Great. Frankie’s usually subdued daughter had suddenly developed a pair of lungs.
“All set.” Spence lifted his free hand high in the air. At once, everyone went still, including—and this was a minor miracle—Paige and Sienna.
Sam watched Spence with unwavering concentration. Frankie watched Sam, her heart seeming to stop beating.
Spence’s arm swiftly fell. Sam spurred Prince. The stallion came alive and charged ahead, going from a complete standstill to a full gallop in the span of a second.
“And, they’re off!” Spence yelled.
Prince’s hooves dug into the soft dirt as his churning legs became a blur. Sam gave him his head, and he extended his stride. Whoever said horses were incapable of expressing emotions was wrong. Frankie swore Prince’s eyes burned with steely determination.
“Go, go, go!” she yelled, only to clamp a hand over her mouth.
Was this excitement coursing through her akin to what Spence had felt when he watched Han Dover Fist race? She didn’t want to relate to him. Horse racing was an unreliable occupation.
Oh, what the heck. “Yes, yes.” She shook her clenched fists. “That’s it. Faster, faster.”
Spence pressed a button on the stopwatch when Prince crossed in front of the white post, a marker they’d decided earlier would substitute for a finish line. He’d mentioned multiplying Prince’s time by some formula to roughly approximate how the stallion would have performed if he’d run on a real track.
The spectators erupted in applause and cheers.
“She did it!” Frankie whirled on Spence. “That was fast.”
He studied the stopwatch. “It was okay.”
“Okay? They were flying.”
“Taking into account they were running on loose dirt and not a packed track, I suppose it wasn’t too terrible.”
She stared at him. “You’re wrong. Look again.”
“Hey, don’t be mad. They did good. For a couple of rookies.”
Rookies? Frankie felt offended on Sam’s behalf.
Having turned Prince around after passing the white post, the teenager now trotted him over. The enormous smile on her face said it all. She’d loved every moment.
“Look, he’s not even winded.” She patted Prince’s neck.
“In a real race,” Spence said, “he’d have run a full mile and be plenty winded.
Ethan sauntered over to join Spence. He also wore a smile. “How’d he do?”
Spence recited the final time, and they discussed the results compared to a real race.
“Respectable,” Spence told him.
“But not fast enough for me to get into the racing business.”
“Probably not.”
“Still, it was fun there for a minute.”
Spence clapped him on the shoulder. “No reason you can’t have more fun, if you want.”
Ethan’s brows rose. “What are you suggesting?”
Frankie strained to hear what was being said while keeping the girls busy. With the race over, they’d begun to whine. Had they been home, she’d remedy their crankiness with a nap. Instead, she rummaged in her purse and, finding an emergency flashlight, gave it to them, hoping they’d amuse themselves.
“Pick out three or four of your best mustangs,” Spence said. “Prince here can be one of them. Put on a mock race and sell tickets.”
“To make money?” Ethan asked. “Is that legal?”
“For charity. Like at the adoption event you have coming up. I’ve seen it done before, fairly successfully. People place bets by buying tickets for a certain horse. Tickets for the winning horse are then redeemed for donated prizes. Everyone has a good time and you raise money for a worthy cause.”
“I love the idea.” Cara Dempsey stepped forward. In addition to managing the mustang sanctuary, she also headed up the adoption event. “I can see it working really well. I bet we could get media coverage.” She turned to Spence, glowing with hope. “Will you help us?”
Frankie paused, anxiously awaiting his answer. Agreeing would require a commitment from him. To stay in Mustang Valley for the immediate future. To get involved. To volunteer his time and energy. Maybe he wasn’t ready for all that. He had a lot going on.
One second dragged into two. He’s going to say no. Frankie became convinced of it.
Exhaling slowly, he faced Cara.
Poor, poor Cara. She’s going to be terribly disappointed.
“Be my pleasure to help.” Spence flashed his best smile.
Really? His pleasure? Frankie blinked.
“I even have a couple of jockey friends I could probably recruit. You’d have to put them up for the weekend. Throw in a few meals.”
“No problem.” Cara clasped her hands together. “The Morning Side Inn is one of our sponsors. And I know of two horses I think would be perfect. The buckskin gelding with the scar on his hip.” She nudged Ethan. “You know which one I’m talking about.”
“I do. And I had that gray mare in mind.”
“Yes! The escape artist. She’s a born runner.”
“We’re going to need a track,” Ethan mused.
“We could use the dirt road behind the cattle barns at The Small Change Ranch. Grade a long stretch with the tractor.”
Cara and Ethan continued their discussion, heads bent together.
Sam hopped off the stallion in order to talk to Spence. “Can I ride Prince in the race?”
“I’m not his owner. That’s up to Ethan.”
“And if he says yes?”
Spence shrugged. “You’d need to train. And the adoption event is only a couple weeks off.”
“I can train.”
