Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  And the devil’s voice in her head was only too glad to explain, Because you couldn’t bear for your baby to be unwanted, the way you were. And that was the crux of the matter. She was just coming to terms with being pregnant herself, and having Wyatt rebuff and reject the baby would be a knife to her heart.

  Outside, the storm didn’t let up. Windows rattled and winds howled with frenetic energy. It was the gloomiest of gloomy and yet there they were having a cozy meal together in the warmth of the house with two sweet babies asleep in their cribs upstairs.

  “Do you have to check on the animals or anything?”

  Wyatt ground his teeth and nodded as if she’d hit upon the very thing he’d been thinking. “I probably should, but I...”

  But he didn’t want to leave the babies alone with a stranger. She would remedy that right now. If there was one thing she could do for him, it was that. “I’ll watch the twins, Wyatt. I’ll sit in their room if you’d like. And I promise no more stunts. I’ll be right there if they need something. Although I wasn’t hinting for you to go out in this god-awful weather.”

  “The weather doesn’t bother me, but I should check on the horses in the barn at the very least. I’ve gotta make sure they have feed and water. And it’s not necessary for you to sit with the babies. I’ll look in on them before I go out. They should sleep the rest of the night. Why don’t you get ready for bed? You must be tired. You can listen for them in the guest bedroom.”

  She was exhausted. And the idea of cuddling up with a pillow and a warm blanket over her suddenly became appealing. Usually a night owl, her energy cells shut down after nine o’clock these days.

  “Sounds good. But first, let me help put some of these things away,” she said.

  Wyatt didn’t stop her from picking up plates and taking them to the kitchen. They worked silently, moving about the room tidying up and making very sure they didn’t accidentally bump into each other. She couldn’t have him touching her tonight, not while the storm raged outside and her innermost feelings were so close to the surface. She liked Wyatt a whole lot, and the iron barriers she usually put up with men seemed to falter when he was near. And that was a bad, bad thing.

  “Follow me. I’ll get you something to wear for the night.”

  He was halfway up the stairs before she started the climb, trying to keep her eyes down and not on the precise cut of his jeans and the rear end that was pretty near perfection. It was darn hard not to notice as his boots clicked and clacked upon the shiny wood steps, accentuating what was going on with every long-legged stride he took. Then she caught a glimpse of his shoulders in the tight cotton shirt. He was one of those cowboys whose muscles bunched under the shirtsleeves.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him naked. But somehow this was more intimate: being alone with him in his home with his children sleeping just steps away from her room.

  “Here we are,” he said, once he reached the room that was two doors down from the nursery and on the opposite side of the hallway from his master bedroom. “You can bed down in here. There’s new toothbrushes and towels and everything you might need. If you don’t find something, just let me know.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks.”

  “Oh,” he said, remembering something. “Just a sec.”

  He walked away and then came back holding a red plaid flannel shirt. “This is the best I can do right now. It’s clean.”

  She’d wondered if he would give her one of his wife’s garments to wear, or if he still had any of her clothes around. Wearing something that was Madelyn’s would be too darn weird, so the flannel shirt was a good choice.

  He handed it to her and she hugged it to her chest. “Thanks.”

  Maybe hugging his shirt wasn’t the brightest idea. His gaze dipped down to her chest and his eyes flickered like a newly lit flame.

  She took a big breath.

  He did the same. “Well,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

  “Well,” she said, captivated.

  He made a face, then pushed his hand through his hair. “I’d best go see to the animals.”

  “And the twins?”

  “Are sleeping tight. But you can check on them if you’d like while I’m gone. I hope to be only ten minutes or so.”

  “Fine, I’ll be listening for them.”

  “Appreciate that.”

