Texas Christmas Twins

by Deb Kastner

  Miranda had been born and raised in a good Christian family. Her mother and father remained happily married to this day. Simon supposed he couldn’t really fault her for believing the best when she’d never seen anything except happiness in her life.

  If he was only thinking of Miranda, he’d probably just let her go on living in her fantasy world, free of all unkindness and crime.

  But it wasn’t just Miranda.

  It was the twins, and Simon had a responsibility to them. He was bound and determined to protect them from anything and everything that could cause them harm, making sure they remained innocent children for as long as possible before they had to deal with the realities of the adult world.

  They would have a sweet, innocent childhood, as Miranda had. And when the time came for them to step out into the world as adults, he’d make sure they were street savvy as well as book smart.

  Harper and Hudson’s uncle Simon would always be there to watch over them, even when they weren’t aware he was there.

  His heart filled with warmth at the thought of those two sweet babies. He was truly blessed to be their godfather.

  As he pulled up his long driveway, his mind was so focused on thoughts of Miranda and the twins that he didn’t immediately see that there was a white SUV parked in front of his ranch house.

  An SUV—with writing on the side and flashing red and blue lights across the top.

  * * *

  “What were you and Simon talking about before church?” Charlotte asked as they shared coffee and donuts in the fellowship hall after the service had ended. “It looked pretty intense there for a while.”

  “He’s pretty intense,” Miranda replied. “It’s like he has a swarm of bees inside him just ready to burst out. Or is it just me he’s that way with?”

  “No, Simon is serious with everyone, all the time—except maybe when he’s working with his dogs. He had a rough life growing up. When his mother was forced into drug rehab for the fourth time in as many years, poor little four-year-old Simon was picked up by social services and tossed into foster care, until he was picked up by the McPhersons here in Wildhorn when he was in high school. They gave him the only stability he’s ever had.”

  “I didn’t know,” Miranda repeated, her heart squeezing in empathy.

  “No. You wouldn’t, would you? It’s not like he’s going to come right out and tell you about a past I believe he’d rather forget. He doesn’t talk about his childhood,” Charlotte continued. “The only reason I know anything is because he’s spoken to Mason about it, and he only knows a little bit.”

  Miranda wondered if she should be hearing all this, if Simon was so private about his past, but it wasn’t exactly gossip. Simon had made it crystal clear that he was going to be a big part of the twins’ lives. Anything she could do to make her relationship with him easier had to be considered useful information.

  “He’s a complicated man,” Miranda said on a sigh.

  “With good reason.”

  “With good reason,” Miranda agreed.

  “What’s in the envelope he gave you?”

  Miranda had temporarily forgotten about the envelope. She was in big trouble if being in Simon’s presence, or even merely thinking about him, sent her into a tailspin. She needed to be able to keep her head on straight.

  “I don’t know. Hold on.”

  She slid her finger under the seal and withdrew a single sheet of tri-folded printer paper. When she unfolded the blank page, a personal check fluttered slowly to the floor.

  Bemused, Miranda picked the check up from where it had landed by her feet.

  No explanation.

  Nothing.

  Just a check made out to her, signed with Simon’s scrawled signature.

  “What do you make of this?” Miranda asked, setting the check on the table and sliding it toward Charlotte. “He said it was for the twins.”

  “To help with their upkeep, I imagine. Although—whoa. Two thousand bucks. That’s a pretty heavy chunk of change for Simon.”

  “Really? When I visited his ranch, I was under the impression that his herding dog business was doing very well.”

  “He’s a proud man, but dog training isn’t exactly Wall Street. He only gets paid when he sells the litters, so there’s a lot of ups and downs, I think. He loves what he does more than making money,” Charlotte informed her. “And as you can imagine, every spare cent goes into his rescue.

  “There’s always something that needs fixing, or they are low on feed, and he’s always on credit for his vet bills. Donations cover some of it, but Simon puts in a lot of his personal money, as well.”

  “Then why would he give me this? I don’t understand.”

  “Because he is the twins’ godfather and he loves them. He’s always felt a special responsibility toward them, and even more so now that Mary and John are gone.”

  “And he’s worried because I’m their new guardian.” It wasn’t a question. “Simon doesn’t trust me.”

  “He just wants to do his part, feel like he’s contributing to Harper and Hudson’s upbringing. I think giving you a check is a discernable, objective way for him to do that.”

  “There are plenty of other ways for him to be there for the twins besides giving me money, Charlotte. I have more cash in my bank account than I could spend in a lifetime here in Wildhorn. I’ve already started investment accounts for each of the twins for their college expenses.”

  Charlotte shrugged, but warning lights sparked from her eyes.

  “You’ll have to take that up with Simon. But don’t be surprised if he throws it back in your face.”

  “I’d like to see him try. Surely he’ll listen to reason. I’m giving it back to him as soon as I see him again.”

  “Give it your best shot” was all Charlotte could offer.

