by Mae Nunn
* * *
“SO, THIS IS the charming mother of Hope, Meg and Carrie,” Hunt said as he reached for Sarah’s hand.
Sarah stared, as starstruck as her daughters had been the day they’d met the Cowboy Chef. Hunt Temple was Cullen’s identical twin, so everything about him was familiar. But standing there in his white chef’s coat, it was as if he’d stepped from the pages of a celebrity cookbook.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been rendered speechless by this pepper mill pusher, too.” Cullen shook his head in mock despair, disbelief in his voice.
“Of course she is, brother dear. It’s not every day a woman gets both halves of this picture in a single frame. Good twin, evil twin.” Hunt gestured back and forth between himself and his brother. “Handsome twin, ugly twin. Average but practical twin, brilliant but useless twin. Professional twin, can’t seem to get out of school twin. On and on it goes.”
“Could you send for the owner, please?” Cullen asked. “I want to register a complaint about the staff in this establishment.”
“Who said the word complaint in my hotel?” A blonde dressed in a vintage Chanel wrap dress approached and slipped her arm around Hunt’s waist.
She was the kind of tall, willowy, fair complexioned blonde that made Sarah—at five feet three inches and one hundred and forty pounds—feel like a fire hydrant by comparison. Sarah sat a little straighter and sucked in her tummy, but there was nothing she could do about her freckled nose and cap of copper-colored locks.
“Ma’am, your short order cook here is being testy with us this evening,” Cullen addressed the beauty.
“Let me guess, you asked for ketchup with your chateaubriand? That sends him over the edge every time. These creative types can be temperamental when you mess with their idea of perfection,” she responded.
“Especially when they get to be his age and set in their ways.”
“If hospital records are to be believed, you came into this world three minutes ahead of me, so save that observation for one of your other brothers,” Hunt insisted.
“Can we move past the subject of age, please? I’m pretty sure I outrank all three of you,” Sarah teased, but couldn’t help feeling every bit the older woman at the table.
“Certainly,” Hunt agreed with a bow. “Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Gillian Moore, owner of Temple Territory. Gillian, this is Sarah Eason. She’s a friend of Cullen’s but try not to make any judgments based on that association. Sarah has three adorable daughters, she works for a law firm in Longview and she’s recently gone back to school to complete her degree.”
“How do you know so much about Cullen’s date?” Gillian arched a brow at her fiancé.
“Alma,” he said simply.
Gillian shrugged at Sarah.
“Well, there you go. If that woman approves of you, nothing more matters to the Temple boys.”
“And she definitely approves.” Cullen settled his hand over Sarah’s and let it rest there, as if it were the most natural gesture in the world. Her skin tingled at the warmth of his touch.
Gillian turned to Hunt. “Honey, please send over a bottle of your 2009 Chateau St. Jean Reserve Chardonnay, compliments of the house.”
“You need to hurry up and marry this woman while she’s still generous with the key to that wine room,” Cullen said.
“I’m doing my best, but her mama claims you can’t rush wedding plans.” Hunt brushed a kiss against his beloved’s cheek and then gave the guests his attention again. “Your goat cheese tarts and steamed mussels will be out shortly along with that bottle of Chardonnay, and I’ll personally handle your carryout dessert request.”
“Would you mind signing the top of the pastry box?” Sarah remembered to ask.
“Yeah, Meg thinks she can sell it on eBay—as long as she can clean out all the crumbs so there’s no deadly mold growing inside.” Cullen snickered at the idea.
“How about one box for the cheesecake and a second for the budding entrepreneur?”
“Hunt, you’re a generous man, just like your brother.”
“It’s our Southern upbringing and has nothing to do with sibling influence.”
“Could you influence some activity in the kitchen and leave us to our quiet evening?”
“Yes, sir, Dr. Temple, sir.” Hunt squared his shoulders and clicked his heels together smartly in reply.
Gillian tugged at his sleeve.
“Let’s get back to work, darlin’, and give these two some privacy.” Then to her guests she said, “Enjoy your meal and let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Hunt disappeared toward the kitchen.
Sarah watched as Gillian glided across the dining room to greet another table of diners.
“She’s stunning.”
Cullen squeezed her hand. “So are you, Sarah.”
Her heart quickened. When was the last time a man had paid her a compliment? A warm flush began to creep up her collarbone and spread over her throat. Her face would be in full blush at any moment, so she lowered her chin and dipped her gaze, causing him to cover her hand with his again.
“Too much?” he asked, somehow understanding.
“Just what I needed actually.” Her voice was suddenly thick. She raised her eyes, knowing they held a grateful glimmer.
His smile slipped for a moment as if he were deciding how to respond. She prayed her rush of emotions wouldn’t scare him away.
“I hear there will be live music on the patio tonight. After our meal, how about the nickel tour of Pap’s old place and a chocolate martini by the pool?”
“I can’t imagine a nicer plan for the evening.”
