Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  His love. For his late wife.

  Brooke’s mouth gaped open and every good thing inside her fizzled like the bubbles of stale champagne. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Brooke.” Wyatt reached for her.

  She jerked away. “Don’t, Wyatt,” she breathed in a hush. “I’ve been a fool.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re not a fool.”

  She found her panties and finished dressing. “Oh, yes, I am. I get the picture now. Literally. How could I not? I can’t do this anymore.” She lifted her chin to Wyatt’s baffled expression. What did he think? That she’d be overjoyed seeing his devotion to his dead wife? Did he think she wouldn’t be affected by his homage to Madelyn Brandt, the true love of his life? “We need to stick to the original plan. While I’m here acting as nanny, we need to keep our distance. And this time, I mean it. Don’t come looking for me, Wyatt. Got that?”

  He stood facing her, his hands on his hips and his mouth pulled tight, refusing her an answer.

  “Do you understand?” she asked.

  “Let me explain.”

  “This,” she said, gesturing around the room, “is all the explanation I need.”

  She spun on her heels and exited the study.

  Nausea kicked in big-time. Her stomach gurgled and ached and there was no holding back.

  Once she got to her bathroom, she was going to throw up.

  Eight

  Two days later, the babies sat in their high chairs, making a game of tossing toys off their trays. “Now, now,” Genevieve said. “Patience, little ones, we’re going as fast as we can fixing your breakfast.”

  Brooke stirred the oatmeal to cool it down, tossing in some fresh cut-up strawberries.

  “There once was a pair of silly twins,” Genevieve began in a singsong voice, a deliberate diversion from the great twin toy drop. And sure enough, the children’s heads popped up, smiles emerging. “Who liked to drop, drop, drop their toys onto the floor.” Her voice was lovely, sweet, engaging.

  “With a mop, mop, mop of curly blond strands,” Brooke chimed in singing. “On the top, top, top, of their heads.”

  Genevieve chuckled. Brooke danced the bowls of oatmeal over to the table and took her seat in front of Brett while Genevieve sat down beside Brianna.

  “The food goes plop, plop, plop into their mouths,” Genevieve harmonized.

  Brooke giggled and aimed the spoon into Brett’s mouth. “And they couldn’t stop, stop, stop filling their tummies.”

  Genevieve speared a spoonful into Bri’s waiting mouth.

  The babies giggled at the rhyming verses, enjoying the silly song and their meal. Once the bowls were emptied and the twins were sipping milk from their sippy cups, Genevieve looked over to Brooke. “You’re not half bad, Brooke.”

  A compliment? “You’re pretty good yourself, Mrs. Brandt.”

  Genevieve chewed on her lower lip, giving Brooke a thoughtful stare. “You know, I think you were right. We don’t want to confuse the babies. Call me Genevieve or Grammy.”

  “You mean in front of the twins?”

  “I mean, always.” When she smiled, her eyes lit up. In the last few days, Brooke must have passed some sort of test with her.

  “Okay, I will. Thanks.”

  Genevieve seemed pleased with herself. “Good. Now what are we going to do with these two today?”

  The morning sun was at Brooke’s back, streaming warmth into the kitchen. “I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

  “Fall has arrived. It’s a shame to let it go to waste. There’s a nice playground in Cahill. And if I’m not mistaken, the diner there is pretty good. We can let the babies play at the park and then God willing, they’ll nap while we have a peaceful lunch.”

  “Sounds wonderful to me.” It meant spending the day away from the ranch and away from Wyatt. That was a good thing, because she was hurting. Seeing him day in and day out was difficult. Her heart hadn’t stopped aching. She was doing everything in her power to keep her distance. He wasn’t making it easy, though. He was always around. He loved his twins and wanted to be Daddy to them at every turn. There were times when she wanted to run into his arms and other times when she wanted to run far and fast in the opposite direction.

  His eyes always found hers during meals, and although she kept out of his path she couldn’t help seeing him when he popped in to play with the twins, or feed them or help put them to sleep at night. Thankfully, Genevieve unknowingly made a nice buffer. Brooke and Wyatt were rarely alone.

  Which was a good thing.

  But it also broke her heart.

  “Will you tell Wyatt our plans, Brooke? I have some phone calls to make before we leave later this morning. Give me a couple of hours.”

  “Uh, okay. I’ll make sure he knows where we’re going today.”

  Genevieve gave the children each a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, my babies.”

  Once she exited the room, Brooke rose to help Henrietta with the dishes while the twins were still in a happy mood. The great toy drop began anew, but it kept them occupied in their high chairs while Brooke was busy. At least one good thing had come from Brooke being here: Henrietta wasn’t exhausted anymore. The older lady actually had pep in her step.

  “Did I miss breakfast?” Wyatt walked in, looking sharp in a blue plaid shirt and faded denim jeans. That particular cobalt color brought out the deep hue in his eyes and Brooke had to force herself to keep from staring. Her heart beat hard in her chest.

  “I’ve got eggs and bacon cooking for you, Wyatt,” Henrietta said.

