Читать книгу Lone Star Daddy - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 9

Chapter Four

Rose was trying to figure out how to answer that when the triplets joined them, artwork in hand.

“Hi, aunts,” they said.

“Hi, kids,” Poppy, Lily and Violet said in return, setting down a picnic basket and zip-style insulated nylon cooler.

“We got in trouble,” Scarlet announced, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose.

Stephen nodded. “For getting stuff all over Mr. Clint’s nice shirt.”

“And your mom’s,” Violet added helpfully, looking as tired as usual after one of her oncology residency shifts at Laramie Community Hospital.

Sophia’s brow creased.

Uh-oh, Rose thought. Here comes trouble.

“We didn’t get any stuff on Mommy,” Sophia declared.

All three kids looked at Rose’s shirt in bewilderment.

“Mommy!” Stephen shrieked, “How did you do that?”

Lily—who was now happily married, with a baby on the way—glanced from Rose to Clint. “I think I know,” she teased.

So, apparently, did Violet and Poppy. Neither of whom were known for keeping their opinions regarding romance to themselves.

Doing her best to hang on to her composure, which wasn’t easy given how the more deeply imprinted stains on Clint’s shirt matched up with the lighter ones on hers, Rose purposely dodged the question. “The point is,” she continued, looking straight at her offspring, “Sophia, Scarlet and Stephen know how to use their table manners and not make a mess of our guests.”

Apparently unable to resist, Poppy ribbed her, “Do the grown-ups know it, too?”

Luckily the joke went over the triplets’ heads. Not so Clint’s, who was standing there with a choirboy innocence definitely not to be believed.

Not sure how the situation could get any more embarrassing unless they’d actually been caught in flagrante, Rose cleared her throat. Definitely time to steer the subject to safer territory.

Ignoring the amused twinkle in Clint’s eyes that only she could see, she plastered an encouraging smile on her face. “So...do you kids want to show Mr. Clint what you made for him?”

Pride straightened their little spines. “We made ‘sorry’ pictures!” Sophia declared shyly.

Wordlessly, the triplets handed them over one by one. Stephen had drawn an airplane in the clouds. Sophia had colored her version of a fairy princess. Scarlet had drawn the pet dog she one day hoped to have. They had all printed their names on the bottom, just as they had learned to do in their Montessori preschool.

Clint studied the awkward-looking letters beneath the heartfelt drawings and the earnest expressions on the children’s upturned faces. “Well, thank you, kids,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding a little rusty.

“You’re welcome,” the triplets said happily in unison, relieved to have gotten themselves out of trouble. Again.

Rose glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for baths, but you have ten minutes, if you want to go outside and play on the swing set.”

“Okay, Mommy!” With yells of delight, they raced off.

The adults exchanged glances rife with even more questions. Not about to have another inquiry start, Rose took the handsome cowboy by the elbow. She half expected him to resist her direction. Instead, he leaned into her touch, much the same way he had when he’d been kissing her.

A tingle went through her palm. Another welled in her middle. Ignoring both, Rose lifted her chin stubbornly. “Clint was just leaving...” she said.

Her sisters looked contrite.

“Listen, we had no idea the two of you were dating,” Lily said quickly, running a hand through her honey-blond hair. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have just barged in.”

“That’s for sure. And he’s a lot better than some of the other duds you have spent time with recently,” Poppy put in cheerfully, one hand resting on the laptop bag looped over her slender shoulder.

Clint quirked a brow. “Thanks. I think.”

Rose shot him a look that said, Please don’t encourage them! She turned back to her sisters. “We’re not dating.”

Unexpectedly, Clint draped an arm across her shoulders. “We could be,” he said with a wicked smile.

Ignoring the amusement on her sisters’ faces, Rose removed his arm. Stepped to one side. Looked up at him with a warning glance. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” he drawled.

Rose ignored the sexual heat in his sable-brown eyes. “You wouldn’t have to ask that if you’d ever been married.”

Hooking his thumbs through his belt loops, he rocked forward on the toes of his boots. Shrugged carelessly. “Actually, I almost was.”

She refused to let down her guard. “Almost doesn’t count,” she retorted.

He tilted his head to one side, thinking, clearly aware he was annoying her terribly. “It does if you’re the one who nearly made a life-altering mistake.”

“Wow,” Poppy said, looking ready to break out the popcorn and take a seat. “It just gets better.”

Rose scowled at her oldest sister, who was one to talk since she was the most independent and had never really risked anything in the romance department. “Or worse,” she returned dryly, “depending on your point of view.”

Clint waved like a highway worker, trying to get her attention. “I’m still hanging in here.”

“Not wisely,” Rose huffed.

Lily peered at them curiously. Then she continued, using her skills as an attorney turned mayor turned mediator. “So if the two of you aren’t dating, and aren’t going to date—”

“That’s yet to be decided,” Clint interrupted mildly, more confident than ever.

Rose drew in a deep breath. And stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well,” he said, refusing to back down, “it hasn’t been.”

