His Secret Child

by Lee Tobin McClain

  Yep. Pretty much everyone but her—not that she minded. Much. Of course she didn’t begrudge anyone their romantic happily-ever-after. She just didn’t want to have to watch it. Not right now when her heart was still so tender after the loss of her own husband, Luke.

  At least the planning committee had nixed the usual romantic mixing and matchmaking this year, what with all the problems the locals were having with recent thefts in the area. People were looking over their shoulders at every turn, afraid that what had happened to other ranches would happen to them.

  It didn’t make for a festive atmosphere, but the Lone Star Cowboy League had decided to go through with the dance nonetheless, perhaps to take folks’ minds off their worries for a bit.

  “If I’m being honest, I almost didn’t come tonight,” Olivia admitted, bending her head to speak into Miss Betty’s ear. The woman was mostly deaf even without the loud din of music around her, although she’d never admit as much if you asked her. She just pretended she knew what a person was saying and then continued speaking to state her own fill of words.

  Olivia brushed her dark brown curls behind her ear and gestured to her identical, towheaded sons, Noah, Levi and Caleb. “I probably would have passed on it, except the boys wouldn’t let me off the hook. Apparently at school today they put a lot of effort into making Valentine’s Day cards. They insisted they had to come to the dance in order to post them up on the Sweetheart Wall where their friends can see them. I just couldn’t find it in my heart to say no to them.”

  The wall in question was already papered with hearts of all shapes, colors and sizes. In addition to hanging the schoolchildren’s artwork, it was a town tradition for the adults in the crowd to publicly post their romantic notions and even the occasional marriage proposal. Over the years more than one engagement had come out of it.

  Olivia was not in a place in her life where she was searching for romance, and she doubted she ever would be, between single-handedly raising her triplets and struggling to keep her small quarter horse farm afloat. Three boys and Barlow Acres was more than enough to fill her days. She fell into a dead sleep most nights, although occasionally rest would elude her and a spot of loneliness would creep in.

  “I think it’s some kind of competition between them and their classmates as to who made the most elaborate valentine,” she continued. “Or at least a competition between the three of them. You know boys. The triplets like to make a contest out of everything.”

  Honestly, she found the whole thing to be more than a little ridiculous. What six-year-old boy wanted anything to do with a holiday steeped in romance and kissing? Her sons didn’t even like girls yet, and wouldn’t for a good long while. Several years at least.

  She hoped.

  “Well, good for them,” Miss Betty replied, nodding so vigorously that her short gray curls bobbed in response. “I’m glad they pushed you off your farm and into the community for the dance. It’s good for you to get out from time to time and mingle a little bit. It will do you a wealth of good. Mark my words.”

  She started to deny Miss Betty’s statement but then realized that what the older woman was saying was spot-on. Olivia hadn’t meant for that to happen, nor had she even been aware of her actions—or lack thereof. But she had to admit she’d been somewhat of a recluse lately. She hadn’t been in the mood to participate in town activities nearly as much as she had before, but since her husband passed two years earlier, social activities just didn’t seem the same.

  Frankly, despite Miss Betty’s kind words, Olivia wasn’t sure it would do her any good to be at the party tonight. As stressed as she was about the farm, she was bound to be a downer in even the most mundane of conversations. It wouldn’t lift her spirits, and in her current mood she wouldn’t be much good to her friends.

  There was a time in her past when she used to be social and upbeat, but at the moment it was all she could do not to break down in tears. The mortgage was due on the house, several of her mares were due to foal in the spring and she had no idea how she was going to come up with enough money to keep her dwindling herd in hay and oats until the horse market opened in early summer.

  “Which reminds me,” Miss Betty continued, either not recognizing Olivia’s hesitation or refusing to acknowledge it. She reached into the oversize, glossy red purse dangling from the crook of her elbow and withdrew a small stack of folded pink and red heart-shaped notes. “Pink for the ladies, red for the gentlemen,” she explained as she shuffled through them. As if that would mean something to Olivia—which it didn’t. “Oh, here we go. Olivia Barlow.”

