If Natalie Lewis felt any more emotionally battered, she’d dissolve into a teary puddle right there in the middle of Georgina Buckhorn’s garden. Pregnant. Abandoned. Surrounded by dozens of happy, October-sun-drenched guests whose very presence dictated she force a smile. Around these parts, the christening of Josie and Dallas Buckhorn’s new baby was huge. But how was she supposed to get into a celebratory frame of mind when hours earlier Craig had shattered her world?
She’d loved him and had assumed they’d be married and raise a family together. But then, silly her, she’d only been waiting for that ring on her finger for three years. What was wrong with her that she’d ignored every sign that Craig avoided commitment the way some folks steered clear of root canals? From not wanting to even hold hands in public to bailing on too many important occasions to count, Craig made a habit of reminding her just how little she meant in the overall scheme of his life. He even refused to sleep over on the Friday nights they made love. Oh, he’d invented his own art form when it came to stringing her along. Promising to spend more time with her when his work slowed. Explaining he’d just bought a calendar to help remember their dates. Ha! Fat lot of good that’d had done when he’d left it in a junk drawer. And he worked for UPS! Did they ever slow down? God, she was such an idiot.
“I need a favor.”
Natalie glanced up to see Wyatt Buckhorn standing before her in all his glory. “I’m busy.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He pried her cookie-filled plate from her hands, setting it on the table alongside her wicker love seat.
“Hey,” she protested. “If ever there was a girl in need of cookie-therapy, it’s me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Cry me a river. Craig’s been an ass before, and I’m sure he will again. This is important.” Drawing her to her feet, he tugged her against him—tightly enough together a playing card couldn’t have been slid between them. Though Natalie and Wyatt had been pals since their first day in Weed Gulch Elementary’s kindergarten class, she couldn’t ever remember touching him—not like this. He was a Buckhorn, and had everything that came with the name. Criminally handsome, filthy rich, with enough charisma to charm a rattler into being a lap pet. That said, she’d always viewed him as someone to study from afar. He moved in vastly different circles than she did, which was fine. Back in high school he dated only cheerleaders and she’d had no wish to break her arm in a cheerleading pyramid, or, now that they’d grown, his usual date’s stiletto heels.
“Yeah,” she snatched a cookie from her plate, “so is my strict comfort-food regime.”
Fingers around her wrist, he playfully growled before biting off a good three-quarters of her treat. Before she’d worked up a protest speech, he finished it off.
“Back to business,” he said upon swallowing. “In about thirty seconds, I’m going to kiss you. If you play along, I’ll forever be in your debt.” With a tip of his cowboy hat, he looked as matter-of-fact as if he’d asked directions to the nearest bar.
Natalie lurched back far enough for the pool deck’s wrought-iron fence to bite into her lower vertebrae. “How much champagne punch have you had?”
“Promise,” he said in his lazy cowboy drawl, “I’m stone-cold sober. Plus, this whole godparent thing makes us practically family, and besides my date you’re the only single female under the age of eighty and over the age of seven. You’re my only hope.”
“No,” she insisted. “I’ve had the worst twenty-four hours in world history and—”
Leaning into her personal space, his warm, sugar-laced breath acted like a brick thrown against her resolve. In the lifetime they’d been casual friends, she couldn’t recall Wyatt having ever stood so close. Her pulse behaved badly, galloping over her common sense at an alarming speed.
Licking suddenly parched lips, she managed to mutter, “So, yeah, it’s been a lousy day for me and I probably should just go home.”
“Hell.” He inched still closer. “That’s what you want, I’ll drive you. Just first help me with a kiss.”
Where Natalie’s words used to live now resided hitched breath and the kind of tingly awareness she shouldn’t be feeling. But this was Wyatt Buckhorn standing before her, begging for a kiss. The scene didn’t make sense—not in her carefully ordered world.
“So we’re good?” Wyatt asked, hovering his lips above hers.
No! This assault against her senses was miles from good. But then, in true Buckhorn style, Wyatt claimed what he wanted, pressing his lips to hers. And then he wasn’t just kissing her, but transporting her to another world. A place where she wasn’t alone and trying to hide that she was five months pregnant, but shimmering with a slow, honeyed warmth spreading from her head to her toes. Wyatt’s kiss was firm yet gentle. Sinful and wicked, but in a heavenly realm of good.
When she moaned, he stole the opportunity to sweep her tongue with his. The broad, leisurely stroke was too much, drowning her in powerful, sexy heat. Arms on autopilot, they twined about his neck, and she pressed her fingertips to the back of his head, urging him in for still more. When he finally released her, it was a struggle for Natalie to keep her rubbery knees from buckling.
