Cathy Thacker - The Rancher's Christmas Baby

Whether gussied up—like now—or dirtied up from ranch work, Teddy McCabe was one fine specimen of a man. Add to that his amazing intellect and kind, compassionate nature and Amy knew she had chosen a fine husband for herself and father to her future children.

Now, if only everyone else could see that, too…

“So how do you want to do this?” Teddy asked, parking in front of Amy’s trailer.

One wrist resting atop the steering wheel, he turned toward her. “You want me to wait around while you get your stuff? Or just go on ahead and wait for you at my house?”

Amy blinked at him in surprise, stunned by his matter-of-fact tone. “What are you talking about?”

Teddy flashed a smile and came around to get her door. “Well, obviously, now that we’re married, we have to sleep somewhere—and I figured since I have horses to care for, that we’d be bunking at my place.”

“For tonight,” Amy acceded, accepting his help exiting the cab.

It was his turn to look surprised. “For every night,” he specified, as if wondering why there was even a question. In his mind, it was already decided.

Her heels sank into the gravel drive, making walking difficult. Unease swept through her. She thought about something she’d heard.

People change when they get married .

Until now, she’d figured that was just the frustration talking, when the couple in question didn’t really know each other—or hadn’t allowed themselves to see the real character of the person they were marrying—until after the romance surrounding the wedding ceremony had faded, and reality sunk in.

She could not believe this was going to be the case for her and Teddy, since they had known each other for years and years—without the veil of romance.

She looked over at him and promptly stumbled. “Teddy, I’m not giving up my place.”

He slid a hand beneath her elbow, to steady her. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

Her spike heels did little better in the grass, and she lurched into him again. “You’re asking me to move in with you.”

Teddy frowned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his side. “Because it makes sense,” he said.

She scowled back and used her elbow to wedge more distance. “To you, maybe,” she argued, pulse pounding.

“Come on, Amy.” He paused as they reached the stoop leading up to her front door, his usual accommodating nature fading. “I admit I’ve only been in your trailer once or twice, and then only for a minute or two, but the ceiling is so low I can barely stand up straight.”

He had a point there. Her travel-trailer home had not been made for a six-foot-four male with broad shoulders. He was unlikely to fit in her double bed and would likely hang over the edge of her sofa, too.

In fact, the six-hundred-square-foot space was so tiny she never did any entertaining there.

Not that she and Teddy had ever spent much time at either’s place. Hanging out that way would have felt too much like dating. Instead, they’d preferred to go places together in town. The more casual the better—to avoid any intimate male-female interaction.

Which was what made it so awkward now. “Teddy, I—” Amy broke off as the couple who worked for her approached.

Both were in their midtwenties. A petite brunette, Sheryl Cooper was nearly eight months pregnant. Her husband, Ed, wasn’t much taller than she and had gone prematurely bald.

Even before they’d learned they were expecting, they had been the picture of married bliss. Now, with their firstborn son on the way, they were over the moon.

Or at least they had been, Amy noted, taking in their tense, worried expressions. “What’s wrong?” she demanded at once.

“We’ve been working in the greenhouses all afternoon and I started having contractions half an hour ago,” Sheryl said, hand to her tummy. Her face was blotchy and dotted with perspiration. “I’ve had three now—all precisely ten minutes apart. It feels like I’m going into labor.”

And they all knew it was too early for that to be happening.

“I’ve already called her obstetrician. I’m taking her over to the emergency room to get checked out.” Ed looked as worried as Sheryl sounded.

“Anything I can do?” Amy asked in concern.

Ed shook his head and assisted Sheryl into the cab of their station wagon. “I’ll let you know what the doc says.” He climbed behind the wheel and drove off.

“I hope she’s okay,” Teddy said.

Amy released the breath she had been holding. She touched a hand to her throat. “Me, too.”

He followed her inside. “So back to our plans for the evening…”

Amy looked around the frilly interior of her home. The overstuffed floral sofa, and pink, green, and white color scheme were perfect for her romantic nature. However, they did not suit a macho guy like Teddy at all.

Already, as he moved past the leather-bound trunk that served as her coffee table, past the banquette to the galley kitchen—which had a half-size everything—he looked cramped. Worse, he was making her feel crowded. Even a little breathless. So much so, she suddenly needed some time to herself.

Amy slipped off her wool dress coat and strode past the tiny bathroom to her bedroom.

She had to slip off her heels and climb over the double bed—which took up the entire space—to get to the closet to put her coat and shoes away. “Why do we have to spend the night together?” As she backed up on her knees, she caught him looking at her legs.

To her chagrin, he didn’t so much as flush.

Instead, he lounged in the portal, arms crossed in front of him, as if he owned the place. “Is that a serious question?”

What had gotten into him?

“Obviously,” Amy said stiffly, “it is.”

Deciding she needed to get out of the cranberry silk-chiffon wrap-dress she’d gotten married in, Amy grabbed a pair of jeans and a pine-green chenille turtleneck sweater.

Teddy sighed with frustration.

Feeling equally frustrated, Amy slipped past him, into the bath.

Very much aware how different this evening would be if they were having a real wedding night—the over-the-top-romantic kind she had dreamed about her entire adult life—she stripped off her dress and peeled off her panty hose.

“We’re married, Amy,” Teddy reminded her through the closed door. He was beginning to sound impatient.

Amy walked back out with an arch look. “As friends only.”

Maddeningly, Teddy stayed right where he was, giving her little room to maneuver in the cramped space. “It’s still expected that we will reside together.”

Refusing to admit he was quite clearly making his point—her trailer was too tiny for the both of them—she qualified right back, “Once I’m pregnant. But there’s no rush for us to be together under the same roof until then.”

Teddy rubbed the flat of his hand underneath his jaw and regarded her the same way he looked at one of his horses when the animal wasn’t doing what he wanted it to do.

Amy knew that in those situations, Teddy always figured out how to get his way.

It was a quality all good leaders possessed—the ability to figure out how to get someone else to follow.

The problem was, she did not want him to be the leader in their marriage. She did not want either of them to be in a position to boss the other around. She wanted them to continue to do their own thing, in their own way, in their own time.

“So there is no reason we have to reside under the same roof tonight or any other night right now,” Amy concluded.

“I think our parents would beg to differ on that point,” he said dryly.

Normally, Amy liked to exchange ideas and witty remarks with Teddy. But not today. Not after the grilling they had just been through. What she wanted now was some peace and quiet. Privacy. Time to figure out how they were going to proceed with this hasty marriage of theirs.