The Triplets' Cowboy Daddy

by Patricia Johns

  “It helped me sleep sometimes.” Why was he telling her this? Blast it, his complaints made him sound like a whimpering puppy! He wasn’t meaning to open up, but he’d been holding all of this in for so long...

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want me back.”

  “Not sure I do now, either,” he snapped. That was half of a lie. He did want her back, but he also wanted her to pay for her absence. He wanted her to feel some of what she’d done to him. “So why now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I got into my vehicle and started driving. I called Tom from the road and said I was coming to see my son. I need to go back tonight, but I had to see you again. I missed you so much.”

  “Not enough to drive the three hours before this,” he pointed out.

  “I wanted to...” She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t shake the guilt of having left you like I did. Then Brandon had his eighth birthday...”

  “Brandon?” he asked slowly. “Who’s that?”

  “My son—your half brother...” She grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and rummaged through it. She pulled out a school photo and pushed it across the table toward him. Easton didn’t touch it, but he looked at the smiling face of a kid with dirty-blond hair and a lopsided grin. Her son.

  Easton’s stomach dropped as the reality of this moment settled into his gut. She’d gotten married, had another little boy and she’d been the mom she should have been to Easton to this other kid.

  “So...” Easton’s voice shook. “I have a half brother.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, a tentative smile coming to her lips. “And he’s a sweet boy. I know you’d like him. He’s got such a big heart.”

  “And you’ve been there for him,” Easton clarified, his voice firming up as rage coursed through him. “You’ve taken him to soccer practice and given him birthday parties...hell, even birthday presents?”

  “He likes chess, actually, but—” She stopped, sensing where he was going with this. “I was older. I was wiser. There’s enough money now—”

  Easton let out a string of expletives and rose to his feet, the chair underneath him clattering to the floor.

  “You were my mother!” he roared.

  She sat in stunned silence, and his father shuffled his feet against the crumb-laden floor. Easton stared down at the parents who’d brought him into this world and then failed to provide for him. He couldn’t stop the tears anymore—he was blinded by them. His shoulders shook and he turned away, trying to get some sort of control over himself, but now that it had started, he couldn’t seem to dam it up. He slammed a hand against the wall then leaned there as he sobbed.

  He felt his mother’s arms wrap around him from behind, and she shook with tears, too.

  “Damn it, Mom, I hate you,” he wept.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I know...”

  Then he turned around, and for the first time since he was eight years old, he wrapped his arms around his mom and hugged her. He hugged her tighter than was probably comfortable, but she didn’t complain, and he didn’t dare let go.

  She’d learned how to be a mother after all, but she’d learned with somebody else. And that didn’t do a thing for Easton. He’d already grown up, and he’d done it without a mom.

  * * *

  NORA STOOD IN the kitchen mixing baby formula at the counter. She shook up the third bottle, watching the bubbles form. She was getting used to this hour, and she woke up before her cell phone alarm now. It was midnight, and she was in her white cotton nightgown, the cool night air winding around her bare legs. It was strange, but this house, which had always been so firmly hers in her heart, felt empty without Easton in it. He’d driven off that evening, and he hadn’t come back.

  Earlier that evening, her mother had asked if she’d come for lunch at the house. She was having Nora’s aunt and uncle come over, and she needed some moral support. This was Cliff’s sister and her husband—both of whom had been close with Cliff.

  “They’ll want to meet the babies, too, I’m sure,” her mother had said. “They’re Cliff’s grandkids, after all.”

  There weren’t going to be any easy explanations, no simple family relationships for these girls. And they needed family—the supportive, loving kind, not the backbiting, gossiping kind. Nora needed to know now if that was even a possibility after what her father had done. She was willing to look into adoptive options for the girls, but she hadn’t fully committed to it—not yet. Other single mothers managed it—pulled it all together on their own—but how?

  Normally at this time of year, the Carpenters hosted a corn roast and barbecue for family and friends, also as a way to thank the staff for their hard work over the summer. She’d asked her mother if she wanted to go ahead with it this year, but with Cliff’s death and the subsequent drama, it hardly seemed like a priority.

  Standing in the kitchen at midnight, Nora put down the last bottle of formula. She’d considered calling Easton’s cell phone a couple of times, but hadn’t. This was her problem to untangle on her own, and while a listening ear might be comforting, no one else could give her the answer. Besides, it wasn’t Easton’s job to listen to her go on about her problems. He had problems of his own. But would it be too much to ask of a friend?

  As she gathered up the bottles, a truck’s engine rumbled up the drive. She felt a wave of relief. Why she should feel this way, she didn’t know, but perhaps it was just old habits dying hard—tough times nudging her toward Easton. She really wanted to talk to him about the girls—but more than that, she wanted to hear what he had to say about them. It would help her hammer out her own feelings out loud with another person who wouldn’t judge her, because Heaven knew she was judging herself pretty harshly right now.

  The back door opened and Easton stepped inside. His shoulders were slumped, and his face looked puffy and haggard. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think he’d been crying. He didn’t look up at her as he kicked off his boots and hung his hat on the peg.

