“It’s nice that two people care so much about her, Noah,” she said, then instantly regretted those words. Did she want Noah to care about Annabel the way she did? Of course, she understood why he did right now, but once a little time passed and he got used to not being Annabel’s parent, the bond would loosen, right? Seven weeks certainly wasn’t a lifetime.
A blip, he’d called it. She realized now, based on how he was looking down at Annabel—like a loving, doting father, something her daughter had not experienced for even a second from her biological father—that Noah had been lying. Seven weeks weren’t a blip to him. He’d said that for her sake—and Annabel’s. Because he truly loved that little girl.
“Do you think Willem had a moment’s pause?” she asked, unable to stop herself. “Did he reach into the car to get her carrier when he arrived at your cabin in the middle of the night, the rain probably having started, and look at her face and think, this is my daughter, my baby girl, my son’s twin sister. Did he ever think that for one second?” A sob tore out of her throat, and tears threatened.
Bloody hormones.
She watched Noah gently lay Annabel in the crib beside her brother, then he walked over and pulled her into his arms and held tight. She let herself sag against him—again, his strength, the comfort he was offering everything she needed right now.
“I want to hope so, Sara. I think we should just leave it at that.”
She nodded against his chest. His bare chest. Warm, hard muscle, soft skin.
Stop needing this so much, she told herself, unable to pull away. But in the difficult past weeks, the past few months, the past couple of years, allowing her husband to isolate her from friends to the point that she hadn’t felt comfortable turning to anyone even after losing her baby daughter, she did need this embrace.
Noah didn’t pull away either. “C’mere,” he said, and led her by the hand out of the room and into her own.
He stopped in front of her bed and held up the pretty blue-and-white quilt, embroidered with little stars and crescent moons. Part of her frowned. The other part tingled. She could barely take her eyes off his chest, and when she did, his face was even better. The beautiful face she’d loved and dreamed about for so long, full of tenderness, his blue eyes blazing with what might even be desire.
But come on. “Um, I guess it’s been the requisite six weeks doctors tell you to wait after childbirth, but it’s only a week past.” Why had she said that? It wasn’t as if she’d let herself go there with Noah anyway.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sara. Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said with a grin. “I’m putting you to bed—alone. Get your rest.”
Oh. She felt her cheeks burning a little. Embarrassing! Maybe Noah wasn’t attracted to her anymore anyway. You are being jerked around by hormones, she reminded herself. Ignore yourself. Just go back to sleep like Noah suggested.
She slid into bed, laying her head on the soft down pillow. He actually tucked her in and then leaned over and kissed her forehead. Oh God, now she might cry. Her dad used to do that. And she always felt so loved, so protected, so safe in the world.
“Sleep, Sara,” he said, straightening. “If you hear a baby crying, just turn over. I’ve got it. I won’t expect to see you until at least 9:30 a.m. That way we can talk over your role at the ranch before the ten o’clock staff meeting. It’ll be a good time to introduce you to everyone.”
She couldn’t even speak. She was just too overwhelmed. By her thoughts, by him, by her life right now. She nodded and then tried to find her voice. “Noah,” she finally said as he neared the door.
He turned around.
“Thank you for everything.”
“My pleasure,” he said with such sincerity in his voice that her eyes did well up.
Danged hormones.
It was the hormones, right?
* * *
Brilliant sunshine streamed through the woven shades on the window, and Sara had no idea what time it was. Given how well rested she felt, how ready to bounce out of bed, it had to be past eight o’clock. When was the last time she’d slept in?
She grabbed her phone from the bedside table: 8:17 a.m. Heaven. She’d woken naturally, not from a crying baby or an alarm clock, though hers would have gone off at eight thirty.
The twins hadn’t woken her because Noah had obviously taken care of the early-morning waking; she had no doubt they were either napping in the nursery or that he was downstairs with them right now, chatting away with them about ranch life or telling a story about the goats or sheep. Noah had gone from being someone she’d run away from to a man she trusted with the lives of her babies, including the baby girl she’d just been reunited with.
Still, part of her, a big part, felt uneasy about that. Putting her trust in anyone was a bad idea. Noah Dawson was going to be her boss. Their relationship was something different now. Another new normal she’d have to get used to.
After a quick shower, she dressed in white leggings and a floral tunic, which she hoped would be appropriate enough for the staff meeting, dried her hair and then headed into the nursery. The twins were asleep. Heart at ease and filled, she tiptoed out. If they were taking their morning naps, Noah had also gotten up with them at around five and fed them and changed them and taken care of them. He’d been up with them last night as she had, and he had to be exhausted right now. Today was likely to be a very busy day for him—tomorrow was the grand reopening of the Dawson Family Guest Ranch.
She headed downstairs, also appreciating the smell of coffee. Noah was sitting at the round table by the window, a clipboard with what appeared to be a checklist, various folders, his phone, a mug of coffee—and a baby monitor, of course, in front of him.
He was in jeans, a dark green Henley shirt and barefoot. Sexy feet.