  Five

  It was a mother of a storm. Wyatt wasn’t a small man, and yet as he exited the warmth of his home, he was thrashed about quite handily by sweeping thirty-mile-an-hour gusts that nearly stole his hat from his head. He pushed it down with the flat of his hand and trudged toward the barns. He had a string of Arabians that wouldn’t take kindly to Mother Nature’s outburst. A few years back, he’d installed floor heating in the barn, but those animals were feisty and high-strung and they sure as hell didn’t like the boom of thunder and the sound of rain pelting the rooftops overhead. It was not quite hurricane weather, and he was grateful he had the means and the cash to provide the best structures for the animals. If the cattle had any sense, they’d take shelter in the overhangs on the property he’d set up every forty acres or so to provide a source of cover for his crew.

  He reached the barn and made quick work of checking on the horses, pitchforking a layer of extra straw in their stalls, and making sure they had enough alfalfa and oats to fill their bellies. It would be at least two days before his crew would return. His weekend crew couldn’t get onto the ranch anyway, and he’d texted them all earlier, telling them not to try. It was too dangerous.

  With his work done, he latched the barn doors. He fought his way back, putting his head down and trudging through winds that could likely lift him off the ground and carry him to parts unknown. But he made it to the house just fine.

  He stood in the foyer, shedding his cold, rain-soaked coat and gloves. The warmth inside the house seeped into his bones. It would take a hot shower to completely thaw him out.

  He climbed the stairs two at a time, ready for this night to be over, and checked on the babies. But he damn well wasn’t prepared for the sight before his eyes. He halted and swallowed hard.

  Brooke.

  She was leaning over Brianna’s crib, her mile-long tanned legs giving him quite a show. As she bent further, he caught a powerful glimpse of the slip of white cotton panties she wore and the plump, perfect cheeks peeking out.

  He blew breath out of his lungs and admired the view, his groin tightening up, his heart racing. What he wouldn’t give to have her here under different circumstances. To have the freedom to take her to his bed and make wild love to her again and again.

  He groaned, the sound penetrating the room, to his chagrin.

  Brooke startled and turned around, catching him in the act of lusting after her. She gasped, a beautiful breathy sound that stirred his senses even more as they met eye to eye across the darkened room.

  Brianna quieted back to sleep, thanks to Brooke, and then Wyatt remembered his place, the fact that Brooke wasn’t here by choice and that he wasn’t available to her. Not in the way he craved. But judging by the spark of heat in Brooke’s eyes she tried to conceal, she might be craving him, too.

  She tiptoed out of the room, edging her way past him in the doorway, her breasts teasing his chest as she passed by. That wisp of a touch nearly undid him.

  “Brooke.”

  She whirled around, her eyes knowing and hungry. “She was fussing. I calmed her back to sleep.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re cold and wet,” she said. He liked having her eyes on him.

  “I’m getting ready for a warm shower.”

  She nibbled on her very plump bottom lip and drew his attention there. “Good idea.”

  Crap. Did she have to have such a kissable mouth? Now all he could think abou
t was kissing her senseless, stripping her of his shirt and having her join him in the shower.

  “I’ll be off to bed now,” she said, without making a move.

  “I, uh...okay.”

  The staring match continued. Wyatt could look into her pretty coffee-brown eyes all night. Her hair was falling off one shoulder, all those lush rich raven strands close enough to reach out and touch.

  “Brooke,” he said again, giving his head a regretful shake.

  “I know, Wyatt. It’s okay... Good night.”

  He sucked in air. She felt it, too, and there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it. “Night.”

  Finally, she turned and headed down the hallway to her own room. Before closing the door, she wiggled her fingers at him.

  Once she was out of sight, Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. Two more days of this could mean trouble. What a freaking mess he was. Hungering for another woman in the very home he’d once shared with Madelyn.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  But oh, it wasn’t going to be easy, either.

  * * *

  When morning dawned, the sky was just as dreary as the night before. There was no sign of sunshine, just gray threatening clouds. A steady light cascade thudded against the roof, but without the theatrics of thunder and lightning. Today’s storm was the second-class citizen to yesterday’s deluge.

