DAD ON THE DOUBLE

Frankie Hartman never thought she’d see Spence Bohanan again. Not after he broke her heart and walked away before she could tell the wandering cowboy about his twin daughters. Now that he’s back in Mustang Valley, Frankie has to reveal the truth. At least about his kids—Spence can never find out that she still secretly aches for him.

Spence finally has his life together and he’s ready to prove himself to the only woman he’s ever loved, but her revelation shakes everything up. It doesn’t take long for him to fall in love with his little girls, but repairing the trust between him and Frankie won’t happen quite so quickly. Spence is ready to be a family man—will Frankie give him a chance?

“Newborn pictures are never the best,” Frankie explained.

Spence needed a moment. Swallowing, he waited for his heart to sink back into place from where it had lodged in his throat. These were his daughters when they were just a day, maybe hours, old!

“I think they’re beautiful.”

“I might have extra copies stored in a drawer I can give you along with the thumb drives.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I wish I’d been there,” Spence said without thinking and realized with a start how much he really did wish it.

Frankie turned her face to his, and tears shone in her eyes. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t cry.”

Spence put an arm around her and she angled her body toward him and lifted her chin—something she’d done when they were dating and she wanted him to kiss her.

Wait. Take a breath. Think.

He had to be mistaken, right? Then again, not all old habits were bad, were they?

The Cowboy’s Twin Surprise

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Since 2006, New York Times bestselling author CATHY McDAVID has been happily penning contemporary Westerns for Mills & Boon. Every day, she gets to write about handsome cowboys riding the range or busting a bronc. It’s a tough job but she’s willing to make the sacrifice. Cathy shares her Arizona home with her own real-life sweetheart and a trio of odd pets. Her grown twins have left to embark on lives of their own and she couldn’t be prouder of their accomplishments.

To Clay and Caitlin,

my own grown twins who will

forever be my little babies—XXOO

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“When are you going to quit this job and run away with me?”

The man, seventy if he was a day, stared up at Frankie Hartman with an endearing smile.

She refilled his mug from the pot that was never far away and always contained freshly brewed coffee. Propping an elbow on the counter, she said, “Now, Everett. What about my girls? They’re just three. I couldn’t possibly leave them.”

“Ah. The twins. I forgot.”

He hadn’t. Everett passed through southern Arizona at least twice a month, hauling gravel and sand for a regional supplier. The Cowboy Up Café, where Frankie worked her tail off as head waitress, was a regular stop for him and he often engaged her in a flirtatious exchange that both of them knew would lead nowhere.

She didn’t mind. Everett was a good tipper. He was also funny and a lot smarter than his good ol’ boy appearance and personality would have people think.

In that regard, he wasn’t unlike Spence, the errant father of Frankie’s twin daughters. But she refused to think about him. Not today. She had much more important matters on her mind.

Tia Maria, owner and manager of the café, would be assembling the staff at any moment and announcing the name of the new manager. Though Tia Maria had dropped only occasional vague hints, Frankie was one hundred percent convinced she’d get the promotion.

Who else? Besides having the most seniority, she’d covered for Tia Maria off and on this past year during the café owner’s increasing absences. While Tia Maria wasn’t seriously ill, advancing age and health issues had begun to take their toll, and she’d decided to finally retire.

Frankie had been mentally spending the increased salary that came with the promotion for weeks now. Between two young daughters and the house she’d recently purchased, her budget was stretched to its limit.

“Maybe before my next run, you’ll reconsider.” Everett wasn’t ready to give up.

Frankie flashed him the smile she reserved for her favorite customers. “Anything’s possible.”

She hurried to the pass-through window, grabbed her order and delivered it to the waiting customers. Because the café was shorthanded today, she’d been filling in wherever needed, covering the counter more than the dining area. In between, she watched the door for Tia Maria’s return and counted the minutes.

From the corner of her eye, Frankie caught sight of her two younger sisters, Mel and Ronnie. At four months pregnant, Mel had recently started showing and switched from wearing her standard jeans and tucked-in work shirt to stretchy pants and loose tops. She looked both different and adorable.

Waving hello, the pair slipped into a recently vacated booth.

Frankie informed her nearest coworker she was taking a break. She then prepared Mel’s favorite herbal tea and a hot chocolate for Ronnie. With luck, they’d be celebrating Frankie’s promotion.

“You came.” She placed the mugs in front of her sisters. Since Tia Maria frowned on employees sitting at tables with customers, Frankie stood. It was actually a practice she supported.

“Dad and Dolores send their apologies,” Mel said.

“No problem.”

Frankie hadn’t expected either her father or stepmom to show. Cattle buyers were visiting The Small Change Ranch this morning, where her father worked as foreman, and her stepmom lay in bed, recovering from a minor surgical procedure.

Of course, Frankie would love to have all her family here to share in her moment of excitement, but she understood why it wasn’t possible.

“Is Sam home with the girls?” Ronnie asked.

“She’s picking them up after preschool and bringing them by for a dish of ice cream.”

“Did she tell you she’s competing at the Camp Verde Rodeo this weekend?”

Frankie sighed. “I swear, I hardly see her anymore.”

They’d recently connected with their unknown teenaged sister—when she’d crashed their father’s birthday party and demanded a share of his lottery winnings. While accepting of Sam, Mel and Ronnie still had their ups and downs with her, struggling to come to terms with her sudden appearance, her decision to say in Mustang Valley, and the fact their father had had a child with another woman and never told anyone.

Frankie, however, had taken instantly to the eighteen-year-old, who stayed with her when she wasn’t on the road and fit in as if they’d been together their entire lives.

“When’s the announcement?” Ronnie blew on and then sipped her hot chocolate.

“Any minute. Whenever Tia Maria gets back.” Frankie glanced around, noting the new busboy hadn’t cleared two of the tables. “She’d better hurry. We’re going to get busy soon.”

