Yuletide Baby Bargain Page 6

  Greer lifted her hand. “Don’t start. Sometimes you sound just like Dad.”

  Ali threw a tree branch at her head. Greer deflected it and propped her hands on her slender hips, studying the mess of tree branches tangled together with a rat’s nest of tiny lights. “I thought these things were supposed to be easy to put together.”

  “All I know is that it was the one the sales guy recommended at Shop-World. And it was the best one of the few we could actually afford.” Ali flipped over the base portion and managed to fit it back into the stand, but only by whacking it a few times with the heel of a boot. She straightened, stretching her back. “Okay.” She waved at the branches littering the hardwood floor. “I’ve done my part. Rest is up to you.”

  “That means you,” Greer told Maddie. “I’ve got to get those case files reviewed before Monday court. And it’s just too hot to concentrate here. I’m going to head over to the office instead.”

  “You said you were going to help,” Ali groused.

  “And I will,” Greer insisted. “After I get my work done.”

  “Well, you are going to decorate this sucker,” Ali told her. “You got out of all the Christmas stuff last year, but if you try again, I’m going to hang wanted posters all over the branches.”

  “That’d be festive,” Greer drawled. “I’ll decorate, okay?”

  “She better,” Ali muttered as their sister left.

  “She will,” Maddie soothed. She would have accused Greer of shirking her Christmasy duty, too, if she weren’t perfectly aware that their eldest triplet had a workload with the public defender’s office that was completely insane. The fact that Greer had been home on a Saturday morning at all was unusual.

  But Ali—as a police officer—was less tolerant of their third sister’s career as a public defender.

  So Maddie picked up a handful of the prickly branches without complaint and started fitting them in place under Ali’s watchful eye.

  They were still working on it when their father eventually returned, but neither paid him much attention as he came inside. “I suppose you’re going to want me to fix that mess of a tree, too?”

  “No,” Ali drawled immediately. She was standing on a stepstool, fluffing out the upper tree branches. “And it’s not a mess.”

  Maddie didn’t look up. She was on her knees, her head wedged between the branches as she tried to locate the electrical plugs connecting all of the light strands together. She loved her dad. She really did. She didn’t know what they would do without him. But sometimes, his attitude left a little to be desired.

  Maybe their tree was a bit of a mess, but it was theirs.

  “Thanks, though, Daddy,” she added tactfully. “But you’re already taking care of the sauna.” She wrinkled her nose trying to alleviate a sudden itch. “That’s a lot more important.”

  He made a “humph” sound full of doubt, but fortunately dropped it. All she could see of him through the tree were his shoes as he passed by. She finally felt the distinctive shape of the last plug and managed to thread the other cords through the branches until they met.

  “I’ve finally got it, Ali.” She stuck out her hand blindly. “Hand me the extension cord, will you?”

  “Here.”

  The voice was deep. Definitely not her sister’s, but recognizable anyway.

  She let out a slow breath, taking the cord that Linc handed her and making the connection.

  Then she extricated herself from the tree branches, giving Ali a withering look. Couldn’t her sister at least have warned her?

  But Ali had moved off the stepstool to sit on the couch. She was bouncing Layla on her lap, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  “I didn’t know why your door would be open the way it was, so I came in to check.” He took off his leather jacket. “Pretending you’re in the tropics?”

  Maddie swiped her tangled hair away from her cheek and scrambled to her feet, wishing like fury that she hadn’t tied her ancient T-shirt in a knot under her breasts. With the paint-stained shorts she was wearing, she probably looked more like the seventeen-year-old he’d deemed unsuitable as a girlfriend for his brother than the responsible adult she really was.

  “Furnace is on the fritz. What are you doing here? There was no need to check up on Layla.” She gestured toward her sister and the baby. “As you can see, she’s still with me. I haven’t secreted her away to a foster family behind your back.”

  “I brought you supplies.”

