The Cowboy's Twin Surprise

by Cathy McDavid

  “Good. I say that because Cara seems happy. They’ve picked two horses to race against Prince, and she’s lined up some good prizes.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s see.” Spence went from kneading his neck to scratching his head. “Gift cards. A day at some spa. Free tune-up from Conroy’s Auto Repair. Dinner at the café. Passes to the state fair. I can’t remember the entire list.”

  “Are you using Sam for one of the jockeys?”

  “We are. The adoption event’s one week from today. That doesn’t give the committee a lot of time to advertise the mock race and solicit donations. Cara thinks a young gal riding a local celebrity horse will be a huge draw.”

  Frankie supposed she understood Cara’s reasoning. She just wished Sam wasn’t so young. “Won’t the other jockeys have an advantage? They’ve got much more experience than Sam.”

  “But they won’t have had the chance to practice on their horses before the race like she will.”

  “Anything else interesting happen today?”

  “Like my trip to Florence?”

  Frankie had been curious all afternoon but hadn’t asked during her four phone calls. Wait, make that five.

  “Lucas offered me the job,” Spence said.

  “Huh.” She mulled that over for a few seconds, debating the pros and cons.

  “I didn’t say yes.” He waited a beat. “I didn’t say no, either.”

  “You’re thinking it over,” Frankie guessed.

  “We agreed to a two-week trial period. If the job’s not for me, or I’m not right for the job, I move on. No hard feelings.”

  “That sounds actually...” She pretended to draw back with dismay. “Who are you and what did you do with Spence? He always jumps in both feet first and wearing a blindfold.”

  “I told you. I’ve changed.”

  For her, the jury was still out. But he’d definitely made strides. Four years ago, Spence would have taken the job with no trial period, then up and quit without notice if he didn’t like it.

  “I have some news. Good news.” She smiled. “The client today was really happy with the brisket.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Actually, it gets better. She referred me to a friend of hers. The friend called on my way home from work. They’re having a gigantic family reunion two weeks from today. Over three hundred people. They want an estimate for brisket, ribs and chicken.”

  “Three hundred people? You’re kidding! Can you manage that much food?”

  “Yes, with a commercial smoker. I called that guy from Craigslist back and left a message.”

  “My offer to help still stands.” Spence smiled appealingly.

  “What about your job?”

  “I’m free evenings.”

  “Then I accept.” She was going to need his help if she had any hope of transporting the smoker home and catering the reunion.

  He must have read her mind, for he asked, “What about labor? You can’t do everything alone.”

  “If Sam’s busy with a rodeo, I’ll recruit Mel and my stepmom. Her foot will be better by then.”

  “If we have to hire someone, I’ll cover the cost.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Frankie.”

  “Let’s just see what happens.” She set her coffee down and started to rise. “Speaking of which, I owe you for last night.”

  He reached for her arm, tugging her back down onto the couch. “Reinvest the money in the company.”

  “That’s not the agreement we have per the crowd-funding terms.”

  “Then use it for the girls.”

  “You already gave me child support.”

  “I helped you last night as a favor.”

  “No.” She twisted to face him. “I’m going to pay you, you’re going to accept the money and we aren’t going to fight about this anymore.”

  “New rules?”

  “Look, we’re partners. As parents and in business. Rules aren’t bad. They keep our expectations and responsibilities clear. I agree we’ve slipped a few times, but not again.”

  “You’re sure about that?” His tone was teasing. He no doubt also recalled the last time they’d sat on this couch.

  “We both have a lot on our plates. And two daughters who need our undivided attention during a crucial time. Let’s not make a mistake by rekindling an old romance that’s bound to end disastrously.”

  “Disastrously is a strong word.”

  “Spence,” she chided.

  “Right.” He blew out a resigned breath. “You win.”

  “This isn’t a competition.”

  “Of course not.”

  They talked for a while about nothing of consequence. And while Frankie should have been glad they’d cleared the air, she missed their former easygoing exchanges.

  Here was the trade-off, she supposed. No one got what they wanted without losing in return.

  Funny, she’d been wondering lately how different their lives would be if she’d told him about the twins from the beginning. Now she wondered how different their lives would be if she and Spence had truly gotten over each other, moved on and weren’t still wildly attracted to each other.

  * * *

  SPENCE HAD ATTENDED plenty of horse auctions in his life. The event put on by the mustang sanctuary was much the same. A mobile auctioneer’s booth had been set up at one end of the ring. Spectators occupied bleachers. Two helpers assisted the auctioneer, spotting bidders and interacting with the crowd. Horses were brought in, usually one at a time, and after demonstrating their abilities, sold to the highest bidder.

  There were several differences, however. All the horses there today were formerly wild mustangs. Every individual helping was an unpaid volunteer, and proceeds, down to the last dime, went to support the nonprofit sanctuary instead of being split between the sellers and the auction company.

  “That is one ugly dude.” Esteban Rojas elbowed Spence in the ribs while making a face. His heavily accented English wasn’t always easy to understand. To compensate, he often expressed himself with big gestures, which were in stark contrast to his diminutive stature.

