Charlotte Maclay - Montana Twins

She arched her brows. “If you’re sure.”

“I’ll have to manage sooner or later. I might as well start now. I’ll call you if I run into trouble.”

With a shake of her head, Laura told him good-night and headed toward the guest room. He was the most determined man she’d ever met. She suspected, however, it was a case of a fool rushing in when an experienced person would be more wary. Granted, he’d pretty well gotten the hang of changing diapers and could fix a bottle, but in the middle of the night his new skills might not come all that automatically.

The spare bedroom looked as though it had once belonged to a teenage girl, the white antique furniture and twin bed with a pink flounce likely left behind by the prior owners. It smelled musty, and she opened the window to let in some fresh air. The scent of sage and lush summer grass wafted in the window.

The faint glow of starlight shadowed the rolling landscape and outlined the nearby barn and corral. Unlike her home in Helena, where there was always the sound of neighbors coming or going and the hum of traffic on the boulevard, here silence enveloped the night. It pressed in on her ear drums, sending a message of loneliness that was more easily ignored when drowned out by the presence of others.

The sound of the back door opening broke the quiet, and she caught sight of Eric striding toward the barn. The horses in the corral whickered a soft greeting, moving in the same direction. No matter how tired he might be, caring for his animals came before his own comfort.

She pressed her lips together. Given a chance, he’d do the same for the twins.

Turning away from the window, she opened her suitcase and pulled out her cotton nightgown. She’d been busy all day and was too weary to unpack now. When she’d left home, she had hoped she wouldn’t be staying long in Grass Valley, wouldn’t need to settle in.

In the face of Eric’s determination to be a father, that goal seemed less attainable now.

The next day or two—or maybe one sleepless night up with crying infants—would tell the tale of his resolve.

She’d hope for the best—or perhaps it was the worst she was looking for in the twins’ sleeping habits.

ERIC WENT TO SLEEP making plans to hang an old tire as a swing from the cottonwood tree out front when the twins were old enough.

He woke to the wailing sound of the smoke alarm.

He was on his feet, pulling on his pants, before he realized it was the twins crying. How could two tiny sets of lungs make that much noise?

Shaking the fuzziness from his head, he stumbled out of the bedroom into the hallway. He met Laura at the door to the nursery.

“I’ve got ’em,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Becky’s been crying for five minutes. She woke up Mandy.”

“Sorry. I didn’t hear ’em.” How could Laura tell which one was crying, for Pete’s sake? It just sounded like a racket to him.

They both bent over the crib, each one picking up a baby, which quieted the infants only briefly. Eric followed Laura downstairs, where she retrieved two bottles from the refrigerator, where she’d had him place them earlier, and popped them into the microwave. Jiggling the baby in his arms, he stared stupidly at the glow of the oven until it buzzed.

They each took a bottle and sat down next to each other on the bench at the kitchen table. A moment later the screams were replaced by the sound of eager little sucking noises, not unlike a newborn calf discovering his source of sustenance for the first time.

Eric sighed in relief.

“After a while you get tuned in to their cries and wake up at the first peep. It’s better not to let them get too upset.”

He grunted noncommittally. That kind of adjustment might take more than a day or two.

Gazing at nothing in particular, his eyes finally focused on Laura’s feet. Her bare feet. Long, slender toes tipped by polish in a rainbow of bright colors, each toenail a different hue.

He grinned, awake now. “Nice toenail polish.”

“Huh? Oh.” She folded one foot over the other like a shy little girl. “My neighbors have a nine-year-old daughter who wanted to try out her new fingernail polishing kit.”

“And you volunteered?”

“Something like that.”

He let his gaze wander higher, surveying the modest nightgown she wore buttoned securely at her throat. He had the oddest urge to slowly undo the gown one button at a time to discover what other surprises were hidden behind her prim exterior.

He’d never had a woman stay overnight in his house. It had never seemed to be the right time. The right woman.

Having Laura here was definitely going to challenge his view of what was “right”…and what was wrong for both him and her.

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