Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  And dammit, her child deserved more than that. Her child didn’t deserve being cast aside. She should know. The McKays had taken her in and loved her like their own. She was grateful every day of her life, but it still didn’t heal her secret pain of knowing that she’d been unwanted. Unloved. It was classic foster-child syndrome. But now, her baby, the sweet life growing inside her, wouldn’t have what Brooke had vowed any child she bore would have: two loving parents.

  “Not fair,” she mumbled while trying to slosh along the flooded, muddy road.

  A flash of lightning lit up the skies and thunder followed, the loudest she’d ever heard. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, and she sobered. Maybe Wyatt wasn’t trying to be Prince Charming again. Maybe this storm was really as bad as he’d said.

  An animal skittered across the road and she braked hard. “Oh!” She barely missed the critter, and the car skidded, careering to the right. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white, as the car spun out of control. The back end dipped into a muddy ditch and hit a brick fence post. The force pitched her forward and her thick skull slammed into the steering wheel.

  The jolt startled her, and her forehead immediately throbbed. She sat there, dazed, as big drops of rain pelted the windshield. Her head pounded, her eyes burned and she felt as if she’d been hit by a giant dump truck rather than mixing it up with a fence post. She closed her eyes, a sense of déjà vu hitting her. She’d been in this car once before and laid her head on the steering wheel, clueless as to how to proceed. God, she was an idiot.

  Tears sprang anew from her eyes, and she welcomed them this time. She needed a good cry. What secretly pregnant girl didn’t?

  She took a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose. That’s when she realized it wasn’t just tears streaking her face. Blood colored the white tissue. Not a lot, but enough for her to take another tissue out and adjust the mirror in the dark to catch a glimpse of the damage. She had a knot the size of a plum erupting and a scrape two inches long. No doubt tomorrow, it would turn from hot red to dark purple. Wonderful. Now she’d have to explain all this to Dylan and Emma and endure their worry and concern.

  If she ever got home tonight.

  A knock came on the driver’s side window, startling her out of her self-pity. Oh, no. It couldn’t be. The man wearing a rain slicker and big Western hat gestured for her to roll down her window.

  She did. He shone a flashlight on her face and then quickly lowered it. But it must have been enough for him to see her stricken expression and bruised forehead. Curses spilled from his mouth. Really ugly words hissed out, not exactly the words of a knight in shining armor. Lucky for her, the pound of the rain washed away the worst of them from her delicate ears.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Dammit, Brooke. You’re bleeding.”

  “Not that much,” she said numbly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I... I think so.”

  He yanked the door open and reached for her.

  “I can walk.”

  “Quiet, Brooke,” he said through clenched teeth. There was fierceness in his voice she’d never heard before. So she clamped her trap shut as he lifted her out of the car and carried her to a big four-wheel-drive Jeep. He dumped her in the front seat, but not before her eyes drifted to the backseat. And her stomach plummeted. Two beautiful children, strapped into their car seats wearing pajamas and shivering, were rustling around back there, restless, cold and sleepy-eyed.

  Brett rubbed his eyes and Brianna was barely holding back sleep-deprived tears.

  Wyatt had risked going out in the storm with his babies to save her sorry butt.

  He slammed the door shut behind him and didn’t look at her. “I’m...sorry about this, Wyatt.”

  Nothing.

  She bit her lip. His seething anger was almost tangible, and she felt the slap of his silence as he pulled out onto the road and slowly navigated his way through the storm. The rain didn’t let up, and the windshield wipers fought a crazy swish and slosh of water. But she felt safe again and knew he would steer them cautiously home. Lights from the ranch house appeared out of the darkness like a beacon of all things good, and Wyatt drove into the attached garage and killed the engine. He would’ve probably liked to kill her, too, at the moment. Brett had started crying halfway through the drive home and Brianna had joined in shortly after. The cacophony of their cries only added weight to her blunder.

  She was a heel.

  A thoughtless fool.

  She hadn’t once thought of the risk to her own baby in all this.

  And Wyatt’s innocent kids had been dragged through the storm in the dead of night.

  Of course, she’d thought of none of this beforehand. She’d only wanted to make a clean getaway. She didn’t think she could bear staying the night under Wyatt’s roof, and guess what? Hello. Now she had no choice in the matter. And instead of Wyatt being a gracious host, she’d be privy to his wrath.

  Which she deserved.

  Wyatt gave her a cursory look, only to gauge her injuries. “Stay put in the Jeep. I’ll be back for you,” he ordered.

  “You don’t need to do that,” she said, opening the door and practically falling out. It was a long way down, and she’d been in a hurry. “I’m helping with the kids. You take Brett, I’ll get Brianna.”

  “Brooke,” he said, his sigh weary and frustrated, but he didn’t argue the point. It was too loud in the garage to hear much beyond the babies’ cries.

  “Let me help, Wyatt,” she said softly. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “You’re not dizzy?”

  She was dizzy in the brain lately, but that wasn’t what Wyatt meant. “No. I’m not. It’s just a little bump.”

  He grunted and she took that as a yes to helping with the kids.

