Becca smiled. She knew it would take time. For them to grieve, to rebuild. She was still shaky, and she had a lot to lose if things didn’t work out.
But if they did, it would mean everything. A family, Noah, Ryder, Gail. A safe home and a future that held everything good. And just maybe there was more to those fantasies, after all.
Looking into Ryder’s pleading eyes, she took one more step. A huge one.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I’d like us to try.” He kissed her palm, then picked her up and kissed her lips.
“I promise to never make you regret this,” he whispered and hugged and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.
Epilogue
Two Christmases later...
“Noah. No running. And remember your manners.”
“Okay, Mommy,” he said, running straight through the front door of Grandma’s house to the giant tree and the presents that surrounded it.
Becca sighed, but Ryder just chuckled. “You’d think he didn’t get presents last night and this morning.”
“It’s not spoiling him if they’re just stocking stuffers.”
“Right,” he said, but she knew he was spoiling the stuffing out of her. He’d given her a beautiful new home, filled with every gadget she’d ever dreamed of and more, and even better, a wedding beyond her imagination. Not that it had been all that fancy, but it had been their wedding.
Now it was her turn to give Ryder his gift. She slowed him down with a hand on his arm. “I have something to tell you.”
He stopped, looked at her with such love it made her heart swell. “What’s that?”
She took his hand in hers and pulled it gently toward her tummy. “Can you guess what it is?”
His jaw dropped as his gaze moved from her face to her stomach to her face. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“Seven months.”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her too tight, then not tight enough. “You feeling all right?”
“Nothing terrible so far, just a little queasy sometimes.”
“What are we doing standing out in the cold? You need some hot tea and crackers.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I’m having hot cocoa.”
He nodded but herded her in as if she were a stray calf. Noah was already opening his presents. Now that he was six, he’d expanded his focus to dinosaurs, fire trucks and superheroes. Naturally, Gail had indulged him in every category.
Not that Becca and Ryder hadn’t. Even though they’d only been in their new home just up the hill for six months, they’d gone all out for Christmas as well.
Gail’s walker and cane hadn’t been used in ages, and now that Wiley was a full-time fixture in her life, she’d been happier than Ryder had seen her in years.
Amy’s memory was kept alive in pictures and many, many stories of good times through her childhood. And like last year, there was a very special ornament on the tree, one with her picture on it.
Once Ryder had Becca settled on the couch, Gail walked over with two cups of cocoa that she set on the coffee table. Then she sat next to Becca and looked right at her tummy. “You told him?”
“What?” Becca asked, her surprise as genuine as Ryder’s.
“You told her first?” Ryder asked.
“Of course she didn’t,” Gail said. “I just knew.”
Ryder didn’t understand, and from the look of it, neither did Becca. But that was okay. The news was so good, nothing in the world could matter more.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HER COWBOY’S TRIPLETS by Sasha Summers.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
If you loved this story from
Harlequin® Western Romance
be sure to discover more heartfelt tales of family,
friendship and love from
Harlequin® Special Edition.
Romance is for life, and these stories show that
every chapter in a relationship has its challenges
and delights and that love can be
renewed with each turn of the page!
Look for six new romances every month.
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice
OR
EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.
Click here to join for FREE
Or visit us online to register at
www.HarlequinMyRewards.com
Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.
Her Cowboy’s Triplets
by Sasha Summers
Chapter One
India Boone pushed her glasses into place and shoved another pencil into the top-knot of curls atop her head. “Work. Please work.” She typed in the code again, pressed Enter and held her breath. The same error box popped up on the computer screen. India covered her face with her hands and bit back a string of curses.
“Mom?” her five-year-old son, Cal, and his dog, Tanner, peered over the edge of the desk. “How many years before the Indians got here did the dinosaurs go extinct? Was it fifty-five or sixty-five millions years?”
She grinned at them, her frustration momentarily forgotten. How could she stay frustrated in the face of such adorableness? Most five-year-olds wouldn’t think about these things, but Cal was anything but normal. He was gifted and talented—something his old private school in Dallas was thrilled about. According to them, he was very gifted. Not that she’d needed anyone to tell her that.
“I’m not sure Cal. A long, long time. But if you want a firm answer we can go to the fort later on and ask Ada.” If the internet was working, she could answer the question in no time. But that was the problem. Her computer skills were solid—once internet service was set up. She skimmed the software manual again, hoping she’d missed something.
“Ada knows everything about Fort Kyle, doesn’t she?” Cal asked.
“Pretty much.” India nodded. “Too bad she doesn’t know everything about installing software.”
“Take a break? Maybe it’ll come to you after?” Cal suggested.