  Olivia automatically accepted the missive Miss Betty thrust at her. “Thank you. I—”

  She stared down at the garish, fluorescent-pink, heart-shaped paper and her sentence abruptly stalled. Her name had been carefully stenciled onto the heart, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was the name written beneath her own that kicked her adrenaline into overdrive.

  Olivia Barlow

  Clint Daniels

  The floor fell out from underneath her and she gasped for breath against the sudden shock. Suddenly it was as if she were in junior high again, being paired up with a boy for square dancing by the physical education teacher. Philip Whitmore had been the boy’s name, as she recalled, and he hadn’t been able to dance his way out of a paper bag. Her toes had hurt for weeks afterward. Not her favorite memory.

  But this was worse. Much worse. Even though she hadn’t yet determined exactly what the this part of the plan was that Miss Betty had concocted, if it involved Clint Daniels, it couldn’t be good.

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered, trying without success to hand the note back to its owner.

  “All in good fun, sweetie,” Miss Betty assured her. “All in good fun. Just trust me on this. Your Miss Betty is looking out for your best interests. Find Clint. Talk to him. You may surprise yourself.” She winked. “And him.”

  Oh, she would surprise him, all right, if she barreled up to him and tried to start a conversation right out of the blue, especially given the subject. Valentine cards. Matchmaking. Little old ladies with too much time on their hands.

  Talk to Clint, huh? And say what, exactly? It wasn’t as if they had anything in common. She wouldn’t be able to come up with much more than saying hello to the man, and even that would be awkward in the extreme.

  Clint was a surly, intimidating loner, a rough-edged man who preferred mountain living to spending time in town. He wasn’t a people person. He didn’t care for community events. In fact, she would be surprised if he even—

  She hadn’t even finished the thought when she glanced at the door and caught a glimpse of golden-haired Clint walking into the banquet hall, his foster mother, Libby Everhart, on his arm.

  It figured. It just figured.

  The one time Clint Daniels decided to show up for a town function and it had to be this one.

  What a night Olivia was having. And the dance had barely started. If it was just her, she’d grab her coat and be out the door and into the cool air in a second. But with her boys here...

  She was well and truly stuck.

  She watched as Clint smiled casually and bent his head toward Libby to better hear what she was saying over the combined din of music and conversation. While Olivia didn’t have any inclination to follow Miss Betty’s suggestion, she had to admit he was handsome—in a rough kind of way. He wore his thick hair long enough to brush his collar and his hazel eyes were an intriguing blend of green and gold. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and scruff shadowed the sharp planes of his cheeks and chin. Tall with broad shoulders, he looked every inch the mountain man he was.

  She imagined his rugged good looks appealed to some women, but she didn’t count herself among them. Her late husband, Luke, had been clean-cut, with a gentle gaze and winsome smile. Those were the kinds of features that attr
acted Olivia.

  Clint’s expression wasn’t unkind, but it certainly couldn’t be described as gentle. His smile was extremely confident, possibly even tipping the scale into arrogant territory.

  She couldn’t help the grin that crept up the corners of her lips as she watched him with his foster mother. Clint wouldn’t be smiling in a moment. Miss Betty was headed straight toward him with his valentine missive in her hand.

  A woman on a mission. A matchmaking mission.

  Olivia chuckled. At the very least it would be an amusing exchange, and her gaze lingered. Could she help it if she wanted to watch the show?

  A show that directly involved her.

  Heat rushed to her face and she quickly turned away, her stomach churning. What was she thinking? As humorous as Clint’s reaction would be, it was hardly something she’d want to see. How embarrassing. He probably wouldn’t be rude to an old lady, but she suspected he’d toss the paper heart with her name on it into the trash can the moment Miss Betty turned her back. What a humiliating notion.

