The Cowboy's Christmas Proposition - Silver James Mills & Boon Desire

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for discretion over valor because her body was fomenting mutiny, she retreated across the bus and sat on the matching couch to watch. She still couldn’t get over how proficiently this guy handled the baby.

      “You said you don’t have kids?” she finally asked, removing her hat.

      His gaze was sharp as he looked up. “Kinda hard to have kids without a wife.”

      That didn’t stop a lot of celebrities but she didn’t point that out. “Then how are you so good with the baby?”

      He paused to burp the infant then cuddled her back in one arm with the bottle in her mouth. Quin attempted to read the expression on Deacon’s face. She found a sweetness there that was almost as surprising as his competence.

      “Only child?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Not a hard question, Troop.”

      “Stop calling me that.”

      “Then tell me your first name.”

      Quin refused to throw her hands up in a fit of frustration. “Fine. Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s Quincy.”

      “Did you hear that, Noelle? Her name is Quincy.”

      The baby cooed, and Quin discovered she was grinning rather stupidly. She wiped that expression off her face and leaned forward so she could breathe a little easier in her vest. “And to answer your question, I’m not an only child. I have four older brothers.”

      Deacon peeked up at her from under lashes far too long and lush for a man exuding as much testosterone as this one did. “Ah, the baby in the family. I’m the middle and got stuck with baby duty, especially with Dillon. He was a late surprise for Mom and Dad.”

      She glanced out the tinted window behind her. “Dillon is in your band?”

      “Yup.”

      “Was he serious?”

      “About what?”

      “The...stuff?” She wanted to bite her tongue. She didn’t care if overenthusiastic fans embarrassed themselves by leaving underwear in tribute to the band. Nor did she care if maybe some of the owners of said lingerie ended up in the bedroom or one of the curtained bunks she could see when she glanced toward the back of the bus.

      He laughed and set the bottle on the table. Shifting the baby to his shoulder, he patted her back until she burped again. Deacon checked her diaper, settled her back in the crook of his arm and gazed at Quin. “Yeah, he was serious. We get stuff like that thrown on stage sometimes, too. Goes with the gig.”

      She couldn’t decide if he was being this nonchalant because he was so egotistical that he figured the thongs and stuff were his due or because he didn’t care. Time was passing and Quin needed to get things wrapped up. “Is she really yours?”

      “Who?”

      “The baby,” she said pointedly.

      He studied her face and she flushed for no reason she understood. He broke their staring match first by peering down at the sleeping infant. That soft expression washed over his features again, and she wondered where the feelings came from. Maybe Noelle really was his. Her chest burned at the thought, and she didn’t quite know how to handle the feeling. To cover it up, she asked again, “Is the baby yours, Mr. Tate?”

      Before he answered her question, the sound of booted feet stomping up the steps drew their attention to the front of the bus. Chance Barron’s gaze bounced between her and Deacon before he announced, “She is until you find her mother, Trooper Kincaid, and we clear things up.”

       Three

      Deke didn’t know whether to high-five his cousin or panic. Was his ego overriding his common sense on the outside chance Noelle was his? Babies were hard. He knew that, but while he didn’t quite understand his attraction to the gruff cop, he was adamant about keeping the baby close until he knew definitively who the father was. Noelle was a cute little thing and deserved something more than becoming a ward of the state.

      So yeah, he’d score this one for the good guys. Not that Quincy Kincaid was a bad guy. She wasn’t a guy in any way, shape or form. She’d pushed to her feet when Chance came in. With her back to Deke, he could tell the hair twisted into a tight knot at the base of her neck was blond.

      His blood warmed. There was something about the nape of a woman’s neck that really stirred him up. Some men liked breasts, some a sweetly rounded butt. Him? The arch of a woman’s neck and the lines of her back. He loved kissing his way down from the spot where a woman’s hair met skin on her nape, across soft shoulders and down the valley of her spine. Shifting uncomfortably, he jerked his thoughts away from Quincy the woman to focus on Quincy the cop.

      “I don’t think you understand the situation, Mr. Barron. A Child Protection worker from DHS will be here shortly. Under the law, Mr. Tate has to relinquish custody. He has no proof the child is his.”

      “You’re the one who doesn’t understand, Trooper Kincaid.” Chance stepped toward her, his phone held out. “I’ll have the paper version of this court order here very likely before your DHS representative arrives.”

      Deacon exchanged a relieved look with his cousin while Quincy scanned the document on Chance’s phone.

      “Who can call a judge at three thirty in the morning and get a custody order signed?” she muttered. Inhaling in an obvious—to him anyway—effort to control her frustration, she passed the phone back to Chance. She added, more loudly, “We’ll all just sit right here until DHS and your paperwork arrive. In the meantime, Mr. Tate—”

      “Deke,” he insisted.

      “Mr. Tate.” She arched one brow and glowered. “In the meantime, you can explain to me how you, a single man, plan to care for a baby girl. I seriously doubt this bus contains a nursery.”

      “Considering I’m headed home as soon as we settle things, it doesn’t matter if it does or not.”

      He watched her pull in her chin, crinkle her forehead and scowl at him. Deke was just contrary enough to enjoy the heck out of putting that expression on her face.

      “So, you have a nursery set up at your home? Which is where, by the way? You can’t take the baby back to Nashville.”

      “Home is a ranch about an hour’s drive from here. And I admit I don’t exactly have a nursery.”

      “Yet,” Chance interjected. “Cassie, Jolie and Roxie have gone shopping. You will have everything you need by the time we get this worked out.”

      “Wait until Mom hears about this.” Deke all but chortled. His mother was huge on family and none of her wayward sons had provided her with a grandchild. None of them was married. As a result, she doted on Cord and Jolie’s little boy, CJ.

      Quin favored Chance and him with her scowl. She’d been outfoxed and her expression indicated she knew it. She stepped back as Chance approached him but he could see the wheels turning. She hadn’t surrendered. Yet. And wouldn’t it be sweet when she did.

      Chance murmured in his ear, “Won’t be anything fancy. They went to the all-night supercenter.” He glanced down at the baby and got a goofy look on his face. Deke choked back a laugh. If Noelle stayed in the family for very long, he predicted a Barron baby boom by next autumn.

      Pulling back mentally, Deke considered what he’d just thought. He wasn’t as freaked out by the notion of keeping Noelle in the family as he probably should be. That idea was all sorts of wrong. He toured. A lot. Only coming home when he could. He could hire a nanny, keep Noelle on the road with him. Or leave her at home with a nanny... Nope. He didn’t like that idea at all. He did like the idea of having a loving wife and family—no matter where he was. Only that idea was all sorts

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