“Damn…” To Natalie’s credit, Wyatt looked a little dazed himself by the power of what they’d shared. Did that mean it hadn’t all been her imagination? “Um, that went better than expected.”
Breathing still shallow, Natalie managed a nod.
He glanced away, red-faced. “We good?”
“Ah, in what sense?” she asked, doing a quick check to make sure her clothes hadn’t spontaneously combusted from her superheated limbs.
“You know, like we’re still pals?”
Pals? She choked back a laugh. If this was how he kissed a woman he thought of as his pal, she couldn’t fathom the carnal gifts he’d dole out to an actual lover. “Um, sure.”
“Thanks.” After landing a sucker punch to Natalie’s right shoulder, he nodded toward his scowling date. “Pretty sure that did the trick.”
“Everyone line up for more pictures!” Georgina Buckhorn, Wyatt’s mother, was in her element. Parties were her thing, and the over-the-top angel-themed christening for Josie and Dallas’s second daughter together, Esther, was no exception. A trio of harpists provided ethereal song to the gorgeous Indian-summer afternoon. Buffet tables dripping in vintage lace and pearls held outrageously opulent cakes, candies and tarts. Antique-pink roses perfumed the air. “Natalie and Wyatt, you two hold the baby alongside the fountain. Dallas, throw glitter at them so they sparkle.”
“I’m not pitching glitter at my child,” Dallas barked, handing Esther to his brother. As the eldest of the Buckhorn men, he was also the least playful. A fact that, at the moment, served Natalie well.
“Again,” Wyatt whispered above the fountain’s gurgle for only her to hear, “I appreciate you helping me out with that kiss. I’ve been hinting to Starla for days that I’m not the kind of guy who’s in it for the long haul, but she refuses to listen. By helping me provide a few more visual clues, you made the perfect assist.”
“Sure. No biggee.” Liar, her conscience screamed. Part of her wanted to rail at him for including her in such a stupid stunt. Then there was the portion of Natalie still humming with awareness and craving more of whatever Wyatt cared to offer—and that girl wanted to thank him.
Georgina, camera in hand, directed, “I need a few with just the godparents. Natalie, you hold Esther. Wyatt, put your arm around Nat—and for heaven’s sake, smile.”
Unbearable didn’t come close to describing the next five minutes. As much as Natalie had always viewed Wyatt as a fixture in her life, like a brother, she had to admit—if only to herself—he’d grown into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Tall and lanky with spiky black hair and impenetrable brown eyes, he was the dark horse to his fair-haired brothers and sister. He’d been the epitome of Weed Gulch High cool. Star quarterback for football. Pitcher for baseball. He’d changed girlfriends as often as clothes. Wiley Wyatt, he’d been nicknamed for his refusal to commit.
“Nat,” Josie Buckhorn called, “scoot closer to Wyatt. He’s not going to bite.” Natalie’s best friend, a petite redhead with freckles and a perpetual smile ever since marrying Dallas, gestured for Natalie to sidle up to Wyatt.
“I might. Bite, that is.” He aimed a wink toward his already miffed blonde date, which sent her stomping toward the open bar.
Natalie sighed. Wyatt’s action was perfect. Just the sort of thing needed to plant her feet solidly back on the ground. Their kiss might’ve been scorching, but it was also make-believe. And from a guy apparently every bit as commitment-phobic as Craig.
“Just a few more,” Georgina said, adjusting Esther’s bonnet, “and we ought to have enough.”
The baby started to fuss.
“You’re done,” Dallas growled at his mom and the high-priced Tulsa photographer. Taking the baby into his arms, he too headed for the bar.
Josie chased after him carrying their other daughter, Mabel.
Leaving Natalie on her own with her pal.
He cleared his throat, extending his hand for her to shake. “I really did appreciate your help. Sorry if our kiss got a little too, well…nice.”
“Apology accepted.” Nice wasn’t the word she’d have chosen for the hot tingles still coursing through her body from his touch. Now she wholeheartedly understood why women flocked to him. She’d just never counted herself as being among his groupies.
The afternoon wore on and on and on.
Around three, Natalie searched out Josie to say her goodbyes.
Unfortunately, her best friend wasn’t going to let her run out that easily. “Don’t even think about getting out of here before spilling every detail of that kiss.”
Josie held Esther. Judging by the baby’s fitful cries, the one-month-old didn’t realize that the party in full swing was in her honor. “Does this mean you and Wyatt have finally succumbed to your base urges to make out and then get married?” As usual, Josie made zero attempt to hide her desire for Natalie to hook up with Wyatt. She’d launched her campaign nearly two years earlier, when she’d married Dallas, and had yet to see the futility of her actions.