  Simon might be a stubborn cowboy, but Miranda wasn’t a slouch in that department, either, and she could hold her own.

  She wouldn’t have gotten very far in her ultracompetitive photography business if she’d taken no for an answer every time a door started to close in her face. It was because she’d learned how to coax noes into yeses that she’d been able to rise to the top of her field.

  One tenacious cowboy wasn’t going to get the best of her. If she had to, she would shred the check right in front of him, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to anything like that. She had no intention of treading on his ego if she could avoid it.

  But she had to make her point crystal clear—she didn’t need his money.

  If he wanted to help with the twins, surely they could work out some other way for him to be of assistance.

  Like teaching them all about the dogs he trained, perhaps, or how to catch a football. Miranda couldn’t toss a ball to save her life.

  There were a lot of gaps for Simon to fill in, things Miranda had no interest in or didn’t possess the required skill set for.

  Sports—all sports—topped that list.

  If Simon was even remotely more coordinated than she was, there was a lot he could teach the twins.

  Like many girls, Miranda had dreamed of being a prima ballerina when she grew up, but she’d never made it beyond tiptoeing around the stage with a teddy bear and a tutu before she realized that wasn’t going to happen.

  Then, in second grade, she’d signed up for after-school gymnastics at her elementary school. The program was free and any child could participate—but that didn’t, apparently, mean that every child should.

  After a week of awkward cartwheels and multiple failed attempts at simply leaping over a two-foot-high vault, her physical education teacher had pulled her parents aside and—strongly—suggested that she not return the next week. He’d been afraid she was going to seriously hurt herself—and he was probably right about that.
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  Her teacher hadn’t even had to mention how uncoordinated Miranda was. That was a given.

  She had cried her eyes out when her parents had told her she wouldn’t be returning to the gymnastics class. She’d been so embarrassed at the thought of being rejected. Even a second grader knew when she didn’t measure up.

  But then, in an attempt to redirect Miranda’s thoughts and feelings, Daddy had placed a shiny new camera into her hands. Taking pictures helped her feel better about herself, and she’d discovered something she did do well.

  At first, she’d photographed landscapes, but she’d soon discovered she was much more interested in turning her lens on people. Faces were ever changing, and capturing unique expressions was both a challenge and a pleasure.

  She still couldn’t Texas two-step without stomping on her partner’s toes, but she could take pictures of the party that would last long after the music had stopped and the last decoration taken down.

  She had a gift.

  And because she’d been able to take advantage of that blessing, she had more money than she knew what to do with.

  Miranda retrieved the check from Charlotte, neatly folded it back up in the blank printer paper and returned it to the envelope.

  “If I follow you home, do you think you could watch the twins for me for a bit? I don’t want to wait to do this. I need to talk to Simon about his check and I’m afraid it might get a little—er—messy. I wouldn’t want to subject the twins to that. No need to see their new mama and Uncle Simon arguing over money.”

  “Maybe it won’t come to that.”

  Miranda hoped not, but she didn’t really believe confronting Simon would be as easy as all that. He was a proud man, and after his reaction today, she suspected he might want to take a bite out of her, chew her up and spit her out.

  Chapter Six

  With his hands fisted and jammed into the front pockets of his blue jeans, Simon reluctantly followed the animal control officer around as he toured Simon’s facility.

  Officer Kyle Peterson was scribbling in indecipherable chicken scratch on an oversize clipboard. Simon couldn’t see what he was writing, but he could guess that the officer was making notes every time he encountered something that, in Kyle’s opinion, needed to be addressed or changed.

  Was he going to try to shut down the rescue?

  And what about Simon’s herding dog business?

  Simon’s lungs felt like sandpaper as he rasped breath after breath.

  The animal control officer, whom Simon figured had been alerted by Blanche Stanton, was mostly keeping his comments and judgments to himself, occasionally muttering under his breath as he made his notations. The few times he did stop, point and make suggestions, Simon had to grit his teeth until his head ached.

  He suspected Officer Peterson was one of those guys who thought his uniform gave him the right to make personal decrees about a man’s life’s work, and it wouldn’t do Simon any good to argue with him. He was biting the inside of his lip so hard he tasted copper. He’d had run-ins with the law when he was younger and had even spent some time in juvie, and though he considered himself a changed man with great respect for peace officers, this one was giving him hives.

  After touring the barn, the officer had made his first few comments and suggestions, ones that had gone completely against Simon’s dog handling methods. Simon had briefly attempted to explain his practices and policies, but he soon realized the officer wasn’t the least interested in what he had to say.

  After what seemed like ages of trailing behind Officer Peterson, the cop finally turned his full attention on Simon.

  “Is there somewhere we can sit and discuss my findings?”

  The man didn’t give away one iota of his thoughts, neither in his gaze nor in his expression. Simon had no idea how bad this was going to be, only that, given the profusion of notes, this could take a while.

