The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble

by Ali Olson

  Carter thought for a moment. “Pancakes,” he said.

  “Smart man,” Brock said, looking at Cassie in triumph.

  “Or a boat so I could leave,” the boy added.

  Cassie grinned at him. “The four-year-old beat you at your own game. You realize that, right?”

  Brock shrugged, enjoying the conversation. “He really did. But both of our answers were still way better than a book.”

  “Who would bring a book?” Carter asked, scrunching up his face to better show his distaste at the idea.

  “Okay, smarty-pants,” his mom told him, turning him back to the house, “you go back inside. We’ll get the horses settled in and be there in a few minutes.”

  “Can I help with the horses?” he asked, turning to Brock.

  Brock was taken aback that the boy was asking him instead of Cassie, but he answered, “Not this time. We want to get them brushed down quickly so we can get back to work on the ranch. Another time, okay?”

  Carter nodded excitedly and took off for the house.

  * * *

  CASSIE CONTINUED TO lead Rosalind toward the open barn door, amazed that Carter had asked Brock instead of her. Brock seemed to be thinking the same thing, because as they entered the dim light of the barn, he commented, “I hope what I said was okay with you. I wasn’t really expecting Carter to ask me that.”

  Watching Brock interact in such a comfortable way with Carter had made her heart flip-flop around in her chest, but she tried to keep that out of her voice when she answered. “It was exactly what I would have said.”

  It was what the father they deserve to have would’ve said, she thought to herself. She wiped that notion out of her mind as quickly as she could. The twins had her and all the best memories of their dad, and that would need to be enough.

  “They’re good kids,” Brock told her as he led the horses into their stalls, a small smile on his lips.

  Diamond and Rosalind settled in, munching happily on the hay.

  As Brock handed Cassie a brush and got his own to groom Diamond, he said, “I think Carter is going to be hopping up on one of these horses in no time. Did you see the way he looked at Diamond?”

  Cassie had her brush against Rosalind’s silky neck, but stopped to turn and looked at Brock. She had suddenly realized something. “How did you know that was Carter and not Zach?”

  Brock seemed oblivious to her eyes on him. She could see the smile grow wider across his lips as he brushed down Diamond. “Zach will grow to like them, too, but he’s a bit more hesitant, which is probably why he stayed inside. That seems to be a personality trait, don’t you think?”

  She did, but that didn’t answer her question. “No. I mean, how can you tell them apart? You knew it was Carter without anyone telling you.”

  He turned to look at her, surprised. “They’re two different people. They look similar, sure, but they’re unique.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “You can tell them apart, can’t you?”

  Cassie realized she had been staring at Brock like he was crazy and blushed. “I can, but almost nobody else is able to. Even their grandparents and Hank—well, most people can’t tell which is which. I was just surprised you were able to.”

  Brock went back to grooming Diamond, and Cassie got started on Rosalind. After a few seconds of silence, Brock said, “I think people don’t really look at identical twins very closely. They just expect them to be the same, so they don’t worry about finding their differences.”

  Cassie found herself nodding, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She had noticed the very same thing.

  “My brothers are twins,” he went on, “and when we were kids, I noticed that adults didn’t try to tell them apart, even though they’re separate individuals.”

  Cassie knew Brock had brothers, obviously, but he’d never mentioned that they were twins. Trying not to imagine a pair of girls sporting her curly hair and Brock’s beautiful eyes, she asked, “Do twins run in your family?”

  * * *

  BROCK KNEW HE could answer without explaining the entire story, but something inside him told him to tell the whole truth. Cassie was bound to find out at some point that he and his siblings were adopted, and he felt like she should hear it from him.

  “Actually, they’re my adopted brothers,” Brock said, keeping his eyes on Diamond’s mane. “Ma and Pop never had any kids of their own. They’re actually my aunt and uncle.”

  The repetitive sound of the brush against Rosalind stopped. He didn’t turn, but waited for her questions.

  After a short silence, Cassie asked, “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.”

  He was so surprised he turned from his task and met her eyes. They were serious but lacked any expression of pity. He knew she must be curious, and he appreciated her ability to not pry. Few people managed that.

  Suddenly, without him making the conscious decision to do so, he began talking to her about things he rarely discussed with anyone. “My parents died when I was a kid. A car crash. I moved out here from San Diego to live with my aunt Sarah and uncle Howard right after that. They had adopted Amy, Diego and Jose years before but immediately brought me into the family as if I’d always been a part of it. They saved me, Ma and Pop. Even when things were tough—”

  He paused there, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Was he going to tell her about the guilt he’d felt over his parents’ death? The dark days he’d never have survived if not for the caring people who treated him with such kindness?

  Cassie nodded, seeming to understand, and Brock felt lighter somehow. “Anyway, they gave all of us a home. They’re as good a family as I could wish for,” he finished lamely.

  “I can see that,” Cassie agreed, her voice soft, before turning back to her task.

