You never know what goes on in someone’s private life, Sara thought as Tabitha stirred her coffee. Appearances are deceiving. Yup, I know all about that.
“So far, so good,” Tabitha said, a hopeful light suddenly in her pretty hazel eyes. “Right?” But then the light disappeared and she seemed so conflicted. Something was definitely bothering her.
Sara reached out a hand and covered Tabitha’s. “I’m not even a participant in the retreat and I feel empowered.” She smiled.
Tabitha nodded and seemed about to say something, then she lifted up her coffee cup as if toasting in agreement and shuffled out, catching up with the rest of the group.
Sara wanted to run after her, give her a hug, tell her she was here for her if Tabitha wanted to talk, but she could see Connie now standing next to Tabitha, chatting away as the group headed to the barn. She had a good feeling about Connie and what this week would give all these women. Maybe even Sara herself.
Her phone pinged with a text. Daisy.
Have fifteen minutes to help set up the meditation room in the lodge? Second floor event room.
Meditation? Sara thought. I might lie down and stay there myself.
Be right there, she texted back.
Between the retreat and her job, Sara just might get her own groove back. If she watched her step with Noah Dawson. And she would.
* * *
The barn hadn’t collapsed. A horse with a guest on its back hadn’t gone rogue, throwing her fifty feet in the air. No one had gotten food poisoning from Cowboy Joe’s chili (not that they would). These and many more were the irrational fears that had kept Noah up at night when he should be getting any chance of sleep he could, particularly with two babies in the cabin. But opening day of the Dawson Family Guest Ranch had gone off without a hitch so far—knock on every piece of wood in the vicinity.
He stood at the small barn beside his cabin and gave Bolt, whom he’d just returned to his stall, a piece of carrot. Then he lifted his face to the gorgeous late-May sunshine and breathed in the warm, breezy, fresh air. Between the weather and the total lack of problems, he could almost relax, but he’d save that for the end of the week. He’d spent the past hour with the retreat guests in the barn and pasture, first making sure they were matched to the right horses for their level and comfort and then joining in on their first ride in the huge expanse of prairie to the right of the main barn. Satisfied that the group was comfortable and set for the time being, he’d left them in the horse leader’s capable hands with Dylan and Bea, the ranch hands, who’d ride alongside the group as backup.
About to walk the paths to keep a general eye on things, Noah saw Mrs. Pickles come out of his cabin with the twins in their double stroller, using the ramp he’d built. That tiny burst of joy, still so unexpected, went kaboom in his chest at the sight of the babies.
“There are my sweet twins,” Noah said, walking over with a smile. He leaned over and unbuckled Chance, carefully lifting him out of his infant seat.
He froze, just for a moment, sucking in a breath. My twins?
Reaching for Chance as easily as he would Annabel?
The little cowboy had worked his way into Noah’s heart just as his sister had. And just as fast. He couldn’t really even think of Annabel without thinking of Chance; they were a pair, a package, a set. Individuals, but he loved them with equal ferocity.
Oh God. He did love them. Both. Hard.
“I was hoping to run into you, Mrs. Pickles.” Sara’s voice came from down the path. There was tension in that voice, if he wasn’t mistaken.
He turned around, Chance cradled against his chest. Sara was coming from the direction of the lodge. As it had earlier, the sight of her in her Dawson Family Guest Ranch staff shirt shot straight to his heart, and despite his vow to keep his mind off how attracted to her he was, every cell in his body went on red alert. “Same here. And I did.”
She smiled sort of vaguely, her gaze on the baby in his arms. What? Why did she seem uneasy?
She leaned over the stroller and gave Annabel a kiss on the head, then got as close to Chance as she could while keeping her body as far away from Noah as possible, and deposited a kiss on her son’s head.
Hmm. She was definitely bothered by something.
“These two are such good babies,” Mrs. Pickles said, grinning at her charges. “I love watching them. And what a lovely day for a walk.”
“Well,” Noah said, putting Chance back and running a finger down Annabel’s cheek. “I won’t keep you.” He turned to Sara. “I was about to take a walk of my own on a grounds check. Join me?”
“Sure,” she said. She leaned over the stroller. “’Bye, sweets,” she cooed to her twins. “See you later. I love you,” she whispered.
Then they both watched as Mrs. Pickles wheeled the stroller toward the lodge.
“There goes my heart,” Sara said, her expression wistful as she stared after the sitter and the stroller.
He stared after them too, then looked at Sara. “I know what you mean.”
She frowned, took one last look at the retreating figure of Mrs. Pickles, then turned for the path toward the main barn.
So he was not mistaken that something was bugging her. And it was something he was doing.
“You seemed uneasy before, when you saw me holding Chance,” he said, walking beside her.
She turned and looked at him. “I hate that you know me so well, Noah Dawson.”
He grinned. “Actually, us knowing each other so well might make things easier. Because it makes us talk about even uncomfortable stuff.”