  “Easton? Oh my goodness, are you all right?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not!” She crossed the kitchen and caught his arm on his way past. “Look at me.”

  He turned toward her and she could see the red rims of his eyes, the same old sadness welling up in his dark gaze. “My mom came back.”

  Nora stared at him. A slew of questions cascaded through her mind, but they swept past as she saw the pain etched in Easton’s features.

  “She was at my dad’s place.”

  Nora’s breath came out in a rush and she looked from Easton to the bottles and then back at her friend again. His mom—she knew what this meant...or at the very least she knew how heavily this would have hit him.

  “I need to feed the babies,” she said quietly. “You want to help? We could talk...”

  He was silent for a beat, and she half expected him to say no, that he was fine, and to go up and lock himself into his bedroom.

  “Sure,” he said.

  She picked up the bottles from the counter and they moved together toward the stairs.

  “What happened, exactly?” she asked as they climbed the narrow staircase. “Is she still here?”

  “She’s left already—for Billings. She’s been there this whole time. She’s remarried with another kid.”

  His voice was low and wooden as he went over what had happened tonight. Nora picked up Riley and passed her to Easton. He was more practiced now in handling babies, and he took the infant easily. His expression softened as he looked down into the sleeping face.

  “They’re so little,” he said quietly. He teased the bottle’s nipple between her lips. Nora scooped up Rosie and let Bobbie sleep for another few minutes. “Can you imagine anyone just walking away?”

  Te
ars misted her eyes. Wasn’t that exactly what she was considering with the triplets? Was she just as bad as Easton’s mother? Or had Easton’s mother done the best that she could under the circumstances? Maybe she just wanted to excuse Easton’s mom because it would make her look infinitely better by comparison.

  “How do you feel now that you’ve seen her again?” Nora asked quietly.

  “Conflicted,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted this for years—a chance to see her, to hug her again—and now that I have it, I’m filled with rage.”

  “You’re probably in shock,” she said.

  “I spent years loving her in spite of her faults.” He heaved a sigh. “But she figured out how to be a decent parent when she had her second child—Brandon. I saw a picture. Cute kid. And all I could feel was anger. That’s awful, isn’t it? He’s just some kid. Do I really want him to suffer like I did?”

  She didn’t respond, and the only sound in the room was that of the babies drinking their bottles.

  “She wants me to meet him,” Easton said after a moment.

  “Do you want to?” Nora asked.

  “I don’t know. Not really. Yes.” He shook his head. “You know what I want? I want to go back in time and have her be there for me, too. She takes Brandon to chess club three times a week, and she drives him to birthday parties. She’s a stay-at-home mom.” He muttered an oath then looked sheepishly at Nora. “Riley’ll never remember that.”

  Nora smiled. “She’ll be fine.”

  Easton jiggled the bottle to get Riley drinking again and adjusted her position, then he continued, “My mom said she wanted to be home for Brandon, because her husband works long hours, and he needs someone to talk about his school day with. Talk about his school day! What I would’ve given for my mom to just sit and listen to me for a few minutes.”

  “Will you see her again?” she asked.

  “She’ll come back again on Saturday afternoon. She’ll text me the details.”

  Nora tipped Rosie up against her shoulder and patted her back. Easton did the same with Riley. From the crib, Bobbie was starting to squirm in her sleep, probably feeling hungry. Riley burped, and Easton wiped her mouth with a cloth, then laid her back down in the crib. He picked up Bobbie next. When had he gotten so good at this?

  “Should I feed her?” he asked.

  Rosie hadn’t burped yet, and Nora nodded. Easton grabbed the third bottle and Bobbie immediately started slurping it back.

  “It’s funny—I have her cell number. I could call her if I wanted to... I could text my mom. How many times have I wished I could contact her—say something to her? Now I could...with a text.” A smile creased his tired face. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  And in those shining eyes, she saw the boy she used to know, who would sit next to her in the hayloft, listening to her go on about her small and insignificant problems. He hadn’t mentioned his mother often back then, but she could remember one time when he’d said, “When my mom comes back, I’m going to buy her a house.”

  “A house?” she’d asked. “How will you do that? Houses cost more than you’ve got.”

  “In three years I’ll be eighteen. I’ll drop out of school and work full-time,” he’d replied. “And then we’ll live in that house together, and my dad can rot by himself. I’ll take care of her.”

  He’d always planned for his mother’s return. Somehow he’d been convinced that she’d come back, and he’d been right. Except when they were kids, he’d been certain that she’d need him.

  They resettled the babies into the crib, but they stayed there in the darkness, standing close enough together that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating against hers.

  “The one thing she didn’t tell me—” His voice broke. “She never said why she left me behind.”

  She couldn’t see him well enough in the dim light, but she could hear that rasp of deep emotion against his iron reserve. That was a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  “Easton...”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his broad chest. He slipped his muscular arms around her and she could feel his cheek rest on the top of her head. He smelled good—musky, with a hint of hay. His body was roped with muscle, and he leaned into her, his body warming her in a way that felt intimate and pleading.