  “Of course. Come on inside and I’ll fix us both a cup of coffee.”

  Simon realized the gravity of his error the moment the words were out of his mouth. The officer had toured the barn and the grounds, but he didn’t yet know what was behind Door #1, otherwise known as the ranch’s front door.

  “That will do just fine,” Officer Peterson said.

  Simon picked off his hat and shoved his fingers through his hair as he scrambled for a plan B.

  How could he be so stupid?

  Puffs of dust swirled through the air from far down his driveway, alerting Simon that yet another visitor was on their way—just exactly what he didn’t need right now.

  And when he caught sight of that garish yellow sports car bumping along the road, he groaned aloud.

  He’d thought nothing could make this moment worse, but he’d been wrong. The last thing he wanted was for Miranda to witness this humiliating display.

  Yet there she was, plain as day, unfolding her tall frame from the tiny vehicle and heading right toward him. Evidently, she’d left the twins behind, which Simon immediately interpreted as a bad thing.

  The twins were the automatic buffer between their dissenting personalities, the oil and water that would not mix.

  The officer dropped his clipboard to his side and was giving Miranda an appreciative once-over, which brought out a fiercely protective instinct in Simon that surprised him.

  He and Miranda were always bumping heads, except maybe when they were distracted helping the puppies being brought into the world. Why should he care if another man found her attractive?

  Because she was the twins’ mother. That was why.

  How dare the man?

  “Officer—?” Miranda squinted at the officer’s name tag. “Peterson. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Simon was instantly aware of two facts.

  First was the crafty way she flashed the peace officer a thousand-watt smile that Simon imagined worked on most if not all the men she used it on.

  Quite the dangerous weapon.

  But not to Simon. Her smile didn’t affect him.

  Or if he did feel anything, he was strong enough and wise enough to shove it into the back of his mind and ignore it.

  The other fact, one which was less obvious but much more telling—she had referred to them, Simon and Miranda, as we. And she had purposefully, he thought, given the officer the impression that she was on Simon’s side.

  Given the fact that she’d drawn up before a police vehicle with its lights flashing, that was some choice she’d made.

  She trusted him.

  Officer Peterson. She’d said it so sweetly it immediately won him over.

  Why hadn’t he thought to use the man’s name? Make it personal and hopefully a little friendlier. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Kyle’s name.

  Miranda had swept right up with her people-pleasing, outgoing personality and had taken everything all in hand within moments, changing the entire tenor of the situation.

  Officer Peterson was still gawking at Miranda. If he’d been a cartoon character his eyeballs would have popped out of his head attached to springs and his tongue would have been lolling, but Miranda didn’t seem to notice.

  “Officer Peterson here just showed up for a surprise inspection on Forever Family,” he explained, trying not to sound bothered by the fact. “I’m not sure what it was that precipitated the event.”

  He was fishing, but the officer wasn’t even paying attention to him.

  “Oh, I see,” purred Miranda. For someone who wasn’t a pet person, she sure sounded an awful lot like a cat. “It’s such a lovely place, isn’t it, Officer Peterson?”

  “I—well—” Officer Peterson stammered, his gaze dropping guiltily to his clipboard. He cleared his throat. “You can call me Kyle.”

  Simon repeated the officer’s statement in
his mind in a cartoonish voice.

  You can call me Kyle.

  “Kyle here has just toured our facility. All of the outbuildings, that is.”

  Simon didn’t know why he said our. Maybe he was unconsciously referring to the nonprofit organization under which he worked.

  Forever Family.

  Us.

  Yeah, he’d go with that.

  “Simon just invited me in for coffee so I can go over my report with him,” Kyle said, pulling himself up to his full height, which still left him gazing up at the taller Miranda like a love-struck puppy. “I’m sure Simon wouldn’t mind pouring a third cup.”

  “Inside the house?” Miranda’s surprised gaze met Simon’s and she raised her eyebrows.

  Was he crazy?

  She didn’t have to say it out loud. He was thinking the very same thing. What did he think he was doing, thrusting the officer into the mayhem of madness that was the inside of his ranch house?

  Since Kyle’s back was turned to him, he shook his head to let Miranda know he’d realized the consequences too late, and then he pointed a finger at his temple and mock shot himself.

  Miranda rolled her eyes.

  “You know,” she said, linking her arm through Kyle’s and giving him her full attention, “I have a much better idea. Simon has a beautiful little lake on his land just over the hill there to the north, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a picnic table with a nice view of the land. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

  Simon nodded in agreement as he realized where she was taking this. He let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He didn’t know why Miranda was here, but he was sure thankful she was.

  She pointed to the cluster of trees peeking up just over the rise. “It’s too nice of a day for us to be cooped up inside. Why don’t you and Simon mosey on down to the lake. I’ll bring along a carafe of coffee and see if I can round up a treat of some kind and I’ll meet you fellas down there in a minute.”

  There were so many things wrong with this scenario that Simon could barely start to count them.