“Maybe not by you,” Rose snapped, temper flaring, reminding herself yet again why she was not going to let herself be distracted by passion, or even the potential of it.

If—and it was a big if—she ever got involved with someone again, it would be because they were perfect for each other in all ways outside the bedroom. Not just in.

“Then why is he here?” Violet asked. “And why were you obviously, ah...in his arms...if the two of you, ah, aren’t...?”

Aware her sisters were jumping to far too many conclusions and the man opposite her was way too handsome—and distracting—for comfort, Rose rubbed her temples and shut her eyes. “He came over to talk to me.”

“About?” Lily pressed.

Good point! Rose sucked in a breath, curious now, too. “I was just about to find out.” She opened her eyes again. Put one palm on Clint’s back, the other beneath his elbow. Steered the big guy deliberately toward the front door. “So if you, dear sisters, will excuse us...and keep an eye on my kids, to boot...” she said over her shoulder.

“Not to worry,” Lily called out merrily. “Take your time!”

Clint chuckled and shut the door behind them, once again leaving the two of them very much alone. “Oh, I plan to,” he replied.

* * *

THIS TIME, CLINT NOTED, Rose did not even try to stifle her groan.

“You are not going to kiss me again,” she said, marching him down the sidewalk to his pickup truck.

She sure had a one-track mind.

Not that he hadn’t been ruminating over the first time he’d taken her in his arms, too.

Even though he knew darn well it would be asking for trouble.

“Wasn’t planning to,” he shot back. The enormity of her relief prompted him to add teasingly, “Now.”

Soft lips twisting into a pretty glower, Rose adapted a militant stance. “What did you want to see me about?” she asked, folding her arms in front of her.

Trying not to notice the way the action plumped up her breasts, he countered, “Sure you don’t want our conversation to wait, with your sisters peering out the windows and all?”

Rose cast a glance over her shoulder. She waved her family away. The blinds closed completely. “I’d rather hear it now.” Still he hesitated. “Come on, Clint, spill it. I’m curious.”

So much for trying to keep the unexpected feelings of intimacy and cautious goodwill flowing between them.

But since she’d made it abundantly clear that she was not going to drop it, Clint figured he might as well bite the bullet. So he sobered. Straightened. And adapted his own semi-militant stance. “Well, if you must know,” he muttered, “I did not appreciate the dozen women you sent out to help me this morning. Again, without warning.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. “Oh, the co-op moms!”

A group of women who had never stopped talking—to each other and, unfortunately, to him. Thereby eradicating his dream of long days spent outdoors amid peace and quiet. “I didn’t need their help.”

“Oh, really.” The sass was back in her eyes, reeling him back in. “And how long would it have taken you today to get a truckload of berries without their assistance?”

He wouldn’t have achieved that at all. Not in one day. He clenched his jaw. “That’s not the point.”

She hovered closer, surrounding him with a drift of citrus on a sunny day. “It’s exactly the point, cowboy. Blackberries are very perishable once they are picked. They need to be refrigerated quickly. Having co-op members come over to your ranch and help get them onto the refrigerator truck goes a long way to preserving the fruit’s great taste and longevity.”

Clint shoved a hand through his hair, aware that, as usual, he needed a haircut. “As I told you before...I can’t afford to pay anyone to assist with the harvest.”

“You don’t have to. The co-op members—many of whom are male, by the way—work for points that enable them to purchase produce at a very steep discount. Because they physically help with the harvest, they also get first dibs on anything that comes in.”

Turning, she walked over to his pickup truck and waited for him to follow. “The rest of the produce goes to Rose Hill Farm clients. Grocery stores, farm stands, small mom-and-pop markets and restaurant chefs.”

He wasn’t surprised to discover she ran two businesses. One that helped the community, the other her own bottom line. That did not mean, however, that he was all right with the onslaught.

He moved nearer despite himself. Aware he was wanting to kiss her again, badly, he fished in his pocket for his keys. “I can’t have a dozen women out there underfoot every day.”

She nodded, understanding. “You won’t. Today was just a day to get the feel of how this is all going to work. From now on, you’ll only have two co-op members there at a time. And only during school hours.”

He propped a shoulder against the truck and released a breath, his tension easing a bit.

“So if you get started earlier or go later—” Rose continued.

“I’ll have the peace and quiet I want?” he interrupted with a grin.

The peace that had seemed ideal until he’d spent a half an hour in her home and become aware all over again of everything he wanted and was missing. Kids. A wife. Happy family chaos.

She rolled her eyes. “Your wish is my command, cowboy.”

Another spark lit between them.

Rose stepped in the direction of the house, abruptly becoming wary again. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my sisters...”

On impulse, he caught her wrist and rubbed the inside of it with his thumb. Then felt her tremble, just as she had when he’d held her in his arms.

He was tempted to ask her out, but knew this was the wrong time and the wrong place, unless he wanted to be spurned again.

“Are they going to give you the business?” he murmured softly instead.

She sighed. “Probably.”