  “Thanks, Etta.” He approached his babies, giving them a pat on the head and kissing their cheeks. “Morning, my darlins’. Brooke.” He turned to her, his gaze unreadable.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brandt.”

  He winced. He hated the formality but she’d kept it up for appearances. And now she was grateful she had that crutch to fall back on. It was just one more way to keep her distance. Often, over the past few days, she’d wanted to simply tell Wyatt the truth and be done with it. The duplicity was killing her, but she’d made him a promise she would stay until Genevieve was satisfied and left the ranch. She wouldn’t go back on her word. Besides, they’d have a lot to work out once he learned about the child she carried, and having his mother here would only hamper the process.

  In a very real way, Brooke was trapped here by her lies.

  Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten yet, either. But bacon and eggs would only make her sick. Morning smells did a number on her very sensitive tummy lately. Luckily, her stomach wasn’t on the fritz all day long. If she made it past breakfast eating bland foods, then she was usually good to go the rest of the day.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  “I, um, no. Not yet. The babies woke early and seemed hungry. No big deal, I’ll have some oatmeal later.”

  “Have it now. I don’t like eating alone.”

  Henrietta glanced at him. Her brows gathered at his less-than-friendly tone. Wyatt was clearly out of sorts.

  “Fine.” She gave him a fake smile and Henrietta handed her a bowl of oatmeal, then dished up the bacon and eggs for him. She placed biscuits on the table, too. How did any Texas woman retain her figure with biscuits, breads or muffins being served at every meal? Brooke was tempted to grab a biscuit and slather it with butter, but thought better of it. Her tummy could only hold so much food, and oatmeal was the far better choice.

  “Would you like cinnamon or sugar with it?” Henrietta asked.

  “I’m good with this. Thanks.”

  After she served them, Henrietta exited the kitchen mumbling something about getting down the fall decorations.

  Great, now they were alone. Well, except for the babies. Brooke put her head down, conce
ntrating on eating her oatmeal.

  “When I said I didn’t like to eat alone, I didn’t mean this.”

  “What?”

  “You’re giving me the silent treatment.”

  “It’s for the best,” she whispered.

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  “Wyatt, don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, okay. It was really a dumb move on my part bringing you into that room.”

  She bit her lip and looked away. Taking her in there in the heat of passion was one thing, but that his shrine to Madelyn even existed was the heartbreaker. Seeing his private sanctuary put everything into perspective. He had every right to hold on to his love for his late wife. But why did he have to make love to Brooke as if it meant something to him? Maybe he shouldn’t have made love to her at all. “I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

  He sucked in a breath and then sighed. “Okay. Listen, I want to spend some time with the twins this morning. I’d like to take them for a ride.”

  “A ride? Where?”

  “On the grounds.”

  “In your car? That seems silly.”

  A smile emerged, transforming his sulky face. “Not in the car. On horseback.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He glanced at his children, who were beginning to wiggle and squirm in their high chairs. “Nope. I rode my first horse when I was one year old. Got the pictures to prove it. If you ask me, they’re overdue.”

  “Okay, suit yourself.”

  “I’ll need help.”

  “James or your mother could probably help.”

  “I need your help. Mom’s not much for riding and James is too busy today.”

  “Wyatt, I can’t ride a horse.”

  “You’ve never ridden before?”

  “I have. That’s not what I meant. I’m not exactly an expert.” She was pregnant. She shouldn’t get atop a horse, should she?

  “You don’t have to be. Do you think I’d risk my kids’ safety? I have all the rigging to keep them and you from any danger.”

  “Well, we can’t do it today. Your mom and I are taking the twins into Cahill.”

  “When?”

  “In a couple of hours.”

  “That gives us more than enough time.”

  * * *

  Holding Brett in his arms, Wyatt motioned for Brooke to climb atop the horse. She came forward tentatively, the hat on her head shading her troubled eyes from morning sunshine. He wasn’t being fair to her. As sure as the sun rose in the east every day, he knew it. But once a notion took root inside his brain, he had trouble removing it. He’d dug his heels in insisting on Brooke’s being a part of the twins’ first ride. Now he couldn’t imagine doing it without her.

  Since their argument, she was on his mind constantly. She’d sidestepped him every moment of every day since, whenever she possibly could. He’d hurt her without intending to, and if he had a lick of sense, he’d let these next few days pass without interjecting himself more into her life. But he couldn’t do it. He had a powerful need to spend as much time with her as possible.

  It wasn’t a conscious move on his part to include her on the ride this morning. Hell no. But after hearing her singing that silly ditty to his toddlers, something snapped inside him. He’d practically ordered her to share the morning meal with him, and then insisted she ride with him and his babies. When she left the ranch for good, he’d miss her like crazy.

  If only he had something to offer her. But he wasn’t over Madelyn and he couldn’t bear hurting Brooke again.

  “Step on up to the mounting block,” he said to her, holding the reins. “These two mares are the gentlest in the string.”

  “I know how to mount a horse, Wyatt.”

  He ignored her and helped her up into the saddle, his hand on her rear end giving a little push. Brooke lanced him with a look that could cut ice.

  He bit back a laugh. “This is Maple. She’s five years old and sweet as her name.”

  “Good to know.”