“I’ve got a few other plans up my sleeve for the summer if you and your daughters will allow me to intrude on you some more.”
“Cullen, are you sure?”
“I’ve been remembering my folks a lot lately. My daddy used to say, ‘You can only be sure of two things—death and taxes.’”
“Well, you can be sure that I think you’ve been a godsend.”
“You might want to hear what I have in mind before you start thanking God.”
She scrunched her brows. “Maybe you’d better give me an example.”
He grinned, as mischievous as Hope caught with her hand in the M&M jar before dinner.
“I hear the Texas SkyScreamer over at Six Flags is all the rage, and I happen to have free passes for Wednesday if you can get a day off in the middle of the week.”
Their waiter approached the table with their mouthwatering appetizers and the perfectly chilled bottle of wine Gillian had chosen. Conversation ceased for a few minutes while Sarah savored the food and considered Cullen’s invitation.
“Did I mention Meg’s afraid of heights?”
“Meg’s afraid of everything.” He laughed. “I used to be the same way and look at me today.”
He spread his arms so she could appreciate the view.
And she did appreciate what she saw in Cullen Temple.
She really did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HAVING SURVIVED A painful loss and then finding a new relationship, the temptation can often be to rush into a blended family without first laying a solid foundation. By spending time together you give everyone a chance to get used to one another. Find ways to experience real life.
Cullen started his to-do notes by copying the book’s advice on the top lines of his legal pad and enumerating with a “1” beside it. Then he tossed his pen on the table beside his pool chaise and smiled.
“You’re on the right track with this Six Flags invitation, Temple,” he congratulated himself. “What’s more real life than a theme park with overpriced treats, giant Looney Tunes characters and death-defying roller coasters designed to make the passengers u
pchuck their cotton candy?”
His smile slipped at the image of dear little Hope getting nauseous after her third trip through Runaway Mountain, clutching her belly with one hand and her dripping ice cream cone with the other.
He grabbed the pen and made another note.
Monitor sugar intake.
Rocket jumped to his feet, rambled through the open patio slider and stopped in the front entry with his nose pressed to the door. Female voices sent him into a fit of woofing, which caused the little girls on the porch to carry on even louder as they pounded to announce their arrival.
“I’m coming!” Cullen called, scrambling to drag his shirt over his bare arms and pushing the cuffs to his elbows.
He pulled the door wide and braced himself for the hugs he was beginning to enjoy so much. Hope and Meg never held back. They threw themselves at him with the kind of fearless emotion that only a child can display. Carrie came forward only after Cullen opened his arm to make room for her, but her affection was pure and unforced. Over the heads of the girls he saw the lovely Sarah walking toward him with plastic shopping bags in each hand. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that threatened to surge straight down to his heart and burst.
The book was right. He’d lost so much, so long ago. And he’d finally found a relationship that made him want to rush into unfamiliar territory. But first they should experience real life together.
Rocket led the way through the house and out the sliding glass doors where Meg headed straight for the steps of the pool while Carrie dutifully stopped to secure Hope’s swim safety vest.
“It was so kind of you to invite us over, Cullen.” Sarah deposited her bags on the kitchen island and began to unpack chips, ready-made sandwiches and boxed cookies from the bakery. Cullen reached for a snickerdoodle.
“Will you stop giving me credit I don’t deserve?” He talked with his mouth full of crumbly goodness. “This kind invitation is my cover for a selfish effort to get you to help me read papers.”
“After last evening, ‘You had me at hello.’” Sarah quoted the line from Jerry McGuire. The tender curve of her lips said she was sincere.
Cullen glanced out the door to confirm the girls were safely occupied before stepping so close that Sarah couldn’t possibly miss his intention. She leaned against his chest, snaked her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his heart. He smoothed the back of her T-shirt with his left hand and slipped the fingers of his right hand through her auburn waves to cradle her head. They stood for long moments simply enjoying the comfort of one heart close to another, beating at different rhythms but seeking to sync up.
When the splashing outside became too loud to ignore, Sarah let her arms drop and stepped away.
“Would you prefer turkey or roast beef with your European history, Dr. Temple?”
“Ladies first and I’ll have whatever’s left.”
“Have you always been this easy?”
“As far as I remember, but a second opinion from Alma might be wise.”
“How did Alma and Felix come into your lives?”
Cullen climbed on a stool beside his kitchen counter, resting his elbows on the tile while Sarah loaded plates of food for her family.
“When we were little boys they were both part of the maintenance staff at the hospital where our father was chief of surgery. Felix posted a notice on the bulletin board for extra work and Daddy offered them some gardening and babysitting. It was a perfect fit for our busy lifestyle and their family became part of our family. When they weren’t at the hospital or home with their two girls, they were with us. It was only when our parents were killed that we learned Felix and Alma had agreed years before to be our legal guardians. Their daughters were already on their own at that point so Alma and Felix moved into our family home out near the airport. We lived with them until we were all out of high school and then we sold the house.”
Sarah listened quietly. Though her hands kept busy, a shadow of sadness passed across her face.