  Andy Drummand agreed. “What rock did they find him under?”

  He stood next to Esteban, the difference in their heights no more than an inch. They’d arrived that morning, flying in from California, and would return tomorrow afternoon. Spence was making sure they were well treated during their stay. He’d been lucky to find two competent jockeys free this weekend and willing to make the trip.

  Pushing his cowboy hat back for a better look, he examined the “ugly dude” in question. Stocky and shaggy, the mud-brown gelding did indeed possess a prominent Roman nose, along with small ears and a stubby forelock that more closely resembled a Mohawk.

  He was being led around the ring by a teenaged girl and carrying Cara’s stepson, Nathan on his back as proof of his calm disposition. The gimmick obviously worked, as the horse sold for a decent price to a family with three children after an intense bidding war. Cara beamed, as she did with each and every banging of the auctioneer’s gavel, pleased another horse had found a good home.

  Before long, Spence and his jockey buddies would drive to the makeshift track behind the pastures where the mock race was being held. Sam, too, whenever she arrived. Prince and the two mustangs pitted against him were waiting in the stables, a team of volunteers grooming every inch of them to perfection and braiding their manes and tails with colorful ribbons.

  Because Esteban and Andy didn’t have to prepare like they would in a real race, they were enjoying the adoption event, having their pictures snapped with excited fans and giving interviews for the local TV station.

  Spence, on the other hand, watched people mob the betting counter—in r
eality a folding table manned by more volunteers—and tried to shake off his nerves. The mock race was the highlight of the adoption event and the reason for the record-breaking crowd. Cara was counting on a sizable amount of money being raised.

  No reason for him to feel pressured.

  Right.

  Fortunately, ticket sales were through the roof and the fishbowls in front of the donated prizes filled to overflowing. The flat-screen TV donated by Spence’s parents’ dealership was one of the most popular items.

  Frankie had donated a complete meal, courtesy of I-Hart-Catering, the official name of her business as of this week. She’d had flyers printed up, and she and the girls were handing them out from their station near the betting counter. Spence had been keeping one eye on them since the event started.

  “Ha! Look at your niñas.” Esteban gave Spence another rib jab.

  Paige and Sienna had somehow gotten hold of a young pigmy goat, probably belonging to a friend of Frankie’s. The goat wore a turquoise harness and leash much like a dog’s, and a kerchief around its neck.

  It willingly followed the girls like a puppy. Hopping, twisting, bleating and generally acting pretty cute, it attracted people with kids, and many without. Anyone coming near was immediately handed a flyer. Frankie, it seemed, was capitalizing on the opportunity.

  Esteban and Andy had been amazed to learn Spence was a father. When introduced, they’d charmed the girls and been respectful to Frankie. Then teased Spence about how pretty Frankie was and that he was a fool to let her get away.

  Spence didn’t bother explaining the complexities of his and Frankie’s relationship. Hell, he hardly understood them himself.

  This past week, he’d seen her and the girls daily, for longer and shorter amounts of time, depending on Frankie’s schedule. He’d abided by her request to keep things friendly but platonic. It was hard, though not impossible. He just had to make sure they weren’t alone together and that they didn’t touch, accidentally or otherwise.

  “Jeez, Bohanan.” Andy gave his head a dismal shake. “You have it bad for her.”

  Spence returned his attention to the ring. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your girlfriend. You can’t stop staring at her.”

  Esteban laid a hand over his heart and batted his eyes. “Es amor verdadero.”

  Spence didn’t have to speak Spanish to understand the meaning. “She’s not my girlfriend, and we’re not in love,” he said.

  “Buddy, you can’t fool us.” Andy smiled smugly.

  So much for hiding his feelings. Spence said nothing. Any reply he made would only be more fodder for his friends’ jokes.

  “Let’s load up the truck and check the equipment.”

  The jockeys reluctantly pushed themselves off the fence and accompanied Spence. He sneaked one last look at Frankie and the twins, Esteban’s voice playing in his head.

  Es amor verdadero.

  They hadn’t gone far when a familiar white-haired figure in a bright yellow jacket, and using a walking cane, crossed their path. Spence smiled as recognition dawned.

  “Annily Farrington. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.” Her wrinkled face lit up as she opened her arms for a hug.

  “Me?” Spence squeezed hard before releasing the well-liked friend and associate from his days at Cottonwood Farms.

  “When I heard you were racing mustangs, I figured I had to see for myself.”

  She turned to greet Esteban and Andy, who’d both heard of her and expressed delight in finally having the chance to meet her. The racing world was a small one. Annily Farrington was one of the better known owners of racing quarter horses, having made a name for herself over the last four decades.

  “You came all the way from Fort Worth?” Spence asked.

  She dismissed him with a wave. “Not even a gander of your handsome face would get me to travel that far. I came from Rio Verde.”

  The next town over? “What are you doing there?”