  Wyatt pulled himself out of bed, splashed water on his face and shoulders, toweled off, threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and padded barefoot to the nursery. Would Brooke be in there again wearing his shirt and nothing else? A small tortured part of him sorta hoped so, crazy glutton for punishment that he was. But as he stepped into the room, he saw that only his precious two were in there, still sleeping. Brianna was on her back, looking so much like her mother it pained him. Her hair was the same honey blond with slight curls and her eyes were shaped like almonds, wide across her little face. She had the same fair complexion and sweet smile as her mother, and it melted his heart every time he looked at her. Brett was blond, too, but his hair was a darker shade that might just change to light brown when he got older. He was a good mix of both Wyatt and Madelyn, although people who didn’t know Madelyn thought his son looked exactly like him, which made him puff up with pride.

  He smiled and exited the room. Any minute now, they’d wake and all hell would break loose. It was always the same, the welcome quiet before the toddler storm. And he’d learned to take advantage of these quiet times. Having a cup of coffee in peace was a luxury. He descended the staircase, smacking his lips over the prospect of a simple bowl of cereal and a steamy brew. As he neared the kitchen, the scent of coffee filled his nostrils.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, a sassy female voice greeted him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  He entered the kitchen, smiling. But his fantasies were extinguished quickly. Brooke was wearing the same clothes she’d been in last night, only this time, her silvery silk blouse wasn’t tucked in. “Sleepyhead? It’s six in the morning.”

  “I thought cowboys rose at the crack of dawn.”

  He glanced out the window. “Today, who could tell?”

  She chuckled. “You got me there. It’s nasty out there. Want some coffee? Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I sort of helped myself to your kitchen. I’ve got bacon under the broiler and I was going to crack some eggs. Are you in?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I figured cereal would be my breakfast and lunch of choice without Henrietta. Hell yeah to coffee, and I’m all in. How’s the head?”

  “Surprisingly, not bad. I thought I’d wake up to a huge headache. I guess I got lucky.”

  “You got damn lucky.” Her hair covered her bruise. He imagined it had turned fifty shades of purple by now.

  “How long do you suppose we have?” she asked.

  Wyatt knew exactly what she meant. “Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe half an hour. The kids usually wake up around six thirty.”

  “Do they eat anything special?” she asked, pouring the coffee into the one mug she’d laid out on the counter.

  “Well, they’ve been eating just about everything these days. So eggs and a bit of bacon is fine. I think Henrietta used to make them baby oatmeal or something. “

  “Okay, we’ll figure it out.”

  He liked the way Brooke took over his kitchen. She wasn’t a wilting flower who needed to have everything handed to her. She’d stepped in and helped out and didn’t seem uncomfortable in her surroundings.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, being a good host, though his mind automatically flashed back to an image of her lying next to him in that hotel bed. Things were different now and he knew it for fact, but his groin was having issues that didn’t surprise him. He switched gears, thinking about his children sleeping innocently in their nursery right now. They were his splash of ice-cold water. They were the buffer he needed.

  “Like a baby,” she said. “The bed is comfy and the sound of the rain sorta lulled me to sleep. How about you?”

  “Good. I slept good.”

  He removed the bacon from the broiler while she cooked the eggs. He made toast, too, and within a few minutes, they were sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. “You’re not having coffee?”

  She shook her head, her gaze dipping to his chest. He hadn’t buttoned up, and now he caught her stealing a glimpse. When his lips curved up in a smile, she pulled her gaze off him immediately and made a production of buttering her toast. “No, I, uh... I’m not one for coffee. I’m fine with orange juice. Want some?”

  Her dark hair was in wild disarray, looking natural and untamed and gorgeous falling past her shoulders. He hadn’t thought to give her a hairbrush last night. He had other things on his mind, such as how in hell he was going to steer clear of her this weekend.

  “No thanks. I’m good.” He sipped his coffee and they both concentrated on the meal, keeping the conversation to a minimum.