“Give it up,” Natalie said with a heartfelt sigh. “I know you mean well, but trust me, this bizarre dream of yours will never come true.”
“Then why’d you kiss him?” Josie winked.
“He kissed me. A sad tactic to unload his date just in time for all-night poker.” While most guests still mingled around the pool and Georgina Buckhorn’s renowned garden, Wyatt and his posse—the same guys he’d hung out with through high school and college—could be seen through the den’s picture window setting up for the game. They played during or after most of Georgina’s parties; just because this was a christening made no difference to their routine.
“Still,” Josie said, “it looked hot. Was it?”
Lie! Natalie’s voice of reason screamed. If she showed the smallest chink in her Anti-Wyatt Wall, Josie would use it to her advantage. Shrugging, Natalie said, “I’ve had better.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Mark my words, one of these days you two will discover each other, and when you do—pow!” In the process of waving her arm, she startled the baby into a full-blown wail. “Oops. Shh…” Jiggle, jiggle. “Sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn’t mean to scare you. She was just trying to make Auntie Nat see how much she secretly adores Uncle Wyatt.”
“On that note…” Natalie kissed the crown of Esther’s downy head. “I’m exhausted, but still have a few baskets to make for school tomorrow.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Josie’s expression said she wasn’t buying Natalie’s exit speech. “See you in the morning.”
“Looking forward to it— Oh, and if you get a sec after the festivities, would you mind rounding up any clothes Betsy and Bonnie have outgrown? I’ve got a few families in desperate need.”
“Absolutely,” Josie said, ambushing Natalie in a hug. “Thanks again for coming—and agreeing to be this one’s godmother. It means the world to Dallas and me.”
Natalie was Weed Gulch Elementary’s counselor, where Josie taught kindergarten. Though it wasn’t in her official job description, Natalie made care baskets she delivered anonymously to community families. Usually, she looked forward to organizing donated goods into utilitarian gifts, but as she climbed into her white VW bug all she truly wanted to do—aside from reliving Wyatt’s criminally hot kiss—was take a nice, long nap.
“SINCE WHEN ARE YOU macking on Fatty Natty?”
Wyatt lowered his cards, giving his old pal Owen Fletcher a glare. “Lay off. Since Dallas married Josie, Nat’s practically family, and I’d appreciate you treating her as such.”
“Touchy,” Owen said, getting up from the table for another beer. “This something we should know about?”
“Yeah,” West Graham piped in, “what happened to the blonde you had hanging all over you less than an hour ago?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Starla was starting to get too serious.”
Owen, a hulking former Weed Gulch and then University of Oklahoma offensive lineman, opened his beer. “Yeah, but you could have had a lot of fun with her on the way to full-on serious.”
“Well, I didn’t feel like having fun with her anymore,” Wyatt grumbled. “Are we here to play or what?”
Owen’s eyes widened. “All right, man. Jeez, what’s wrong with a little fun, is all I’m saying.”
“I don’t know.” In truth, Wyatt did know, but he wasn’t about to spill the secret he hadn’t even shared with his brothers. He tossed chips into the center pot. “I’m in and raise you five.”
West, one of Weed Gulch’s finest fullbacks, tossed in his chips, as well. “Sounds like someone’s trying to change the subject.”
“Not at all.”
Owen added his chips to the pot.
“I’m just tired of chit-chat when I need to focus on taking you two for all you’re worth.” Not to mention getting his mind off Natalie’s kiss.
IN HER TEDDY-BEAR-THEMED office Monday morning, Natalie nursed a Sprite while making notes for the school’s upcoming fifth-grade assembly on setting future goals. Before losing the kids to middle school, she drummed into them the importance of choosing a path and then following it. Ironic, in light of the mess she’d managed to make of her own life.
She nibbled a saltine, wishing the computer screen would quit swaying with each rush of nausea. How did she get the memo to her body that morning sickness was supposed to be gone by her second trimester?
Realizing she wasn’t going to make it through reading the next sentence, Natalie dashed for the bathroom. She’d just rocked back to sit on her heels when Cami Vettle, the school secretary, pushed open the door.
“You ever going to admit you don’t have a perpetual flu?”
Managing a sad laugh, Natalie said, “Is it that obvious?”
“To me. But then I spend five mornings a week with you. Who’s the daddy?”
“If I had an ounce of energy—” Natalie rested her head against the cool, tile wall “—I’d jump up from here to smack you.”
“I figured it was that gorgeous UPS guy,” Cami said while passing a paper towel beneath cold water, “but you never know.”
“Seriously?” Natalie groaned in pleasure when Cami placed the towel on her forehead. “You, of all people, know Craig’s the only guy I’ve been with for the past three years.”
