A Cowboy for the Twins

by Carolyne Aarsen

  He seemed stunned, but only for a split second. His arms came around her and he held her close. And for one blissful moment, as she laid her head against his chest and clung to him, appreciating his strength and his nearness, she didn’t care who saw and what they thought.

  Her world shifted on its axis in more ways than one. She wouldn’t have to go talk to her supervisor at the bank and grovel for more money. Her plans could carry on, and she didn’t have to pay the deliverymen extra.

  And Noah Cosgrove was hugging her.

  “You are an answer to prayer,” Shauntelle said, pulling away from him.

  His surprised look almost made her laugh. Then he grinned back at her, and as her eyes held his, she once again felt that connection that sparked between them every time they were together.

  “Noah, when you’re done flirting can you come over here and help me?” Kyle called out.

  Noah took a step away from her, but his eyes still held hers. Before he left, he gave her a secretive smile.

  Shauntelle watched him leave, then turned her attention to the installation of the doors she hadn’t thought would happen until tomorrow, and felt—for the first time in a while—things turning around.

  Shauntelle watched the progress as long as she dared, chatted with one of the installers, answered a couple of questions, then left for her job in the bank.

  The afternoon seemed to crawl by, however. She wanted to head to the arena and see how work was progressing on her dream. And maybe chat with Noah. It wouldn’t hurt for her to thank him again.

  “Hey, Shauntelle, do you have a minute?” Courtney Waters stopped in, then glanced down at the notepad on Shauntelle’s desk. “What’s this?”

  For the second time that day, Shauntelle blushed as she looked down. Various iterations of the letter N stared back at her. She hadn’t even realized she had doodled them. She ripped the paper off the pad, balled it up and tossed it into the garbage can.

  “Whatcha doing?” Courtney asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, trying to sound casual and not self-conscious. “Trying to come up with...trying to... I need a logo for my restaurant.”

  “With the letter N in it?”

  “And what are you hanging around to tell me?” Shauntelle folded her arms on her desk, deflecting Courtney’s question.

  “Do you have time to see Mrs. Cosgrove?” she asked with a curious glint in her eye. “Mother of someone whose name happens to start with, say, the letter N?”

  I’m not blushing, Shauntelle thought. Instead she held Courtney’s eyes, and her chin lifted, then she nodded. “I sure do,” she said, hoping she sounded confident and in charge.

  “Noah seems like an awesome guy,” Courtney said, a dimple flashing in her cheek as she grinned back at Shauntelle, clearly jumping to her own conclusions. “In fact, if I wasn’t married...”

  “Let’s not keep Mrs. Cosgrove waiting, shall we?”

  “Let’s not,” Courtney said, and then flounced off, leaving the door open.

  Mrs. Cosgrove was still using her crutches as she came into Shauntelle’s office, but her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, and she was smiling.

  “I hope you don’t mind me seeing you on such last-minute notice,” Mrs. Cosgrove said as Courtney escorted her into her office.

  “Not at all,” Shauntelle said, walking past her. Ignoring Courtney’s knowing grin, she closed the door, then pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, Mrs. Cosgrove.”

  “Please call me Fay,” Mrs. Cosgrove said as she settled into the chair, looking around her office. “This is a nice office. Though every time I think of you, I imagine you at the Farmer’s Market.”

  “I only work here part-time,” Shauntelle said, settling in behind her desk.

  “Seems that you have a lot of part-time jobs. That must keep you busy—and now you’re thinking of starting a restaurant.”

  “I’m hoping that will become my full-time job,” Shauntelle said, folding her hands on her desk. “So what can I do for you, Mrs. Cosgrove—I mean, Fay?” she added when Mrs. Cosgrove put up a warning hand.

  “My friend had brought me to town to have a look at the arena,” Fay said. “It’s coming along really well. I’m excited about the courtyard.”

  “Thanks for that affirmation,” Shauntelle said. “I know that will be a nice addition. Especially because it looks out over the park.”

  “It will be lovely. But enough chitchat. I came to see you because I was in town and wanted to invite you and your daughters to dinner on Wednesday evening.”

  Dinner. That was not what she’d expected.

  “I don’t want to put you out,” Shauntelle hedged, not sure how to say no as her feelings battled with her practical side. Part of her wanted nothing more than to spend an evening with Noah and his mother in their beautiful, peaceful house. But the cautious part of her cried danger.

  Though she knew things were changing between her and Noah, the reality of their futures always hovered over the relationship. She had her daughters to think of, and her own future to plan. Noah also had his own goals, and she knew they didn’t include staying in Cedar Ridge. It would be foolish to get involved with him. Spending more time at his ranch with his mother...

  “You won’t be putting me out at all,” Fay said, breaking into her thoughts. “I was going to get Sepp Muraski from the Brand and Grill to put together supper for us. Noah was going to take it home.”

  So Noah was in on the plans. She wondered how he felt about it.

  “I still don’t feel right about this.” But when she saw Mrs. Cosgrove’s wide smile, Shauntelle knew she had made a mistake. She made it sound like she was accepting.

  “I’m so excited that you’re coming. I know Millie said she would enjoy it.”

