The Cowboy's Twins

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I’d say that by the sounds of things, that’s a good plan.” Natasha’s agreement solidified his own certainty to the rightness of his course.

  The only reason he felt a pang of disappointment, of letdown, as they rang off was because of the bad news she’d delivered.

  Not because any part of him wished a different woman would be joining him and the twins for dinner that night.

  * * *

  NATASHA MET JOLENE on Saturday. She took the fact that Spencer had invited the woman to sit in the audience with Tabitha to mean that Friday night’s dinner had gone well and his plan to ask Jolene to marry him, to make her a part of his family, was on track.

  Jolene held her hand out shyly when Spencer introduced them. She looked Natasha in the eye when she smiled. And thanked her for allowing her to attend the day’s taping.

  Natasha played her part. The gracious, successful show host and producer who flirted on stage with her rancher cohost. And when Spencer took her hand at one point, linking his fingers with hers, and she felt that same peculiar thrill she’d noticed when he kissed her—a sensation that swept through her like the chills—she put the whole thing down to professional growing pains. She’d never had a cohost before.

  Had never had an onstage flirtation.

  The whole thing had been Angela’s idea. And the noticeable boost in the first week’s ratings gave credibility to the rightness of Angela’s choice.

  And now they’d be on stage together, one segment a year, for four more years. At least. She wasn’t worried. She’d adapt. She always did.

  Because it was good for Family Secrets.

  And what was good for Family Secrets was good for her.

  * * *

  “DID YOU TELL Jolene about Claire?” Standing on stage with Spencer near the end of the show, Natasha turned off her mic and asked the question. They needed shots of her and Spencer on stage while the cooking was going on—looking like they were enjoying themselves. She and her crew would clip and paste them in as appropriate before that night’s airing.

  He glanced at their contestants, grinning. “No.”

  Impressed with how quickly he’d picked up the ability to be “on” and real at the same time, with how quickly he’d grown comfortable with his role, she nodded, as though agreeing with something he’d just said.

  In the red Western shirt that fit him to perfection and tight black jeans, he looked...exactly as they’d wanted him to appear to their viewers. Like everybody’s fantasy cowboy.

  “I’d have thought you’d tell her.” Why was she pushing this? And why did she feel a momentary thrill knowing that, for now, his deepest problem was between the two of them?

  Like they were best friends or something.

  He shook his head. “If I decide to ask her to marry me, I don’t want her to think I’m only doing so because of Claire Williamson,” he said. “Because I’m not. My plan was already in place.”

  Curious about that, she studied him. “Because...”

  “It’s time.”

  The innocuous words gave her nothing. And yet...she understood them. Life had a way of letting you know that a change was necessary. Like her funk over the past few months, culminating with the news of her mother and Stan’s breakup. She’d needed to adopt a cat.

  And she’d needed a new professional challenge, too, which had now come her way. Funny, that. Life knew what you needed even when you didn’t.

  And often had a way of providing it, too.

  * * *

  ANGELA CALLED SPENCER Tuesday evening to set up a time for a film crew to get some shots of him around his herd. She also suggested that he hire a firm to help him come up with branding for his beef.

  When he explained that Longfellow Ranch’s brand had been around for more than a century, she asked for an image she could use and permission to use it.

  With the merger of two TV stations, the establishment was going to be taking on more of the responsibility of getting advertising revenue. Because ratings were up for this segment, they wanted to run a national commercial, paid for by the station, about the new venture with Longfellow Beef.

  He agreed to meet with the film crew on Wednesday. And to speak with his lawyer about the rest of it.

  He wondered if he needed additional legal aid. Someone in the entertainment industry. Or someone in national food distribution—beyond selling cattle.

  He wondered what he should wear for filming the next day.

  He didn’t ask any questions.

  Angela wasn’t Natasha.

  And Spencer had always been one to keep his own counsel.

  * * *

  IT WAS GOOD business for Natasha to accompany the film crew to Longfellow Ranch on Wednesday. And to make the trip even more worth the drive time, she scheduled appointments for later that afternoon with the design firm that she’d hired to remodel the Longfellow studio. The architect was driving out from Palm Desert to do a walk-through with her.

  She had appointments with a couple of local businesses on Thursday, too, lining up sponsors for future episodes. Angela normally handled the local ad base, leaving the national, more moneyed clients for her, but now that they were going to be a permanent part of Longfellow Ranch for a number of years, and because Longfellow Beef was going to be a notable part of the show, she wanted to tap into local money.

  Every town had it—the elite who held power. Those who, if she offered a win-win, could be counted on to support their efforts rather than fight them. Media was bound to find the town, at least for curiosity’s sake. She wanted to make certain Family Secrets had some friends there when they did.

  Filled with the familiar adrenaline, she arrived at the ranch in time to drop off her things at her cabin. Took time to open a window and let in some fresh air. And to have a glass of the tea she’d left in the refrigerator Saturday before heading back to town.