Though customers continued to come and go, the crowd had thinned during the typical lull between breakfast and lunch. Frankie didn’t worry. The well-trained staff, with the exception of the new busboy, would handle the few new customers straggling in.

“Are you nervous?”

Frankie beamed down at Mel. “I’m excited. I can’t wait. I have so many ideas for this place.”

Had she really been employed at the café fourteen years? She could remember ditching school one afternoon during her junior year to interview with Tia Maria, who, with her steel-colored hair, sharp features and vivid red lipstick, had scared the pants off Frankie. Truth be told, she still did once in a while.

“Will you be able to keep up with the catering after the promotion?”

Mel’s question was one Frankie had pondered endlessly since Tia Maria first mentioned retiring.

“If work gets too demanding, I’ll just cut back on the catering. Limit myself to friends and family. And the really high-paying jobs, of course.”

“How’s your crowd-funding campaign coming along?” Ronnie asked.

“I’ve only raised a few hundred dollars so far.” Hardly enough to launch a business, even a side one.

“No one makes better barbecue brisket and ribs than you,” Mel added. “Even that place the New Times voted number one doesn’t compare.”

Frankie unabashedly agreed. “But side jobs don’t provide company benefits. I need the employer-paid health insurance and vacation days.”

They chatted a couple more minutes, until Frankie noticed the new busboy had yet to clear the two tables. This wasn’t the time for her to fall behind in her duties, not with a promotion nearly clinched.

“I’d better get going.”

“We’re rooting for you, sis.”

She hurried off, still not understanding why Tia Maria hadn’t simply given her the promotion. What was with all this big announcement stuff?

Frankie located the busboy in the storeroom, hanging out with the assistant cook, and hurriedly dispatched him to the dining area. She then admonished the assistant cook, a notorious flirt who was much too old for the kid, before returning to the counter, where customers were waiting for either refills, their check, to place their order or be served.

At least three new people had arrived. She summed them up in a flash. A middle-aged couple—tourists judging by their cargo shorts and T-shirts—and a young cowboy, probably in his early thirties, though it was hard to tell from this angle.

Frankie delivered an order of pancakes, and then snatched the coffeepot from the warming plate, ready to offer the cowboy and middle-aged couple a steaming mug. At that moment, the cowboy turned from talking to Everett and looked directly at her.

He wore an enormous grin, and his green-gray eyes danced with amusement.

Frankie froze as if hit with a stun gun. Only her heart moved, and it beat hard enough to crack a rib.

No, no, no! This could not be happening.

She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Spencer Bohanan still sat there, acting as if he hadn’t been gone for over four years and without so much as a phone call. A text. An e-mail. A greeting passed on from a mutual friend.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, storming over to him.

“Now, now, honey.”

Honey! Frankie came unglued. Who did he think he was?

“I’m busy, Spence.”

“Cook still making those special hash browns with the green peppers and onions?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

Her legs started to shake, knocking together at the knees. Worse, Tia Maria had just entered the front door, accompanied by a well-dressed man Frankie hadn’t seen before. She needed to get Spence out of there.

“I’ll have the two-egg special, over easy with wheat toast and a side of the special hash browns.” Turning his coffee mug right side up, he said, “Seeing as you have the pot, I’ll take a shot.”

She wanted to strangle him for too many reasons to count. Not the least of which was the last time he’d left, he’d given her all of fifteen hours’ warning. She’d told him to stay away for good. To never come back. Find someone new who could tolerate his wandering ways.

And, he had. The first two, anyway. Maybe the third. She hadn’t inquired.

Everett didn’t bother hiding his stare. Frankie sought out her sisters, who looked on with slack-jawed wonder. Probably half the café customers were observing Frankie and Spence. Those who knew their history were relaying it to their neighbors in hushed whispers. If Frankie strained, she swore she could hear them.

“Sweethearts since high school.”

“He’d leave for some rodeo or ranch job, then appear on her doorstep six months later.”

“She always took him back. Well, except for that last time. Heard they had a lulu of a fight.”

“Do you think he’s the father of her girls?”

“She refuses to say who is, but my money’s on him.”

“Does he know?”

“If not, he will soon enough. No one keeps a secret in this town.”

That last statement—imagined or real—sent Frankie into a state of panic. Coffee sloshed out of the pot and landed on her shoe, the result of her unsteady grip.

“You need to go. Now,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

Spence’s grin didn’t waver. “Can we talk first?”

He’d heard about the girls! She should leave for the preschool this very instant, not wait for Sam. At the least, she needed to call her youngest sister and warn her to...what? Pack the girls’ clothes so that Frankie could whisk them away?

“I owe you an apology,” Spence said, his tone sounding contrite in that boyish way of his. “More than one. I’d like the chance to issue them. That’s all.”

Okay. Perhaps he didn’t know. Frankie’s head swam. This was confusing. And alarming. She’d considered telling him about the girls a thousand times, always talking herself out of it before placing the call.

Was fate giving her a push, reminding her of all the good reasons she should inform Spence he was a father? Only one way to find out.

“I’m off at three,” she said.

“I just so happen to be free at three. I’ll pick you up.”

“No way. I’ll meet you. Six o’clock at the park.” And don’t talk to anyone in town between now and then.

His face lit with the same smile she remembered from high school, when they’d been assigned as lab partners in chemistry class, and he’d stolen her heart. He’d yet to return it, even to this day. In her weaker moments, she admitted she had yet to reclaim it.

Frankie started to speak, only to be cut off by the busboy tapping her on the shoulder.

“Tia Maria says for everyone to meet her in the office.”

The moment was here. The announcement naming her the new manager. Struggling to control the myriad emotions whirling around inside her, she shakily poured Spence’s coffee.