  And how did Mrs. Cosgrove know Millie would enjoy it? Had they been talking to each other?

  “Of course she would,” Shauntelle said. Her daughter seemed to think the sun rose and set on the Cosgroves, which had caused tension between her and her parents.

  “That’s perfect then,” Fay continued. “I’ll go talk to Sepp and make arrangements.”

  It looked like that was it. Shauntelle had no more space to refuse. However, there was no way she was allowing Mrs. Cosgrove to do any of the preparations.

  “No. Please don’t talk to Sepp. If we are coming for dinner, then allow me to cook it,” Shauntelle said, standing up as if to make her point even more clear.

  To her surprise, Fay didn’t object at all. “That would be fantastic. You’re such a good baker and cook. I’m not saying no to that.”

  Shauntelle just gave her a tight smile. Though she felt a teeny bit manipulated, she couldn’t say she was unhappy with the situation.

  She just wondered what Noah would think.

  * * *

  “Where are the girls?” her mother asked as she put the plates on the table in the kitchen of their home. She and her father had just come home from work, and he was on the phone with a supplier putting an order in.

  “In their room,” Shauntelle said as she cut up the lettuce for the salad. Chili simmered in the slow cooker and the buns were buttered. Supper was almost ready. “They said they had homework.” Though Shauntelle doubted they were busy with that. She rather suspected they were making their own plans. When she had told them about Mrs. Cosgrove’s invitation on the drive home, they didn’t seem surprised. They were clearly in on the scheme.

  “I’ll call them now,” her mother said.

  Soon they all sat around the table. Her father said grace, and Shauntelle started serving.

  “So what are you going to do about the doors for the restaurant?” her father asked as she handed him a plate. “I have to say I’m upset that Noah didn’t plan better for that.”

  “You don’t need to be,” Shauntelle said, setting the casserole dish on the t
able. “The doors are all installed. And everything went perfectly.”

  Her father shot her a shocked look. “How did that happen? This morning you were worried that you’d have to pay those installers extra. No thanks to Noah.”

  Shauntelle held her father’s gaze, tired of his faultfinding. “It happened because Noah worked over the weekend to make sure everything was ready for my doors when they came this morning. And it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.”

  Her father’s only reaction was to narrow his eyes and then look away. Shauntelle fought down a beat of frustration and sat down. She wanted to challenge her father’s attitude, but felt at a disadvantage. She was their daughter, but she was also a guest in their home.

  Then she felt her mother’s firm touch on her arm and turned to see her shake her head, her eyes wide with warning. Don’t talk about it.

  She hadn’t intended to, but she was tired of how both her parents seemed determined to be so unforgiving. She understood their loss. She had lost her brother and was grieving too. To be stuck in this angry stage of grief wasn’t healthy.

  “I think we need to move past this,” she said, unable to keep her comments to herself anymore. “Noah was proven innocent.”

  “How can you say that?” her father said, his voice hard. Angry. “He knows he’s guilty. Otherwise why would he—” He stopped there, his lips clamped together.

  “Why would he what?” Shauntelle asked, wondering what in the world her father referred to.

  “We don’t want to talk about it,” her mother said, the anger in her voice letting Shauntelle know the subject was off-limits.

  Supper was a tense and quiet affair. When it was over, Shauntelle told her parents she and the girls would do the dishes.

  By the time everything was cleaned up, it was time to put her daughters to bed. They complained, but Shauntelle ushered them down the hall to their bedroom, ignoring their pleas for just a few more minutes. She wanted them down for the night so she could retreat to her own space. The tension in the house was exhausting.

  When they were settled in the bed they shared, she sat down on the end, her hands folded in her lap as she looked from one girl to the other, knowing she had another sticky issue to deal with.

  “Are we in trouble?” Millie asked, as usual very attuned to her mother’s moods.

  “Did you do something you should be in trouble for?” Shauntelle countered, wondering what they would come up with.

  Millie and Margaret exchanged hurried glances, and Shauntelle guessed they knew she wanted to discuss Mrs. Cosgrove’s invitation.

  “We just wanted to see the horses again,” Margaret said, the words bursting out of her.

  “Margaret,” Millie cried out, slapping her hands in frustration on the bed. “What are you doing? It was a secret.”

  “What secret?” Shauntelle asked, determined not to let their antics make her smile.

  Another quick exchange of glances.

  “Millie?” Shauntelle pressed, guessing her most outspoken daughter was the true instigator.

  Millie sighed, trying to look defiant but failing. “So I maybe, might have phoned Mrs. Cosgrove,” she said, avoiding Shauntelle’s gaze, tilting her head to one side as if considering what to say. “And perhaps, maybe, I possibly said that we wanted to come visit her again?” Her voice rose up on that last line, her hands turning over in a gesture of confusion, as if unsure herself how this all might have come about.

  Don’t laugh.

  “And the other thing,” Margaret said, nudging her sister.

  “What other thing?” Shauntelle asked her other daughter.

  Now it was Margaret’s turn to avoid her gaze as she twisted her hair around her finger.

