The Cowboy's Twins

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  She gave him time to jump in. He didn’t.

  “We’ve made arrangements for a child judge, with chaperone, to travel to the ranch each week by town car with the rest of the judges. They’ve all worked together before. They all know each other.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Lily was pawing at a dust bunny under the dining room table.

  “Yes, well, we’ve had an outbreak of head lice in the local schools, and both my judge and alternate for this week have infestation within their families. Obviously I can’t take a chance of exposing anyone else...”

  Did he get where she was going with this? And why was she hesitating?

  “I’d like to use Tabitha and Justin, Spencer. At least for the next two weeks. One of them one week and the other the next.”

  “No.”

  She blinked. Reached for the kitten. Held her close to her cheek. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no.”

  “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

  “I’ve told my kids they are not to go anywhere near that barn for the duration of your occupancy.”

  “I’m sure they’d understand the exception.”

  “No.”

  “It would be a great opportunity for them.”

  He was being rude.

  She should just let it go.

  Any other time she would have let it go. Finding parents who were thrilled to have their kids on national TV was not difficult.

  “There’s no telling what Justin might do,” he said now, kind of grudgingly, she thought.

  Did he feel bad about how much of a jerk he was being?

  She had no basis for the thought. But hung on to it anyway.

  “I’m not worried about him,” she assured the single dad who had a lot on his plate. “Other than the final show, we aren’t live. We can retape any necessary portions. Besides, part of the family feel is the fact that you never know what’s going to come out of a kid’s mouth. It’s part of the show’s charm, their unpredictability. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but with you, a rancher, cohosting, so to speak, it’s fitting that ranch children be among the judges.”

  His ranch children. Because she’d met them. And had had them on her mind often since. Usually things stayed with her only if they were important.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea...”

  “Why not? It would be a great experience for them. They were both excited to be in the studio.” She was pushing. And didn’t like it.

  “Precisely,” he said, his decisive tone coming over the line loud and clear. “Tabitha and Justin are, as you say, ranch kids. There’s no point in getting them exposed to the glitz and glamour of television life, or having them longing for something so far removed from their existence that there’s no way to marry the two.”

  She was talking about one show apiece. Filmed at their home. Not marriage. Or even a vacation to a real studio with city lights and famous people.

  “I pay well.”

  “They’re a little young to worry about wages.”

  She named her going stipend for one week’s judging. “Parents of several of my regulars have set up college funds with the moneys,” she added. “We deposit to them directly, which simplifies things for family tax disclosures.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Pushing him. Though he didn’t spell it out, she knew what he meant.

  “I don’t know.”

  This time she didn’t attempt to fill the pause that fell between them.

  She put the kitten down. Gave her a tiny gray toy mouse. Reached for the five-pound bag of litter.

  “I’ll talk to them,” he said.

  In a completely businesslike tone, Natasha told him that she’d appreciate a call back that evening.

  She didn’t gloat. She didn’t even smile.

  But she felt better.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE KIDS TOLD Jolene all about Natasha. As in, that was all they talked about. He suggested they introduce their dinner guest to Daisy Wolf. Tabitha related, in full detail, the reason for the dog’s purchase. To watch them because they’d run off twice to see Natasha.

  When he served dinner—hot dogs and macaroni salad out on the picnic table—Justin determined that the dinner they’d had with Natasha was better.

  As much as he felt the need to, he couldn’t really fault his kids. They were polite. Friendly. Jolene was like any number of other people they’d met in town, at school and around the ranch during their lives.

  They were seven.

  And enamored of a person unlike them.

  The crowning moment came when Jolene asked Tabitha if she’d like her to read her a bedtime story and the little girl said, “No, thanks.”

  “They don’t like me,” the pretty brunette said as Spencer left the kids getting ready for bed to walk her to her truck.

  “They like you fine.”

  “They like Natasha.” He saw the question in Jolene’s eyes as she gazed up at him. He hadn’t told her about his quest to find a wife. Or that she was his first choice of candidate. But he had a feeling she’d known that the evening was an attempt to explore a changed relationship between them. And wanted to know if it had also been the last attempt.

  He shrugged off her concern. “They’ve never met anyone from television before. We’ll do this again when the studio thing is done. You’ll see. They’ll be all over you.”

  At least, he hoped they would be. He liked having Jolene in his home. She fit without taking up too much space. Was as comfortable to be around as his favorite furniture.

  Her adult conversation had been a welcome addition to his dinner table.

  And neither of them had any misconceptions. They weren’t and never would be in love. They were practical people trying to get what they wanted and needed out of life. People focused on being happy where they were.

  “When will the taping be done?”

  She hadn’t asked about Family Secrets filming on location at his ranch. He figured she, like the rest of the town, had heard about it through the grapevine.

  “Five weeks.”

