs.

Once Natalie managed to lock the door, Wyatt helped her through the already drifting snow. He'd left the truck running, with the headlights on—a good thing, considering visibility was near zero. He opened her door, helped her inside, then tossed her suitcase on the backseat of the extended cab.

Behind the wheel, the truck's warmth came as a relief. There was still comfort to be found in a world gone eerily white.

“This is crazy,” Natalie said, warming her hands in front of blowing heat vents. “Why were Josie and Dallas out in this?”

“Wish I knew.” With the truck already in four-wheel drive, Wyatt eased away from the curve, flashing the lights to bright. It didn't do much to help him see ten feet in front of the bumper.

Natalie took her phone out, only to tuck it back in her purse. “No service. I need to know what's going on.”

“Check mine.” Wyatt fished it from his back pocket, tossing it to her.

“Nope.”

Inches slowly turned to miles. Making a left onto the county road leading to the ranch, he glanced Nata
lie's way to find her crying. In the lights from the dash tears glistened on her cheeks.

“They're going to be fine.”

“How do you know? How do you even know we're going to safely make it to your mom's?”

Having not seen another vehicle on the road since they'd started, Wyatt felt reasonably safe stopping in the center of the road. Angling to face her, he said, “To be honest, at the moment, I'm not sure how the truck's even staying on the road. The one thing I am sure of is how much Josie and Dallas love each other and their kids. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than bad weather or even a barreling semi to keep all of them apart.”

Tears still falling, Natalie nodded, but Wyatt could tell she was still consumed by fear.

What he didn't want her to know was that he was, too. If Dallas died…

Wyatt honestly didn't know what he'd do.

“Thanks for the update,” Natalie said two hours later to Georgina on the ranch's landline. The drive over had been harrowing. Bless Kolt's heart, in the forty-five minutes it'd taken to make what was typically a fifteen minute drive, he'd kept all of the girls comfy and warm and watching
Cinderella.
Alas, Natalie knew she and Wyatt were living on borrowed time until the gang realized it'd be a while before their parents got home. “Please call again the second you hear anything new.”

“How are they?” Wyatt asked from a kitchen table chair.

Natalie joined him at the table. “Want the good news or bad?”

“Bad.”

Josie and Dallas's injury list was so extensive Natalie had taken notes, which she now consulted. “Y-your brother is unconscious, his right leg is shattered and there were so many other relatively minor issues I lost track.” Swallowing past a hard knot of tears, she continued, “J-Josie is also unconscious with head trauma and a fractured pelvis.”

Wyatt groaned. “The good?”

Past a tear-framed exaggerated grin, Natalie said,
“They're both barely alive, but if they survive the night, they should recover within weeks—but possibly months.”

“Months?”
He leaned forward, thumping his head to the table. “Where does that leave us? After this snow, you've got school. I leave town in three days.”

“I can't speak for you, but as Esther's godmother, I plan to do what I promised and watch over her for however long it takes.”

“Yeah, but what about the six other kids?” He didn't bother raising his head. “I have a work visa that was no easy task to get. An entire crew is depending on me.”

“Well…” Natalie sighed. “For now, let's just make it through the storm. After that, no doubt Josie and Dallas will be much improved and roads will be cleared just in time for you to catch your flight.” Nudging his shoulder, she added, “Chin up. It'll be fun. We'll make popcorn and roast marshmallows. Time will fly by.”

 

“U
NCLE
W
YATT
,” B
ONNIE SAID
as Callie and Esther screamed their fool heads off, “you're a superbad babysitter.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled. The movie hadn't even finished and already all hell was breaking loose. While Natalie searched for diapers, Wyatt had been assigned feeding duty. Only he didn't have a clue what kids this small were even supposed to eat. Horrible with dates, Wyatt figured Callie, Daisy and Luke's second child, had to be nearly one.

“Esther only drinks Mommy's milk,” Betsy announced. “Like from her boobs.”

Was it wrong for Wyatt to feel a bit faint? Hands bracketing his mouth, he shouted, “Nat!”

“And see how she's drooping?” Bonnie noted.
“You're not supposed to put her in the high chair 'cause her neck doesn't got muscles.”

“I want cookie!” From her booster seat, Mabel's wail struck Wyatt square between his eyes. She was Dallas and Josie's first child together. Wyatt supposed Mabel fell square in the toddler category—old enough to carry out basic skills, but none that truly matter. As if crying weren't enough, she added kicking her feet and hitting the table with chubby palms. “I want cookie!”

Robin, Cash and Wren's daughter who had to be almost three, sat in her booster seat, perfectly calm, but scribbling with a crayon on the oak table.

“What's wrong?” Natalie said, out of breath from running down the back stairs. “Did one of the kids get hurt?”