  “Margaret?” Shauntelle pressed. Millie was vibrating with tension, but Shauntelle kept her eyes on Margaret, knowing if anyone would cave, it would be her.

  “We just wanted a daddy,” Margaret finally wailed, looking distressed. “We miss our dad, and we love you, but Mrs. Cosgrove said Noah would make a good dad. And we think so too.”

  Shauntelle could only stare at the girls, her mind scrambling to catch up to their plans.

  “We know you’re lonely,” Millie put in. “And it’s a lot of work to take care of us all by yourself. And we are tired of living in Gramma and Grandpa’s house. Mrs. Cosgrove said there’s lots of room in hers. And then we could all live on the ranch together and ride horses every day. We really like Mr. Noah.”

  “Did Mrs. Cosgrove say this, or did you come up with the idea?” She felt she needed to verify a few things before she called Noah’s mother.

  “Are we going to move?” Millie, ever the optimist, pounced on the tiniest little opening and tore it open.

  “No.” Shauntelle said the word with extra force. “We aren’t talking about that. At all. I just want to know who said what.”

  Millie looked over at Margaret, who bit her lip as if unsure what to tell her. Shauntelle kept her own expression hard, determined to sort this out.

  “I talked to her,” Margaret said finally. “And...and...”

  She hesitated, and Shauntelle could see Millie was about to put her two cents in but she held up her hand, shot her a warning look and turned back to Margaret, who was still twisting her hair around her finger.

  “And,” Shauntelle prompted.

  “And she said we could come over whenever we wanted. And that she was lonely in her big house and that it had a lot of room.”

  “But I thought she meant we could move in.” Millie made one last plea. “I really thought that’s what she said, and Margaret and I were talking about how fun it would be to be cowgirls. And to have a dad...” Her voice faltered and trailed off as she started crying.

  Margaret put her arms around her sister and joined her.

  Shauntelle scooted closer, pulling them both against her, shaking her head at their plans and dreams.

  “Oh my dear girls,” was all she could say, holding them close and kissing the tops of their heads.

  “Are you mad at us?” Millie sniffed, her head tucked against Shauntelle, one arm around her waist.

  “A little bit,” she said.

  Margaret sighed. “I don’t want you to be mad at us. We just...we just wanted you to be happy. Because you haven’t been very happy since we moved here.”

  “That’s because your uncle Josiah died, and because your daddy died, and Gramma and Grandpa are sad.”

  “Do you miss Daddy?” Millie asked, pulling back to look at her.

  Shauntelle knew she was expected to say yes. Of course she missed Roger. Yet, as she looked into her daughter’s earnest gaze, she found herself not thinking of Roger, but of Noah.

  So she simply nodded.

  “We used to miss him,” Margaret put in. “But not so much anymore.”

  Shauntelle laid her head against Margaret’s, releasing a confused sigh. What was she supposed to say to that when she felt the same? Shouldn’t she still be grieving? In the grief group she had gone to, some widows and widowers were still struggling even after four years. And here she was, two years later, feeling ready to move on.

  What kind of wife was she? But even more, what did it say about her relationship with Roger?

  “It’s okay if you want to get married again,” Millie put in. “We won’t be like some of those spoiled kids on TV shows who don’t want their mommy to get married again. We don’t mind. Especially if it’s Noah.”

  And just like that, her confusion morphed into frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t keep talking about him,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

  “But we like him,” Millie said, batting her eyes. “And we think you like him too.”

  Shauntelle couldn’t deny that. Because hovering behind her wavering emotions was the reality that she was attracted to him. In spite of who he was and h
ow her parents felt about him.

  “So does that mean we can go over to Mrs. Cosgrove’s house?” Margaret asked, sensing her weakness.

  “You let me talk to her first,” Shauntelle said. “I’m not making any promises.” She gave them each a stern look to bring the point home.

  They nodded, looking solemn, which Shauntelle knew meant the point was taken.

  “Let’s say your prayers, and then you both need to get to sleep.”

  A few minutes later they were tucked in, kissed and Shauntelle was closing the door on their bedroom. She stayed there a moment, making sure they settled. She heard her parents talking and was about to go across the hall to her room to call Fay when she heard her name mentioned.

  “...Shauntelle lets the girls spend too much time at the Cosgroves’.”

  Her mother sounded upset, which wasn’t a surprise. Ever since Noah Cosgrove had come back to Cedar Ridge, her mother had become more unhappy and morose.

  “I could take them out on a hike. I haven’t been able to do that for a while, but now that we’ve got Nick working for us I could. It would be fun,” her father was saying.

  “And it would give them something else to talk about besides the Cosgroves. Honestly, each time I hear them mention that man’s name...”

  Time to go.

  Shauntelle stepped into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She was thankful her father wanted to spend time with her daughters. He had done little of that since they moved here.

  However, her parents’ ongoing antagonism toward Noah was creating a perplexity of emotions.

  Because she knew, even though her mind shouted out a warning, that thoughts of him were slowly invading her heart and soul.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m so thankful you made supper for us.” Noah’s mother looked from him to Shauntelle then to the two girls, who were scooping the melting ice cream out of their bowls. “Wasn’t it delicious, Noah?”