The Rancher's Christmas Promise Page 7

  “‘Jaxie, please take care of Layla for me,’” he recited evenly.

  “Right. When Daisy cocktailed for Jax at his bar, she routinely called him that. That’s the only reason we ever suspected she was Layla’s mother in the first place.”

  Ryder’s expression was inscrutable but she could easily imagine what his suspicions were. She’d had them herself. So had Linc. His brother, Jax, had been on one of his not-infrequent jaunts, which was why Linc hadn’t immediately turned over the baby when he first discovered her. But whether or not Jax had been involved with Daisy in a more personal way, they’d nevertheless conclusively ruled him out as the baby’s biological father last December.

  She set the monitor down again. “By the time we knew about Daisy, though, Layla was already under the court’s protection. The judge named Maddie as Layla’s emergency foster parent while an investigation began.” She was reiterating facts that he’d been told months ago.

  “Your sister and Linc wanted to adopt her themselves. Before you ever even knew Daisy’s brother existed.”

  She glanced at him. It wasn’t a detail they’d shared when he took custody. “Who told you that?”

  He swirled the liquid in his bottle and took a drink, making her wonder if he was stalling or if he was simply thirsty.

  Then he turned the bottle upside down and poured out the remaining beer onto the grass beneath their feet. “Not cold enough,” he said, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer her at all.

  But he surprised her.

  He laid the empty bottle on its side on the table between them and slowly spun it. “As you’ve pointed out before, Counselor, word gets around in a small town.” He stopped the bottle so it pointed her way. “Isn’t it true?”

  She was a lawyer. Not a liar. And what was the harm if he knew the truth now? Maybe if he really understood, he wouldn’t be so standoffish where her family and Layla was concerned. “They would have, but Maddie knew she and Linc would never get her. There were too many people in line ahead of them waiting to adopt a baby.”

  She clasped her hands on the table in front of her before she could pick up the monitor again. Her fascination with it was vaguely alarming. “The search for Daisy was leading nowhere and it was only a matter of time before Judge Stokes made a permanent ruling about placement. Not even the fact that Ali found Daisy’s brother and discovered her real name was Karen Cooper changed that. We couldn’t prove Layla was Karen’s daughter and Grant’s niece through his DNA because both he and Karen were adopted. Siblings by law, but not by genetics. Which meant that not even Grant could stop the legal forces at work. The one established fact the court recognized was that Layla had been abandoned and, as such, would benefit from placement in a suitable home through adoption. A family had even been selected.” She sneaked a look at Ryder’s face but his expression still told her nothing. She spread her fingers slightly, then pressed the tips of her thumbs together. “And then we discovered that your...that Karen had died in a car accident in Minnesota. Thanks to the photo that Grant and Ali found in her effects, we learned about you. Until then, we had no idea that Daisy Miranda or Karen Cooper had acquired a husband.”

  “The presumptive father, you mean.”

  She studied him. He’d had an opportunity to disprove it simply by requesting a paternity test.

  But he hadn’t.

  Instead, he’d admitted—under oath—that he’d known about his absent wife’s pregnancy. Combined with all their other information about Karen Cooper, it was enough for Judge Stokes to determine that Layla was legally Ryder’s child. She’d been born during their marriage. No further questions asked. Certainly not about why Karen hadn’t left their child with Ryder when she’d apparently decided parenthood wasn’t for her.

  The case may have been closed, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still questions.

  “You didn’t have to do it, you know,” she said after a moment. “Claim Layla as your child. Not when we’d already failed so spectacularly to prove maternity.” She didn’t want to know if he’d lied under oath. It was hard enough suspecting that he had.

  “It was the right thing to do.”

  “Even though we didn’t know for certain that Daisy is...was Layla’s mother.” She could think of a dozen clients who wouldn’t have done what he’d done. He’d told Ali when they’d first notified him that his wife hadn’t been pregnant when she’d left him. Yet when he’d appeared before Judge Stokes, he’d attested that Daisy had notified him.

  “How often do you run into someone named Layla?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he spun the bottle again. “It was my mother’s name. Daisy knew it. And I know Daisy liked it, because she told me once—in the beginning when I thought we actually had something—that if we ever had a baby girl, she wanted to name her Layla. Daisy was Layla’s mother.” He dropped his hand onto the bottle again, stopping its spinning once more. “It was the right thing to do,” he repeated after a moment.

  Greer’s chest squeezed. He believed Daisy was Layla’s real mother. But did he believe that Layla was his biological daughter?

  She reached across the table and covered both his hand and the bottle with hers. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I really am.” That he lost his wife. That he’d become a father in such an unconventional way. If she had questions, he surely had many more.

  His jaw canted to one side. Then his blue eyes met hers and for some reason, an oil slick of panic formed inside her. She started to pull her hand back, but he turned his palm upward and caught hers.

  “Sorry enough to marry me?”

  Chapter Five

  “Marry you?”