  She opened the back door of the Jeep, ignoring the throbbing pain in her head, and concentrated on unfastening Brianna from the car seat. The baby was pushing the heels of her hands into her tired eyes, whimpering. “Come with me, Bri baby. We’ll get you warm and back to sleep.”

  Apparently at some point, Wyatt had tossed two blankets over them, but now they lay on the Jeep’s floor. She grabbed one and wrapped it around the baby, while Wyatt was doing his best with Brett. Once they had their two unruly packages all bundled up, they entered the house. Immediate warmth settled around them as they made their way up the stairs.

  The nursery was illuminated by a night-light. Brooke and Wyatt stood quietly in the center of the room rocking the babies. Their cries simmered some, but they were still restless.

  “Wyatt?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have your cell phone handy?”

  “Yeah, why?” he whispered, still swaying little Brett in his arms.

  “I need it for a minute.”

  He gave her a look, but then handed it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  She set Brianna down in her crib and covered her with a blanket. Brooke then fidgeted with the phone until she found what she was looking for. “Okay,” she said, “put Brett in his crib.”

  Wyatt gave her a dubious look, but set the baby down and covered him.

  Then she turned up the volume on the phone and the gentle humming of a box fan filled the room.

  “They should be asleep in minutes,” she whispered to Wyatt.

  “What in hell is that?” he asked, staring at her as if she’d grown horns.

  “White noise.”

  She tiptoed out of the room. Wyatt glanced at his quieted babies, not quite asleep yet, but soothed and calmer now, before following behind her.

  In the hallway, he grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

  His grip was tight, but not in a loving way. She felt a lecture coming on. But to her surpri
se, he led her into his master bedroom. It was a beautiful room filled with white oak furniture in tasteful shades of cream and lilac. Madelyn’s touch was all around, from the top-notch drapes and bed linens to the delicate crystal perfume bottles on the dresser to the impressionist pastel artworks on the wall. It was hardly a manly rancher’s room, and Brooke had trouble picturing Wyatt in here. Yet it was a testament to his love for his wife. He’d let her decorate, allowing her to do whatever made her happy.

  “Wyatt, what are you doing?”

  They bypassed the bed and entered a foyer that led to a massive master bathroom. She was sure she could put her whole apartment in this room. There were two of everything, which was the way Wyatt seemed to roll, having twins and all: two long granite counters with dual sinks, two toilets and two walk-in closets. Just one tub though, sunken and luxurious, surely big enough for two consenting adults to share. The thought made her hot all over.

  He picked her up and set her on the countertop. “Gosh, you’ve got to stop doing that,” she blurted.

  “Doing what?” he asked, distracted. He was busy gathering supplies, peroxide, washcloths and a first aid kit.

  “Carrying me places.”

  “You don’t seem to have sense enough to keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

  “I keep out of harm’s way.”

  He snorted.

  “I said I was sorry. I never meant to endanger your children. I wasn’t...thinking.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.”

  Did he mean the night they’d slept together? Was he regretting it? Of course he was. She’d been nothing but trouble from the moment they’d met.

  He placed a warm washcloth on her forehead, and she flinched.

  “Sorry, Brooke. I’ve got to clean this wound.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and swiveled her partway around. She got a good look at her wound in the light.

  “Oh!” It was three times the size she’d seen in the car’s mirror. Blood had caked on her forehead. It looked like a red rose atop a lumpy cupcake. Only this was not sweet. “I didn’t realize.”

  “You could’ve been seriously hurt,” he said through tight lips. He dabbed at the blood some more.

  “But I wasn’t. I never expected you to drag your babies out into the storm to rescue me.”

  “You left me no choice. What else was I supposed to do? Let you crash your car and get hurt or...or—”

  “You put your children in danger for me.”

  “I could let you believe that. It would serve you right. But the truth is, I know the land and the four-wheel-drive Jeep has weathered lots of storms. I wouldn’t deliberately put my kids in danger.”

  “But still, you dragged them out of bed to come get me.”

  “I won’t be disagreeing with you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I promise you won’t know I’m here and in the morning I’ll—”

  “You’re not going anywhere in the morning, Brooke. This storm is pounding the land, and the weather reports aren’t good. Looks like we’re in for a few more days of it. There’s another storm right behind this one.”

  “There is?” She took a swallow.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He finished washing her wound and dried her forehead, then took a pad of gauze and soaked it with peroxide. “This is gonna sting a bit,” he said.

  “You’re going to love every second of it.”

  He leaned back to look into her eyes. His were still cold, hard and so amazingly blue, she wanted to cry. But she’d already done enough crying. She’d take her medicine like a big girl and pay the price for her stupidity.

  “You should’ve listened to me. Then none of this would’ve happened. You put your life in danger, Brooke.”

  And then she got it. She knew why he’d come after her. She’d put him in a terrible position. Shoot. She wished she was wrong on this, but her heart told her the truth. He couldn’t let her go it alone to possibly crash her car or worse. His wife had died in a car crash. Those memories must have tortured him tonight. Wyatt couldn’t stand by and let another woman die on his watch. He had to come after her; his conscience wouldn’t allow anything else. And whatever he’d said to the contrary, he had risked his kids and his own safety to rescue her.