She smiled at him, rubbed behind Tanner’s soft ear and took off her glasses, tucking them into their case. “A break, huh?” she asked, tugging the pencils free from her hair and rubbing the back of her head.
“Sara said the Soda Shop is almost out of peach ice cream for the year,” Cal said, grinning. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
“You know it is.” And it sounded delicious.
He stood, tucking his favorite plesiosaur dinosaur into his pocket. “Let’s go get some. Come on, Mom, you deserve it.”
“You’re allergic to peaches. What about you?” she asked, knowing exactly what he wanted. Something chocolate. Cal was all about the chocolate.
“Yeah, but...” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, rocking on his boots. “I’m not allergic to chocolate. Or ice cream. Or brownies.”
Tanner stood, tail wagging, his golden gaze bouncing between them. The Belgian Malinois came around, pushing his broad head under her hand and leaning into her until she scratched behind his floppy, dark e
ar.
“See, even Tanner needs a break,” he tacked on.
She giggled, loving the smile on her son’s face. “You’re willing to suffer through a brownie sundae for me?”
“Sure.” He laughed. “You did work at the school lots this week. Now you’re helping Gramma and Papa.”
That was her—a jack-of-all-trades. Finding steady, good-paying work in a town the size of Fort Kyle was near impossible. Instead, she took what she could. Including installing internet and new inventory and accounting software for her parents’ antiques shop, along with substitute teaching and filling in at her parents’ dude ranch when they were shorthanded.
“It’s the weekend, Mom,” Cal added.
She’d come into the shop on her Sunday afternoon because it was closed. Meaning her father wasn’t around to stop her from dragging their business into the twenty-first century. His insistence on using paper ledgers and calculators took twice as long, and other than being inefficient and exhausting, the system was prone to errors. Her father would use the computer’s noncooperation as proof that relying on a “box full of wires” was “the stupidest idea” she’d ever had.
“A break it is.” She pushed out of the wobbly office chair and flipped off the office lamp. If nothing else, Cal’s patience deserved ice cream.
Cal led her to the front door of the antiques shop, Tanner trailing after them. “Did you know Gramma brought over another box of stuff from the big house?” He held the door open for her.
“She did?” She pulled the shop door shut and locked it. “I haven’t seen it or inventoried anything new.”
“And Papa snuck in two more when Gramma was talking to that loud lady from Nebraska.” He grinned up at her. “Hope Gramma doesn’t notice anything missing this time.”
“Let’s hope not.”
There was no denying her parents had too many things. Her mother’s penchant for collecting bordered on hoarding. The ranch house attic was packed tight, the closets were overflowing and their storage shed was a virtual museum of unique and fascinating items. Items her mother treasured. Items her father was determined to sell and make a tidy profit from.
When he’d tried to sneak things from the house into the shop, he’d gotten caught. Her mother hadn’t talked to her father for two days, which was torture for him. Woodrow Boone had one weakness: his wife. Apologies, flowers and chocolates, whatever made her happy, he did it.
But Woodrow Boone also never gave up—the man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Within a few weeks, he’d managed the feat again, but this time he was smart enough to pick things from buried trunks and the back of closets. So far her mother had yet to miss any of it.
Her parents’ relationship was a mystery to her, but it had lasted for thirty-six years. Her marriage had barely lasted three years. Her divorce had left wounds so deep there was still some healing to do.
“Sky is pink.” Cal pointed at the horizon. A pink sunset and wafer-thin clouds greeted the eye. The West Texas breeze held the promise of fall. She leaned against the wood railing, letting the familiar sights and sounds of the small town ease the stress from her shoulders. The town was proof positive that the Old West wasn’t just the stuff of John Wayne movies. She and Cal were living it.
For a few more months.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.
“It is.” She lingered, appreciating the rugged beauty of the place where she’d grown up. When she’d been in Dallas, she’d missed Fort Kyle. Missed her sweet sister, Scarlett, and her mother’s smile. But now that she was here, she was reminded of the reason she left every time she looked at her father. He wore his disappointment for everyone to see. Failed marriage, flunked out of school and a son who was more interested in books than ranching—she was an all-around embarrassment to the Boone name. She’d come home because she wouldn’t let her pride keep Cal hungry. She shoved thoughts of her past and her father aside and opened the door of the Soda Shop for her son. “Ready for the Monarch Festival? And the cattle drive?”
Cal nodded. “Think Papa will let me ride a real horse? On my own?”
India wrinkled her nose. “We’ll see, Cal.” But she knew the answer. Her father wouldn’t spend the time teaching his grandson how to ride, even though it was tradition for Boone men. Cal hadn’t grown up on the ranch. He’d grown up in Dallas, a city boy with little time in the saddle. Like her ex-husband.