  Only then did she realize the front door was still open and a pile of stuff was sitting right outside. A gigantic box of diapers. Three containers of formula powder. A case of ready-to-use formula bottles.

  She didn’t want to feel touched. Or concerned. But she was—deeply. How was he going to react when things didn’t go his way at the hearing? “You really didn’t need to do all this.” There was even a large box displaying a photo of an infant swing and a shopping bag bulging with heaven only knew what. “I hope you kept your receipts for when you end up returning most of it.”

  He just gave her a look.

  Right. Lincoln Swift probably never returned anything.

  “Your face is all red,” he said.

  “It’s hot, as you’ve so tactfully observed.” She folded her arms across her front, trying to hide the pale skin of her bare midriff. “My dad is working on getting the heat fixed.”

  “I ran into Carter outside. He told me.”

  She could just imagine. Her dad wasn’t one to mince words, even in the best of circumstances.

  Linc tossed his jacket aside. “And I meant your face is really red.”

  He was wearing the same gray pullover that he’d been wearing that morning. Cashmere, probably. With a thin line of white from his undershirt showing above the crew neck that had her thinking about what would be beneath that.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her chin, hating the fact that he made her feel so self-conscious. And the fact that she knew what sort of body lurked beneath the cashmere. “I know. I’m a mess.”

  “No.” Ali had unfolded her legs and stood. She stepped closer, carrying Layla. “Looks like you’re getting a rash.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s—” Maddie looked across the room toward the antique mirror hanging over the fireplace mantel. Her jaw dropped at her reflection, and she scrambled around the tree box and the play yard to get a closer look.

  Her face was covered in red spots. And when she lifted her fingers to touch it, she realized the same splotches were springing out on her arms. And they were all suddenly itching as though a dozen ants were attacking.

  In the mirror, she could see Linc lift Layla away from Ali. He held her awkwardly to one side, as if to shield her from whatever menace Maddie presented. The baby’s legs dangled and she kicked them happily, as if it were some fun game. But it was a game that ended quickly when Linc laid her down inside her play yard. “What the hell have you exposed her to?”

  “Nothing!” Maddie started rubbing her itching jaw and made herself stop. Her gaze fell on the tree. The damned prickly artificial Christmas tree that she’d been wrestling with for more than an hour. “It’s that tree,” she pointed accusingly.

  “I don’t know,” Ali drawled. “Sure it’s not mange?”

  “Ali!”

  Her sister laughed, spreading her hands. “I’m kidding!”

  Maddie wanted to kick her. “Why aren’t you breaking out in a rash?” They were identical sisters, for heaven’s sake. If something about the tree was giving Maddie an allergic reaction, shouldn’t it do the same with her sister?

  Ali shrugged. “Clean living?” She tightened the messy knot on her head. If she felt the least self-conscious about her appearance around Linc, she hid it a lot better than Maddie did. “Go take a cool shower,” she advised. “Maybe it’ll help.”


  “Not if it’s measles or something equally contagious,” Linc said flatly.

  “It’s not measles!” Maddie could feel the situation escaping her control. “I’ve had all the shots I’m supposed to have. I am not sick, so stop hoping that I am.”

  “I’m not hoping anything.” He stepped between Maddie and the baby, but he looked toward the front door as if measuring the distance. “I’m just being cautious.”

  “No, you’re being ridiculous. And stop eyeing the door like that. I know what you’re thinking, too. But you’d have to pick her up again to kidnap her.”

  His hazel eyes went hard. He looked incensed. “Kidnap. Do you always assume the worst, or is it just with me?”

  Ali stepped between them. “Go take a shower,” she said calmly to Maddie. “See if it helps. Linc isn’t going anywhere. Are you, Linc?”

  He looked like he wanted to argue. But maybe he had some respect for Ali’s position as a cop, even though she was dressed like a sweaty beach bum. “For now,” he said through his teeth.