Kolt looked up from his handheld video game. “Uncle Wyatt almost killed Esther.”

“Did not,” Wyatt said, taking instant oatmeal from the pantry.

“We're having that for dinner?” Betsy asked. “Gross. I'm calling Mommy and Daddy.”

“You can't,” Wyatt snapped.

“Come here, little one.” Voice cotton-soft, Natalie scooped Esther from the high chair, showing off by expertly supporting the infant's head. “That's it,” she said with a light jiggle. “Shhh… I'm pretty sure your mom left you some milk in the fridge.”

Wyatt asked Natalie, “How did I not get the memo Josie was breast-feeding?”

“My mom did with Callie, too.” Kolt paused his game. “Dad says it's healthier for the baby and helps them not get ear infections and stuff. But when Callie started biting real bad, Mom quit. Now, she eats what
ever we have for dinner—just mashed up.” Taking his sister from her chair, he jiggled her much the same way Natalie handled his cousin. “You really are kinda bad at this, Uncle Wyatt. What're you going to do when you have kids?”

Knowing Kolt meant his question in a perfectly innocent way did little to ease Wyatt's pain. Hands up in the universal sign of surrender, Wyatt said, “Sorry, folks, but I need a breather.”

“What's that?” Bonnie asked. She'd taken a tub of chocolate ice cream from the freezer and was now stabbing it with a spatula.

“He's gotta breathe.” Betsy ate strawberry ice cream with a fork. “Like that Brad kid at school who has
acksma.
”

“Asthma,” Natalie corrected. “And I don't think your uncle has that particular affliction.”

“I want cookie!”
Mabel kicked the table so hard her booster seat nearly fell off its chair.

“Better give her one,” Bonnie said. “She bites.”

“Cookie! Cookie! Mommy! Cookie!”

“I know you need your
breather,
” Natalie said under her breath, passing Esther to Wyatt, “but at the moment, we have more pressing needs.”

Unbuckling Mabel's safety belt, Natalie held her, humming a cheery tune while drying the still-huffing child's tears with a paper towel. “There you go, angel. All better. Once we have dinner, we'll have cookies for dessert.”

“I'm having mine now.” Bonnie dredged an Oreo through her ice cream.

“No, you're not.” Natalie took the ice cream and cookie.

“Oooh,” Betsy said, “that wasn't very nice. Bonnie's gonna be mad at you.”

“Yes, I am!” Bonnie chased Natalie to the trash can, but was too late to save her treat. “Betsy, what's Daddy's phone number? I'm telling!”

Having long since put his sister Callie on the floor, Kolt rolled his eyes.

Wyatt jiggled Esther, but she grew more fitful. “Kolt, help me out. What am I doing wrong?”

Bonnie said, “She doesn't like you, Uncle Wyatt. Me, neither.”

“Wyatt?” Natalie called from the sink, where she used a wet rag to wipe down Betsy's ice cream–coated face. “Did you bring in my stew from the truck?”

“No,” he said, “but I will.”

Natalie had put Mabel on the floor, where she proceeded to grab fistfuls of dry dog food from a stainless steel bowl.

“Honey, no!” Natalie scooped Mabel up, only to pass her off to Kolt. “Hold her while the twins and I find Prissy.”

“Okay, whoa.” With a shake of his head, Wyatt said, “Seven kids
and
Wren's high-maintenance pooch?”

“And Kitty!” Betsy said, reminding them to watch out for Josie's cat.

“Poke a fork in me,” Wyatt said. “I'm done.”

“Congratulations.” Natalie's tone was as lackluster as her expression. “We've been parents all of an hour and already you're throwing in the towel?”

Esther began to cry.

As did Callie.

And Robin.

Betsy and Bonnie clamped their hands over their ears.

“Prissy!” Mabel squirmed free from Kolt, charging as only a toddler can across the kitchen and midway up the back staircase.

The spoiled-rotten Yorkie/Chihuahua mix took one look at the drooling, pinching menace headed her way and ran off yelping.

At which point, Mabel plopped her behind on a stair and joined her cousins' wailing.

“Ohmygosh,”
Natalie said in a rush. Her complexion had grown red and splotchy and the way she stood with her hands on her ever-growing belly made Wyatt wonder if she was having second thoughts about becoming a mom. Forcing deep breaths, she now waved her hands in front of her face. “I'm a school counselor. I'm with kids every day. Granted, not kids this little, but I'm thinking we have to be going about this wrong. What are we missing?”

Bonnie raised her hand.

Wyatt asked, “What do you need, squirt?”

“I was just gonna say if you feed us all ice cream for dinner then the babies won't cry.”