“I also hate talking about uncomfortable stuff.” She bit her lip. “I guess I’m just taking everything in, Noah. The idea of getting married. What that will mean going forward. About the twins too.”
He stopped. “What do you mean?”
“You already feel like Annabel’s father,” she said. “You’re going to feel like Chance’s father too.”
He was already beginning to.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I’ll have to factor you in when I think about what’s right for me and the twins. How did that happen? When did you become a vital part of my plans for my life?” She frowned and turned away.
“When—”
She whirled back around. “Rhetorical question. I know, I know. When you brought Annabel inside and took responsibility for her. When a note said she was yours.”
Damned right. But he understood how strange that must be for her. And yeah, maybe even unsettling. He wasn’t Annabel’s father. He’d met Chance the day Sara arrived on the ranch. Noah shouldn’t factor into Sara’s decisions for herself.
But he also couldn’t help how he felt or that circumstances had unfolded as they had. Her baby girl had been left on his porch. He had taken her in. He had claimed responsibility. And he loved Annabel. She’d always feel like his child. Chance now did too, because he was Annabel’s brother, because they were living in his cabin, and the little guy had grabbed hold of his heart and wasn’t letting go.
“Ah,” she said with an exasperated tinge to her voice and throwing her hands up in the air. “I get your side. I get my side. But I need to get my groove back, Noah. Sounds cute and all on retreat flyers, but it’s serious stuff and hard work, and I don’t know that coming into my own means marrying you for security.” She shook her head. “In fact, it doesn’t.”
Oh hell. He understood that too well. He’d had to fight his butt off to stand up again—and the only person he’d been fighting was himself. He’d found his way. He wasn’t going to stand in Sara’s while she worked out her past.
“If you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind about getting married, I...understand,” he said, holding her gaze for a moment, and then he had to look away and let the disappointment sock him in the gut. She’d leave. She’d leave and take the twins. Not immedia
tely, not even in a few months, but a new year always meant something to Sara, stood for new beginnings and possibilities. She’d probably leave by then.
“That would kill you, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “If I told you I changed my mind. I think that’s what bothers me, Noah. That it would.”
“Should I be honest? It would. And you know why.”
“Yes, because of Annabel,” she said.
“And Chance. They’re a pair.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and he took a mental step back. He was overwhelming her, and that wasn’t fair. She knew he meant it—that he loved Chance too. And that was killing her.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look, Sara. I want to be very clear. I like the idea of getting married and what that means for me as the twins’ acting father. If you change your mind, yes, it’ll knock me to my knees, but I’m all about getting up again. That’s who I am now.”
She stared at him. Almost looking confused.
He removed his hands and stuffed them in his pockets. “But I’ll tell you something else. Yes, I have my good reasons for wanting this marriage, wanting you to stay with me forever. There are reasons involved that have nothing to do with the twins.”
She tilted her head. “Like what?”
“Like that you’ve been my best friend since I was a little kid. Separated for the last two years or not. You mean a lot to me.”
She gave a slow nod. “Same,” she whispered.
He let that sink in for a moment, and it gave him the courage to say what had been building inside him the past couple of days. “And because—” He shut up fast. He couldn’t say that. He took off his Stetson and ran a hand through this hair, glad he hadn’t blurted out the rest of that whopper.
“And because what?” she asked, staring at him.
He had no idea why he thought she’d let him off the hook.
Hell. Just be honest. Say what’s on your mind. “And because maybe, somewhere in there, months, years from now, whatever feels right—if it does—” Man, he was rambling. “Maybe there’s a possibility of a second chance.”
There, he said it.
He caught the intake of breath, the shielded surprise in her eyes.
But should he have said it? If he meant it—and he did—then why not? Why not put his cards on the table, say what he meant and felt? Even if it did get him knocked to his knees. Ignorance was never bliss. Everyone knew that.
His phone buzzed with a text.
“You should take that,” she said fast. “I’ll go check the main barn.” She walked away—even faster—before he could say anything else.
A conversation we’ll finish later. Or not.
He grabbed his phone. Carly, the welcome manager.
There’s a reporter here from the Converse County Gazette. He says he’s interested in writing a story about the grand opening. Should I let him through?
Noah’s stomach flipped. Then flopped. A reporter. Press for the ranch: good thing. Bad press: bad thing. What if the reporter didn’t like the looks of the place? What if something went wrong just as the reporter happened to be there, taking pictures and notes? An accident on the trail. An unhappy guest complaining about the water pressure, which was actually just fine.
You put your heart and soul into the reopening, he reminded himself. Hired a top-notch crew. Everything is set for today. Everything is going great. The article will be glowing.
Maybe. Or maybe not.
Cripes.
Why the hell was everything in his life so up in the air?
By the main barn, he could just make out Sara giving a wave to Mrs. Pickles, who was over by the small barn, pointing out the goats to the twins. I have to believe in this place—for Sara, Annabel and Chance. If I don’t believe in what I’ve rebuilt here, no one will.