“Stay out of trouble,” she warned him before following the busboy, remembering at the last second to return the pot to the warmer.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Spence called after her, laughter in his voice.

Frankie balled her hands into fists. He would have to be every bit as good-looking as always. Tall, broad-shouldered, and perfectly proportioned in all the right places.

“A little advance notice would have been nice,” she grumbled to herself while untying her apron. She refused to be wearing an orange juice stain the size of a saucer when she accepted her promotion.

* * *

THE ENTIRE STAFF on duty, including the cook, had gathered in the area outside the manager’s office. Standing beside Tia Maria was the well-dressed man Frankie had noticed earlier. Who was he, and why was he there?

The café owner’s wrinkled face glowed as her glance encompassed everyone there. “I’ll make this short. I don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”

Frankie’s stomach churned. Damn Spence for showing up today of all days. She needed to be on her toes. Ready and alert. Not distracted by the thought of him sitting there.

Tia Maria’s gaze fell on Frankie, who went still. After a brief pause, it continued to the next person. “As you know, I’m retiring at the end of the month, and I promised to announce the new manager today.”

Frankie twisted the apron between her suddenly sweaty hands.

Tia Maria took the man’s arm and nudged him forward. “This is my nephew, Antonio. He moved from Las Cruces to take over for me. I’m very pleased the Cowboy Up Café will remain in the family.”

Frankie went numb all over as seven heads instantly swiveled in her direction. They’d all expected her to get the promotion, too.

She reached for the wall, feeling slightly unbalanced.

“I’m sorry,” someone near her murmured.

“Me, too.” Had she said that out loud? Her mouth didn’t seem to be working correctly. “Damn.”

She definitely said that out loud, though softly. She’d been counting on the promotion and the raise. She deserved it, after all her years of loyal service. For Tia Maria to bring in a family member without telling Frankie was unfair. Not to mention total nepotism.

Drawing in a breath, she straightened her spine, acutely aware of the stares aimed at her.

“Congratulations and welcome,” she said, with as much dignity and calm as she could muster. Then she spun on her heels, not caring if she received a reprimand later. She simply would not cry in front of these people.

Entering the dining area, she fully intended to bury herself in work as a defense against her acute disappointment. Naturally, the first person she noticed was Spence. He’d left the counter in order to join her sisters at their table. Of all the nerve!

Had they called him over? It was possible—Frankie’s entire family had always liked Spence. She didn’t worry that her sisters would say anything about the girls. Mel and Ronnie were completely trustworthy in that regard. So what were they talking about, with their heads bent together over the table? Frankie squinted. Was that his phone they were staring at?

Pictures. Had to be. Spence’s family had moved from Mustang Valley years ago. He was probably updating her sisters on the Bohanan doings. Their laughter floated across the room and grated on Frankie’s nerves.

It occurred to her that she’d completely forgotten to turn in his breakfast order. She did that now, rather than break her bad news to her sisters in front of him. They caught sight of her and gestured her over. She pretended not to see them.

One by one, the staff returned to their stations, unusually subdued. Frankie accepted a “Tough break” from Cook and an “I don’t know what she’s thinking” from one of the waitresses. Neither remark lifted her spirits. Worse, tears stung her eyes.

She sneaked off to the restroom, not caring about the customers or Tia Maria’s potential anger. Frankie needed a moment alone. Five minutes later, she felt strong enough to face the world again. On her way out of the restroom, she ran into Mel.

“I’m shocked,” her sister gushed. “Do you believe he’s here? Are you going to tell him about the girls?”

“Maybe. Yes. Probably.”

“Really? Jeez, Frankie. Are you ready?”

“We’re meeting at six. The park. Neutral territory.”

A customer emerged from the men’s room and gave them a nod as he passed.

Mel lowered her voice. “What will you say? I mean, you can’t just blurt out, ‘Hey, you’re a dad.’”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’d better hurry. Someone will say something if they haven’t already.”

“I know, I know.”

Mel’s demeanor abruptly changed. Grabbing her by both arms, she broke into a happy smile. “So, when do you officially start?”

Frankie had trouble forming the words. Before she could get any out, Tia Maria poked her head around the corner and crooked a finger at her. Uh-oh. She’d been caught slacking off.

“Call you later,” she told Mel, and didn’t wait for a reply.

Her employer led her to the same spot where the staff meeting had taken place moments ago. Frankie wondered if she was about to be fired. Could this day get any worse?

“I should have told you about hiring my nephew,” the older woman said, a trace of contrition in her voice. “I realize you expected to get the job.”

“You did imply as much.” Frankie resisted the anger building inside her.

“I was considering you, I swear. Then my sister mentioned my nephew was looking for a job. He’s a good man. Honest and trustworthy.”

And Frankie wasn’t?

“I really do want to keep the restaurant in the family,” Tia Maria continued.

“Does he have any experience?”

“Some. I’m hoping you’ll teach him.”

Frankie took that to mean the man knew nothing of the restaurant business. She started to speak when her cell phone vibrated from inside her pocket, signaling she had a message. Was Sam texting about the girls? Frankie had trouble concentrating.

“I thought that you could help with the ordering and inventorying,” Tia Maria said. “You and Antonio can learn together.”

No one had ever been allowed to assist with, much less take over, this task handled by the café owner. She was throwing Frankie a bone.

“Does it come with a raise?”

Tia Maria drew back. “The experience will be very valuable.”

For what? Frankie would never need it here. Unless Tia Maria was expecting her to quit. Was it possible?

“A raise would be better,” she said.

Tia Maria relented with a shrug. “I’ll consider it.”

If only Frankie could quit. But she needed a regular salary to cover the bills and put food on the table. Besides, there weren’t many well-paying opportunities for a waitress in Mustang Valley other than the café.

“Por favor, do your best to make my Antonio feel welcomed. Moving away from home is going to be a big adjustment for him.”

