Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,40
logs stained dark gold. Once through the front door, the interior was surprisingly airy, with a high-beamed ceiling and tall windows that overlooked the valley. In the distance rose more of those same pink and red mountains.
Sam and Tommy helped get Billy settled into his room. There were two other bedrooms, and Billy had suggested she take the one nearest the living room so she could be closer to the kitchen for making Beck’s bottles. Sam said he’d take the couch in the living room, and Tommy could have the third bedroom. Tommy insisted on the couch, saying Sam should have the bedroom since he’d been raised to be respectful of his seniors.
Their back and forth only ended when Erika asked if there was a store nearby because Billy had nothing in his refrigerator for dinner. “Thinking I should get some groceries,” she said.
“Good idea,” Tommy said. “Billy can eat.”
“You can eat,” Sam retorted, before looking at Erika. “I can drive you, if you want. I know where the store is.”
She glanced into Billy’s bedroom where he was already asleep on his bed. Beck was dozing in his car seat. “I’d love that if Tommy is okay managing things here.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Tommy answered, “not if they both stay asleep.”
She smiled, amused. “Let’s hope they do then. We’ll be quick and should return soon.”
It seemed as if Sam drove forever, even though it was probably just ten minutes, before pulling over near a nondescript looking café with an even less interesting looking convenient store next door. She glanced out at the businesses and then at Sam. “Doesn’t look very encouraging,” she said.
“They’ll have the basics. Milk, bread, eggs. If we’re lucky we’ll find some ground beef.”
Inside the store, she loaded her basket with the basic essentials, along with a couple bananas, some apples, ground beef, and the only package of chicken breasts in stock. She’d never made Billy a meal before, and wasn’t looking forward to trying to make dinner for all the guys tonight. She wasn’t a great cook and usually lived off cereal, toasted bagels, and canned soup.
Sam added two bags of egg noodles to the basket, a can of cream of mushroom soup, and a small container of sour cream and then took the basket from her. “Does poor man’s stroganoff sound okay?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“Tonight’s your lucky night,” he said, heading for the cash register. “What about Beck? Does he need anything?”
“Not yet. But this weekend I’ll probably need to buy formula and diapers.”
“If you drive south toward Zion, there’s a town with some bigger stores. Or, if you go to the city of Bryce, just east of the park entrance, you’ll find everything you need there.”
“So, there are some real towns around here.”
“Yes. You just have to be willing to drive and know where to find them.”
Back at the cabin, Sam unpacked the groceries and began dinner while she checked on the guys. They were all asleep—even Tommy who’d stretched out on the couch, with Beck’s car seat parked next to him.
She smiled crookedly, warmth filling her chest. Good thing she wasn’t a sucker for a pretty face because the Wyatt brothers all looked far too appealing when paired with a baby.
*
After dinner, everyone called it a night, with Beck and Erika disappearing into their room, while the brothers sorted out where they’d crash for the night. Sam and Tommy left after breakfast the next day, trying to make Oklahoma for the weekend’s rodeo, with the plan to pick up Sam’s truck the following Monday.
After they’d gone, the cabin felt different. Everything became quieter, far less lively.
A little less happy.
Billy spent most of the day in bed in his room, and she’d check in on him, but he was definitely withdrawn.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked midafternoon, popping her head once more around his partially open door. His blinds were down and the room dark with shadows now that the sun had shifted in the sky. She couldn’t help feeling worried. He’d had breakfast with his brothers but nothing to eat or drink since then. “Water? Tea? A snack?”
“I’m fine,” he answered flatly, before adding on a thank you.
“Anything special you want for dinner?”
“I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“I thought you liked to eat,” she said, approaching the bed.
“I do, but not hungry today.”
She reached out and touched his forehead. His skin was smooth. He wasn’t feverish. He wasn’t cold, either. “Do you think it’s the pain meds?”