  Neither of them spoke, and he leaned down farther, wrapping his arms around her a little more closely, tugging her against him more firmly. She could feel the thud of his heartbeat against her chest, and she closed her eyes, breathing in his manly scent. Somehow all either of them seemed to want was to be closer, to absorb all of each other’s pain into their bodies and share it.

  Easton pulled back and she found her face inches from his, and his dark eyes moved over her face. She could see the faint freckles across his cheekbones, the soft shadow of his stubble veiling a few acne scars. He was the same old Easton, all grown up, and while she could still see the sweet boy in those dark eyes, she could also see the rugged man—the survivor, the cowboy—and the intensity of that gaze also reminded her that he was very capable of being so much more than that...

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  “Me, too.” And standing there in his arms, his muscular thighs pressed against hers, she still missed him. Pushed up against each other wasn’t close enough to touch the longing for whatever it was that they’d lost over the years.

  His dark gaze met hers and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to. His mouth hovered close to hers, a whisper of breath tickling her lips. He hesitated, and before she could think better of it, Nora closed the distance between them, standing on her tiptoes so that her lips met his. He took it from there, dipping his head down and sliding a hand through her hair. His other hand pressed against the small of her back, nudging her closer, closer against his muscular body, her bare legs against his jeans, her hands clutching the sides of his shirt. His lips moved over hers, confident and hungry, and when he finally pulled back, she was left weak-kneed and breathless.

  “Been wanting to do that for a while,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over her plumped lips.

  She laughed softly. “Oh...”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a husky growl. “We can chalk that up to an emotional evening, and tomorrow you won’t have to think about it again.”

  Easton’s gaze moved down to her lips again, then he smiled roguishly and took a step back, cool air rushing over her body. She didn’t know what she thought, or what she wanted, but he wasn’t asking for anything. He moved to the doorway and looked back.

  “Good night,” he said and then disappeared into the dark hallway.

  Nora stood there, her fingers lightly touching her lips. He’d kissed her just now, and she realized that the attraction he felt for her was very, very mutual.

  Nora went to close her bedroom door, and she paused, looking out into the hallway. All was quiet, except for the soft rustle of movement coming from the room next door. He was probably getting ready for bed, and she pulled her mind firmly away from that precipice.

  If only she’d seen deeper into Easton’s heart when they were younger...she might have been a bigger comfort to him, a better listener. If she’d realized then the man he’d mature into in a few years—but all of that was too late. If there was one thing the discovery of her father’s unfaithfulness had taught her, it was that a man could be as loving and doting as her father had been, and he could still cheat, lie and hide his tracks. Nora needed to be able to count on a man for better or for worse, or those vows were pointless. She’d been lonely for what she and Easton had experienced together in that innocent adolescent friendship, but she’d been hungry for something more just now—something that hadn’t existed before. She’d wanted security—she’d wanted kisses in the moonlight that didn
’t have to end, that could be hers and only hers...

  Nora shut the door and slid back into her bed. Two and a half more hours until the girls needed another bottle. She’d best get some sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The next afternoon Easton wrapped the starter in a clean rag then used another one to wipe the grease off his hands. He’d have Nora’s truck up and running tonight as promised.

  He’d left early that morning, not wanting to run into her after the kiss last night. He still carried that image of her in a knee-length nightgown—totally chaste by all accounts, but still... What was it about Nora that could make a granny nightgown alluring? If he hadn’t left when he did, he wouldn’t have stopped at holding her close, and he wouldn’t have stopped at the kiss, either. Her bed had been right there—yeah, he’d noticed—and if he’d been listening to the thrum of the impulses surging through him, he would have nudged her over to those rumpled sheets and pulled her as close as two bodies could get.

  Except he wasn’t just a horny teenager; he was a grown man, and for the most part he didn’t do stupid things he’d regret the next morning. He knew where this led—the same place it had led when they were teenagers. She was vulnerable right now, her life was upside down and she needed someone to lean on. His shoulders were broad enough for the weight of her burdens, and that was all she really wanted deep down—he was convinced of it. She’d been there for him, too, and he was grateful for that. But a moment of mutual comfort wouldn’t turn into anything that would last. He knew better. He could try to convince himself that she was interested in a real relationship with him, but had she been, she’d have shown that interest long before now. When things got tough for Nora, she came to him. Then she left again. It was their pattern.

  Easton didn’t have the emotional strength right now to deal with yet another rejection from the one girl he’d always pined for. Pining didn’t do a thing—even as a boy, longing for his mom to come home. Now she had, but it wasn’t what he’d imagined. It hadn’t smoothed things over—and it certainly wouldn’t fix the past. He was a grown man now, and he wasn’t willing to set himself up for more heartbreak. So he’d kissed Nora, and while he didn’t regret it, he wasn’t about to do it again. He’d been serious when he said he was chalking it up to an emotional night. He was letting them both off the hook.