Frankie had a few big adjustments of her own waiting for her, one of them named Spence. “Sure. No problem.”

For the first time, Tia Maria smiled. And why not? She’d gotten her way. Her nephew was now manager of the café, and Frankie had basically agreed to train him without guaranteed compensation. She could kick herself.

Well, she’d just have to expand her catering business. Realistically, she had no other choice if she hoped to increase her earning potential. At the moment, being her own boss sounded very appealing.

Before returning to the counter, she paused at the doorway to quickly check her phone—a practice generally frowned on, but Frankie didn’t care.

All right, not a text. Rather, an e-mail from her crowd-funding campaign, notifying her of a donation. Must be the universe telling her she was right to concentrate on her own business rather than someone else’s.

Tapping the phone’s screen, she opened the e-mail and followed the link to the donation page. Blinking, she looked again. Then a third time. Something wasn’t right. There must be a mistake. The amount showing was a whopping ten thousand dollars!

She reread the notification over and over, closed the link and started again. The amount in big green numbers remained the same. A numeral one followed by lots of zeros. Ten freakin’ thousand dollars.

Who would contribute that kind of money to her fledgling catering business? Using her fingers, she expanded the screen to better read the name. Spencer Bohanan! No flipping way.

She was going to strangle him. No, wait. First she was going to give him a piece of her very angry mind, then strangle him. How dare he? This wasn’t the least bit funny. In fact, it was mean. A terrible, humorless, tasteless joke.

Not caring about Tia Maria or the new manager/nephew or even her job, she marched over to the table where Spence still sat with her sisters.

Shoving her phone in his face, she stated, “I’m not amused.”

He leaned back to put more than two inches between himself and the phone and read the screen. “Wow. That came through fast.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m contributing to your catering business.” He grinned. “Isn’t that the point of a crowd-funding campaign?”

Frankie paid no attention to her sisters, who watched slack-jawed as if witnessing an impending catastrophe. “You don’t have ten thousand dollars.”

“The donation wouldn’t have gone through if I didn’t.”

Wha... Wait. That was true. Frankie remembered reading the terms and conditions. All donations were guaranteed by credit card or an online payment system. Spence couldn’t have donated a single cent unless he actually had it—or a substantial limit on his credit card.

“I refuse to let you go into debt simply to prove a point,” she snapped.

“First off, I won’t go into debt. I have the money, and a fair amount more where that came from. Second, I’m not trying to prove a point. Unless I did.” He winked at her. “In that case—”

“You’re broke. You’re always broke.” It was another of the reasons Frankie hadn’t told him about the girls. He couldn’t afford the child support payments, and she hated the idea of a long, drawn-out court battle, only to have him default.

“I’ve had a run of good luck lately,” he said.

“You rob a bank?”

“Come on. Give me a little credit. How ’bout I tell you what’s been happening with me over dinner tonight?”

Frankie’s sisters were literally sitting on the edges of their seats.

“No.” Dinner sounded too much like a date. “I’ll bring some brisket and ribs to the park. The picnic area. You recall where it is?”

“I do.”

Something flashed in his eyes. A memory, perhaps. He had plenty to choose from involving the park and the picnic area and the two of them. What had possessed Frankie to suggest that as a meeting place?

Mel abruptly straightened. “I’ll watch the g—” She caught herself in the nick of time. “Feed the dogs. I’ll feed your dogs if Sam can’t.”

“Sam?” Spence’s eyes lit up. “The new sister? Mel and Ronnie mentioned that she’s living with you. I’d love hearing about her at dinner.” He was at it again, teasing her in order to get his way.

“We’re not having dinner,” she stated. “Consider the food a sample. If you’re going to be an investor in my company, you should taste the wares.”

Where had that come from? Frankie was clearly losing her mind.

She quickly jotted her down her phone number on a paper napkin and handed it to him.

“I can’t wait.” He scooted out of the booth.

She wasn’t fast enough, and he brushed up beside her. The electric shock, even from such fleeting contact, was intense. Frankie sucked in a sharp breath.

Tugging on the brim of his cowboy hat, he ambled over to the counter where, thank goodness, the other waitress served him his breakfast order.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Mel hitched a thumb at her. “Look at that, Ronnie. She’s still hung up on him.”

Frankie pivoted in time to see her younger sister nodding in agreement.

“For the record,” she muttered, “you two couldn’t be more wrong.”

Hurrying off, she went to properly introduce herself to the new manager. It was that or deal with Spence. At the moment, Tia Maria’s nephew seemed the lesser of two evils.

Chapter Two

“Feed the dogs?” Frankie rolled her eyes at Mel, who shrugged in reply.

“It was the best I could come up with spur of the moment.”

The two of them were in Frankie’s kitchen. Mel sat at the table while Frankie stood at the counter, packing the picnic dinner. Coleslaw? Seriously? Had she chosen that side dish simply because Spence liked her recipe?

She purposely included a small jar of bread-and-butter pickles in the cooler. Her favorite. Spence preferred kosher dills. She did, however, select the best pieces of barbecue beef. Only because she had a reputation to consider. And, were she honest with herself, an ego that knew no bounds when it came to her specialties.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the manager job.” Mel tugged on the empty adjacent chair, bringing it closer and elevating her feet. “That’s just not right.”

“It’s her restaurant. Tia Maria can hire whomever she wants as manager.”

“But her nephew?” Mel snorted. “I heard he hasn’t worked in the food industry since college and then as a waiter in a pizza joint.”

News did travel fast in a small town. “He has a degree in business,” Frankie said.

“Not the same.”

“I didn’t have any experience when Tia Maria hired me.”

“You didn’t start out as manager, either. You worked your way up. The hard way, I might add.”

“There’s no point rehashing this. She gave the job to someone else. End of story. Seeing as I’m not prepared to quit, I’m staying.”

