The Cowboy SEAL's Triplets

by Tina Leonard

  There was no going back now.

  Somehow she’d have to win the townspeople over, make up for a lot of the wrong she’d done. Daisy went back to sit with her gang, looking around at the five men who professed themselves in love with her.

  “Listen, fellows. We’ve had a long, good run together.” Daisy took a deep breath. “But things are going to have to change.”

  “Change?” Gabriel sat up. “What kind of change?”

  There’d have to be lots of change if she was going to convince Bridesmaids Creek that she was a new woman. “Change. As much as possible.”

  “I don’t like it.” Red shook his head. “We’ve got a great thing going, the six of us.”

  Yes, but they didn’t know that she’d been diving under the sheets with Squint. And the lovemaking was fantastic. Mind-blowing. Once she’d gotten through the smoke and haze of trying to keep Suz and Cisco apart—what had she been thinking?—she’d realized the hunky, tall, saddle-brown-eyed Squint was a really sexy guy. Supersexy, to the point of being mouthwatering. And when he kissed her, she melted. Like a puddle of snow in hot sun. “It can’t be the six of us anymore.”

  They looked alarmed. “But we’re so good together,” Carson said.

  She shook her head. “Actually, we’re not. We were the misfits and outcasts together. But that’s not what I want to be anymore.”

  “Whoa,” Clint said. “It’s Squint, isn’t it? John Lopez Mathison is getting inside your head.”

  Daisy jumped. “Of course not!”

  “It was Branch Winters,” Dig said darkly. “Every time you go to Montana to his retreat, you change. That was when it started, when you went chasing up there after Cisco. You came home different.”

  “Yeah,” Red said. “You came home not mooning after Cisco anymore. And not really wanting to hang out with us, either.”

  Daisy got up. They were right, of course. Branch’s place in Montana was a spiritual retreat where warriors of all kinds went to reboot. She’d gone to throw a few wrenches into Cisco’s works—and found a few thrown in hers instead. It was hard to explain Branch. He sort of lived on the metaphysical, and sometimes hippie, edge of life—but he’d helped her see that she was operating out of fear of never belonging in Bridesmaids Creek.

  And only she could change that.

  “It’s going to be okay, for all of us,” Daisy said softly, going to the door. “But change is in the wind. It has to be.”

  She went outside into the cold February chill, knowing this was the right path—if she was ever going to make John Lopez “Squint” Mathison believe that it was him with whom she’d been in love all along.

  She didn’t know if there was enough magic in Bridesmaids Creek to convince him, but she had to try.

  Chapter Two

  Daisy felt every eye on her as she walked into The Wedding Diner the next morning. She was aware the town didn’t have a very high opinion of her, even though she’d managed to convince her father to give up pursuing the Hanging H, and even though she’d talked him into giving up on taking over the land where the Best Man’s Fork and Bridesmaids Creek lay in sleepy, small-town fashion. The Hawthorne’s Haunted H amusement park for kiddies was now situated on some land near Bridesmaids Creek, because Daisy had convinced the Hawthorne sisters that no one could take over their home and their business all at once if they weren’t tied together. Now the year-round haunted house was more of a community venture, which helped everyone in BC, because it was more centrally located, and people were assigned regular hours to run it. It was more lucrative for the town now, and with time, Daisy thought that its popularity would only grow.

  But memories were long in BC, and she’d done an awful lot of bad. She smiled at everyone who turned to stare at her, and moved into a white vinyl booth that Jane Chatham, who owned The Wedding Diner, showed her to.

  “You’re back,” Jane said, and Daisy nodded.

  “We came back yesterday, Squint, myself and the boys.”

  Jane’s gaze was steady on her. “Squint left town last night.”

  Daisy blinked. “Left town?”

  The older woman hesitated, then sat across from her. Cosette Lafleur—Madame Matchmaker herself—slid in next to Jane, her pink-frosted hair accentuating her all-knowing eyes.

  Daisy’s heart sank. “He couldn’t have left.” He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t even mentioned he was planning to make like a stiff breeze and blow away.

  The women stared at her with interest.

  “Did you want him to stay, Daisy?” Jane asked.

  “Well—” Daisy began, not knowing how to say that she’d thought she at least rated a “goodbye” considering she’d gotten quite in the habit of enjoying a nocturnal meeting in his arms. “It would have been nice.”

  “Have you finally realized where your heart belongs, Daisy?” Cosette asked, and Daisy started.

  “My heart?” How was it that these women always seemed to read everyone’s mind? A girl had to be very careful to keep her secrets tight to her chest. “Squint and I are friends.”

  Cosette winked at her, and a spark of hope lit inside Daisy that maybe Cosette wasn’t horribly angry or holding a grudge with her about the whole taking-over-her-shop mistake she’d made.

  “We know all about those kinds of friends,” Cosette said, nodding wisely.

  “Still,” Jane said, “it does seem rather heartless of John to leave without telling you. Had you quarreled?”

  Here it came, the well-meaning BC interference of which many suffered, all secretly cherished and she’d never had the benefit of experiencing. She had to say it was like being under a probing yet somehow friendly microscope. “We didn’t quarrel.”