  Maddie met her sister’s eyes. Linc had resources on top of resources at his disposal. And she’d seen desperate people do all sorts of desperate things they would never consider under ordinary circumstances. “I’ll be just a few minutes,” she warned.

  “Take your time,” Ali said easily. “It’ll give Linc and me a chance to catch up.” She sent Linc a winsome smile that made Maddie feel an unwarranted stab of jealousy. Ali had always been able to wrap men around her fingers with that smile. “Right, Linc?”

  Chapter Five

  “Good news.” Her uncle David peeled off his sterile gloves and pitched them into the trash before flipping on the faucet to wash his hands. “Looks like a simple case of contact dermatitis.” He turned back to Maddie where she was sitting on the examination table in his office.

  After a shower had failed to bring her rash any relief, Linc had insisted she see a doctor. Then Carter had come up from the basement while she’d been arguing that Linc did not need to drive her to the hospital in Weaver, and had sided with him. Ali was the one to hurriedly suggest their uncle as an alternative.

  Probably because she knew that Maddie had been about ready to lose her mind.

  “Next time you touch your fake tree, wear long sleeves and gloves,” her uncle advised, tilting her chin. “And try not to stick your face into it.” He smiled. He was a few years older than her dad, and in general a much more easy-going guy. “Calamine and an antihistamine ought to take care of it. I’ll prescribe something stronger if that doesn’t give you some relief by tomorrow.”

  She hopped off the child-size table and tugged the hem of her sweater down around the blue jeans that she’d changed into. Even beneath the denim, her legs felt itchy. “Thanks. I appreciate you taking time for me. I was afraid I was going to get dragged to the hospital in Weaver whether I wanted to go or not.”

  “No problem. Had several patients today anyway. But a trip to the hospital seems a little extreme.”

  She was pretty sure nothing about her uncle’s offices had changed since she’d been a child and he’d been her pediatrician. Even the painted cartoon characters circling the walls looked the same. “Would you do me a favor and tell Lincoln Swift that?” He was waiting for her in the waiting room. She hoped. “He’s determined that I’m Typhoid Mary. Dad was almost as bad.”

  David chuckled as they walked back to the waiting room where his receptionist was cuddling Layla while Linc sat stiffly in one of the chairs. He was watching a trio of young children playing in the corner where a miniature table and chairs were situated. What he was thinking was anyone’s guess. Maddie was just relieved to see that he hadn’t bolted with the baby.

  When she’d gone back to the examining room with her uncle, she’d tried to take the baby with her, but her uncle had intervened. She’d had no graceful way to get out of it, and had left the baby with Linc. Maddie doubted that he’d been the one to unbuckle Layla from her carrier. Which meant the receptionist had probably done it.

  “I’m not contagious,” she announced when he spotted her. “Sorry to disappoint you, but all I need is an antihistamine and a lot of calamine.” She went to the receptionist to retrieve Layla, murmuring her thanks.

  “She was fussing a little, so I took her out of the car seat,” the woman said. “I hope you don’t mind. I asked your husband, only he said he wasn’t your husband.” She was a young brunette Maddie didn’t know, and she giggled a little as she went behind her desk. She was giving Linc an entirely appreciative look.

  To his credit, he didn’t seem to notice.

  Maddie fit Layla back into the carrier that was sitting on the empty chair next to Linc. Before leaving the hot house, Maddie had dressed the baby once more in her polka-dot sleeper. It was starting to look a little worse for wear. At the very least, Maddie would need to buy or borrow a change of clothes to get them through the next few days. But she wasn’t going to say a word about it to Linc.

  If she did, he’d show up with an entire winter wardrobe.

  “Now that you know I’m not going to give some dreaded disease to Layla, you can drop us off at my house and head on your way.” She hadn’t wanted him to drive her, but she’d lost that argument, too.

  “I spoke with Carter. He says your furnace is a lost cause. But he did get it disconnected. So the heat’s off.”