Mel looked contrite. “And here I am pouring salt in the wound.”

Frankie closed the lid on the remaining brisket and returned the storage container to the refrigerator. At the last second, she grabbed a triangle of leftover cherry pie. Adding that to the cooler, she checked the time.

“I’d better hurry.”

At the thought of seeing Spence again, her stomach twisted into a knot and sweat broke out on her brow. This was a crazy idea. Maybe she should call and cancel.

No. She had to find out why he was here, how long he intended to stay and if he’d by chance become father material in these past four years. Only then could she tell him about Paige and Sienna.

From the living room, she heard the girls playing animal hospital with their stuffed toys, a game inspired by their veterinarian aunt. Giggling and lively chatter assured Frankie that her daughters were getting along for a change.

“I appreciate you watching Paige and Sienna.”

“Are you kidding? I love babysitting. And it’s good practice.” Mel patted her protruding belly. “Besides, Aaron’s on duty until ten tonight.”

“You two set a date yet?”

Her cheeks colored. “Actually, we did.”

“When?” Frankie hurried over to give her sister a hug.

“The Saturday before Thanksgiving.”

“Why didn’t you say something? That’s only six weeks away. You can’t possibly pull off a wedding by then.”

“We’re having a small ceremony,” Mel assured her. “Family and close friends. Aaron already had the big shindig with his late wife. I wanted something different. Special and unique for us two.”

“I’ll cater the reception, of course.” Frankie paused. “You are having one?”

“Yes.” Mel laughed. “And I wouldn’t dream of having a reception without your food.”

“Let me know what else I can do to help.”

Frankie was already contemplating contacting her sisters and stepmom about throwing a bridal shower. They’d better hurry. Next up would be a baby shower. Mel and Aaron may be planning a small wedding, but with the local vet marrying the local deputy, half the town would probably want an invite to one shower or the other.

A ping sounded from the table, Frankie’s phone emitting another alert. She quickly snatched it and checked the screen. Not a donation notice from her crowd-funding campaign. Just a text from her other sister. She set the phone down.

“That’s Ronnie. She says practice will run late again tonight, and Sam won’t be home until ten or ten-thirty.

“She’s really working hard.”

Sam had turned professional barrel racer after graduating high school and had her heart set on winning a championship title. To accomplish that, she’d first need to qualify for the National Finals Rodeo in December. With Ronnie’s expert help, her chances were good.

“She’s determined to come back after this last run of bad luck.” Frankie tucked her phone into her purse, which was hanging from the back of a chair. “Two disqualifications in a row and a tenth place. She’s frustrated.”

“She’s also young,” Mel said. “If not this year, there’s always next.”

“Yeah. That’s what Ronnie said for ten straight years. She qualified I forget how many times, but never won.” It was their younger sister’s biggest regret.

Frankie set the cooler on the table. All that remained was to get herself ready.

“There’s leftover macaroni and cheese and fruit salad for the girls.” She wagged a finger at Mel. “No soda or sweets. I don’t care what you’re craving.”

It was Mel’s turn to roll her eyes. “I got this. Quit worrying.”

“I should be back long before their bedtime.”

“Don’t rush. You and Spence have a lot of catching up to do.”

Frankie wished her sister would quit smiling. “I’m going to change.”

In the bedroom, she took much too long choosing what shorts and top to wear. In the bathroom, she fussed with her hair and makeup.

What had Spence seen when he’d looked at her this morning? Frankie was no longer the thin young woman with long blond hair and an enviable complexion. Her figure had filled out a little after giving birth to her daughters, and she’d cut her hair, opting for a more trouble-free style. Her brown eyes were the same, but these days her skin’s glow came from a bottle of foundation.

Refusing to admit how nervous she was, she dwelled instead on Spence’s return. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never understand why her sisters had told him about her crowd-funding campaign. When Frankie demanded an explanation, Mel had said they were proud of her and wanted to brag. Besides, he’d asked if she was still catering. What were they supposed to say?

A short while later Frankie returned to the kitchen, as ready as she’d ever be. Mel pulled her head out of the open refrigerator and gave her a once-over.

“Nice.”

“I just threw on the first thing I grabbed.” True. After ripping a half-dozen other outfits from her closet, she’d ultimately settled on her original selection.

“Still planning on telling him about...” Mel tilted her head toward the living room, where the girls were now wrapping their stuffed toys with toilet paper bandages.

She sighed. “Not sure it’ll be tonight. But, yes. I just wish he was more reliable.”

Mel came away from the refrigerator with fixings for the girls’ dinner. “But he likes kids, right?”

“He used to, anyway. I always thought he’d make a good father. Except for not wanting to settle down.” Or get married. But that hadn’t stopped Frankie from falling in love. “Did he happen to say where he was working these days?”

“No, and we didn’t ask.”

Frankie was still grappling with his generous donation and claim to have plenty of money. Also, the fact that if she accepted his donation, she’d have to give him an ownership share of her company. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bring up the subject tonight, but give her another day at least to get a better idea of why he was here, how long he was staying and what his future plans were, if any.

She mentally recounted all the jobs he’d had that she knew about. Rodeoing—until he tore his shoulder and had to quit. Ranch hand. Horse trainer. Trail guide for a wilderness outfitter. He’d even done a stint one season at a Wild West theme park, driving a stagecoach. She’d long ago lost track of how many different states he’d resided in.

Last she’d heard, over a year ago, through a friend of a friend of a friend, he was in California, working at a racing quarter horse farm. Frankie couldn’t imagine what he was doing there. Handler? Groom? Certainly not a jockey. He had the horse skills, but at six foot two, he was far too big.

She doubted he’d changed his wandering ways. Why else would he have unexpectedly arrived in Mustang Valley, other than a quick pass through town on his latest adventure? He probably assumed she’d softened after all this time. Well, he was in for a surprise.