  “Ouch!”

  The hardness in his eyes evaporated some. “I told you it would sting.”

  She almost choked on the pungent smell of peroxide. When he finished ministering to her gash, he capped the bottle and put it away. She jumped down from the counter before he picked her up again.

  “It only lasts a minute or two,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m really sorry I behaved so selfishly. Really, Wyatt. I wish there was a way for me to make it up to you.”

  His dark blond brows rose and the intense glint in his eyes put wicked thoughts in her head. Was he thinking about their night together? When they had labored long and hard to satisfy each other’s hunger? When they’d spoken of nothing consequential and yet said so many things in the heat of passion?

  Wyatt’s landline phone rang in the master bedroom, breaking up the moment.

  He walked over to it and glanced at the number, then winced, his frown even deeper than the one he had for Brooke.

  “I’ll leave you so you can answer that.”

  “No, it’s not necessary. I’ll return that call in the morning. Right now, you’re going to eat something.”

  “I’m not—” She was about to say she wasn’t hungry, but then she remembered the life inside her needed nourishing. She’d been selfish enough tonight. She needed to eat, if only to maintain her strength for the baby. “Okay, yes. It’s a shame to let the dinner go to waste.”

  “Fine,” he said. “And you should put some ice on that bump.”

  “Right. Ice. Just what I need. Gotcha.”

  He turned around at her sarcasm, and that brow rose again. Did he have to be so darn appealing, even when he was scowling at her?

  She made the gesture of zipping her lip with her fingers.

  Wyatt’s eyes gleamed and a smile threatened to emerge on his face, before he turned around and kept going.

  She followed behind without another word.

  * * *

  Dinner was a quiet affair of stilted conversation and reheated food. Nevertheless, she downed her meal with gusto. It was either a result of Henrietta’s expert cooking or the fact that Brooke was eating for two now. She filled her tummy with chicken piccata, scalloped potatoes, yeast rolls and salad until she thought she would explode. “My compliments to the cook,” she said once she was all through.

  “I’ll tell Henrietta. It’ll earn me brownie points, relaying the compliment,” Wyatt said, sipping coffee. He hadn’t looked at her during the dinner. The vibe she got was that she’d pissed him off and now he was stuck with her. What was his demeanor saying? Don’t mess with Texas? Or Texans, for that matter.

  She kept her lips buttoned and spoke only when spoken to.

  “How do you know about white noise?” he asked finally, pushing away his empty coffee cup.

  She shrugged. “Years of babysitting, I guess. You pick up hints and tricks along the way. And I’ve been doing some reading. My, uh, sister-in-law Emma is pregnant.”

  And so am I. If only she had the courage to make that announcement.

  “I’d never heard of it,” he said, staring at her mystified. “There’s so much...”

  “You learn as you go, Wyatt.”

  “I suppose. But sometimes I feel behind the eight ball on all this.”

  “You’re a businessman with a company to run. You can’t possibly keep up on the latest baby trends. And the old ways of doing things aren’t so bad.”r />
  He pushed his hands through his hair. “You mean like rocking a baby to sleep instead of brainwashing them with digital noise?”

  She laughed. “Yes. Both ways work.”

  He chuckled, too, and his whole demeanor changed. It was nice to see his smile again, if only for a few seconds. She could faint dead away from how his eyes touched upon hers. They lingered for a while, sparkling brilliant blue like the sea on a sunny day. It was killer to see him unguarded and free of any pain or anger.

  “So are you hating me right now, or have I moved up the scale to mild dislike?” she finally asked.

  A deep sigh broke from his throat. “Brooke.”

  “I’m sorry. But we are going to be stuck here together for a few days.”

  He shook his head at her comment. “I don’t hate anyone. Dislike is reserved for my enemies.”

  “You have enemies?” Now that was a surprise.

  “A few. You can’t get to this level in business without ruffling feathers and pissing people off. I’ve done my share of negotiating but I’ve always done it fairly. Some of my competitors haven’t been so scrupulous. I don’t abide ruthlessness in business or anywhere else.”

  “So, you dislike your competitors. That’s probably the case for a lot of business owners. What did they do, undermine your good name?”

  “I can fend for myself. And my name is just fine. But they hit me the hardest when Madelyn died. I was struggling with her loss and my babies being motherless, and my rivals swooped in during a vulnerable time in my life to steal contracts away. At the time, I was too grief-stricken to take much notice or to care.”

  “That sucks, Wyatt. That’s a really rotten thing to do. Okay, so I’m not in that category. Thank God.”

  “Brooke, there’s no need to put a name on any of this. I sure as hell don’t know what to call...us.” He gestured with his hands to both of them.

  Us? As in, the two of them? Brooke wouldn’t get her hopes up that he meant anything serious by using the term. There was just no other way to describe the two of them. Still, while they were on the subject of babies and white noise and all, why couldn’t she bring herself to tell him she was carrying his child?