Home on the Ranch: The Colorado Cowboy's Triplets (Cowboy SEALs Book 8)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “You’re only saying that because we’ve been play-acting at being a family. But we’re not. Will never really be. As soon as your mom comes home, it will all be over, anyway. Why not rip off the proverbial bandage and end it now?”

  “Why?” He pulled her against him for a fierce hug. “Because I don’t want it to. Never want it to.”

  “Think about what you’re saying. You’re career military. I’m...” Escaping him, she flung up her free arm, only to slap it against her side. “I don’t know what I am. I have no job. No ambition. No future.”

  “Knock it off. Of course you have a future—it’s right here with us. You’ve had a career setback, but that doesn’t mean your life is over or you’ll never feel passion for your work.”

  She shook her head. “No. You’re just saying that to make me feel better. The two of us as a couple would never work out. That’s why we broke up a lifetime ago and you married another woman and—”

  “Got a divorce and have only been with a handful of women since. And not because I felt anything for them, but because we satisfied mutual physical needs. With you, it’s been different. Sex wasn’t just sex, but it meant something—a fresh start for both of us.”

  “I—I want to believe you.”

  “Then do. You’ve been so quick to think the worst, but how about swinging the other way and focusing on a positive outcome?”

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to try being happy. She wanted to never again close her eyes and see the tragedy that had forever fundamentally changed her, but was that even possible?

  “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

  “Of what?” He cradled her face with his hands.

  “Everything.” She leaned into his touch. “I’m afraid of falling for you and the girls, only to lose you all. I’m equally afraid of leaving you, only to live out my life alone.”

  He kissed her. Slowly and sweetly enough to ignite a yearning for more of him—of them—that flowed through her veins like sun-warmed honey.

  “Say yes,” he eventually said when they broke for air. “Yes to me and the girls and being happy.”

  “But how can I do that when the girls aren’t even yours? What if your mom refuses to turn over custody?”

  “Why would she do that? Now you’re just making up excuses.”

  “They make perfect sense to me.”

  “That’s the problem...” Releasing her, he backed away. “You’re the only one who sees logic in your rationale. All I see is a woman so terrified by death that you’re equally terrified by life.”

  Chapter 15

  Back at the house, Jed loaded the tenors in their stroller, then did the evening chores.

  The chickens pecked his ankles hard enough to damn near bust through his cowboy boots.

  The goats were as sweet as usual, and Lucy and Ethel were patient enough to allow all three babies to stroke their manes.

  By the time he finished, the girls were cranky.

  He checked diapers to find two wet.

  After a quick change, he was back downstairs making bottles and then feeding using Camille’s assembly line method.

  While making a sandwich for himself, he let them swing, then it was bath time and he put them to bed.

  He took Emily’s blanket from the crib, holding it to his face and dragging in the scent of her that by this time was probably a figment of his imagination. Putting it back in the crib, he carefully covered three pairs of feet and thirty tiny toes.

  “I love you,” he whispered in the dark room. “I’m not sure how it happened, but I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

  He cupped his hand to Sallie’s head.

  “I’m not sure how to work it out, but I want to be your dad. And I really want Camille to be your mom...”

  Downstairs, the house phone rang.

  “Sweet dreams, my little tenors.” He gave the girls one last adoring look, then charged down the stairs to catch the phone.

  He’d lost count of the number of rings before he grabbed the ancient phone’s handset. “Hello?”

  “Thank goodness,” his mom said. “I was beginning to think you weren’t home. I’m on a pay phone at Heathrow, so I’ll make this quick. I fly out of here in an hour, land in Newark, then Denver, then Aspen. Mind picking me up?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him her flight number and arrival time. “I have to go, sweetheart. Are the babies okay?”

  “We’re all fine.”

  “Good. Sorry to rush. I haven’t even begun to process...” A muffled sobbing sound made him wonder if she was crying. “I love you, hon. See you soon.”

  “Looking forward to it, Mom. Fly safe.”

  He hung up the phone and felt oddly empty. Hard to believe she was his last blood relative—well, aside from the girls, but he wouldn’t be able to hold a decent conversation with them for a damned long time.

  Since in the rush to answer the phone he’d forgotten the baby monitor, he returned to the nursery.

  The girls had gravitated together, snuggling beneath their mother’s blanket. A rush of love swept through him like a warm wave. He hadn’t known himself capable of such deep emotion, but now that he knew, he never wanted to be without it.

  He’d talk to his mom about what she wanted to do. But one way or another, he planned on playing a major role in his nieces’ lives.

  And Camille?

  Where did she fit in?

  He pressed his hands to his face, wishing his words had gotten through. Why couldn’t she see herself like he did? She was amazing with the babies, always cooking and doing nice things for him and her grandfather. When was the last time she’d done something for herself?

  He took the monitor and crept from the room, closing the door behind him.

  The den was cold, but what was the point in making a fire just for himself?

  Lonely, more than a little depressed, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, downed it in a few swigs, then went to bed, dreaming of Camille. Of the life they’d share if only she’d trust him enough to let him all the way in.