After helping Natalie to her feet, Cami said, “When are you getting married?”
“We’re not. The day after I told him our blessed news, he applied for a transfer. I never thought he’d really go, but voilà, five months in and baby’s daddy up and moved to Miami.”
“Oh, no.”
Returning to her office, Natalie stretched out on her sofa.
Cami ruined Natalie’s temporary peace by asking, “What are you going to do?”
In the months she’d had to ponder her situation, Natalie had given that particular question a lot of thought. She’d always wanted to be a mom. Sure, in her little-girl fantasies she’d been happily married when giving birth, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as Craig wanted nothing to do with their child, she looked forward to holding her baby in her arms. “I’ll do the only thing I can—raise my child on my own.”
“What do your parents think?”
Nausea struck again. “It’s my fervent prayer they’re not as observant as you.”
THAT AFTERNOON, NATALIE felt much better. She’d managed to eat a little lunch and now stood in the empty auditorium, facing the twenty baskets lining the edge of the stage. She’d already rolled clothes, tying them with ribbon. Now she needed to add food, gift certificates from local merchants, books and toys.
The task she usually enjoyed felt daunting. One thing she hadn’t expected with pregnancy was to be so tired. Not just the kind of slump fended off with coffee, but a deep-down exhaustion that clung to her shoulders, weighing her down. Moodiness was another symptom she hadn’t expected. Everything from a dead fly to a Hallmark commercial made her cry.
She’d never been a fan of formfitting clothes, so hiding her condition for so long had been easier than she’d thought. That said, much more moodiness and it’d be her hormones giving her away rather than her baby bump.
“Hey,” Josie’s voice echoed through the lofty space. “Cami said I’d find you in here.”
“Are your kids in art?”
“Yep. I should be grading, but yesterday’s sugar has me feeling hungover.”
“I know the feeling.”
Familiar with the basket drill, Josie stepped up to help. Tucking canned chili between pint-size blue jeans and a puzzle, she said, “Cami told me you were sick again this morning. Also that you let her in on your secret. What prompted you to finally share your news?”
“I didn’t. Turns out she’d guessed a long time ago. Anyway, it’s not like I can keep my baby a secret much longer.”
Josie attacked Natalie with a hug. Then she grabbed some more cans of food. “Have you been feeling any better?”
“No. I’m tired, cranky and my body refuses to choose between ravenous or nauseous.”
From down the hall in the choir room came muted singing.
Natalie pressed her palms to her suddenly throbbing head.
“Honey,” Josie asked, setting her cans on the stage floor, “what’s wrong?”
Tears sprang hot and messy from nowhere. For weeks, Natalie had tried controlling her panic, but something about holding sweet Esther and that surprise dreamy kiss with Wyatt and then getting sick had her hormones about as stable as a four-wheeler on a potholed dirt road. “I—I thought I could be strong—you know, raising this baby on my own, but I’m scared.”
“Everything’s going to be okay.” Being wrapped in another of Josie’s warm hugs should’ve made Natalie feel better, but if anything, her friend’s kindness only served as a reminder to how easily she’d given her heart to Craig only to have him crush it like a recyclable aluminum can. “Sweetie, you know I’ll be here for you every step of the way. Heck, our house is big enough to hold half the county. If you have this baby and feel overwhelmed, move in with us and we’ll all help out.”
Her friend’s offer brought on fresh tears. “Why couldn’t Craig have been as perfect as you?”
Josie laughed through her own tears. “Wish I knew. I’d offer to drag him back and knock sense into him, but one of these days, if and when you’re ready, you can do much better in the man and baby-daddy department. I want you to find someone as dreamy as Dallas. Not just for emotional support, but the little things like helping with late-night feedings and deciphering all those mysterious burps and coos.”
Sighing, Natalie broke Josie’s hold to pace the center aisle. “I’m happy for you and Dallas—really, I am—but as much as I thought you two were made for each other, that’s how much I know I’m done with men. Before Craig, there was Neil. Remember him? The guy who took two dates to the same party? And who could forget Sam? The one who dumped me for a woman old enough to be his mother. Face it, when it comes to guys, my track record is one hundred percent awful.”
“Granted. Which is why I’ll leave you in peace to lick your wounds.” Josie took a bag of peanut M&M’s from her skirt pocket. She’d suffered an addiction ever since her pregnancy with Esther. What other kinds of baby afflictions did Natalie have in store? Popping a green one in her mouth, Josie added, “But soon, all bets are off. You’re too beautiful inside and out to announce yourself a spinster before you’ve even turned thirty-five.”
“Stop,” Natalie begged her supposed friend. “I know you mean well, but seriously, when it comes to dating, I’m done.”