Cal’s father always said Fort Kyle was too remote and too backwater for a man like him. But India knew the truth. He’d never been welcome in her hometown. She’d met Jim Thomas Cleburne—JT to his friends—while away at college and had gotten so swept up in their relationship, she’d eventually dropped out of school. Marrying into the wealthy Boone family had suited JT just fine, but not her father. Woodrow Boone pegged JT as bad news from the first time she’d brought him home to the ranch on a school holiday, and he’d done his best to drive the man away while they were dating. India had been too outraged by her father’s meddling and harsh treatment of JT to consider he might be right.
As a self-described man of high ideals, JT liked the idea of success—but not the work. A pattern developed. JT chased after the latest get-rich scheme to wealth only to take his disappointment out on her when it all fell apart—and she had the scars to prove it. When he’d finally left, she’d been physically bruised and emotionally damaged, with a pile of debt and a vague assurance that he’d found a sure thing.
That was three years ago. Three years with no letters, phone calls or birthday or Christmas cards, which suited India just fine.
India and her son each took a seat on the bar stools lining the service counter.
“Hey, Cal. Hey, Miss India. What’ll it be?” Sara asked from her spot behind the counter.
Cal grinned at the teenager, the shop’s namesake. “You don’t know?”
She tapped her chin with a finger. “Let me think. Hmm, a hot-fudge brownie sundae?” she asked, smiling. “And some water for Tanner?”
Tanner’s ear perked up at his name, but he stayed seated at India’s feet—on his best behavior.
Cal nodded, tipping his straw cowboy hat back. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hats off inside, Cal,” India whispered, pleased when he did as she said.
“What would you like, Miss India?” Sara asked.
“A single scoop of peach ice cream in a sugar cone.” Brody Wallace’s voice rang out, the slight gravel a pleasant surprise. He was the last person she’d expected to find sitting on the bar stool beside Cal. But there he was, all tawny eyes and red-gold hair, broad shoulders—broader and bigger than she remembered. But then, it had been years since she’d seen him last. “If I remember correctly?” He grinned, his brows rising in question.
India stared at him, stunned. By his transformation. And his presence. It was so good to see him. “Brody?” She hopped off her stool, hesitating seconds before wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long. When did you get back in town? You visiting? Is your dad okay?”
He pulled back, his eyes crinkling from his grin. “Hold on, now. I’ll pick one. My dad’s fine. Ornery as ever, but fine.” His gaze explored her face, his smile never wavering. “You look good, Goldilocks.”
His nickname for her made her hug him again. Brody Wallace had been her very best friend in the world. Having the comfort of his arms around her now reminded her just how much she’d missed him. He’d been her shoulder through thick and thin, her confidant and her adviser. The last few years, when things had been so damn hard, she’d thought about reaching out to him. But calling him after all this time had seemed wrong—selfish.
“You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded, forcing herself to step back. “It’s just so good to see you.”
His eyes narrowed just a hint, stared a little too hard. “You, too.”
“Mom?” Ind
ia felt Cal’s tug on her arm. “Goldilocks?”
She stepped back then, sliding an arm around her son. “Cal, this is Brody. He was my best friend growing up here.” She squeezed her son’s shoulder. “Brody, this is my son, Cal.”
Brody held his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Cal. And who’s this?” he asked, nodding at Tanner.
“That’s Tanner.” Cal shook his hand. “You got Mom’s order right.”
Brody nodded. “Thought so. Her love for peach ice cream was unrivaled by just about anything.”
Cal smiled.
“You want something?” Sara asked him.
Brody sighed, staring at the old-fashioned chalk menu.
“A root beer float,” India said. “With chocolate ice cream.”
Brody chuckled. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
“Chocolate ice cream?” Cal asked. “Is it good?”
Brody nodded. “Last time I checked, you can’t really go wrong with chocolate.”
Cal nodded slowly. “Can’t argue with that.”
India glanced at Brody. He winked, the slight shake of his head so familiar. He’d always had a ready smile and a big, contagious laugh, and a kind word for everyone—and she’d admired him for it. He’d been a refreshing change from the other guys in her life. She and her father had tended to butt heads over every little thing. And the other boys in school were either too full of themselves or too eager to get into her pants to take the time to get to know her.
Of course, things were different now. But she hoped Brody, the man, hadn’t outgrown the generous spirit and easy nature she’d held so dear through school.
His gaze was just as thoughtful, just as warm. Which was nice.
Most of the men in her life stirred up other reactions. More like doubt. Insignificance. Defeat. Not that her father meant to undermine and belittle her. But he was a concrete sort of man. It didn’t matter if you tried, only if you succeeded.
To Trust a Rancher Page 19