  “I bought a small ranch. Downsized my operation and moved last month. Doctor’s orders. I have to slow down. Problem is I’m not yet ready to quit the business. Kept my best horses.”

  She didn’t offer the nature of her health problems, and Spence didn’t ask. “We’re practically neighbors,” he said instead.

  “My feelings will be hurt if you don’t come for a visit real soon.”

  “Name the day.”

  “Call me.” She reached in her pocket and withdrew a business card.

  “Can I bring my twin daughters? They’re three, almost four.”

  “Love to have ’em. Got a couple of my own grandkids. Miss ’m something awful. My daughter moved her family to Florida first of the year.”

  “I thought she was going to take over from you one day.”

  Annily gave a sad sigh. “That was more my dream than hers, I’m afraid. She met a man. He’s the reason she moved.” Annily sighed again. “I briefly considered finding a new business partner, then decided I’d try downsizing first. I’ve never been the easiest person to get along with. Hate to put that burden on someone I like.”

  “You?” Spence laughed. “You’re the definition of amenable.”

  “Comes from being right all the time,” she quipped.

  He hated leaving her, but the auction was wrapping up, and the race would start soon. They said their goodbyes and promised to meet up after the race.

  Seeing such a good friend raised Spence’s spirits, and he whistled a tune as he, Esteban and Andy meticulously attended the saddling and bridling of the racing mustangs before loading them into the trailer for transport to the makeshift track. Spence had inspected the track the previous day with Frankie’s dad, Ray, and hadn’t left until he was satisfied with its condition.

  He’d been half expecting a lecture from Ray for leaving his daughter to raise the twins alone. That hadn’t happened, and to Spence’s surprise, the two of them got along as well as they always had in the past.

  Esteban and Andy headed off to the office to change into their “racing silks”—neon-colored polo shirts and tan breeches. In a real race, their uniform would represent the owner and farms for which they rode.

  While Spence had his head stuck inside the truck cab, Sam arrived. She was also wearing her “silks” and a pair of high black boots. In one hand, she carried a riding helmet.

  “You look ready,” Spence said, taking her in.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “You’ll do great.”

  She’d been practicing the last few days and working hard. Spence thought if she ever wanted to switch careers from barrel racer to horse racing, she might make a decent exercise rider, and possibly a jockey.

  The next moment, Esteban and Andy emerged from the ranch office. Spying Sam, they came over, and the three of them engaged in conversation. Esteban and Andy were enjoying mentoring the young woman, and she basked in the attention.

  “You all look fantastic! I love your outfits.”

  Spence spun at the sound of Frankie’s voice. Paige and Sienna skipped ahead of her, flyers clasped in their hands.

  “Hey, you—” At the last second, he added, “three,” in order that Frankie wouldn’t think he had eyes for only her.

  “We’re helping Mommy.” Paige proceeded to drop all her flyers.

  She and her sister wore matching jeans and sweatshirts, one of several gifts from his mother. The introduction Wednesday had gone well, with Frankie pulling out all the stops and putting on a delicious lunch. Though hesitant at first, Paige and Sienna had eventually warmed to his mother’s patient coaxing.

  They were still in awe of his father, who boomed even when using his inside voice. He’d taken their reluctance in stride, confident they would get used to him.

&nb
sp; The funny thing was his father, along with the gray beard he sported, were what the twins talked about the most. They’d asked Spence a half-dozen times already when they were seeing “Papa” and “Nana” again.

  Spence stooped and picked up the flyers for Paige, smoothing her hair as he straightened. “Here you go, angel face.”

  “What about me?” Sienna asked.

  He tugged on her ear. “You, too, sweetie.”

  They threw their arms around his legs, alternately shouting, “My daddy,” and “No, my daddy.”

  He swayed momentarily, unbalanced as much from the twins’ antics as from the fact that his heart was on the verge of exploding.

  Frankie caught him by the arm. Heat from her fingers instantly seeped into his skin. Their gazes locked. Held.

  This was the closest they’d been in over a week. He almost said, “I’ve missed you.” Almost.

  Behind him, Esteban muttered something in Spanish. Spence was pretty sure the jockey had called him lovesick and poked fun at his sappy expression. Spence slowly extracted his arm from Frankie’s grasp. He swore he felt their disconnection like a physical tearing apart.

  “I know the race starts soon,” Frankie said. “We won’t keep you.”

  “I’ve always got time for my girls.”

  Her eyes widened ever so slightly. She didn’t ask if she was one of his girls, and he didn’t say.

  “I finally negotiated a deal on that smoker.”

  That got his interest. “The seller come down to your price?”

  “Close enough.” She grinned, obviously happy with herself. “He also has a used chest freezer for sale. It would be nice to have one if business picks up. That way, I could buy meat when it’s on sale and be able to store it.”

  “How much does he want for the freezer?”

  “You’re not giving me any more money, Spence. Don’t even—”

  “What if I bought the chest freezer and just let you borrow it?”

  She groaned with exasperation.

  “Let me at least pick up the smoker for you.”