  They’d reached her truck. As she stopped by the door, he noticed the mud-caked state of one of her boots. Well-worn brown boots. Nothing like the fancy red ones Ellie had birthed all over.

  “So, I shouldn’t expect a call from you until then?” Her blue eyes gazed up at him. He had a feeling she was waiting to see if he’d kiss her good-night. Had a feeling she wasn’t any more excited about the prospect than he was.

  Truth was, he didn’t even feel tempted. Not with his kids waiting inside for him to tuck them into bed.

  Her question, asking him if she shouldn’t expect a call for a while, hung there, waiting to be answered.

  He didn’t know what she should expect. Hadn’t really figured out how this whole find-a-wife thing was going to work in terms of his daily routine.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, putting a great deal of effort into the smile he gave her.

  It must have been okay. She smiled as she climbed into her truck.

  “Drive carefully.” He tapped the hood of the truck as he stepped away. And stood watching until there was nothing left of her visit but dust on the drive.

  He wasn’t sure he’d just had dinner with his future wife. Jolene was a sweet woman. She didn’t love him any more than he loved her, but she deserved to be loved. She was still young enough to find someone. Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask her to settle.

  One of the guys in town had been talking about some woman he’d met through an online dating service. Just to keep his bases covered, maybe he should sign up for one of those, too. Making it perfectly clear that he was looking for a life companion. Not a lover.

>   Satisfied, his step picked up as he went upstairs to call a family meeting with the twins. They had a business venture to discuss. One wherein he explained work ethics to his children. You could not be friends with your boss.

  So if they went to work for Natasha Stevens, they absolutely could not invite her to dinner, or to do anything else with them, ever again.

  He had this. The kids whooped and hollered about being on television. What kid wouldn’t?

  They listened solemnly as he explained the rest.

  All went perfectly according to plan, and he was pleased that he’d maintained control. Right up until Tabitha called for him as he was leaving her room after tucking her in.

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  “We don’t have those work rules here, huh?”

  Frowning, his sense of goodwill froze. “What do you mean?” He walked back in the room, hoping to keep the conversation—and any latent fallout—just between the two of them.

  “Weelll...” She peered up at him from her pillow, her hands folded primly on top of the covers over her belly, as he sat on the edge of her bed. “You said bosses and workers couldn’t be friends...”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Relief swept over him. He’d gotten through. They had their program.

  “But Bryant is your friend.”

  The word that sprang to his lips couldn’t be spoken. At least not in front of her. He saved it for later. “Well, that’s different,” he said. Leaned over, kissed her on the forehead and told her good-night.

  * * *

  THOUGH NATASHA DIDN’T really expect a call from Spencer Longfellow that night, she held off calling Angela. They always spoke sometime in the evening—Wednesday would be later rather than earlier.

  Lily’s litter box had a new home in the laundry room, behind the door, next to the trash can. The kitten had already used it. She’d also snagged the comforter when she’d followed Natasha into the bedroom. Natasha had been halfway out of work clothes and into leggings and a T-shirt when she’d noticed the kitten hanging from the end of the bed by her claws, unable to move.

  The comforter was a couple of years old. Though she’d been happy with it, it could stand replacing. Lily, on the other hand, she had a feeling she’d keep awhile. It was nice, having another living being in her space.

  Perhaps her mother should get a cat. She suggested as much when she called to tell Susan Stevens about the changes at the studio—about the traveling she’d be doing. Her mother thought the merger sounded positive. And thought the travel would do Natasha good.

  Validating the conclusions Natasha had already drawn.

  Life was good. Better than good. It was as close to perfect as anything imperfect could get.

  She glanced at the clock. An hour past the twins’ bedtime.

  He wasn’t going to call...

  * * *

  TO PROVE TO himself that he had no feelings of anticipation or any other sort regarding Natasha Stevens, Spencer went about his evening as normal. He made the kids’ lunches for the next day. He took out chicken to thaw for dinner the next night. Worked in his office for an hour.

  And signed up for a dating service.

  Anytime Natasha sprang to mind—which, he told himself, happened only because of the conversation he’d had with the twins—he’d think about Jolene in his home earlier that evening. Think about whatever woman might be waiting for the opportunity he had to offer.

  Having no idea how late city-slicker television producers worked in the evenings, he waited until after nine to call her.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice, soft and husky, sounded like she’d been asleep. Was she alone?

  She wasn’t married. He knew that much from earlier discussions. But she could have been living with someone. Or on a date.

  Before his mind could travel that far-too-dangerous road, he asked, “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’ve still got another hour’s work ahead of me,” she told him. “I’m in my office.”

  “Still at the studio?” He tried to picture her there. Failed. And figured it was for the best.

  “My home office.” He couldn’t picture her there, either, but wanted to.

  “Me, too,” he said, leaning back in his leather desk chair to survey the old but spacious and elegant room his ancestors had used before him. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one full wall. Books covered every inch of those shelves. He’d referenced only the ones related to farming.