  But then why would she?

  The last time they’d been together, he’d chosen the navy over her. In asking her to return to California with him, wasn’t he essentially doing the same thing all over again?

  Chapter 16

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Gramps asked from his recliner. As usual, a Western blared on TV while he read a gold mining magazine.

  “I missed you.” Camille had curled onto the far end of the sofa, wrapped in one of her grandmother’s well-loved quilts. She nursed a steaming mug of chamomile tea, wishing more than anything that she was snuggled next to Jed with the babies sleeping upstairs.

  “Right. And John Wayne’s stopping by in a bit for poker.”

  “Why wouldn’t I miss you? We haven’t had a real visit since I saw you at the mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” He paused his movie. “Me and Earl have been over to Chase and Emily’s for a bunch of meals.”

  “I know, but those don’t count. You mostly talked with Jed and I cooked and did dishes.”

  “Tired of domestic life?”

  “What do you mean?” She fingered the quilt’s rolled edge.

  “I mean are you tired of being married with kids without having a ring on your finger?”

  “Jed and I are just friends—barely even that.”

  “Lovers’ quarrel?”

  “Gramps!”

  “What? I wasn’t born yesterday. Any fool could see the sparks between you two. What’s the problem?”

  “The bigger question would be what isn’t the problem? He pretty much asked me to marry him, then return to Coronado with him to help take care of the babies.”

  “And you don’t think tha
t sounds like a good idea?”

  “Emily didn’t leave him custody of his nieces, so there’s that.”

  “If he wants to take on the role of their father, I can’t imagine Barbara keeping him from them. Next problem?”

  “Don’t you have a movie to watch?” She picked up one of the mining magazines he’d left on the sofa and thumbed through it.

  “I’ve seen this flick so many times I deliver most lines better than the actors.”

  “Show me. Sounds like fun to watch you act it out.”

  “Girl, what do I have to do to get you to realize there is no problem big enough to keep you from a man you love?” He slapped his journal to the side table next to his chair. “If this trouble with Jed has anything to do with your old job, you need to compartmentalize it. Shove it way in the back of your mind and get on with the business of living. What you faced in Miami can’t define you. Running away won’t make it better. Only truly living will tackle that job.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “You think I didn’t come home from the war with a few issues? The things I saw...” He whistled. “Those concentration camps were the worst sort of human atrocity. Entire generations of families killed for no better reason than a psycho ruler’s whim. It was vile. Disgusting on a gut-deep level that literally gave me such disturbing nightmares I’d wake up dry heaving. Your grandmother would draw me a bath in that big ol’ claw-foot tub, climb in behind me and hold me till I remembered that her and your mother were what was real. Everything else was in the past. Her advice didn’t make what I’d seen any less awful, but eventually, the nightmares gave way to dreams of the sort of happy life I wanted for your mom.”

  “I’m sorry for what you went through. I really am, but—” Camille tossed the quilt off to stand in front of the window, arms folded, staring into the night. Facing him, she asked, “Did those dreams include my dad getting shot?”

  “What happened to your father was a tragedy beyond words. Your grandmother and I weren’t sure our Phoebe would make it through. But she did. And I like to think she enjoys her sunny Florida condo life.” He took a butterscotch from the candy dish he kept next to the table’s Tiffany-style lamp. After unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth, he said around it, “Another survivor? Jed’s mom. She and his father shared a wonderful marriage. His death was incredibly hard on her, but look at her now. Traveling all over the globe, helping so many people. Jed’s daddy would be proud.”

  “You make it sound like all these deaths worked out for the best. Chase and Emily’s girls used to cry so hard from missing them that the only way I could console them was by covering them in the blanket from their parents’ bed. And what about you? Are you happier with Grandma gone?”

  “You know I’m not. I’ll never forget what we shared, but she’s gone and I’m still here. Sure, I could sit in this chair and mope all day every day, missing the past, but then I’d be throwing away my future.” He snatched another candy from the bowl. “Do you think all those poor murdered children you mourn would begrudge your laughter with Jed and those baby girls? Don’t you think Chase and Emily would rather see them raised with a mother and father?”

  “Please stop.” She literally couldn’t take one more word. “You made your point. I’m glad you’re thrilled with your lot in life, but I’m not.”

  Before he had the chance to share another story about how great everyone else was for handling their grief better than her, Camille dashed off to her room.

  Maybe she’d eventually get over her ugly past, maybe she wouldn’t. But the only way she’d find out was with time.

  What if Jed doesn’t want to wait?

  What if just like the last time they’d broken up, he ran off and married his first rebound?

  In her room, Camille shut and locked the door, flung herself across her bed and masked her sobs with her pillow.

  Was she making a horrible mistake in not going to Jed and the babies this second? Or would opening herself up to them heart and soul, only to later lose them, prove emotionally catastrophic?

  How would she ever know?

  * * *

  “You’re so tan,” Jed said to his mother at the Aspen airport, while waiting for her luggage. “You look good.”