  She’d said goodbye to the kids while Spencer had been introducing Jolene to Angela after the show.

  She’d left without saying goodbye to her cohost.

  It hadn’t seemed right for her to intrude on Jolene’s time.

  The rap on her door was unexpected. And yet...she wasn’t surprised. She’d come early. Driven up the main drive, past the house. If Spencer was around, he’d know she was there.

  Her cabin was the only place they could be assured of being alone.

  Not that they had need to be.

  He was holding a pose that nearly tripped her heart when she opened the door. Pure cowboy in tight, worn blue jeans and a red-and-white-checked Western shirt, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets, drawing attention to the big, shiny buckle on his belt.

  “Got a minute?” he asked, a slight grin shining from his eyes more than curving his mouth.

  “Yeah.” She sipped tea to rid herself of her suddenly dry throat.

  When had he become such a consummate actor? And how had she suddenly grown susceptible to such frivolous things?

  Tempted to step out onto the porch with him, she thought about someone seeing them there and drawing the wrong conclusions.

  And if that someone happened to be Angela stopping at her cabin before going down to the studio, she’d make a big deal out of nothing.

  She drew back, allowing him to follow her to the simply but comfortably furnished living room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PERCHING ON THE arm of the big leather couch, Natasha shrugged. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted your opinion on this week’s wardrobe,” Spencer said, stopping just a foot away. For a second there she detected that hint of uncertain cowboy she’d seen in him a time or two before.

  But no less macho cowboy.

  And it occurred to her that he hadn’t been posing on her porch. That he’d been the same S
pencer Longfellow she’d met the first time she’d been on his ranch. And every time since.

  Maybe she was the one changing.

  Or...

  She shook her head. Didn’t like being confused.

  “If that’s it, it’s fine,” she told him, sipping again. It seemed the most prudent thing to do. The safest. Sip. Swallow. Distract her senses. “The idea for your commercials is to look natural,” she told him. Her crew would direct the actual ads. And edit them. With Angela’s input.

  She’d have final approval when all was said and done, before the finished product was sent to Spencer for his sign-off. Generally their national sponsors had their own firms to produce their advertising. Some local ones did, too. But Natasha and her team offered their services, as well.

  He was watching her. A strange look in his eyes.

  She didn’t appreciate feeling like a bug under a microscope. “Was there anything else?”

  “I had a call from a meat packing company,” he told her. “They want to sit down and talk about packaging Longfellow Beef, starting sometime next year.”

  She wasn’t surprised. “When’s the meeting?”

  “Next week.”

  “I’d talk to more than one before I made a decision,” she told him.

  “They’re local.”

  “There’s something to be said for that, but I’d still talk to more than one.” She’d been at this a long time. And knew that the more people you talked to, the more you learned about what you didn’t know you didn’t know.

  He nodded.

  So...they’d discuss business. As partners should. Good. She glanced at her watch—a smartwatch that showed her fifty unread emails from the time it had taken her to drive out from Palm Desert.

  Showed her, too, that she had another half hour before she was expected at the studio on the other side of the half-mile compound.

  “She said no.” He hadn’t changed positions any, still stood there with his thumbs in his pockets. So when it seemed that Spencer’s entire demeanor changed, Natasha couldn’t be sure if it was her imagination or something to take note of.

  “Who said no about what?”

  “Jolene. She said she wouldn’t marry me.”

  The sweating tea glass slipped in her fingers. She caught it before it fell to her knee. “I didn’t realize you were going to ask so soon,” she said, buying herself time while she tried to comprehend why the news was so huge to her.

  Even if they’d become friends as well as business associates, whether or not he married his first choice was not a life-changing event for her.

  Or shouldn’t be.

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t necessarily going to ask so soon, but I called Claire Williamson,” he said. “Sunday morning while the kids were in the chicken coop with Betsy. She was back on the East Coast but had given me her cell number. She picked up on the first ring. Said she’s planning another trip out at the end of October. She wants a formal introduction to the kids at that time. And to take them to Palm Desert for the night.”

  “You don’t have to let her do that.”

  “I know. And I told her so. If she wants to see them, it has to be here.”

  “And?” Natasha was standing now, having set her glass on the coffee table and her hands on her hips. She’d spent much of her life dealing with entitled people like Claire Williamson. The woman might think she had the upper hand dealing with a naive rancher, but Natasha could help Spencer—who was far more aware than the other woman apparently gave him credit for—fight this battle.

  “She conceded that, in the beginning, it would be best for the children if the visits were on familiar territory. Because they’re so young.”

  The threat implied in those words, that Claire was only biding her time before fighting for the right to take the children for private visits in her world, was hardly concealed.

  “Why is she doing this? Why now? Why the sudden interest?” She shook her head. He’d said she hadn’t known about the kids, that her daughter had recently married, but...