“Sarah?”
“You’ve given me something important to consider.”
“What’s that?”
“Joe and I never made guardian arrangements for the girls. Now that it’s just me, I have to take care of that, and the sooner, the better. My firm can handle it for me, but I’ve got to decide what’s right for my daughters.”
“I understand,” Cullen softly assured her.
But he really didn’t. How could an unmarried man truly empathize with the weight of single parenthood on a woman’s shoulders? Especially one widowed at such a young age.
“Is there another couple the girls are especially close to?”
“Only my parents. I’m sure they’d accept the responsibility, but it would be a great deal to ask of them at their age.”
“What about close friends?”
She shook her head.
“Unfortunately, instead of leaning on friendships when Joe got sick we kind of turned in on ourselves and kept everything in the family. After he died I had to focus on the girls and making a living and I just never got back into hanging out with friends again. There are plenty of women I could call to meet me for a drink, but none I would ask to raise my daughters.”
He left his spot on the bar stool, rounded the counter to stand before Sarah, rested his hands on either side of her face and angled her so they were eye to eye.
“It’s not a decision you have to make right away. For today it’s enough that you’ve started considering your options.”
He leaned down, placed a light kiss on her upturned mouth and resisted the urge to allow the contact to last longer. He took a step back and then reached for the plates she’d prepared.
“Let me help you.”
“You’ve already helped so much, Cullen. More than you can possibly realize.”
* * *
ACTUALLY, HELPED WAS not the word Sarah wanted to use, but rescued seemed too intense, too needy. And she’d resolved not to scare Cullen away with the emotional demands of her family. Their date the night before had been amazingly easy on everyone. If they were to move forward as gracefully as they’d proceeded so far, she’d have to keep a tight rein on everyone so Cullen wouldn’t have reason to reconsider a ready-made family.
That was a tall order, especially at mealtime.
“I didn’t want pickles,” Hope whined. “They make my nose itch.”
“That’s probably an indication of anaphylaxis,” Meg warned as she popped a barbecue chip in her mouth.
“What’s that?” Hope asked.
“It’s when your throat swells shut and you die because you can’t breathe,” Meg said matter-of-factly as she licked her salty fingers.
Hope’s face crumpled, she dumped her sandwich onto her plate and burst into loud sobs. “But I don’t wanna die!”
“Mona Margaret.” Sarah spoke through gritted teeth, a warning for her too-smart-for-her-own-good middle child.
“Oh, stop being a baby, Hope,” Carrie fussed at her little sister. “You’ve had pickles a hundred times. If they were gonna kill you, it would have happened way before now.”
Hope’s bawling stopped as she looked to her mama for comfort.
“Carrie has a point, honey. It’s probably just the vinegar that tickles your nose.”
“And that’s why pickle rhymes with tickle,” Cullen teased.
“A tickle in your throat is one of the warning signs of anaphylaxis, too.” Meg wouldn’t let it go.
“Mona Margaret!” Everyone in the shade of the pool umbrella chorused.
“Okay!” Meg grinned, loving the last word even if it was in agreement.
“So how does Six Flags on Wednesday sound?”
“Let me check my hectic schedule.” Carrie pretended to hold a day timer in her hand, f
lipping through invisible pages and then running her finger to the date. “As I suspected, no plans at all.” She slapped the imaginary book on the table with a sour glare toward her mother, who had her under house arrest because of the previous year’s grades.
“Hey, your summer at home is your own fault. But if you want to go to the amusement park with your sisters this week, you may.”
“Then I’m in,” she grumbled, holding in a smile.
“Me, too!” Meg and Hope insisted.
“Can you get the day off, Sarah?”
“And if I can’t? Will you take them by yourself since you’ve already extended the invitation?” Sarah challenged, fearful he might actually give it a try.
“Are you saying I’m not up to it?”
“I’m saying you might live to find out if you’re not careful.”
“Consider me all in, ladies.” He glanced from girl to girl, his word his bond. “If your mama can’t get the day off we’ll get Alma or Joiner to go with us and we’ll make a day of it.”
“Don’t overload your ability with your intentions, Cullen,” Sarah warned.
“You keep forgetting that I’m one of four boys, my dear. I’ve survived three brothers for thirty-four years and I can certainly endure these three prissy britches for one day.”
“Prissy britches?” Carrie cocked an eyebrow that she’d penciled on heavier than usual.
Though Carrie was grounded, Sarah had agreed that for the summer months she could experiment with makeup. Her technique was still a bit ghoulish.
“Forgive me, O Duchess of Darkness,” Cullen corrected as the little girls giggled. “Does that title suit you better?”
“Indeed,” she agreed before returning to her veggie sandwich.
“Mama, it’s so hot I might faint,” Meg complained. “Can I get in the pool now?”
“As long as you take Hope with you and stay close to the steps.”
The two jumped down from the table, grabbed their new pool noodles and headed for the cool, aqua-blue water.