  In the dim light, he couldn’t even read the titles. One lamp was lit. One that had been around longer than he had. On a side table by the leather wingback chair he could remember his father sitting in. Barely.

  He’d been six when his father and another man had been killed in a crop dusting accident.

  “One of the downsides of being self-employed,” Natasha was saying. “No one to tell you to take the evening off.”

  “Ah, but there’s no one to tell you you can’t take an afternoon off and do something crazy just for the heck of it,” he said. Having had Jolene there, having plan B in place, too, had relaxed him. Enough so that he was almost enjoying this conversation.

  “When was the last time you did that?” Natasha challenged him. He wondered if she was still in business clothes. Did the woman even own a pair of sweats?

  She had jeans. At least one pair. Designer, he figured. He’d seen them the night Ellie calved. And expected they’d be her stage costume for the shows she taped on his ranch.

  He’d watched some of her other shows. Online. Before he’d signed his deal with her. She’d looked like a classy model ready for an evening out to dinner in expensive clothes and higher heels than any woman would ever wear on a ranch.

  “On a weekday?” They were talking about an impromptu day off. Not how attractive one or the other of them might be.

  The thought bothered him. He’d been thinking about her show attire. Right? So...yeah, she was attractive. The fact that he’d noticed made him a normal guy.

  “Any day,” she said, a curious note in her voice. Almost...playful?

  When he thought of Natasha Stevens, many descriptions came to mind. Playful wasn’t one of them.

  “I took Saturday off,” he said, surprised that she didn’t know that. Apparently she hadn’t noticed his absence.

  He’d thought...maybe...she’d left without saying goodbye because he’d been gone when she’d had to depart. That theory had just been debunked.

  “Ah, but did you do something spur-of-the-moment fun?”

  “Yep. I went four-wheeling.” So he’d also looked at some fence. It had been there, hard not to see.

  “What about the twins?”

  “They were with me.” They’d had a great day. If you could discount the preoccupation all three of them had had with the woman who’d invaded their space.

  Frowning, he put an elbow on his desk, looked at the spreadsheet on his computer screen—hay profits for the first nine months of the year. They were doing better than he’d projected. But, with the California drought, still not that great.

  “What about you?” he asked her. He had more work to do. But wasn’t sure he’d get back to it that night. The numbers weren’t going anywhere. “When’s the last time you took a day off?”

  “I can’t remember.” Her nonchalant tone made him a little sad for her.

  “Hypothetically, what would an afternoon of craziness look like for you?” Not a business question. Not necessarily a friendship one, either. He was curious, was all.

  He’d never met a television star.

  “I don’t know how crazy it would be, but I’d love an afternoon lying at the pool of some posh resort. Or lying on the beach. Of course, assuming I can be still long enough to get a day out of it. I used to like to in-line skate.”

&n
bsp; He’d been busy picturing her in a swimsuit in the sun. Switched gears abruptly. “I don’t see you as the sporty type.”

  She was in shape, of course. Just far too elegant to sweat.

  “I grew up in Manhattan,” she reminded him. “I used to skate as my mode of transportation.”

  Kaylee, the kids’ mother, had been a dancer when she was younger—among other things. She’d been good at tennis and golf, too.

  “Do you play tennis?” he asked.

  “Some. I had lessons.”

  “And golf?” He was just shoring up his defenses. Without really having anything to be defensive about. He wasn’t in the least bit of danger of falling for the cooking show host.

  “Nope. No patience for the hours it takes to complete one game.”

  He’d been golfing a time or two. He’d gone with Kaylee’s father back when the older man had thought he and Kaylee had been just friends. Kaylee’s dad had been pleasant, but he’d left no doubt that Spencer’s playing was not up to par. He’d spent their time on the golf course telling Spencer about the life Kaylee had waiting for her back in Washington. The plans that had been made long before she’d even graduated from high school.

  The powerful marriage she would make. The secure future that would guarantee her a life of luxury and make her a very wealthy, powerful woman.

  “My ex-wife played tennis, but she was good at golf, too,” he said, finding it important to lump Natasha and Kaylee together.

  “Did you grow up with her?”

  “Kaylee? No. I met her in college.”

  “You went to college?”

  He’d barely had a chance to roll his eyes when she blurted, “Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’m surprised because I assumed, from things you said, that you’d never been off the ranch. Not because I think you’re lacking at all in the education department. Or lacking in intelligence, either.”

  He grinned, kind of liking this new side of her. Thought about letting their relationship continue in this vein, with her feeling contrite and him having the upper hand.

  But had a feeling she wouldn’t allow it for long.

  “I’m not offended, Natasha. I did tell you I’ve never lived anywhere but here at the ranch. I commuted to college in Palm Desert.” Why was he still grinning?