Before leaving, Frankie went into the living room, where she kissed the girls and extracted promises from them to be good for Auntie Mel. At the door, her sister patted her on the back as if she needed moral support, which, perhaps, she did.

“Call me if there’s a problem.” With a last goodbye, Frankie was gone.

During the short drive to the park in the center of town, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the next few hours were going to have a huge impact on her life, if only because Spence might be learning he was a father.

How would he react? Run far and fast? Angrily accuse her of lying to him and go after her for custody of the girls? Insinuate himself into their lives?

He had made that donation to her crowd-funding campaign. According to the stated terms, donations of a thousand dollars or more entitled the contributor to a share in her company—until, and if, she bought them out. With interest, of course. Ten thousand dollars would entitle Spence to a...she didn’t want to think about that.

Frankie arrived early. Typical. She was a bit obsessive-compulsive when it came to not making people wait, something she herself hated.

All six picnic tables were empty, though a few children played in the nearby playground under the supervision of their parents, and a young couple rode their horses along the designated equestrian trail. At dinnertime on a weekday evening, the park was bound to be empty.

By six, her and Spence’s agreed-upon time, she had various covered containers unpacked and arranged. At five minutes past six, she huffed and checked her watch again.

Her anger returned, overpowering her nervousness. She should have expected this. He didn’t know the meaning of punctual. Her glance constantly traveling to the parking area, she alternated between sitting, standing, pacing and gnashing her teeth.

Two vehicles arrived: one a compact car and the other a brand-new, fire-engine-red dually pickup with all the bells and whistles. She immediately dismissed the compact car as something Spence wouldn’t drive. Could the truck be his? It did seem a bit much. She’d never seen him drive anything that wasn’t destined for the junkyard.

Another ten minutes. That was the most she’d give him. If he didn’t show by then, she was leaving. When a lone, tall man wearing a cowboy hat emerged from the pickup, Frankie’s heart gave an abrupt leap. It was Spence. How in the world—

He came toward her, his stride easy and confident, his trademark sexy grin firmly in place. As he neared, he removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his front shirt pocket.

She’d worried earlier about how she looked to him. Older. Less attractive. A duller version of her younger self. What she should have worried about was how he looked to her. Good. As appealing as always. Lip-smacking gorgeous.

Frankie knew in that instant she hadn’t changed one bit and was in serious danger of falling under his spell again. She struggled to shore up her defenses. Except she didn’t have a chance before Spence reached her and swept her into a hug.

Not a rib-crushing, good-to-see-an-old-friend hug but the heady, twirl-in-a-circle, steal-your-breath-away kind.

What am I going to do now?

He set her down. Fortunately, he didn’t let go of her arm or she might have stumbled. He’d left her that disconcerted and that unsteady.

Pretending to have caught her sandal heel in a hole, she insisted, “I’m fine,” and tried to extract her arm from his grasp.

He held firm, his glance roving her face before moving lower. “Yes, you are.”

“Spence.” She tugged harder. When was he ever not pouring on the charm?

“Sorry I’m late.” He finally released her.

“What was it this time?” She couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice. He always had one excuse or another. Flat tire. Dead battery. Traffic. A buddy who just happened to drop by.

“I had to make a few calls. The transport driver encountered flooding in Texas. He’s going to be delayed a good half day.”

“What’s being transported?” She occupied herself with reorganizing the containers.

“I own two retired racing mares.”

“Racing mares?”

He peered over her shoulder at the spread she’d prepared, getting a little too close for Frankie’s comfort. As if set on automatic, her body responded before she could stop herself, softening and leaning ever so slightly into him.

“We should probably sit down,” he said, his breath tickling her neck. “A lot’s happened these past few years.”

Little did he know she could say the same thing.

* * *

IF IT WASN’T incredibly rude, Spence would have smacked his lips. “You could always cook, honey.”

“Don’t call me that. Please.”

Frankie had quickly regained her composure and eased away from him. He liked knowing he could still rattle her. What he didn’t like was the skittish look in her eyes. It was one thing for her to fight an attraction to him, another to be uneasy.

Popping the lids on various containers, she dealt paper plates as if they were cards from a deck. Next, she unwrapped the barbecue beef brisket he’d been dreaming about this entire past week, ever since deciding on returning to Mustang Valley.

All right, all right. Food wasn’t all he’d been dreaming of. Luck had been on his side when he stopped by the café this morning and found Frankie’s sisters there. He’d assumed she wouldn’t be glad to see him, not after the last time he’d left and she told him in no uncertain terms to delete her number from his phone contacts.

And he’d been right. After her initial shock wore off, she’d fired an entire arsenal of invisible daggers at him.

Her sisters, however, had been happy to make room for him in the booth. They’d always liked him. And he’d liked the entire Hartman clan, which had apparently grown by a long-lost half sister and a brand-new stepmother.

With very little prodding, Mel and Ronnie had opened up, telling Spence the most important details—Frankie wasn’t married and she wasn’t currently seeing anyone.

Music to his ears. Though how some guy had yet to put a ring on her finger baffled Spence. In his admittedly biased opinion, she was better looking now than ever. The short, chic hairstyle suited her, as did the stunning hourglass figure outlined by shorts and a snug top. Her brown eyes, when serious, had the power to captivate him, and make him laugh when twinkling with amusement.

She definitely wasn’t amused now. Really? Just because he was a few minutes late?

“Would you like a beer?” she asked, her hand disappearing into the cooler.

He shook his head, reminding himself to focus. He likely had one chance with Frankie and didn’t dare blow it.

“No, thanks. Lemonade’s great.”

“You’re refusing a beer?” She turned to him, an incredulous expression on her face.

“I don’t drink much anymore, except on special occasions.”

“Since when?” She narrowed her gaze.