  “But you’re in love with him,” Cosette said.

  “That may be putting it a bit—” Her words trailed off.

  “Mildly?” Jane asked.

  “Lightly?” Cosette said. “You are in fact head over heels in love with him?”

  Daisy felt herself blush under all the scrutiny. Sheriff Dennis McAdams slid into the booth next to her, and the ladies wasted no time filling in the sheriff, who turned his curious gaze to her.

  “He left last night,” the sheriff said, and Daisy wondered if John Lopez Mathison had stopped by to see every single denizen of this town to say goodbye—except for her.

  “Yes, I’ve heard,” Daisy said.

  “Not coming back, either,” the sheriff continued. “Jane, can I get some of your delicious double-dipped chicken-fried steak and mashed red potatoes with gravy? Maybe chase it with a slice of your four-layer chocolate cake?”

  “Gracious,” Cosette said, “are you looking to have a four-alarm cardiac event, Dennis?”

  “Just hungry, ladies.” He pushed back his worn Stetson with a grin. “Sitting up late at night with the fellows, having a good gossip and four-tissue wheeze gives a man an appetite.”

  Jane eyed him with great curiosity. “A four-tissue wheeze requires a slice of four-layer chocolate cake?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dennis nodded. “Squint was really working on my ear holes. As were Sam, Phillipe and Robert Donovan.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” Cosette said. “I can’t see you five ever getting together for a rooster session.”

  “It happened,” Dennis said cheerfully. “The first order of business was Squint requesting that we call him John from here on. After all, Squint was his military name, and he’s gone back to being a cowboy. So, John it is. But the big news of the evening was Robert Donovan announcing he feels greatly that his daughter, our Daisy here,” he said, winking at Daisy, “needs a man.”

  “What?” Daisy shook her head. “My father would never say such a thing. I’m with Cosette. This gathering never took place.”

  “He wants a man to settle you he
re in town, far away from the influence of whatever is happening in Montana,” Dennis continued, untroubled by the ladies’ disbelief. “And I said there was no such man to do the job in this small town.”

  “And?” Jane demanded, not leaving to put in the sheriff’s order, Daisy noticed. When the gossip was flying hot and steamy, food took a backseat. “What was said to Robert’s grand pronouncement?”

  Dennis shrugged, very much enjoying being the center of the ladies’ attention. “John said he agreed with me, and—”

  “What?” Daisy stiffened. “How dare he?”

  They all looked at her.

  “How dare he, what, dear?” Jane asked.

  “How dare John agree with my father?” Daisy thought the former Squint Mathison might have reached a new level of annoying.

  “Most folks rather agree with Robert,” Cosette said, nodding.

  “So what happened then?” Jane demanded.

  “Could you put my order in before I tell you the rest?” Dennis asked, rubbing his stomach regretfully. “I didn’t have breakfast.”

  “Sing for your supper, Sheriff,” Jane shot back.

  “Well, I was pretty proud of my two cents, I don’t mind saying,” Dennis said. “And then Sam said that he didn’t think even he had the necessary talent to pull off the job.”

  “What job?” Daisy asked, her heart beginning an emergency tattoo. It sounded as if all the important men in her life—notwithstanding Sam Barr, otherwise known as Handsome Sam, and understood by all to be a trickster and prankster beyond compare—had clubbed together and cast her to the wind. “Pardon me, but I’m having great trouble seeing my father and my...my—”

  “Your what, dear?” Jane Chatham asked, her eyes twinkling with interest.

  “My...good friend John,” Daisy said, covering herself. “I have trouble seeing the two of them agreeing on anything, but certainly my father wouldn’t spend any time discussing my love life with my—”

  “With your good friend John,” Cosette said. “Yes, yes, yes, we heard all that.”

  “And yet, it happened,” Sheriff Dennis said. “Now may I have that supper for which I sang like a many-feathered bird?”

  “Not really,” Daisy said as Jane and Cosette nodded in agreement that the sheriff hadn’t quite imparted sufficiently satisfactory details. Daisy’s heart rate was still revving as she began to realize that the men had sold her out and the one she’d been spending delicious nights with had slipped out without saying a word to her. “What was the point of this male bonding?”

  The sheriff smiled. “You know how it is when we fellows get together. We just hash out life, come to no solutions and feel like we’ve accomplished something.”

  “A solution was achieved if John’s gone,” Daisy said.

  “He is gone,” Dennis said. “Said something about returning to his home.”

  “He doesn’t have a home,” Jane said, “other than the Hanging H, which is his home now.”

  “Oh, he has a home,” Dennis said, “it’s just not one you and I would really think of as one. His is on the rodeo circuit.”

  “All the men say that,” Cosette said, huffing out a breath impatiently. “They always claim rodeo is their hearth, heart and home.”

  “In John’s case, it’s true.” Dennis looked wistfully toward the kitchen. “His family is now heading toward Santa Fe, apparently, hauling along the family domicile. Rather like a circus train, I suppose.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Cosette demanded.

