Charlotte Maclay - Montana Twins

He opened the diaper, did a swipe, spread the lotion, reconnected the sides to the front with the sticky tabs and lifted Mandy, smooching her on the forehead, quieting her immediately.

He exhaled in relief, giving Laura a triumphant smile. And the diaper slipped down around Mandy’s ankles.

Laura’s stern, disapproving expression cracked. He’d thought of her eyes as an ordinary shade of pale blue, and they suddenly sparkled with amusement—at his expense—and he decided they held an amazing depth. Her smile was like a sunrise after a stormy night when the dark clouds had finally lifted. Her laughter reminded him of a lyrical songbird, light and airy. The uncanny transformation flustered and bewildered him. Beneath her tough-as-nails, I’m-the-teacher exterior lurked an entirely different woman.

A woman a man might have trouble resisting—if she were interested.

“I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth to silence her laughter, and he was sorry she’d hidden her beautiful smile. “It’s just that you looked so—”

“Ridiculous. I know.”

“No.” Her gaze softened. “Endearing. You were trying so hard, and then—”

“Yeah. I sort of made a mess of things.” Except now Mandy had her head buried against his neck, sucking on his collar, and seemed as contented as a baby could be. That part felt good.

“Perhaps we should start again and begin with me showing you the basics.”

He met her gaze, nodding. “Starting again sounds like a great idea.” He didn’t limit his thoughts to simply starting over with basic baby-care lessons.

SHE SHOULD HAVE PAID closer attention to Hetty’s comment about Eric eating frozen dinners.

Laura gazed into the refrigerator at the meager contents. A gallon of milk, a six-pack of beer, some eggs, two apples—one of which was already half rotten—and an assortment of condiments.

“I’m not much of a cook,” he admitted. “Most of the time I grab a burger and fries over at the saloon. Or stick something in the microwave.”

She opened the freezer and found the selection pretty much limited to pot pies and lasagna. “You might want to consider adding fresh vegetables to your diet.”

One side of his lips kicked up into a half grin. “Guess I’ll have to be a good example to the twins, huh?”

Now that he’d stopped glaring at her all the time, he looked less formidable. Which didn’t make him any less dangerous. More so, since he was so set on being a good father.

“I’ll treat you to chicken pot pies tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll pick up some fresh stuff when I’m in Great Falls. Hetty doesn’t have a real good selection.”

“I noticed.”

While Eric started dinner, Laura surveyed the spacious kitchen. The twins were in their car seats in the middle of a long oak picnic-style table with benches, probably crafted by the same man who had made the chest of drawers upstairs. The cabinets were a darker wood and needed a face-lift as did the tile counters. But there was a big window over the sink that faced west. It was dark now but Laura suspected it would provide a view of some spectacular sunsets.

“How long have you been sheriff?” she asked Eric while she tickled Rebecca’s tummy with one finger. Her reward was a wide, gummy smile.

“About five years. Before that I was on the rodeo circuit.”

“I noticed the trophies.” How could she not when they were on such prominent display?

“I had some Best-All-Around years until I took one too many headers off a bronc named Lucifer. I broke my leg in three places. Now I’ve got a couple of pins that set off security alarms in airports.” Still in his uniform, he stood with his back to the counter, one booted ankle crossed over the other, looking very much at ease. “I had to stay off my feet for six months, so I moved back to the Double O Ranch. About the time I was mobile again the former sheriff announced his retirement. I decided settling down was a good idea.”

“But not on the ranch?”

“Walker enjoys punching cows a lot more than I ever did, and he’s a good manager. Rory and I still have an interest in the place, though, and help out during roundups, that sort of thing.”

“I gather no woman wanted to settle down with you?”

His eyes immediately narrowed, and Laura regretted she’d asked such a personal question. It wasn’t that she was prying, exactly. Knowing something of Eric’s past, including his recent history, would help her decide if he was suitable to be the twins’ father.

“I’ve never met a woman I wanted to ask.” He held her gaze, the microwave humming its monotonous note behind him. “How about you? Have you ever been married?”

She swallowed hard and turned back to the twins. Mandy had spit out her pacifier; Laura plugged it back in. “I came close once. It didn’t work out.”

“What went wrong?” His voice was a little softer than it had been. Intimate.

Her past was none of his business, except maybe he’d understand better why she was so reluctant to turn over the twins to a stranger. Why she wanted to be their mother.

“He wanted to have a son to carry on the family name.” Lifting her head, she looked at him levelly despite the painful knot in her stomach. “I can’t have children. I was in an accident and they had to remove my uterus.”

His mouth went a little slack. “I’m sorry.”

“No more than I am.” She forced a shrug she hoped looked casual. “The worst is, they left the rest of my female parts, so I get the joy of PMS without any of the benefits.”

The buzzer on the microwave saved him from responding to her revelation. Just as well. Laura didn’t want his sympathy.

She wanted a reason, even a small one, to salve her conscience so she could reject him as a suitable father for the twins and raise them herself. After meeting Eric, that had to be the most selfish thing she’d ever wanted in her life.

DINNER didn’t go well.

Laura explained to Eric the uncanny knack the twins had for turning fussy the moment anyone sat down to eat a quiet meal. Eric found himself cradling Becky in the crook of his left arm while trying to fork a bite or two of pot pie into his mouth without dribbling the hot gravy on the baby. Not an easy task.

She couldn’t have babies of her own. No wonder she was so damn anxious to keep the twins for herself. As much as he might sympathize, that didn’t mean he had to hand them over to her. His sister had wanted him to raise her babies. It made sense that they’d live with a blood relative.

As a kid in foster care, Eric had spent hours fantasizing about an uncle or aunt or grandparent who’d show up and give him the home he’d dreamed of having. His own family. But nobody came.

He wasn’t going to let that happen to Mandy and Becky. It didn’t matter how much Laura loved or wanted to raise them. Or that she’d been Amy’s foster sister.

She wasn’t real family.

By the time they’d finished eating, the babies were ready for another bottle. That was followed by a change of diapers and clean sleepers. Tomorrow, Laura warned, she’d give him a lesson in bathing the babies. It was too late now.

“Do you want to do the next feeding on your own?” she asked as she placed Mandy in the crib next to Rebecca. Magically, the pair gravitated toward each other.

“What time does that happen?”

“Usually between one and two. Then they wake again around five.”

“How are we supposed to get any sleep?”

She gave him a wry smile that said sleep wasn’t a part of the deal.

“I’ll handle both feedings,” he said generously. “You’ve been up since early morning.” Of course, he hadn’t been out to feed his horses yet this evening, and there were still dinner dishes to do. But there weren’t many and they could wait until morning. He’d put them in the sink to soak. No big deal.