“Sleep well?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. His gorgeous blue eyes were sparkling with energy. Or maybe just adrenaline. If the man was tired, he didn’t show it. She realized he was on new-parent time—used to the crazy hours of caring for a newborn. His schedule and hers had been exact the past several weeks—an hour’s distance from each other. There was no way he wasn’t tired, but he made it work because he had to.
“I think I actually got almost seven hours, thanks to you. A new record.”
“Good. You needed it. I can’t even imagine what all that shock yesterday did to your system. You needed a solid night’s sleep.”
Huh. She hadn’t even thought about that aspect. “I appreciate that.”
He nodded. “So how about we talk about your job on the ranch, then we’ll have the staff meeting, and then I can take you on a tour of the place, since it’s changed from when we grew up here.”
“Sounds good.” She poured herself a mug of coffee, added cream and sugar, and sat down beside him.
“So, I figure you can either be the assistant foreman, as you were on the Circle D with your dad, or you can take on a specific position—I could use an education manager and workshops leader to run the information sessions and classes we’ll offer about ranch life and the petting zoo. Or you can be a cowgirl and lead rides and teach the basics. Or a housekeeper, though Daisy already hired two. She also hired a receptionist who’ll have the welcome-slash-check-in shed as her station by the gate, but we could use another. Cowboy Joe could always use another pair of hands in the kitchen. In terms of splitting the running of Dawson’s, as I mentioned, I’m land and animals and maintenance and all that falls under that, and Daisy’s guests, lodging, food and all that falls under that. As assistant foreman, you’d be both our right hands. It’s a big job but one in your veins. And it pays well.” He told her the salary, noting all employees would also receive holiday bonuses since the staff would have to work on most holidays, taking shifts so they could still spend time with family.
“Assistant forewoman, it is,” she said, extending her hand.
She liked the idea of taking a job she knew and understood. She’d worked alongside her father for years as a teenager at Dawson’s back in the day, and she’d been the assistant foreman—forewoman, in her mind—at the Circle D for years afterward, a position she’d loved. When her dad had gotten too sick to keep working, she’d switched to part-time to take care of him.
Willem had once told her that he liked that she smelled like goat when they were dating, because it made him feel like she wasn’t a gold digger. Of course, she had married him for his money and he knew it; she’d never lie to herself that she’d loved him, though she had liked and appreciated him before she’d known who he truly was. It was how she’d not seen the real Willem back then that worried her. Maybe the truth was that she’d ignored what she’d needed to because what he’d promised had been more important than his snobbery and disdain of perfectly normal things.
Maybe she was doing something of that herself now. Ignoring her past with Noah because what she needed from him was more important right now. A job with room and board in a place that she loved, that felt comforting and familiar, where she felt on solid ground when she was anything but.
Just be smart, she reminded herself. Build your trust in yourself and your judgment. You’re in the right place for yourself and the twins for the right reasons.
“Sara?”
She blinked and realized Noah was holding up his coffee mug in the air as if to clink in celebration over the job. She was glad to be pulled out of her thoughts. She held up her mug, and they gently clinked and took sips.
“Welcome back to the Dawson Family Guest Ranch,” he said. “Assistant Forewoman.”
His smile lit up his handsome face, and she was pulled back into seeing the old Noah—the one she’d been so in love with she could hardly look at him sometimes. How she’d loved that face, dreamed about it.
Noah was now her boss. Not the old love of her life. Not an ex. Her boss.
She’d keep her attention on that word, and she’d be okay. She now had a great job, was living in her old home, one where her father had never been sick or weak, one where her mother had still been alive for the first nine years of Sara’s life. She had her mom’s garden plot to revive. By summer’s end, she might even have enough saved to start her new life, though now that she thought about it, she wouldn’t have two built-in sitters-slash-bosses like Noah and Daisy. Things were going to be good here.
Maybe too good to leave, though. Which doubly meant she’d have to keep her distance from the way Noah made her feel. Safe. Everything felt so fragile, so tentative, so new, and there was no way she could count her chickens or think anything was squared away. Things could change in a heartbeat. People could turn. You just never knew.
Just earn your money, build your bank account and take care of your children, she reminded herself. That was her purpose. To be self-sufficient and never rely on anyone again.
“You remember Mrs. Pickles, right?” he asked her.
“Of course,” she said, the image of a middle-aged woman with a long red braid and bright green wellies coming to mind. “The babysitter. Daisy mentioned she’s helped out a few times.” What she couldn’t remember was Mrs. Pickles’s real name; her surname had been long, so she’d told everyone to call her Mrs. Pickles, and it had stuck as she’d watched over Noah and Sara until Daisy was considered old enough to keep an eye on them and a couple of the ranch hands’ kids too back when.
“She’s been a godsend. I hope you don’t mind that I called her and told her we could use her services for a few hours of wake time and a few of nap time for the twins going forward, and then I realized I had to tell her a bit of the story. She said she’d love to work for us. She has twin grandchildren herself, high schoolers now, so lots of experience.”
“Perfect. I noticed their nap times seem in sync. Both were still sleeping when I checked on them a little while ago.”