  Her nerves tightened. Which was annoying in and of itself, because she was not usually the type to be so easily annoyed. “I would have found that out when I got home, but okay.”

  “He also said to tell you that your mom’ll have your old beds made up for the night.”

  “And I’ll tell him, again, the same thing I’ll tell you. We’ll be sleeping under my roof tonight, just like usual.” She yanked on the jacket she’d left in the waiting room and wrapped her fingers around Layla’s seat handle, carrying it toward the door.

  She tried hurrying ahead of Linc, but it was fruitless. He was at least a foot taller, and when his hand closed over the heavy carrier handle next to hers, she reluctantly let him take it from her.

  She shoved her hands into her pockets. What was worse? Her skin tingling from that brief, disturbingly warm contact, or itching like fury?

  While he set the car seat in the back of his enormous crew-cab pickup, he left it to her to buckle it in. She had to climb up inside the pickup to do it, and since she was already there, when she finished securing Layla she just buckled herself in beside her. “Home, James,” she muttered under her breath while he rounded the pickup to get behind the wheel.

  “Say something?” His eyes found hers in the rearview mirror as he started the engine.

  She shook her head and tucked her itching hands beneath her thighs. If she bathed in a vat of calamine, perhaps she could avoid taking an antihistamine. They always made her feel exhausted.

  “It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

  She shifted, pressing her thighs a little harder against her hands. It wasn’t as good as the forbidden scratching—but it was better than nothing. “Well. It’s mid-December. Snow happens.”

  “Temperature’s supposed to drop another twenty.”

  “I appreciate the weather report, Linc.” She dragged her hands free and rubbed the back of them against her ribs. If he didn’t get moving soon, she was afraid she’d beg him to make a stop so she could stock up on a gallon or two of calamine. Because she was pretty sure the bottle in her medicine cabinet wasn’t going to cut it. “Could we, uh, get going please? Layla needs a diaper change.” It was an outright lie, but she figured a forgivable one given the circumstances.

  He stretched his arm across the seat as he looked back at her. “You’re not going to have any heat,” he said with the patience of one speaking to a nitwit. “Your furnace is disconnected.”

  She grimaced. “You and my father
ought to form a club. The house was over ninety degrees when we left it. And we had windows open! It’s not going to cool off that fast. We’re not going to freeze in our sleep. Layla will be fine.” Oblivious to being the topic of conversation, the baby’s eyelids were beginning to droop. Layla was like nearly every baby ever: a running car engine inspired her to catnap.

  Linc’s lips compressed. He turned around to face the front and put the truck into gear. “You’re more stubborn than you used to be.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not seventeen anymore.”

  He made a sound. “Trust me. I’ve noticed.”

  She flushed. He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

  “What I’m getting at is obvious,” he continued. “I have a furnace that operates properly.”

  “And I have firewood and a fireplace. I’m not bringing Layla back to your house.”

  “Until the judge says so.”

  She pressed her knuckles against her ribs, rubbing in circles, and sighed. “I don’t know how many times I need to warn you how unlikely that is. At least until we know more about Layla.”

  “Everyone thought it was unlikely my grandfather would strike oil, too.”

  She looked out the windshield. In the distance, she could see the oil derrick that stood like a metal monolith on the horizon. Every school kid in Braden grew up hearing the story of Swift Oil’s first successful oil strike. That discovery well was no longer active, but only because it didn’t need to be. The home office of Swift Oil was still located in Braden—a tribute to its humble beginnings, or so the advertising went—but there were three other offices spread around the state, dealing in everything from crude oil to natural gas to alternative energy.

  Yet for all of Gus Swift’s early success in the oil business, it had never seemed to Maddie that the man’s family had ever benefitted all that much. Ernestine had been widowed when her only son, Blake, was still young. She’d never married again, and Blake turned out a jerk. She’d done more to raise her grandsons when they’d come along than their parents had.