  Cries erupted upstairs ten minutes later. “Peace as you know it has just ended.” He rose from his seat. “I’ll go get them.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Wyatt wasn’t going to argue. When it came to his kids, without Henrietta here to guide him, he was on a bucking wild horse without a saddle.

  * * *

  Brooke scooped Brett up just before he slung his taxicab-yellow dump truck at Brianna’s head. She took the truck out of his hands and twirled him around and around. “Here we go,” she said, giving Brett an airplane ride. “Zoom, zoom.” Brett’s legs shot out and his giggles made Brianna stop attacking the seventy-inch flat screen’s remote controller with a spoon to look up at her brother in envy.

  “Your turn next,” Brooke said, almost out of breath. The little ones weighed a good twenty-five pounds if they weighed one pound. Brooke figured this was the best workout she’d get while she was here. Wyatt had offered her his private gym in the basement of the house, and maybe when the twins napped, she’d head down there to check it out, but until she got the okay from a doctor to do some mild exercise, all she would be doing was looking.

  Brianna raced around the great room, which seemed to have inadvertently become the twins’ playroom. As a matter of fact, every room downstairs had signs of toddler-dom. There were dolls and trucks, cars and dress-up clothes everywhere, though neatly arranged, thanks to Henrietta, Brooke presumed. Yet the entire stunning ranch home, with all the latest perks and privileges and modern digital conveniences, showed signs of children.

  Not a bad thing at all. Maybe that’s why Brooke felt comfortable instead of out of place here. The house was grand not but austere. So what if she didn’t want to be here. She was stuck and she might as well make the best of it.

  Brianna came running into her arms and she lifted her up and flew her across the room. “Zoom, zoom, zoom. You’re flying, Bri.”
Sweet laughter poured from the child’s tiny mouth and her joyous smile put a sparkle in her bluebonnet eyes.

  “Daddy, lookee me.”

  “I see, Bri. You’re flying,” Wyatt said. His eyes were filled with so much love, Brooke’s heart lurched. This family was missing one vital part and she saw the hint of that sadness, even as Wyatt smiled at his daughter and held his son.

  “I flied too,” Brett said.

  “Yes, you did,” Brooke said, setting Brianna down and drawing deep breaths into her lungs.

  Wyatt made note of her labored breathing and announced, “Okay, flying school is closed for today.”

  The children protested with whines and whimpers.

  “But maybe if Daddy says it’s okay, we can have ice cream?” She gave Wyatt a sheepish smile. “Is that okay?

  “Yay, Daddy, pleeeeze,” from Brianna.

  “Pleeeeze, pleeeeze,” Brett parroted.

  “Oh, um...” He glanced at his watch. The children had eaten a good breakfast and lunch, and it was now approaching dinnertime. “Sure, why not?”

  The twins squealed with joy. Wyatt lifted Brett in one arm, and picked up Brianna in the other, giving Brooke a break as they headed for the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later, the ceiling had nearly caved in from Brianna’s screams and Brett was covered from head to toe in fudgy ice cream. There wasn’t a clean spot on his shirt, despite the bib. Apparently bibs weren’t foolproof, not with little hands pulling and tugging at them constantly.

  “Okay, well, maybe ice cream wasn’t such a bright idea,” Brooke said.

  “You think?” Wyatt frowned at the mess that was his kitchen, splattered walls and all.

  “I’ll take care of it. You mentioned you have work to do?”

  “I can’t leave you with this...them.” He spread his arms out wide. Which only made her want to jump into them. Getting away from him today would be imperative for her peace of mind. They’d been together all day, dealing with the children, and she’d been all too aware of him. His presence beside her. His heart-stealing blue eyes. The intoxicating scent of his cologne. When he was close she felt safe, and that scared her most of all. She couldn’t give up her heart again. She was scarred by Royce’s deception and didn’t trust herself to make the right decisions when it came to men. Especially since she had no idea what Wyatt would say about the baby she carried. And she was too chicken to find out.