  Greer yanked on her hand and nearly fell off the bench when he let go of it. She caught herself, only to knock over the bottle of soda, which gushed out in a stream of bubbly foam, splashing over the front of her T-shirt and shorts. “Now look what you’ve done!”

  It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing. “Gonna sue me over it? You know, for a woman who looks like she can run the world, you’re kind of a klutz. Did you really think I was serious?”

  She plucked her wet shirt away from her belly. Now she wasn’t just sweaty, she’d be sticky, too. And she’d never been klutzy. Until she was around him. “Of course not,” she lied. “You’re just full of funny things to say this after—” She broke off when he suddenly stood and went inside the house.

  She muttered an oath after his departing backside and swiped her hand down her wet thighs.

  He returned a moment later, holding a sleepy-looking Layla and a checkered dish towel that he tossed Greer’s way. “She needs a fresh diaper.”

  “Am I supposed to take out an announcement in the newspaper?” She swiped the towel over her legs. She could feel the damn soda right through to the crotch of her cutoffs.

  “You’re pretty snarky when you’re caught off guard, aren’t you?” He went back inside.

  Then she realized the baby monitor had gotten doused with soda, too. She snatched it off the table and started drying it with the towel.

  The screen had gone black.

  She carried it inside. Ryder was bending over Layla on the couch, changing the diaper. “Do you have any dried rice?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but started opening cupboard doors. “Ali got her cell phone wet last year and kept it inside a container of rice for a day to dry. I had my doubts, but the thing worked afterward.” Greer found plates. Drinking glasses. At least a dozen boxes of dry cereal. Only half of it was suitable for Layla, which gave her quite the insight into his preference for Froot Loops.

  She moved on to the lower cabinets and drawers.

  “No, I do not have rice.”

  He spoke from right behind her and she straightened like he’d poked her with an electric prod. “Oh.” She slammed the drawer she’d just opened shut. “Well, then I don’t know what you’ll want to do about thi
s.” She set the monitor on the butcher-block counter. “More soda got on it than me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow as he settled Layla into the high chair and managed to fasten the little belt thing around her wriggling body. “You look pretty soaked.”

  It was all she could do not to pluck at the hem of her shorts. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t joke like that.”

  He slid the molded tray onto the high chair and grabbed one of the boxes of cereal. He dumped a healthy helping onto Layla’s tray and she dived into it like she hadn’t eaten in days.

  There was no question that Layla liked her food. Greer had fed her both jars of the food that Doreen had left out, plus a cubed banana and a teething biscuit, right before her nap.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t be joking. Mrs. Pyle’s the one who reminded me Layla’d be better off with a mama than a nanny. Not that I’ve had any luck keeping either one around,” he added darkly.

  She felt that slick panic again and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came. Which was such an unfamiliar occurrence that she felt even more panicky. “You can’t judge everyone based on Daisy and a flighty nanny,” she finally managed to say.

  “Three nannies,” he reminded her. “Easier to discount one two-week wife than three nannies. Mrs. Pyle had a point.”

  She wasn’t sure her eyebrows were ever going to come back down to their normal spot over her eyes. “On what planet?”

  He slid a look her way. “I know I’m not Wyoming’s biggest catch, but you really think I can’t find a wife if I set my mind on it? At least this time, I’d be choosing with my head instead of my—”

  “Heart?”

  His lips twisted. “That wasn’t exactly the body part I was thinking about.”

  She felt her cheeks heat, which was just ridiculous. It wasn’t as though she was some innocent virgin. She was well versed in the facts of life, whether or not she’d acted on any of those facts lately.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “it wouldn’t be a one-way deal.” He’d pulled a covered bowl from the refrigerator and dumped the contents in a saucepan that he set over a flame on the stove. “I realize that she’d need to get something out of it, too. It’d be a business deal.” He bent over, picking up the sippy cup that Layla had pitched to the floor. “Both parties benefit.”

  Greer nearly choked, looking away from the sight of his very, very fine jean-clad backside.

  He set the cup back on the tray. “If you throw it, I’m going to take it away,” he warned.

  The baby laughed and swept her hands back and forth against the cereal, sending pieces shooting off the tray.

  “Yeah, you laugh, you little terror,” he muttered. “You know better.” He went back to the stove to poke a fork at the concoction he was heating.

  It all felt strangely surreal.

  “I’ve always been better in business than relationships. So go with your strengths, right?” He glanced at her again.

  “Marriage isn’t a business deal.”

  He snorted. “Better a business deal than the real deal. As they say, Counselor, been there, done that. Not really a fan. You’ve been a lawyer for a while now. Haven’t you seen the value of pragmatism over idealism?”

  She wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. “I don’t think pragmatism is a basis for marriage, either.”

  “But it’s a good basis for good business. At least that’s been my experience. So—” he tested the temperature of the contents in his saucepan with his finger and pulled the pan off the flame “—like I said, Mrs. Pyle has a point. Two parents are supposed to be better than one. Didn’t have two, myself, so I don’t know about that. Maybe if I had—” He broke off, shaking his head and leaving Greer wondering.