  Leaving the dance altogether was sounding better and better by the moment. Now would be good.

  Olivia searched for her sons and found them still lingering by the Sweetheart Wall, but they were no longer interested in the notes pinned there. Instead, they were rolling around on the floor and wrestling with each other, their hard work on their valentines long forgotten.

  “Where are the cards you made?” she prompted, affectionately ruffling Noah’s hair as he got to his feet, and separating Levi and Caleb.

  Noah proudly pointed to the wall where a jaggedly cut heart was written on in pencil with large, uneven print. Several of the letters held telltale smudges indicating they had been erased and rewritten. But it was the words themselves that caused Olivia’s heart to drop into her stomach and her throat to clog with emotion.

  For: My New Daddy

  Love, Noah

  She didn’t have to ask where Levi and Caleb’s valentines were located. She found them easily. Close to the bottom of the board where little ones’ hands could reach, they were the only two on the wall with the same request as Noah’s.

  For a father.

  The one thing she could not give them. She would do anything for her boys. Anything. But some things were beyond her control.

  Her heart ached for her boys, partly because they’d known grief at such a young age, having lost their father to an accident, and also because she was painfully aware that she could not fulfill their wishes. She had no clue how she was supposed to explain to them that she wasn’t looking to get remarried. They wouldn’t equate their idea of getting a new daddy with the fact that, in the process, she’d have to find a new husband. They were only six years old. How could they possibly understand?

  She didn’t want them to know anything about the strain she was under. She wanted them to grow up innocent and happy. With the death of their father, they’d had to mature far too much already. She worried about their not having a good male role model in their lives, but there was little she could do to change that, at least not at present and possibly never. Male friends and neighbors would have to do.

  “What’s that, Mama?” Levi asked, pointing to the crumpled heart in her fist. She’d forgotten she was still holding it. “Did you get a valentine? Who’s it from?”

  “I—no—” she stammered, but Caleb had already loosened her grip enough to pry the paper away.

  “It says Mama and Mr. Clint!” Caleb exclaimed. He was the best reader of the three and had no problem sounding out the words. This one time she wished that he wasn’t quite so good at it.

  The triplets simultaneously broke into excited chatter about Mama’s valentine.

  “Boys, please.” She felt as if she was watching a spark skittering down a long fuse toward a barn full of explosives. “This isn’t...” She frowned and lowered her brows. “Wait. How do you guys know Clint—er—Mr. Clint?”

  “He came to our class,” Levi explained.

  “Yeah,” Caleb added. “He talked about camping and rock climbing and horseback riding and search and rescue. He is so cool, Mama. He works in the Deep Gulch Mountains. I want to work in the mountains.”

  “And he even brought his dog, Pav,” Noah exclaimed, talking over his brothers. “Pav is a golden ’triever. He likes to catch balls in his mouth.”

  “Pav?” Olivia was barely keeping up with the babbling triplets, but it didn’t take a genius to add the boys’ thoughts together and come up with a frightening sum.

  One man plus one woman plus three young boys and a dog named Pav.

  Oh, no.

  “Boys,” she said, hoping the tone of her voice alone would corral their high spirits. But it was too late. With a whoop and a holler they took off, sprinting across the room as fast as their legs could carry them.

  Straight toward Clint without a single detour.

  From bad to worse to a total disaster in a matter of seconds.

  Olivia groaned and absently combed her fingers through her hair, then realized what she was doing and immediately dropped her hands to her side. She was not going to worry about how her hair looked, or if her makeup had smeared, because it didn’t matter how Clint saw her. His perceptions wouldn’t make a bit of difference to her.

  That was her story and she was going to stick to it.

  * * *

  Clint kept his hand on his foster mother’s elbow, not so much because she needed an escort as that he did. This whole Valentine Roundup thing made him antsy and uncomfortable, even if the league had promised there’d be no matchmaking this year. At a mixer like this with most if not all the members of the Lone Star Cowboy League and their families present, there were bound to be single women on the prowl for a husband, and Clint wasn’t interested. He was a confirmed bachelor with a capital B.