  Spencer shrugged, looking...vulnerable...again. “The way Kaylee talked about me...about the kids...there in the end...we were clearly an embarrassment to her. Dusty, small town rats, I believe were the words she used in her worst moments.”

  Natasha saw red. Blinked. Thought about how her mother would sit on the bench in court and remain calm no matter how horrifying the circumstances being presented. She’d asked her how she did it. Susan had said it was a matter of will. Of taking deep breaths and disassociating. A matter of focusing on the job, the law, the words, the facts and solution, not the emotion attached to them.

  Natasha had been about ten at the time. And had been practicing ever since.

  “But if you’re a nationally known rancher with coveted Wagyu beef...” She didn’t want it to be that. But it made sense. Not that they cared about his money...it was the clout. Beef, ranchers...lobbyists could use those votes. “Did she tell you how she’d found out about the kids?” she asked. But then it dawned on her.

  “The show.” She should have thought of it before. But her show, Family Secrets, while hugely successful in its venue, was still just a reality cooking show. On a cable station. Not prime-time television. And the kids...probably just Tabitha at that point...had been on air for only seconds...

  “We played up the fact that Longfellow Ranch children...your children...were guest judges.”

  She felt sick. Ads had been running for the ranch segment for six weeks. If the Williamsons had known that Spencer was going to be featured and tuned in to see him, to see what their daughter had married, and escaped, they’d have seen at least a mention of the kids. Of course, she’d had no way of knowing that Spencer’s current life needed to be hidden from any aspect of his past life. He clearly hadn’t, either, or he’d never ever have taken the chance...no matter how much financial remuneration he stood to gain.

  He was looking slightly sick to his stomach. “That explains why she said that it wasn’t proper for little girls to be raised solely by philandering fathers... She saw the first segment. Saw you and me and...”

  For a second she started to panic. And then she focused. “We still don’t know why she cared,” she said slowly. “Do they suddenly want to parade their grandchildren around because they are no longer an embarrassment? Or did she really not know about the kids, and she has a genuine desire to get to know them? A desire made more critical in light of Kaylee’s recent marriage and the certainty she won’t have more kids?”

  Studying her, he said, “I almost think it’s the latter,” he told her. “Unfortunately. Because that will make her a determined powerful woman on a hunt she’s not about to lose.”

  “A mama bear,” Natasha agreed.

  “She said she’d just landed in the city and rented a car,” he was saying. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but that could imply that the trip was spur-of-the-moment. Which it would have been if she’d just found out she was a grandmother. And cared.”

  “She didn’t approach the kids,” Natasha was remembering. “As though she had their best interests at heart...”

  “...and yet she couldn’t leave without seeing them,” Spencer added. “She said that. When I spoke to her on Sunday.”

  Natasha considered the facts. The consequences and potential consequences.

  “You said you had a second choice in mind if the kids and Jolene didn’t hit it off.”

  He nodded, his chin jutting slightly. His reticence could be so irritating sometimes. Didn’t he get that she was trying to help him?

  “So...have you called her?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know her yet. I’ve signed up online and had responses, but so far, none that I would consider meeting, let alone bring home to meet my children.”

  “And Jo
lene said no.” She still couldn’t believe that one. What woman wouldn’t want to marry Spencer Longfellow?

  Other than the fact that he didn’t love her, of course. Even she had been a little put off by his attitude about not marrying for love.

  “I didn’t tell you why she said no.” His gaze became intense. She tried to read the message there.

  But couldn’t decipher it...

  “Why did she say no?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because of the way I look at you.”

  “What? That’s crazy!” What was wrong with people?

  “I told her it was all for the show. Told her about the stage chemistry thing. But she said a woman knows. She was willing to think about marrying me without my being in love with her because she knows me and thinks I’d make a good husband. And because she’s already falling in love with the kids. But in light of the recent contract you and I just signed, she’s not willing to go through with it, knowing that you and I will still be in contact.”

  Her heart was pounding. This wasn’t her fault. “That’s ludicrous.”

  His shrug didn’t offer any solution whatsoever. They needed a solution.

  “We can tear up the contract.” It was between him and Family Secrets, which meant her. Not the studio. And if it meant the kids would have a traditional home that would keep them out of a future court battle with a wealthy and powerful grandmother manipulating them...

  “No.” He shook his head. “The money I’m going to make is a godsend, coming at the same time I’m faced with the possibility of an expensive cross-country battle. Without the show, I’d lose not only that money but also all of the advertising, the beef packaging... I’d go back to being a small cattle rancher with the distinction of raising Wagyu. It would take me years, the rest of my life, to get this operation making anywhere near the money that it’s going to make with your help. Instead of raising my herd from scratch, I’ll be able to purchase more purebreds to breed.”

  She nodded. Good. This was good. Her heart was still pumping like there was no tomorrow.