Tanya Michaels - The Cowboy's Texas Twins

“All right, I’m leaving. But when you become a rich and famous novelist, you have to take us on a fabulous spa weekend.”

“Deal.”

After locking the front door behind her sister and changing into a pair of yoga pants and her favorite Snoopy T-shirt, Hadley curled up on the couch with her laptop. As much as she loved her job at the library, this was her favorite time of day—when she got to play with words like they were clay, molding her own world and shaping fascinating characters.

Except, tonight, the characters weren’t cooperating.

The lanky inspector from Scotland Yard suddenly bore a striking resemblance to a rugged cowboy, and none of his dialogue came out right. After typing and deleting half a dozen attempts at the same sentence, she relented. For the moment, perhaps her time would be better spent on story research than the actual writing. She opened the search engine, preparing to fact-check the form of poison her villain used. But her fingers didn’t cooperate any better than her characters had. Instead of typing arsenic trioxide, she inexplicably typed Grayson Cox.

I am going to do story research. Really. Just as soon as she finished skimming a few articles about a certain rodeo champ.

* * *

GRAYSON WIPED A damp hand across his already damp jeans, noting that there seemed to be more water on him than on either of the two boys in the tub. But, silver lining, Sam and Tyler were both clean; Grayson had helped them wash their hair without anyone yelping about shampoo in his eyes and everyone seemed recovered from the earlier incident at the grocery store. He still wasn’t sure how they’d gone so quickly from a simple “Boys, no running” to total meltdown.

Yet, without the resulting meltdown, Hadley never would have poked her head around the corner to help.

Despite past irritations with her and the graceless way he’d handled their conversation, he didn’t regret seeing her. For one thing, she was a lot of fun to look at, with her dark shining eyes and full lips. He recalled her suggestion that they meet for coffee sometime. If he was successful in finding a job, who knew how long he and the boys would be in Cupid’s Bow? It would be nice to have a friend. Then again, a curvy brunette friend who’d stared at him with alternating interest and disappointment might be a complication he didn’t have room for right now.

He turned his attention back to the twins, who were happily splashing around like a couple of river otters. “All right, you two, if we don’t get you out, you’ll wrinkle into prunes.” He held up a towel. “Who’s first?”

They’d progressed to the pajama stage—Grayson helped Tyler correct course before he inadvertently stuck his head through the sleeve a third time—when Vi rapped her knuckles against the partially open door.

“Need any help?” she asked.

“I think we’re good now.” Except for the state of her bathroom. “But if you want to read them their story, I can mop up—”

“You won’t be there for story?” Sam’s eyes grew huge.

Grayson rocked back on his heels, meeting the boy’s gaze. “I was just going to let Violet read tonight so I can clean up the mess we made.”

The boy thrust his bottom lip out. “You hafta stay with us! ’til we fall asleep.”

Tyler nodded solemnly.

Grayson ran a hand over his jaw. His guess was that if you let kids dictate your actions, you ended up with spoiled monsters. But the twins were coping with extenuating circumstances. He stood. “Tell you what, I’ll straighten up in here while you two take this stuff to the laundry room. Violet can show you where, if you forgot.” He balled up their dirty clothes and a towel from the floor. “I’ll meet you in your room in time for story, okay?”

This met with everyone’s approval, but even forty minutes later, as Sam yawned and his eyes fluttered closed, a note of apprehension lingered in his voice. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Grayson said. “I’ll be here every day.” The enormity of his responsibility hit him anew. He was looking at years, decades, of trying to figure out what was right for these kids.

“And Violet will be here, too? And Tiff and Buster and Shep?”

Buster lifted his head from where he was lying at the foot of the bed, thumping his tail in reassurance. The boys had befriended the dogs immediately.

He squeezed Sam close. “We’ll all be here, buddy.” Grayson did have one appointment tomorrow—for a job interview Vi had arranged—but he’d remind the boys about that in the morning. For now, he just wanted Sam to feel secure. He understood the question the boy was really asking: are we going to get left again by the people we love? I miss them, too, buddy.

Once Sam finally yielded to sleep and both boys were softly snoring, Grayson padded down the hallway to the kitchen. Where the cookie jar lived.

He drew up short at the sight of his aunt working at the kitchen table. Her laptop and a mug of tea sat in front of her. Client folders were scattered across the surface. Because she gave her office to me. “I’ve displaced you.”

She glanced up with an absent frown “What are you talking about?”

“The boys and I will find a house when I have the money for it,” he vowed. “We won’t inconvenience you forever.”

“I get to work in my jammies with a dog lying across my feet. My life couldn’t be any more convenient. Boys asleep?”

He nodded. “When I was trying to decide which of their belongings were critical to keep with us and which could be left in Oklahoma for now, I overlooked the importance of bedtime stories. I’ve read the same four books so often I’ve memorized them.”

“Take the boys to the library. All the bedtime stories you could want.” Her lips twitched in a small smile. “Just ask Hadley.”

He choked on a bite of cookie. “H-Hadley?” His mind got hung up on the brunette mentioned in the same sentence as bedtime, and the tips of his ears burned the way they had when Vi had caught him kissing Julia Yanic on the living room couch thirteen years ago.

“Yeah, you should ask Hadley for children’s book recommendations. She is the town librarian after all.”

Oh. Right. Hadn’t she mentioned something about story hour at the library? “Weird. Not the part about her being a librarian. She always loved books.” He had a sudden stray memory of her carrying around a large book of wonders of the world in middle school, asking him if he wanted to know how many kilometers long the Great Wall of China was. “But I can’t believe she’s stuck in Cupid’s Bow.”

Violet sighed. “I realize your childhood wasn’t idyllic, but some of us like it here.”

Some people, maybe, but not his mother. Her own son hadn’t been enough to hold Rachel Cox here. “I didn’t mean to sound so derisive. I just thought Hadley was going out of state for college, headed for bigger things.”

Vi’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember all the details, but there was something about her getting hurt and losing her softball scholarship to college.”

“Damn,” he said softly. “Does life work out for anyone?”

“Plenty of people. I can’t complain.”

Couldn’t she? She’d spent her twenties raising him and now here she was in her late thirties taking on his problems again.

She scowled, her tone firm. “Quit being so negative. Is that how you want the boys to view life? Hopeless?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then start looking for the hope around you. And if you don’t see any, do the world—and yourself—a favor. Create some.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».