“No DUIs or mornings I regret or nights I blacked out, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just cut back. Different lifestyle these days.”

She handed him the lemonade she’d already poured, then grabbed another cup. “I forgot to ask earlier. Where are you staying?”

“Eddie’s putting me up.”

“Did he ever move out of that old double-wide trailer?”

“Are you kidding?” Spence took a swig of lemonade, sweetened exactly to his liking, then another. “At least I have my own room. With a bed.” He’d spent many a night on a friend’s couch or floor, more than he cared to admit. “But I have to figure out what to do with my mares. The transport truck will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“You shouldn’t have much trouble. Plenty of places in the area accept temporary boarders.”

Temporary? Was she fishing for information or insinuating he was leaving soon?

“Any suggestions?” he asked.

“Ronnie keeps her horses at Powell Ranch.”

She filled a plate with slices of brisket and one big, meaty rib. Handing it to him, she indicated he should sit and help himself to the sides and her homemade barbecue sauce. He noticed right away she’d made coleslaw. His favorite.

“I’ll check them out.”

Spence had been casually acquainted with the Powells at one time years ago. The family owned the largest public horse stables in the valley and had made a name for themselves breeding and training mustangs—some of them captured in the nearby McDowell Mountains.

“They have weekly rates,” Frankie said. “For short-term customers.”

Definitely insinuating, Spence thought. He should tell her of his plans, but decided to wait and see how their dinner progressed.

Frankie sat down across from him. “So, tell me about this different lifestyle of yours. And, if I’m not being too nosy, how you came into enough money that you can afford to invest ten thousand dollars in a start-up business.”

“The answer to both is the same.”

He’d much rather she sat beside him. Not going to happen, however. For a moment there, when he’d leaned close, he swore the old spark had flared between them. The next instant, she’d raised her guard.

On the drive here, Spence had worried that she’d agreed to meet with him only because of the money. Now, thanks to their mutual sparks, he knew that wasn’t the case. She cared for him. A little, anyway. Even after their long separation.

He indulged in a bite of brisket, instantly forgetting where he was and what he was doing. “This is good. No, fantastic.”

“It’s better warm and freshly carved.”

“Something to look forward to.” Swallowing, he flashed her a grin. “Next time.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Can’t help myself, honey. I mean Frankie,” he amended, before she could correct him. “This food is incredible. How is it you haven’t opened up your own restaurant?”

“You were saying.”

“Yes. Right. Different lifestyle.” He fortified himself with a heaping forkful of coleslaw. “Two years ago this spring, I took a job as assistant trainer for Cottonwood Farms. Have you heard of them?”

“Hmm. No.” She concentrated on her plate, delicately picking at her food. “But someone did say you were working with racing quarter horses.”

“Up until recently, Cottonwood Farms was a small player. Not anymore. The owner quite literally invested everything he had in a young colt named Han Dover Fist. The colt went on to be the top winning quarter horse last year, making his owners very rich.”

“We don’t hear much about horse racing of any kind in this part of the state.”

Spence figured as much. Mustang Valley was a cattle ranching community, its horses primarily working stock or those ridden for pleasure. Probably only a few people realized one of the better known quarter horse racetracks was a mere hundred miles away, outside Tucson. Spence did, and while not the reason he’d returned, it certainly was an added benefit. He’d be making a trip there in the near future.

Picking up the Fred Flintstone–sized rib Frankie had given him, he said, “I didn’t think I’d like training racehorses. It’s a lot different than cutting or calf roping. Turns out I’m pretty good.”

“That where you’re working now?” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Cottonwood Farms?”

Spence remembered what it was like to kiss those lovely, full lips, and the thrill that coursed through him when they parted beneath his. Clearing his throat and banishing distracting thoughts, he continued.

“I was up until a couple months ago.”

“Ah.”

He knitted his brows. “What does that mean?”

“Two years. That’s a pretty long time to stick with one job. For you.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Enlighten me.”

While she’d delivered the statement with a teasing tone, there was no mistaking the seriousness of it. She saw him as a drifter. Unable or unwilling to hold down a job for very long.

“I guess you could say I’m on leave, with an invitation to return at any time.”

“Why on leave?”

“I’m trying my hand at racehorse breeding. Which is why I purchased the two retired mares. They were sold at a good price. One I couldn’t turn down.”

“Even at a good price, they couldn’t have been cheap.” She propped her elbows on the table. “Do you mind me asking where you got the money?”

“Well, that’s where the story gets interesting.”

“I bet.”

“Betting does have something to do with it, yes.” He pushed aside his plate. Not because he was full, but because he wanted to watch the play of emotions on Frankie’s face. “Buying Han Dover Fist drained my boss’s finances. He didn’t have enough money to pay me full wages, so we worked out an agreement. I helped train the colt in exchange for an ownership share.”

“You might have wound up working for nothing.”

“But I didn’t. Han Dover exceeded everyone’s expectations. He was the long shot in more than one race at the beginning of last year. I would scrape together what cash I could and bet on him to win.”

Interest flared in her eyes. “Is that where you got the ten thousand dollars? Gambling winnings?”

“No. My gambling winnings are what I used to buy the mares.” At fifty-to-one odds that first race, Spence had done okay for himself. He’d quadrupled those winnings over the next three months.

“You must have believed in the horse.”

“I did. And not just because I helped train him. At the end of the season, my boss paid me a bonus on top of my share of the winnings. There are also stud fees, which will roll in for as long as I own a percentage of Han Dover Fist.”

She blinked in disbelief. “Are you making this up?”

“Every word I’ve said is true. I’m not rich, but I have a nice nest egg in the bank, and if all goes well, I’ll have my own racing quarter horse farm.”

“That’s a pretty ambitious dream.”

Spence took her hand, half expecting her to snatch it away. She didn’t.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve moved from job to job, place to place, and rarely had two nickels to rub together. But the fact is, I’ve changed.”