  Neither spoke as they finished with the horses then went to find Tom and his mother inside the house. Even when Mrs. Stuart insisted they stay for lunch, Brock and Cassie hardly looked at one another. Finally, they said goodbye to the Stuarts and left with Zach and Carter in tow, each sucking on a candy from their time in the hands of Grandma Stuart.

  Brock had known from the first day he’d worked with Cassie that she was a kind, helpful sort of person. Finding out she was a doctor had only confirmed his suspicions. Now, he hoped her big heart wouldn’t stop her from treating him the same way she always had. He didn’t want or need sympathy or anything else when it came to the death of his parents. He’d had plenty of that growing up.

  Mostly, he didn’t want to lose the easy way they’d spoken before, and the worry of that possibility made him nervous to say anything at all. Even when he was fighting his attraction for her, there was something about the way they were able to converse that he’d hate to lose. He realized for the first time that they truly had become friends, beyond all the sexual tension and desire, and he didn’t want anything to hurt that friendship.

  Cassie’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Should we start unloading the truck when we get back?”

  He said a quick prayer of thanks for the change of topic. “Sure. We can make a pile of the boards out back near the corner of the fence for now, and separate out what we need for the paddock once we start on that. Maybe we’ll even be able to get a few sections of it completed before it gets too late, or we could spend some time setting up your office. When did you say you’re meeting your first patient?” he asked.

  Cassie smiled a little. “Early tomorrow morning. Emma’s bringing over her neighbor.”

  “That’s great,” Brock said, feeling genuinely happy for her.

  She would be up to her ears in patients by the time he left, at that rate.

  Cassie didn’t look away from the road, but he could see she was happy with the prospect of her first patient. Brock was once again struck with her courage, moving so far away from everything she’d known and starting from
scratch.

  He imagined her husband’s memory played no small part in the decision. If she loved him as much as he suspected, everything in her old life probably reminded her of her loss.

  He wasn’t sure if he was sympathetic or jealous of a deceased person, but either way it didn’t bode well for him.

  Chapter Eight

  Cassie tried to keep her mind on the road, but her thoughts kept straying back to what Brock had said back in the barn about his past. She ached for the young boy who had lost his parents and everything he’d known, and it gave her a newfound wonder at the strength and humor she found in this handsome cowboy.

  She could tell Brock didn’t want to hear any of that, though, and she could understand why. He’d probably gotten more sympathy from people than he knew what to do with, and she’d had enough sympathy after Hank’s death to last her a lifetime. Just being able to talk about normal life without that pity hovering around the edges was all she’d wanted after his crash, and she bet Brock felt the same way.

  So normal was exactly what she’d give him.

  Once she parked the car, she enlisted the boys to carry a single piece of lumber between them and readied herself for another bout of heavy lifting. She and Brock gathered the boards and began moving them, load by load, from the bed of the truck, around the side of the house and finally to a growing pile of lumber near the corner of the fence closest to the paddock while the boys “helped” as much as they could.

  Cassie’s still-sore muscles began to protest almost immediately, but she ignored them. Brock pushed himself, and she didn’t complain, happy to be working so hard she couldn’t fixate on the way his muscles looked under his shirt or think about the way his lips felt against hers, or how he had opened up and shared his past with her.

  None of that was helpful here. She just needed to concentrate on what she was doing.

  Once all the lumber was out of the truck and in a big pile, she sat on the boards and sucked in a few slow breaths while the boys dropped their last piece on the ground with a thunk. Brock sat beside her to rest, too, and they watched as the energetic boys tried to make their few boards into a respectable pile like that of the adults. There was a faint ding from Brock’s pocket, and he shifted his weight as he attempted to extricate his phone from his jeans.

  Cassie could feel the wood heap move beneath her, but it was too late to hop off, and she tumbled to the ground along with the lumber. She heard Brock thud beside her and swear under his breath. She turned toward him, worried he was injured.

  He had fallen so close to her that her movements brought her to rest with her chest pressed against his arm. She scrambled away as if he was too hot to touch—which in a way, he was. As if she wasn’t having a difficult enough time already. Then she noticed that he was still on the floor, and she dropped to her knees beside him. “Brock? Are you okay?”

  He grimaced as he tried to sit up. “Yeah, it’s just my back. I tweaked it when I fell.”

  Cassie offered him her hand, and with her help he was able to stand, though he was obviously still in pain. “It just does this sometimes. Has for years,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I think we should take you in for a scan, just to be sure you’re fine,” she said, her training as a doctor taking over.

  Brock shook his head. “I promise, it’s not a big deal, Doc. A bit of aspirin and some stretches and I’ll be right as rain.”

  “Can I at least take a look?” she asked, though part of her objected to the idea of seeing more of his body than she absolutely needed to.

  She was a doctor, and now was the time to be professional.

  Brock glanced at her for just a moment, as if he had some idea what she was thinking, then turned his back to her. She pulled up his shirt and looked at his back, running her hands over his skin, trying to ignore the way his obvious strength made her stomach melt into a puddle.

  They were just friends, that was all, she told herself. Yes, he was fit. Yes, if she slid her hands around to his stomach she would likely find six-pack abs that would make her knees go weak. Yes, he could lift her up and pin her against a wall like she’d pictured in her fantasies.