  “Thanks.” She winced, eyes shining with unshed tears. He knew her well enough to know she was barely holding it together. Losing her dignity in a public place wasn’t an option. “Wish I felt the same inside.”

  His palms sweated on the stroller’s handle while she knelt to kiss each of her granddaughters on the crowns of their downy heads. They’d been fussy in even the brief time Camille had been gone. Having suffered so much loss in their short lives, how much more could they be expected to take?

  “It doesn’t seem possible...” She stood, easing her oversize purse off her shoulder and digging through for a travel-sized pack of tissues. Plucking one out, she pressed it to the corners of her eyes. “I can’t bear this.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “I honest-to-God feel like I’m dying myself. How is this possible? I should have gone next—never Em. Last time I flew in, she was here, greeting me with her b-beautiful smile and a wildflower bouquet.”

  “Mom...” Jed was horrible at shit like this—and it was shit. Chase dying. His sister. His mother seconds from falling apart. Worse yet, he needed Camille to help navigate this river of grief, but she was gone, too.

  It was all too much. But as the man of the family, he had no choice but to buck up, somehow get his mother to the car without a breakdown, then carry on.

  At the moment, he hated Camille for leaving him hanging when he’d never needed her more. But that wasn’t entirely true, because he feared the real engine driving his turbulent thoughts was love for her.

  For the amazing couple they might have been.

  * * *

  “I can’t thank you enough for helping Jed with the girls.”

  “I’m glad I was here.” Camille hugged Barbara, who had always been like her second mom.

  The day was beyond glorious. Temperatures in the high seventies. Sky fathomless blue. Air ripe with the scents of ponderosa pine and wildflowers and new spring grasses.

  Barbara had walked the mile trek to Ollie’s cabin.

  The girls grinned in their stroller, holding out their arms to Camille, breaking her heart all over again from the full force of her love for these tiny perfect creatures who could never be hers.

  Where’s Jed? Camille wanted to ask, but pride wouldn’t allow her to.

  “Is your grandfather here?” Barbara looked past Camille to the house.

  “He and Earl left for the mine just before sunrise. Gramps is convinced he’s found the motherlode.”

  Barbara laughed. “He’s been finding it for the past forty years.”

  “At least he has something to get him out of bed in the morning.” Camille unbuckled Sallie’s safety harness, lifting her from the stroller and into her arms. Her slight weight felt indescribably good. Like holding a physical manifestation of contentment. “Mmm... I missed you.”

  “Mind if we talk?” Barbara sat on the porch steps. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat that she adjusted to shade her eyes from the bright midday sun.

  “I thought we are talking?”

  Jed’s mom patted the space beside her. “I mean we need to really talk. If there’s anything losing Em and Chase taught me, it’s that life is too short and unpredictable to let a second go by without saying what needs to be said.”

  True. Hadn’t Camille once used that very line of reasoning on Jed?

  Holding Sallie on her lap, Camille settled on the step, but wasn’t at all sure she cared to hear what Jed’s mom had to say.

  “I spent the morning making plans for Emily’s memorial service. Call after call for flowers and a caterer. Musicians. Jed and I are holding it in that sweet little stone chapel at the top o
f Mount Celeste. The drive is a nightmare with all those twists and turns, but worth it for the view. Emily and Chase loved it up there. Emily scattered Chase’s ashes to the wind from the mountain’s peak, and I thought it only fitting that she join him.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Camille said. Only she was lying, because nothing could be further from the truth. There wasn’t one good thing about scattering the ashes of two beautiful souls who’d been far too young to die.

  “I think so, too,” she said in a resigned tone.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “As a matter of fact...” Barbara sucked in a swift breath, only to slowly release it.

  Camille rested her pinkie against Sallie’s palm.

  The infant gave it a squeeze.

  “Jed told me about the will. I’m not sure what Emily was thinking, leaving these amazing little creatures to me, but I do know I’m too old to be a mom to triplets. Jed and I have an appointment for next week with Baxter to arrange for me to start the paperwork necessary for naming Jed the girls’ legal guardian.”

  “What?” Camille’s pulse raced. If he took the babies to California, she might never see them again. Oh, he’d bring them to the ranch for the occasional visit, but that wasn’t enough. If they stayed here with their grandmother raising them, then Camille could help.

  “I know you love him.”

  “E-excuse me?” Camille shrank inside herself. Barbara had never been one to beat around the bush, but this sort of declaration was too much even for her.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Everyone from your grandparents to your mother to Jed’s father and myself could always see you two were meant to be together—just like Emily and Chase. I can tell by the girls’ reaction from just visiting that they adore you. I also see your hand in all the little touches around the house. Wild crocus on the kitchen sink windowsill. Homemade oatmeal cookies in the counter jar and banana bread wrapped in foil. My granddaughters’ clothes folded just so and smelling fresh. My son moping as if he’s lost not only his sister and brother-in-law, but his best friend.” She took Sallie’s free hand for a jiggle. “It’s none of my business, but what happened between you? Why aren’t you with him now?”