  He was not in the market for a wife. Unfortunately, women weren’t so quick to pick up on that.

  He’d had a few relationships over the years, but it never worked out long term—and he readily admitted he was the reason. He’d start dating an attractive woman only to have her go and get all serious on him, usually sooner rather than later. She’d start pushing him to “define the relationship.” Or worse yet, she’d go and use the L word. Even the thought made him shiver.

  He didn’t like feeling boxed in, and there was nothing like a woman trying to hog-tie him to make him claustrophobic. Freedom to come and go as he pleased was paramount to him. Women just didn’t get that. Or want it.

  Which suited him just fine. He liked his life the way it was. His golden retriever, Pav, was all the company he needed. Marriage and family? He had nothing to offer.

  As they passed through the room, Clint took a moment to shake hands with Grady Stillwater, a wounded ex-army special ops buddy who, up until recently, had also been a certified bachelor—at least until he’d fallen head over heels for his physical therapist, Chloe Miner. Now, suddenly, he was all but crowing about the virtues of matrimony.

  “How’s Ben?” Grady’s twin brother, Ben, had been in a horse riding accident that had left him in a coma for several months. Thankfully, he’d recently awakened, but he’d had a mini stroke and was fighting to regain full use of all his faculties.

  “Grumpy,” Grady replied with a shrug. “Which Chloe tells me is a good sign. He’s getting better every day.”

  Clint clapped a hand on Grady’s shoulder. “Glad to hear it, man.”

  Clint returned his attention to Libby, who was deep in conversation with the elderly Miss Betty Leland. He didn’t realize Miss Betty was speaking to him until Libby swatted him on his biceps with her palm.

  “Clint, pay attention,” she admonished. Libby Everhart was the one and only woman who ever got to tell him what to do. He loved her like a mother and she’d earned his respect. “Miss Betty just asked you a que
stion.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I apologize, Miss Betty. My mind was miles away. You were saying?”

  “Just wondering where your thoughts were, sweetheart. Oh, and I wanted to give you this.”

  Clint automatically took the paper heart Miss Betty offered him, although he couldn’t fathom why she would want to give him a valentine. Oh, well. He couldn’t help it if his natural charm affected ladies of all ages. He gave her his best grin.

  “Got your perfect match on it,” she explained.

  “My what?” The smile dropped from his face.

  “Be a good sport.” Libby’s voice held a note of warning he couldn’t ignore.

  “I—er—okay.” There went any possibility of getting through this night unscathed. He watched his freedom fly right out the window along with any peace he’d hoped to maintain.

  He glanced at the paper and immediately wished he hadn’t. He took a breath and choked on it.

  Olivia Barlow

  Clint Daniels

  What was that about? Miss Betty couldn’t possibly think he ought to spend time with Olivia Barlow. The very thought was preposterous. Olivia being a match for Clint was about as far out for him as suggesting the moon was made of green cheese. The woman was a widow with three young sons. Surely Miss Betty didn’t think he’d—

  “Just talk to her,” Miss Betty said with a crisp, knowing nod and a mischievous sparkle in her pale blue eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Oh, so that’s all it was.

  On what planet? Clint wanted to huff in protest, but with Libby there, he didn’t dare.

  “Ask her to dance,” Libby said in a tone that was much too severe to be a mere suggestion. How was he supposed to ignore the mother voice? Clint winced inwardly.

  What could Libby be thinking, agreeing with Miss Betty in this? And why were they ganging up on him?

  His asking Olivia anything was so not going to happen, no matter what the older ladies thought was best for him. He had no inclination whatsoever to spend time with the triplets’ mama, even if she was a pretty woman with dark brown curls and sea-blue eyes. No one outside of Miss Betty—and Libby, apparently—would fault him for sitting this one out.