Sighing, Wyatt said, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“No deal,” Natalie said above the tears. “That's like rewarding them for poor behavior.”

“They're just babies,” Kolt pointed out. “They don't even know what's going on.” He took a bag of corn chips from the pantry. “And you guys still haven't told us where all the other grown-ups are.”

Natalie held Esther and Callie.

Kolt sat on the stairs alongside Mabel and Robin, coaxing smiles from them with chips.

The sudden silence—save for blizzard-strength winds—struck Wyatt as deafening. It also brought the
same brand of quivery relief as the calm after being violently ill. Like he'd survived, but now what?

“Where's my dad and mom?” Bonnie asked.

Natalie put the children down and sat on the center of one of the lower steps, patting the empty spaces alongside her. “Come here. What I have to tell you might sound scary, but I
promise,
everything's going to be fine.”

 

T
WO HOURS LATER
, W
YATT SAID
, “That was really messed up.”

“What?” The younger kids were in bed, the three oldest playing Monopoly. Natalie scrubbed Georgina's kitchen. Dinner had been a full-on catastrophe. Wyatt sat at the table, bare feet resting on the chair opposite his. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt a size too small from what Natalie guessed had been too many washings. The way it hugged his chest ought to be criminal. It showcased far too many of his muscular assets. Not a good thing, considering she was stuck with him at least until the end of the storm. The only help he'd given at dinner was to second guess her every decision. “You going to tell me I'm as lousy at dishwashing as I am cooking?”

“Point of fact,” he said, nursing a longneck beer, “your stew hit the spot. My problem is more in the way of how you promised the girls their parents were going to be fine.”

“They are.” Natalie refused to think any other way.

Feet planted on the floor, he leaned forward with his palms on the table. “Both Dallas and Josie have more wrong than right. What are you going to tell the twins if their parents' recovery doesn't go as planned?”

“Are you purposely trying to make this situation
worse than it already is?” Natalie abandoned the dishes to face him. “Like it or not, the two of us are the only thing standing between a bunch of kids and the worst winter storm this state has seen in years—if not ever. Trust me, I'm not any happier than you about being stuck here together. If I had my druthers, I'd put you on a plane this second.”

He finished his beer. “You don't mean that.”

“The hell I don't.” No matter how badly her throat ached from the effort of holding back tears, she wasn't about to let him see her cry for a second time in one day. His every word reinforced her vow to stay single. She'd forgotten a man's capacity to hurt. “Every chance you get, you tear me down. Why? What have I ever done to deserve you treating me like scum you wiped off your boots?”

“Now you're being—” Before he could finish his sentence, a low descending hum signaled the house powering down. “Swell.”

“I'll find candles,” Natalie said.

“Where are the lights?” Betsy asked, Bonnie close on her heels.

“I told her,” Kolt said, “the electricity went out because of the snow, but she's too dumb to listen.”

“Don't call your cousin dumb.” Natalie sensed Wyatt behind her. His size, the chemistry that crackled between them was unnerving. Her brain knew she'd had enough of Wyatt, but her body didn't get the memo.

“Excuse me,” she said to him, fumbling through a drawer where she'd seen matches.

For an instant, his hand touched hers. “Sorry.”

Did he feel it, too? The heat, tightening his stomach whenever she was near? Natalie prayed she wasn't the only one being tortured.

“Found them.” Thrilled for the distraction, Natalie struck a match against the box. Her eyes fought the flame's glow. “Betsy, Bonnie, could you please help me find the cupboard where your grandmother keeps her candles?”

“This will work better.” Wyatt brandished a flashlight, waving the beam in her face.

“Until the batteries go dead.” The match burned down to her fingers, scorching in the second before she'd blown it out. Acting on instinct, she lifted her stinging finger to her mouth, licking where it most hurt. In the process, her gaze met Wyatt's. Her mind's eye had him kissing not only her finger, but so much more. Which was wrong and disturbing in ways she didn't dare explore.

Bonnie held up her treasure. “Here's some candles, Miss Natalie, but Grandma only lets people use them on special days.”

“I got some, too,” Betsy said.

“Thanks.” Natalie took the girls' offerings, but still headed to the dining room not only for holders, but to escape Wyatt. The house was enormous. Why did his presence have it feeling cramped all of the sudden?

Without the electrical hum of appliances and central heat, the wind's howl took on a frightening tone.

“I'm scared.” Betsy hugged Natalie's waist.

Bonnie followed suit.

“Tell you what,” Wyatt knelt in front of them, “if you ladies light candles, Kolt and I will make a big fire. Then, we'll roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories just like we did on your Halloween hayride.”

“I want princess stories.” Betsy frowned at the deep, dancing shadows the candlelight formed.