  Whoa, Nelly.

  She put her hands in her pockets in order to keep herself from touching him any more. “Nothing seems out of place or anything. Likely just a muscle spasm, though you really should get it checked out if it happens often.”

  Brock pulled down his shirt as he turned, giving her just a glimpse of those abs. Lord, what had she done to deserve this type of punishment? “Sorry about that. You could’ve been hurt.”

  She waved away his apology. “It was an accident. You were just checking your phone.”

  Apparently he’d forgotten about his phone until then, and he pulled it out of his pocket. After a few seconds, he looked up. “My brothers. They were texting to say they’re almost here. I should go out and meet them.”

  Cassie nodded. “Head through the house and get some aspirin. There’s a bottle in the cabinet above the kitchen sink. I’ll work on stacking the lumber a bit more securely than before,” she said, giving him a little smile, which he returned.

  She watched him, trying to focus her thoughts and energy into his health and getting the hay turned into bales and sold. The stuff that mattered. Instead, though, her mind kept returning to the feeling of sliding her hands along Brock’s skin. When his eyes caught hers, they held for a long moment, and she wondered if he was thinking of the same thing. She waited for him to say something, do something.

  Without saying anything, he turned and walked to the back door of the house. She sat down on what was left of the lumber pile, trying to catch her breath.

  “What should we do, Momma?” Zach and Carter asked in unison, clearly itching to help more.

  Cassie looked at her hands as she tried to think of something for them to do. The splinters in her palm gave her all the inspiration she needed. “Go grab the tweezers from the drawer under my bathroom sink. I have some splinters, and you probably do, too.”

  The two boys looked at their hands for a moment, nodded, and took off for the back door. Cassie closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the moment of silence and calm.

  * * *

  BROCK TOOK A few gulps of water to get down the aspirin and watched as Zach and Carter sprinted past him, bouncing off the walls in their hurry to do whatever mission they were on. Then he walked through the house and out the front door, unsure if he was happy or not to be away from Cassie’s stare. As Brock moved carefully down the steps, his brothers Jose and Diego stepped out of their black truck.

  “Hey, Broccoli,” Jose said, giving Brock a big trademark grin.

  Brock rolled his eyes at the dumb nickname and hugged each of the identical men. “Glad you two could make it. How’s the business going?”

  Diego just shrugged, but Jose slapped Brock on the back, making pain flare through his body for a moment. Jose didn’t notice. “Couldn’t be better. We’ll be millionaires by the time we’re thirty. Soon you’ll be part of the family we’ve forgotten during our rise to fame and fortune.”

  Jose had always been the joker of the family, and most people were only able to tell him and Diego apart because Jose was the one who always had a smart-ass comment and a wide grin. Diego, the more serious of the two, got down to business. “You’ve got some fields for us to check out?”

  Brock beckoned them to follow, and he walked back into Cassie’s home with the two trailing him. “Is your back giving you trouble again?” Diego asked, more aware than his twin, as usual.

  Brock nodded. “I fell just a couple of minutes ago. Should be fine soon enough.”

  He brought Jose and Diego into the kitchen. He could see Cassie from the window, dragging the boards back into a pile. He should’ve known she wouldn’t waste any time waiting for him, though he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to do with
his back the way it was.

  He turned back to the kitchen, about to tell his brothers to follow him outside, only to find a strange sight behind him: Zach and Carter, standing side-by-side, staring up at Jose and Diego. The two pairs of twins gave each other a once-over. A twice-over? Brock didn’t think that was a thing, but it definitely applied to this moment.

  “You look the same,” Zach commented.

  Jose and Diego glanced at each other. “So do you,” Diego said.

  Zach and Carter shook their heads in unison. “Nuh-uh,” Carter said.

  “Carter has more freckles on his nose,” Zach added.

  “And Zach’s eyes are darker,” Carter finished.

  Jose and Diego nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “Diego has a scar next to his ear,” Jose said.

  “And Jose is more obnoxious,” Diego said.

  Jose smiled. “Very true.”

  Zach and Carter seemed to accept all this. They ran out the back door together.

  Jose and Diego turned back to Brock, who’d watched the proceedings with enjoyment.

  “Hay?” Diego prompted.

  Brock nodded and they went through the back door as well, shielding their eyes from the afternoon sunlight. Cassie looked up from the two young boys, who seemed to be in the middle of a long and hurried story, and Brock’s heart jumped at the sight of her. If she wasn’t just so damned beautiful...

  Jose walked up to her, hand outstretched. “Hello. I’m Brock’s much more attractive and successful younger brother.”

  Jose gave Brock a wink as he shook hands with Cassie. Normally, Brock would wink back, or at least roll his eyes at his brother’s antics, but this time was different, and the best he could do was try not to scowl at him. What did Jose think he was playing at? He was here to check out some hay, not the owner.

  Diego walked up and gave Cassie a quick handshake before starting in on questions about the acreage of crops she had to sell. Brock always thought Diego was the smarter of the two.