He nodded. “Annabel always woke from her morning nap around ten, so I’m thinking one of us can be home to do wake-up, feeding, a little playing, then hand over to Mrs. Pickles. She can watch them for three hours till the next nap, then stay for that three-hour stretch, so it gives us a good six-hour workday uninterrupted. Then, either one of us will be with them or we’ll take them in the ole Snugli on the job when it’s appropriate.”
No wonder she trusted him with the twins. He was completely on top of everything—from ranch details to their schedules.
“They should sleep right through the staff meeting if Daisy and I keep it to no more than twenty minutes,” he said. “It’s really for everyone to meet one another. When the twins wake up, I figure we can put each in a Snugli and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
She liked that he wanted to take the twins with them, not just cast them off to a sitter the whole day. He truly wanted to be with the twins and to immerse them in the ranch life, because it was his life. Their life.
Once again she found herself overwhelmed at how thoughtful he was, how kind. She felt very lucky and wanted to wrap her arms around him in thanks.
She really had to force herself not to.
Chapter Six
“I’m real happy for you two,” Cowboy Joe said after the staff meeting as everyone headed to their respective stations to make sure everything was in place for tomorrow. He stood in front of Noah and Sara, each with a baby strapped on their chest, outside the main house. “I remember you both running around the ranch as kids, getting into mischief. Now you’re a family raising the next generation of Dawsons to carry on the legacy of this beautiful place.”
Noah stared at the tall, skinny man—the ranch’s cook—in the brown Stetson and shaggy gray beard, wondering what on earth he was talking about. Then he realized Cowboy Joe thought he and Sara were a couple—and the parents of the twins. Some of the staff had met Annabel when they’d come for interviews if he’d been unable to secure his sister or Mrs. Pickles, and of course he’d introduced her as his daughter. So when he’d introduced Sara as Annabel and Chance’s mother, those who’d met Annabel naturally figured he was the dad and that there was a twin brother who they hadn’t met before.
Hey, fine with him. He’d always feel like Annabel’s dad, and he was glad to put Chance in the mix too. Plus, Cowboy Joe’s presumption had not only given him a second shot with Sara, but a lifetime in the family sense. He liked that too. The idea, actually. Because romance was the furthest thing from his mind. Romance took over, kept you up nights, and he was already up nights—bleary-eyed but clear. He didn’t need his brain and newfound structure and vision and purpose turned upside down over what his heart was doing. He’d never let himself mess things up with Sara again, anyway. Too much was at stake for that.
And he was flattering himself if he thought she’d ever give him a second shot.
“Come by the caf later to test out my new blueberry muffin recipe,” Cowboy Joe said, giving each baby a gentle tap on the nose. “I’m planning on them for the welcome baskets Daisy asked me to make up for the group coming tomorrow,” he added over his shoulder as he headed down the path.
“Will do,” Noah called after him.
“So everyone thinks we’re a couple and that you’re the twins’ father?” Sara asked.
“Probably.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, staring off into the distance. “I guess the real story is a little too complicated.”
“Way too complicated.” He upped his chin toward the path. “C’mon. I’ll show you the main barn.”
As they walked in the brilliant late May sunshine, a perfect seventy-three degrees, which would hold steady for the entire week as some kind of cosmic gift, he pointed out the different kinds of trees and birds to Chance in the carrier on his chest.
“See that beautiful black-and-white quarter horse, Chance?” he asked, pointing straight ahead where Bea, one of the ranch’s cowgirls, was grooming the horse in fro
nt of the big red barn. “His name is Batman. He’s getting all spiffy for the big day tomorrow. One day, you’ll ride him, Annabel beside you on Bolt.”
Sara went quiet again. Until she said, “You should know... I’m not really sure what my future holds. I don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
Sharp right hook to the kidney. “What?” he said, also feeling like a hay bale had just fallen on his head. “You just got here. I just hired you. You haven’t even had your first day of work yet. Suddenly you’re leaving?”
He looked at Annabel—well, the back of her, anyway—strapped in the carrier on Sara’s chest. That’s my baby girl. She’s not going anywhere. She belongs here.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. He knew the truth of who Annabel’s parents were. Why wasn’t it helping?
“I didn’t say that, Noah. I only said I didn’t know how long we’d be here. By the time these two are old enough to get on a horse? I don’t know.”
He stared at her for a moment, not liking the direction this conversation had taken one bit. “Well, I don’t know why we’re even talking about that, then.”
“I just want to be honest and open,” she said, a hand protectively on the side of the carrier. “I know you’re attached to Annabel. So...”
Attached to Annabel. Attached? Was that all she thought it was?
“So I think we should continue with the tour,” he said, a little grumblier than he probably should have.
“Fine,” she said.
“Fine.”
To have something to do, they both started walking over to where Bea stood with Batman.
“Hi,” Bea said, putting down the grooming brush. “I finally get to meet this little charmer up close.” She bent toward Chance in the carrier on Noah’s chest. “Aren’t you precious. Just like your twin sis. I’ll name the outdoor petting zoo enclosure for you so you’ll each have your own special honor.”
“Special honor?” Noah repeated.
For the Twins' Sake Page 8