Noah’s Magic Eight Ball answer had to come from himself: It is decidedly so.
Sure, send him up to the lodge, Noah texted back to Carly.
This was make or break for the guest ranch. Just like Sara marrying him was make or break for his heart.
Chapter Nine
Avoiding Noah in a twelve-hundred-square-foot cabin wasn’t easy. Once Sara was officially off-duty, she’d rushed back to the cabin to take over from Mrs. Pickles and was there when the twins woke up from their nap. Over the next few hours, she told them all about opening day, her surprise at finding herself wishing she could sit in on every retreat lecture, and the even bigger surprise of running into Tabitha Corey. And then she started talking about Noah, how he’d rebuilt the ranch, how proud she was of him and how she couldn’t figure out what to do.
Should I marry him?
Make a pro and con list, she could hear her mother saying any time she couldn’t decide what to do about something, when both sides of the issue had check marks. She’d have to make it a mental one since she certainly didn’t want to accidentally leave a piece of paper around with all that info for Noah to come across.
She sat on the sofa, Annabel finishing her bottle, Chance half-asleep in the swing on the floor beside her. Okay, here we go, guys, she told the twins.
Pro: I’ve known him forever. He will always feel like family, no matter what. I don’t want to trust him, but dammit, he’s given me no reason not to this time around. His sincerity leaps off him. I know the twins are safe with him. I do like the idea of them having a father—a father who actually loves them and cares about them and wants what’s best for them, not himself. The sight of Noah Dawson gives me goose bumps. Everywhere.
Was that also a con? It was, given that the marriage Noah had proposed was like a business arrangement of sorts. Well, as businesslike as it got when children were involved. Scratch that, there was nothing businesslike about sharing a home and raising children together. This would be very personal. And Noah had said he liked the idea of a second chance—down the road.
Perhaps another con. How could she keep her heart out of things in that case? When Noah did give her goose bumps?
Another pro: she adored his family. Daisy was right here. The ranch would be Sara’s home on a permanent basis, and she did love this place. Everywhere she turned today, memories filled her. Her mother teaching her how to ride a two-wheeler. Her dad teaching her everything he knew about horses, his great love. Noah showing her a few secret trails he’d made that led to the river, where they’d fill backpacks with chips and the occasional stolen bottles of beer from both their houses, Sara hoping against hope he’d make his move, despite what he’d said. He never did. Not once. He’d written himself off as a jerk and told her she deserved the world. He’d seemed to believe that about himself to the point that it was automatic for him not to touch her.
She hated remembering that. And she’d hated remembering that he’d turned out to be right. Not about being a jerk; he wasn’t. But about being wrong for her, unable to pull himself up and out of the hole he’d fallen into.
Pro: all these memories. Con: all these memories.
She sighed, cuddling Annabel against her and peeking over at Chance, who was just lying peacefully in the swing, gently swaying, fighting sleep as his little eyes drooped.
“Noah loves you both,” she said to Annabel as she tilted up the bottle. “I really see that. If he acted like only you mattered, Annabelly, I could have reason to make some sort of fuss. But of course, he adores Chance too.”
Every time she felt that frisson of fear about Noah getting too involved—as if there was anything more involved than the two of them marrying—she’d think about how he truly did seem to love both babies, and she’d feel that rush of gratitude that the twins were loved by someone else in this world. Someone pretty special, at that. She had no family, and Willem, an only child, had lost both his parents during the past five years. Noah really was the closest thing to family that she had.
Just when she thought she was acting out of dev
otion to the twins, making decisions for their sake, she’d feel that tap on her shoulder with the flip side, the other hand, the “yeah, but.”
So am I marrying him or not? she silently asked both twins. Am I committing to life with him as my best friend and my twins’ acting father? Or am I committing to myself and finding my own way without needing security from anyone else?
She heard his key in the lock, and on cue, goose bumps ran up her spine and along her arms and the nape of her neck.
“How are the twins?” he asked as he came into the living room.
She kissed Annabel’s sweet-smelling head. “Fed, burped and ready for their cribs.”
“Would you like to do the honors or should I?” he asked.
“It’s kind of amazing that after hours and hours of work and running around, you’re up for putting them to bed.” Because he’s committed to them. Because he loves them. “How about we both do the honors?” she said, getting up.
He smiled and took Chance out of his swing. The little guy fell asleep in Noah’s arms before they even hit the stairs.
With both babies in their cribs, the lullaby player on a low setting and the door ajar, they headed back downstairs to the living room. Because Noah was Noah and would probably go into the kitchen to whip them up a three-course meal when he had to be exhausted, she beat him to it.
“I’m going to make us dinner,” she said. “You sit and put your feet up.”
“Dying to,” he said, dropping on the sofa and putting his legs up on the coffee table beside the baby monitor. “Ah, that does feel good.”
For the Twins' Sake Page 12