  Brooke placed her boots into the stirrups and adjusted her position. “I’ll hand Brett up to you. And then I’ll put the rigging around both of you. You’ll be snug and locked in. Just keep one hand on him at all times.”

  “Okay, got it.”

  He handed the baby up and immediately, Brett started kicking up a happy fuss. His smile was worth a zillion bucks. “There you go, boy. You like that, don’t you?” Once they were secure, he gave Brett a pat on the head. His kids liked the ranch animals. They had no fear, and Wyatt’s chest puffed out seeing Brett take to being in the saddle.

  “Horsey, go!”

  Brooke cracked a smile. If anyone could get that sour look off her puss, it was Brett. “Not yet, little guy. We’ll go as soon as Daddy says so.”

  Wyatt lifted Brianna out of the stroller and then holding her tight, mounted his mare with ease. He wrapped the protective rigging around both their bodies and clicked his heels, guiding the horse over to Brooke. “Can you tighten this strap?” he asked her.

  Brooke leaned way over, took the strap he offered and gave a tug. “That’s perfect,” he said. “All set?”

  She nodded. “Bri’s all smiles, too.”

  “You both look cute in those hats.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. Wyatt was too damn happy to take offense. “I’ll lead. Try not to fall too far behind.”

  “We’ll keep up, don’t you worry.”

  “Okay,” he said. And off they went.

  They left the stables and got as far as the house when Genevieve came running out. “Wyatt! Stop! You can’t take the twins without documenting this.” She had her cell phone in her hands. “It’s their first ride.”

  God, he hadn’t thought of that. “Thanks, Mom. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah, that happens a lot with you,” he heard Brooke mumble.

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Maybe because you make me forgot my own name.”

  Brooke had no response to that, but he liked the way her face flushed pink.

  “Maybe you’d like to take my place, Grammy G?” Brooke called out. “You should be in the pictures, not me.”

  Grammy G? When had Brooke started calling his mother that? When his mom didn’t react to the nickname, he was totally baffled.

  “No, no, Brooke. I’m a better photographer than I am a rider. You two go on. I’ll get some video of this, too. Bri and Brett, look over here at Grammy.”

  The children were in awe, being atop their favorite animals. There wasn’t a peep out of them as they rode by the stables and corrals. Wyatt’s ranch hands stopped what they were doing to wave. The twins giggled and gave a wave back. James had a big smile on his face, too, until he noticed Wyatt’s mother standing in front of the house with camera in hand. All joy was wiped clean from James’s face and just like that, he marched over to the house.

  Whatever was going on between James and his mother, Wyatt was keeping his nose out of it.

  “Uh-oh, looks like trouble is brewing,” Brooke said.

  At least she was talking to him. Lately Brooke had barely given him the time of day, except when it came to something regarding the children. How did he turn out to be the bad guy, while his mother and Brooke were such good buddies now? “Mom can be a lot to handle. James has his work cut out for him.”

  “I think James is just what Genevieve needs. She just doesn’t know it yet. Women need lots of encouragement, especially when their mind is set on the wrong thing.”

  “Do they now?” Wyatt gave her an intense stare.

  “Yeah, uh, never mind. I’m the last one to give advice.” She looked straight ahead. “How far are we going?”

  He let her comments drop, but logged them into his memory. Brooke wa
s good at giving him a female perspective. “Oh, don’t know exactly. The kids are enjoying it. I guess we’ll head back when they start to fuss.”

  They ambled down a path heading away from the grazing cattle toward one of Wyatt’s favorite spots on his property. The meadow was a mix of bluebonnets and tall grass. It was pretty scenery. “Here’s where my granddaddy came up with the name of the ranch. Sitting on the ground looking out, he said the bluebonnets appeared to meet the sky like a blue horizon.”

  “Wow, I can picture that. It’s lovely here.”

  “Yep. There’s a pond up ahead. We can water the horses.”

  The twins were amazingly quiet, satisfied and thrilled to be riding. One day, they’d own their own horses, learn how to care for and groom their animals. Learn how to respect them. They had time for that, though. He wouldn’t rush them. Hell, he still needed a nanny for them. He had two preliminary interviews scheduled on the day his mother was due to leave the ranch. He didn’t hold out much hope; replacing Brooke in any capacity would be hard. She was great with his kids and, well, great overall.

  And in two days, his mother and Brooke would be long gone.

  He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Brooke, but he couldn’t ask her to stay. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had. The dilemma plagued his mind, but he had to think of the twins. They needed someone steady and constant in their lives. Someone they could rely on. Henrietta and Brooke weren’t an option anymore.

  “Lookee, Daddy. Duckies,” Brianna said, pointing toward the pond.

  Brett got wind of it, too. “Duckies! Duckies!”

  Brooke laughed. The joy on her face and the way she squeezed little Brett tight, as if she loved the little guy, tugged at Wyatt’s heart.

  “I see them. They’re swimming and taking a bath.”

  “They look like the duckies in the book I read to you,” Brooke said. “One, Two, Three Ducks. You remember, right?”

  The twins nodded without taking their eyes off the birds, their smiles brighter than sunshine.