“What about your barrel racing?” Ronnie interjected. “Practice is every day. And you have a rodeo this weekend.”
“I’ll manage.”
“No, you won’t.” Ronnie shook her head. “Not and still have time to watch Paige and Sienna.”
Sam’s features fell.
“Look,” Spence said. “There’s a lot that goes into a mock race. Maybe we can all talk later. Come up with a plan of action.”
“Good idea,” Cara chimed in. “We should have a meeting. As soon as possible. Spence, are you free this weekend?”
“I suppose I could find the time.”
“What about me?” Sam complained.
“We’ll keep you posted,” Cara assured her.
Frankie wanted to hear more, but the girls had reached their limit. Rather than amuse them, the small flashlight had become an object to fight over.
“We need to go.” She bent and brushed dirt off the girls’ shorts.
“I’ll walk you to your van,” Spence offered.
“Sure.” Frankie had assumed he’d stay with Ethan and Cara and Sam.
Paige and Sienna behaved during the short walk to the minivan and, for once, willingly crawled into their car seats.
“They’ll be asleep before we reach the main road,” Frankie informed Spence.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for inviting us. We had a good time. And your mares are beautiful.” She briefly wondered if he’d try and kiss her, considering how close they’d come earlier in the horse stables, before the girls went missing.
“You think we can get together soon?” he asked. “We have a lot to talk about.”
He certainly wasn’t wasting any time. “Yes.”
“When?”
She decided not to waste any time, either. “I have a full day tomorrow. How about tonight? You could come over for dinner. Say, six o’clock?” That would give her a couple hours to tidy the house and throw a meal together.
“We could go out.”
“Obviously, you’ve never dined in a
restaurant with two three-year-olds.” She laughed softly. “I’ll cook.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Without any warning, he swept her up in a quick hug and gave her a peck on the cheek. “See you then.”
Frankie had thought to throw him for a loop by inviting him to dinner. So much for that. In fact, she was the one thrown—and liking the thrill much, much more than she should.
Chapter Seven
Spence had sat at a dinner table with children before. Frequently, while visiting his family in Marana. His brother’s son and daughter were close in age to Paige and Sienna, he supposed, and also pretty darn cute.
But they weren’t Spence’s children. Eating a meal with his daughters was nothing short of mind-boggling.
“Hey, I said to stop that.” Frankie scolded the girls yet again for sneaking green beans to the dogs. That triggered a string of protests.
“You’ll have to excuse them,” she said. “They’ve had a big day and didn’t nap well.”
She looked in need of a nap herself. Twice he’d seen her stifle a yawn, and her feet dragged when she served dinner. In hindsight, he should’ve insisted on eating out.
“Maybe—” he lowered his voice to a whisper “—some ice cream would help.”
“Come on, girls.” Frankie pointed to their plates. “Eat your green beans. If you finish them, you can have a dish of the ice cream Spen—” She stopped short of saying his name. “Ice cream for dessert.”
They definitely needed to make some decisions. Tonight, if possible. Figure out when and how to tell the girls that he was their father. If only the twins and Frankie weren’t so tired.
Spence tried to discreetly observe Paige and Sienna as they reluctantly swallowed microscopic bites of green beans. How would they react to the news? They seemed to like him. That was a good beginning, wasn’t it? He liked them, too, far sooner than he’d thought possible.
They were young and would adapt quickly to the change. That was what his old boss had predicted when Spence called for advice. He’d also told Spence not to hurry the girls. Just be friendly and easygoing and allow them to warm up to him at their own pace.
Ice cream proved to be the magic cure for everyone. After choking down the last of their green beans, Paige and Sienna were rewarded with a small dish. Spence’s dish contained a considerably larger serving.
He patted his stomach. “Don’t know where I’m going to put this.”
The girls mimicked him, to his great amusement.
“Say thank you,” Frankie prompted.
“Thank you,” Paige and Sienna chorused in unison, before scraping their dishes clean.
After dessert came bath time, a regular nightly ritual according to Frankie.
“Go on.” Spence grabbed his dish and spoon. “I’ll handle this.”
“You?” She gaped at him as if he’d announced his intentions to run for president.
“I can wash dishes.”
“Since when?”
“One of the many skills I’ve acquired over the years. For the record, I can also vacuum and launder my clothes.”
“How come some lucky woman hasn’t grabbed you up?” she teased.
His answer was anything but teasing. “We both know why that hasn’t happened.”
“Spence.”
The girls abruptly scrambled from their chairs and asked if they could play.
“Bath first.” Frankie propelled them down the hall, leaving him alone to clear the table and clean the kitchen.
What would she have said to him if they weren’t interrupted? His imagination shifted into overdrive.
“Wow.” Frankie stood in the entryway to the kitchen as he was finishing up some twenty minutes later, an approving expression on her face. “Nice job.”
“I washed the platter by hand. Didn’t think it should go in the dishwasher.” He indicated the china platter sitting on the counter. “I wasn’t sure where you put it.”