  “John’s family follows the rodeo. That’s how they make their living.” Dennis shrugged. “His mom’s a cowboy preacher, and his dad and brothers are bullfighters and barrel men, going back generations. They’ve got a little motor home that they go from town to town in.”

  “Rather a gypsy-ish lifestyle, isn’t it?” Jane asked, and Daisy’s heart sank. Just hearing this description of John’s home life made her realize that he might, conceivably, never darken the doors of Bridesmaids Creek again.

  “Yep,” Dennis said, “and he’s not coming back. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

  There was no way she could let that happen. Not after she’d finally come to her senses, after all the many moons of not realizing what a catch Squint—John—really was, hiding under all that brown-eyed, gentle bear exterior. Daisy swallowed hard, realizing the people sitting around the table were studying her, waiting silently for her to speak up.

  Maybe it did serve her right to have John desert her for good after the many times he’d tried to win her. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who gave up—in fact, there were some who said that adversity only strengthened her will.

  “You realize, Daisy, there won’t be a race run or a swim swum for you,” Jane said gently. “I’m afraid you threw away your three chances.”

  “She didn’t throw them away,” Cosette said, her eyes softening as she looked at Daisy. Daisy felt this was very sweet of Cosette, especially as much of Cosette’s hard luck was Daisy’s fault. “She merely misplaced her three chances. Magic is never gone forever.”

  Daisy paused. Of course. She was a Bridesmaids Creek girl, even if she’d come to town late, at the age of three. The magic would still work for her—it had to.

  Because John made love to her like no man ever could, and it might have taken her way too long to realize it, but she knew in every corner of her heart that she was in love with him.

  “I’m going to need help,” Daisy said softly. “I could really use some assistance in figuring out the right way to convince John that leaving Bridesmaids Creek wasn’t his best decision.”

  They all took that in.

  “We’re always here for one of our hometown girls,” Dennis said solemnly, and the ladies nodded, and Daisy felt warmed just by being designated a “hometown” girl. Maybe forgiveness was possible after all. She sure hoped so.

  Now she just had to convince John that his home was here, and not the place where he’d grown up.

  Rodeo.

  * * *

  JOHN FOUND HIS parents and brothers just outside of Santa Fe. Their small silver mobile home rumbled under turquoise-colored skies, with a truck—his brothers’—following closely behind. If not for cell phone contact, he would have missed them.

  Mary and Mack Mathison waved at him as he pulled alongside their white truck, which hauled the silver Airstream mobile home they’d bought too many years ago for John to remember. His brothers Javier and Jackson saluted him, and he fell back into position, trailing behind the white truck lettered Mathison on both doors in black. Home sweet home.

  This was it. He turned on some tunes, tried not to think about Daisy and told himself he was content to caravan as far away from Texas as possible.

  “This could never have been her life,” John told the smiling bobblehead dog on his dash. “Daisy grew up with so much wealth, so much of everything, that she couldn’t possibly understand this kind of pared-down existence.”

  The black-and-white bobblehead dog he’d named Joe, because it fit the J motif of his and his brothers’ names, neither agreed nor disagreed. In fact, Joe didn’t seem to be worried about much of anything other than the sunburn he was getting on his furry behind, courtesy of dash sitting. John watched the mountains of New Mexico fade away, thought about how beautiful it would be to see this highway on his motorcycle, with Daisy parked comfortably on the back, her arms around his waist, which she’d done all the way back from Montana. He got a woody just remembering her delicate arms around him, felt a dull hammer begin inside his skull.

  “Holy Christmas,” John muttered. “I’m going to have to take up serious meditation to get her out of my head.”

  He’d left his motorcycle in Bridesmaids Creek, under Sam’s care, with dire instructions that it was to be in the same beloved condition when he re
turned. Sam had agreed with a grin, saying smartly that of course it looked even better with Daisy polishing the seat, and would he mind—

  “At which point I gave Sam such a glare that he shut clean up,” John told Joe, and Joe nodded in approval. Or maybe he didn’t nod in approval, but if he wasn’t nodding in approval, then what the hell good was a bobblehead dog to a man, anyway?

  At the border connecting New Mexico and Colorado, his parents stopped the caravan at a roadside rest stop. He hadn’t expected them to stop so soon, as life on the road was about putting the miles between destinations. But they were more than happy to halt the train soon after he’d joined them, to welcome him back to the fold.

  “What the hell, son?” Mack demanded, giving him a tight hug. “You took a year off my life showing up like that. I thought I’d seen a ghost.”

  “Might as well be a ghost,” Mary said. “He hasn’t been around in four years.”

  His brothers banged him on the back with enthusiasm. “We missed the hell out of you,” Javier said.

  “We’ve been keeping Mack and Mary on the circuit,” Jackson said. “It’ll be good to have you back. You can help us keep them focused. They keep wanting to run off to New Zealand.”

  “New Zealand?” John looked at his parents as they began checking over the ancient trailer. There was never much time for idle conversation. Everyone had their chores and responsibilities at each stop, where duties were parceled out and executed with a minimum of discussion. It was all business: check the equipment, use the facilities, stretch the legs and get back in the trucks.