Page 30 of Wylder Ranch
“If that’s what you want to call it. I guess I had to start sometime.”
He shakes his head with a wry smile and glances at Hendricks. I know what they’re both thinking. That I, Alexander Burlington, the one who’s never ever wanted to live with a woman—or anyone for that matter—now have two people sleeping in my house.
It helps that both of them are insanely beautiful, especially the one I’m holding in my arms.
Mydaughter.
When I glance up, Lando is checking his phone, but Hendricks’s expression has turned serious.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugs in that annoying way where I know for a fact he has something to say, but either can’t be bothered or can’t decide whether to keep it to himself.
“Henners, what?”
He tugs on the back of his neck and lets out a big sigh. “Haven moving in isn’t part of some grand scheme to get her to fall in love with you, is it?”
“What?”
“I know it was hard for you this year when you thought she’d ghosted you or whatever. And now with Christmas coming up. . .”
His words trail off. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because we all know I struggle at Christmas, and even though I don’t like to admit it because it makes me feel guilty, I know my family worries about me. Their temperament toward me changes as we head into December. It becomes gentler, more cautious.
Truly, I hate it.
“Hen—”
“All I’m saying is, don’t fuck things up for yourself by assuming Haven will want to start something with you now that you have a child together. I know what it’s like to be at war with the mother of your child, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
The three of us glance over at Max carrying an uncharacteristically placid and agreeable Blackberry the cat under one arm, along with a bucket while they collect the last of the season’s conkers and search for snails, or something equally slimy and revolting.
“Your priority needs to be Everly,” Hendricks continues.
“Iknow. Sheis?—”
“Keep things platonic, Al. At least for the moment.”
“Message received, Hen. Now drop it, for fuck’s sake.”
I ignore Lando’s raised eyebrow at my snapping, but Hendricks has inadvertently touched a nerve.
I’m not admitting that the thought crossed my mind briefly in the darkest hours of last night, while I tossed and turned with slight panic that the paternity results would come back negative.
Thankfully, their attention is taken as another one of the Burlington staff walks into my house carrying a large chest of drawers intended for Everly’s room.
James Winters, our family’s head of operations, has done an excellent job of transforming one of my spare bedrooms into a nursery for Everly. Since yesterday, his team of workmen has removed the existing bed and replaced it with a changing table, a crib, and a rocking chair—all essential items for a baby, according to Google.
Pink and white rugs have been laid on the hardwood floor, and this morning, I built a bookshelf, which will be stacked with the children’s books Hendricks brought over for me earlier. Built it with my own bare hands, I might add.
I also bought two spare cribs—one for Haven’s bedroom and one for mine. And a baby monitor for every room. Just in case.
Alex Burlington—Landowner and Responsible Dad.
Lando shakes his head. “I thought Haven was only staying for two weeks.”
“She is.”
“Okay. . .” His mouth rolls, then softens as he steps in a little closer to me and studies his new niece. “She looks like Clementine did when shewas a baby.”