She joined him at the sink and leaned in for a closer inspection. “You used scouring powder.”
“My mom would have my hide if I left the sink and stove top dirty. She insisted I learn how to properly clean a kitchen.”
Frankie straightened. “How are your parents, by the way?”
He smelled something flowery on her skin. Bubble bath, maybe? Or shampoo? Several blond strands lay against her cheek and neck, curling prettily. He was tempted to take one of those damp strands between his fingers and test its softness. Or bend his head and plant a light kiss beneath her ear, just to see if she’d push him away or lean in.
Instead, he said, “They’re good. Dad owns the dealership now. Bought out the owner a couple years ago and changed the name to Bohanan Auto Complex. Mom left her job at Southwest Hay Sales to run his office.”
“That’s great.”
“I suspect my brother will take over one day.”
“Not you?”
“Can you see me selling cars for a living?” He folded and rehung the dish towel.
“I suppose not.” Mild amusement colored her voice. “What’s your sister doing these days?”
“She moved to Seattle last year. Took a job with a winery in their marketing department.”
“She like it?”
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “She’s dating the assistant winemaker.”
“That’s great. Sounds like everyone’s doing well.”
“They are. And the folks don’t worry about me as much as they used to.”
Frankie grew quiet. “I’m sure they’re wonderful grandparents to your brother’s children.”
“That they are.”
“I’m guessing you’d like to introduce them to...” She glanced over her shoulder. “The girls.”
“Yes, I would. Eventually. Soon.”
She nodded. “Have you told them?”
“I’m waiting to tell Paige and Sienna first. See how that goes. Where are they, by the way? In bed?”
“Playing in their room. I’ll tuck them in shortly. It’s back to preschool tomorrow, and I have an early shift.”
Spence rested a hip on the counter. “I was wondering.”
“Yes?” she prompted, when he hesitated.
“You’ll probably think this is a strange request.”
“What?”
“Do you have any baby pictures of the girls?”
Her curious expression gave way to one of surprise. “Lots. Are you kidding?”
“Can I see them? I’d like to know a little of what they were like as babies.”
Frankie’s features abruptly crumbled, and he thought she might cry.
“Are you okay?” He reached for her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I really am sorry, Spence. I believed I was doing the right thing by not telling you. At first. Truly. After a while, I started having doubts. But then...” She sniffed. “It got easier and easier as more time passed to talk myself out of telling you. Plus, I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“You being angry at me. Taking me to court. Suing for custody out of spite. I realize now I was wrong.”
“I appreciate you saying that.” He thought this was the most honest she’d been with him since his return. Because of that, he felt compelled to be honest with her. “I’m not sure I would have been the best father in the world if you’d told me at the start.”
“But you deserved the chance.”
“I have one now, and I’m going to try not to blow it.”
Though no tears had fallen, she wiped at her cheeks. “Most of my pictures are digital. They’re saved on my computer and cloud storage. I could transfer them to a portable thumb drive for you if you want. One for your parents, too.”
“In the meantime, I have a baby photo album you can look at.”
He couldn’t resist smiling. “Show me.”
“A friend gave me the album at my baby shower, and I was diligent about adding pictures all through the girls’ first year. Then I got lax.” She pushed away from the counter. “Be right back.”
Darn it. He’d grown accustomed to her standing so close. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but a long exhalation escaped.
“In here,” she called a minute later from the living room. By the time he joined her, she was lowering herself onto the center couch cushion, a thick pink photo album in her hands. Patting the empty place to her right, she said, “Sit.”
He did, liking this much better than standing together in the kitchen. There, legs and shoulders and elbows weren’t touching. He swore a mild electric current traveled between them. Some things never changed.
She laid the album across her lap and opened it. On the inside cover was a comical white stork wearing a delivery hat and holding a smiling baby swaddled in a blanket. All the shower guests had signed the front page, adding cute little sayings and well wishes.
The next pages displayed a series of swirling black-and-gray photos. “These are my ultrasounds. You can see the twins. There.” She traced an image with her fingertip, eyes bright with what must be cherished memories.
Spence didn’t tell her that he really couldn’t discern much of anything in the photos. He’d hate for that lovely light to dim.
“I have a DVD, too,” she added, “if you want to watch that. It’s of my ultrasound at about five months.
He couldn’t imagine what was on it, but said, “Sure.”
She laughed softly, perhaps aware he was indulging her.
The next page revealed pictures of infant Paige and Sienna taken in the hospital. Their red, wrinkled, funny-looking faces were surrounded by a bright pink background.
“Newborn pictures are never the best,” Frankie explained.
Spence needed a moment. Swallowing, he waited for his heart to sink back into place from where it had lodged in his throat. These were his daughters when they were just a day, maybe hours, old! How tiny they must have been. And delicate. Yet so very perfect.
The Cowboy's Twin Surprise Page 9