  He tipped the saucepan over a small bowl and grabbed a child-sized spoon from a drawer before flipping one of the table chairs around to face the high chair. “Every kid deserves a mother. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I agree with this method of acquiring one!”

  “People have been marrying for practical reasons a lot longer than they’ve been marrying for romantic ones. I could advertise for a wife just as easily as I can a nanny.”

  “You know what this sounds like to me? Like you’ve put all of five minutes of thought into it.”

  “And you’d be wrong. What happens to Layla if something happens to me?”

  Her lips parted. “You... Well, Grant—”

  “Daisy didn’t dump Layla on Grant’s doorstep. You think that was just an oversight? She didn’t want him to have her!”

  “You can’t blame him for that! She didn’t leave Layla with you, either!”

  “Yeah, and that’s something I get to live with. Daisy still named her after my mother. She was as unpredictable as the wind, but that means something to me.”

  She exhaled, feeling a pang inside. “Ryder. We’ll find you a nanny. One who’ll stay.”

  “If you were a kid, would you rather have a mom or a paid babysitter?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Putting that aside for the moment, I’d rather have another plan in place for Layla if I get stomped out by a pissed-off bull one day.”

  “I’ve got to sit down.” She grabbed one of the wood chairs from the table and sank down onto it. “I’m a lawyer. I appreciate your wisdom in planning for disasters, but I don’t particularly want that vision in my head.”

  “You’ve heard worse in court, I’m sure.”

  She had, but that was different. “You can name anyone you want as a guardian for Layla if something were to happen to you. For heaven’s sake, if you want to write up a will right now, I can help you. It doesn’t mean you have to have a business-deal wife.”

  “Fine.” He gestured with the spoon. “There’s paper in that drawer. Get out a piece.”

  She slid open the drawer in question and pulled out the notepad and a short stub of a pencil. “You don’t have to do it this very second.”

  “No time like the present.” He scooped food into Layla’s mouth.

  “Maybe you should give it more thought,” she suggested. “Deciding who would best—”

  “I, Ryder Wilson, being of sound mind and body, yada yada. I assume you can fill in the blanks.”

  She exhaled noisily. “I’m not so sure about the soundness,” she muttered. “But yes. So who do you want to name as guardian? Your aunt Adelaide?”

  “She’s already done her time raising me. You.”

  “Me, what?”

  “You. Put your name down.”

  She dropped the pencil back into the drawer and shut it with a snap. “I don’t find this funny.”

  “I don’t find it funny, either, Counselor. There’s no denying you’ve got a strong concern for Layla. But if your concern isn’t that strong, no sweat.” He scooped up another spoonful of the unidentifiable substance and evaded Layla’s grasping hands to shovel it into her greedy mouth.

  Something about his actions made Greer’s insides feel wobbly. So she focused instead on the goopy little chunks on the spoon. “What is that?”

  “Sweet potatoes, beets and ground chicken.”

  “Good grief.”

  “Don’t knock it. I call it CPS.”

  “What?”

  “Cow Pie Surprise.”

  She grimaced. “You just said it was chicken.”

  “It is. But doesn’t matter what meat I add, it all looks the same. Like Cow Pie Surprise. But Layla loves it and she’s sleeping better at night since I started spiking her food with meat.” He gave Greer a sideways look. “You’re not vegetarian or something, are you?”

  She shook her head, keeping silent about her brief stint with the practice during her college years.

  “Good.” He focused back on Layla, slipping in a couple more bites before she managed to commandeer the spoon and whack it against
the side of the tray. She chattered indecipherably, occasionally stopping long enough to focus on drumming her spoon or carefully choosing a round piece of cereal.

  He tossed the bowl in the sink and wet a cloth to start wiping up the mess that was all over Layla’s face and hands and hair and tray and clothes.

  “Don’t you have a bib?”

  “Couple dozen of ’em. All came in the boxes of stuff your sister sent. Short-Stuff here doesn’t like ’em.” He freed the baby and set her down on the floor, and she immediately started crawling out of the room. “Decided a while ago that it wasn’t worth the battle.”

  Having spent much of the day keeping up with Layla, Greer was less surprised by the rapid crawl than she was by Ryder’s ease with Layla. She’d pictured him as struggling a bit more with the day-to-day needs of a baby.

  “Do you have other children?”

  His eyes narrowed and Greer knew she’d annoyed him. “D’you see any other kids here?”

  She scooped up Layla before the baby could get too far. “Don’t be so touchy.” She much preferred taking the offensive tack to being on the defensive. “Nanny problems or not, you’ve obviously settled into the routine.”

  “Better than you expected.”

  “Not at all.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “I’ve got roundup facing me whether this heat breaks soon or not, and it’ll mean being gone a couple days. No matter what you think it looks like, I still need help. Nanny, wife or otherwise.”

  “And I’ll remind you yet again that I have an entire family willing to help you out where Layla is concerned.”

  “Like Maddie? Your sister who is so pregnant she looks like she’s about ready to explode?”

  “How do you know what she looks like?”

  “She was in Josephine’s diner the other day.”