* * *

BECAUSE SHE HAD her siblings’ help, Rose was able to get the three kids bathed and tucked into bed in record time. Finished, she went back down to the kitchen, where she soon discovered her dishes had been done, too. A more adult repast was laid out. They’d obviously brought it with them.

Sisters. Rose heaved a contented sigh, sitting down at the table with them. What would she do without them?

She hoped never to find out.

Violet cut into the warm, puff pastry–wrapped brie.

Poppy passed around crisp green apple and pear slices. “We all had heard you’d sweet-talked Clint McCulloch into harvesting the Double Creek Ranch blackberry crop. But we had no idea he’d been pursuing you.”

No kidding.

Not wanting to admit how recently that had started, never mind how quickly Clint had turned her whole world upside down—with just one kiss!—Rose adopted her best poker face. “He’s not, really.”

“Then why were you kissing him?”

Knowing it would be futile to deny they had been making out, just a little, Rose stated cagily, “Impulse. A bad one at that, and one that won’t happen again. So...to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Poppy raised her glass of sparkling water in toast. “I finally got Trace Caulder to agree to adopt with me!”

Everyone clinked glasses. Rose asked, “But you’re not planning to get married to the Lieutenant?”

The thirty-five-year-old Poppy waved off the possibility. “It’s not really necessary these days. At least through the private agency we’re using.”

No one knew better than Rose how hard it could be to raise a family as a single mother. On the other hand, she had all the McCabes behind her, helping out as needed. And so would Poppy, whose interior-design business was based in Laramie.

Poppy tore her hunk of French bread into bite-size pieces. “I’m not cut out to be a military wife. And Trace doesn’t want to give up flying jets for the Air Force. But we’re best friends—”

And lovers, whenever the good Lieutenant was stateside, Rose thought.

“—and we both want a family, sooner rather than later,” Poppy continued, practical as ever. “So this is the best option for both of us. The problem is, the agency wants photos of me and Trace together that exemplify us as potential parents. And the last time we had any taken was at Lily’s wedding. Prior to that, it was Callie and Maggie’s double wedding.”

Though, Rose thought, only one of their older twin sisters had actually gotten married that day.

“We’ll all help you look,” Violet promised. Although the search was likely to produce an upsetting number of photos of Violet’s late fiancé, Sterling, and Rose and her ex-husband, too.

Nevertheless, as soon as their meal was over, Rose put on a pot of coffee. Together, they all went through the pictures.

“None of these are right,” Poppy said finally with a defeated sigh.

“Maybe I have something on my computer of the two of you,” Rose told her, glad to move away from remnants of her disastrous romantic past, too.

“Why don’t we all go through our picture files?” Violet suggested. “And get back to each other when we find more to choose from.”

Anything, Rose agreed, to keep her mind off the unexpected turn her own life had taken and the mistake she had recklessly made. She’d had one relationship based on passion—and little else—that had crashed and burned. She wasn’t going to embark on another.

* * *

“SO YOU DO know who Rose has been dating,” Clint said to Gannon several days later when the two got together to repair a line of fence that ran between their ranches.

Gannon chuckled and shoved a post-digger into the ground. “The question is, what is it to you?”

Clint shrugged, trying not to think about the fact that Rose had been avoiding him like the plague, not coming out to his ranch once since he’d kissed her. Nor had she been the one driving the refrigerated truck back and forth from Rose Hill Farm. She had Swifty doing that for her. And for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, her absence really irked him, knowing he was on her Out List. Just for making his intention of pursuing her clear.

He set a new wooden post into the foot-deep hole, packed it tight with the displaced dirt, then turned to his happily married friend. “Let’s just say I don’t want to unwittingly repeat some other dude’s mistakes.”

“I wouldn’t, either, if I were you.” Gannon moved on down the line to the next post in need of replacement. Using a crowbar and shovel, he worked it out of the dirt. “Although I don’t know what precisely those missteps were.”

The way cleared, Clint used both hands to center a new wooden post squarely in the hole.

“Just that she dumped him?” Clint asked.

“Them,” Gannon corrected.

“There’s been more than one?” Clint blinked in surprise.

Gannon paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with one gloved hand. “Three or four, at least. But she dumped every one of them after one date.”

Not much of a chance to succeed or impress.

“Any idea why?”

Gannon cut a strip of barbed wire from another weak post. “That you would have to ask her. Maybe the next time you’re putting the moves on her, you could bring it up.” He dropped the wire into the bed of the pickup truck with the rest of the metal, then added with a smirk, “I heard about the condiments on the shirts. Smooth.”

Clint winced. Were he and Rose ever going to live that down? It seemed the twins had mentioned that incident to everyone in their preschool, who in turn had gone home and told their parents. Hence, a lot of the co-op moms had joked about it when they’d come out to work on the Double Creek blackberry patch harvest.

Muttering under his breath, Clint took a turn with the digger. “You think Rose is mad at me about that?”

“Only one way to find out,” Gannon drawled.

Clint nodded his understanding. “I’m going to have to ask her.”