“So you say.”

He was a bit wounded by her disbelief in him. “I’ve worked hard and have something to show for it. I also intend to keep working hard and have more to show.”

“Horse racing—” she reclaimed her hand in order to shoo away a pesky fly “—is a risky business. It’s also a rich man’s business.”

She wasn’t wrong. Plenty of people went broke. A few lucky ones, like his boss, made a fortune. If they had the right horse. Spence had high hopes for the foals his pregnant mares were carrying.

“I’m smart,” he said. “I’m starting small and not investing any more money than I can afford to lose.”

She glanced away, staring unseeingly at the play area.

“I’ve disappointed you in the past,” he said gently. “Plenty. I get why you think I’m chasing rainbows. But aren’t you doing the same thing with your catering business?”

Her head snapped back around. “It’s a lot less risky. And besides, I have a steady day job. One that provides benefits.”

“True. But if I lost everything I have now, I wouldn’t be worse off than when I started. Better, in fact. I have a job waiting for me.”

She frowned. “That’s not a very responsible attitude. Lose everything?”

“Believe me—I intend to be a success.”

She looked away again.

“I get it. My track record doesn’t inspire confidence.” He paused and started over. “I really believe I bounced around so much because I was searching for this. I love what I’m doing, Frankie.”

“Is it the excitement?” she asked.

“I won’t deny horse racing is fun. Nothing compares to the thrill of watching a horse you helped train cross the finish line in first place.”

“Nothing?”

Was she referring to herself or what they once had together?

“Nothing work-related.” He tried again to express himself. “I’m good at this, Frankie. Just like you’re good at cooking. And I’m convinced I can make a decent living. Also like you. We aren’t that different.”

“Why did you come back?” She not only returned her attention to him, she stared intently.

“To see you. Now that I finally have something to offer. I’m hoping you’ll...reconsider. Give me another chance.”

“You hurt me, Spence. A lot. You know I wanted to get married eventually and have a family. Yet you left. Again. I got the message loud and clear. You weren’t ready.”

He blew out a long, resigned breath. “I can’t tell you how many regrets I have.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“I’ve changed. I swear.” Even as the words left his mouth, he realized he’d said them before. “This time, it’s true.”

She hesitated. Well, at least she wasn’t telling him to get the hell out of Mustang Valley and never come back.

“I need time,” she finally said. “To think.”

“Sure. Sure.”

“I’m not the same person, either. A lot’s different.”

“I want to hear all about it.”

“Give me until tomorrow.” Though they weren’t quite done eating, she began putting food away. “Meet me at the café. Ten thirty sharp. We can talk before my shift starts at noon.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t be late,” she added.

He chuckled. “What? Is this a test?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.” She abruptly stood and sent him a look that left no doubt.

Chapter Three

Frankie sat at a booth in the café, waiting for Spence and staring at her phone. Swiping her finger across the screen, she read and reread the terms of her equity crowd-funding campaign. What had struck her as simple and straightforward when she started her campaign now appeared confusing.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined someone donating a thousand dollars, much less ten thousand. If she upheld the terms of her campaign, and accepted Spence’s money, he’d own 10 percent of her company. A company that, without him, was no more than a glorified hobby.

The thought staggered her. And scared her.

On the one hand, Spence offered her the chance to realize her long-held hope of owning her own business. On the other hand, the offer came with strings. Lots of them.

Groaning softly, she set her phone down, angry at herself for stalling. The big issue wasn’t her crowd-funding, it was telling—or not telling—Spence about their daughters, Paige and Sienna.

“You want a refill?”

Frankie glanced up to find her coworker brandishing a pot of coffee.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

She was already unnerved at the prospect of seeing Spence for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. More coffee would literally give her the shakes.

“I was going to ask you,” the young woman said, leaning closer. “Would it be all right if I took tomorrow off? I know it’s late notice, but Shelly Anne said she would swap days with me.”

Frankie shrugged. “I’m okay with it, but you’d better talk to Antonio. He has the final say.” She barely hid her frustration.

“Yeah. Hmm.” The young woman frowned. “What do you make of him?”

“He seems nice enough. I only spent about an hour with him. We’re supposed to work together on the inventory this afternoon.”

“He has no experience. You should have gotten the job,” the woman added in a hushed voice.

Frankie glanced at the pass-through window, where the top halves of Cook and Antonio could be seen, the two of them moving back and forth in front of the grill. Tia Maria had decided her nephew should train with Cook today, learning the ins and outs of how the kitchen functioned.

“It is what it is,” Frankie said. “But I appreciate the support.”

“What are you going to do?”

She thought again of Spence, her crowd-funding campaign and breaking the news to him that he was a father. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe surprise everyone.”

A customer two booths over hailed the waitress. She lightly touched Frankie’s shoulder before murmuring, “See you later,” and hurrying away.

Frankie closed the open web page on her phone, simultaneously checking the time. Ten fifteen. She’d warned Spence not to be late. Would he take her seriously or, as usual, come dragging in when he felt like it?

She swore she could feel the stares of half the café’s customers boring into her. They’d probably heard Spence was back in town. Also that Tia Maria had hired her nephew. The customers no doubt wondered what she was doing here, sitting in a booth rather than waiting on them. Who came to their place of employment during their time off?

Someone preferring neutral territory to converse with the man who’d shaped her entire past and could conceivably alter her entire future.

“Hey, there, Frankie.”

Another interruption. This time from one of her sister Mel’s veterinarian clients.

“Hi. How you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” The trim and athletic senior woman didn’t wait for an invitation and slipped into the booth across from Frankie. “I saw Spence this morning. He was at Powell Ranch. Did you know he’s back in town?”

“Yes.” She refused to say more.

“I overheard him chatting with the Powells about boarding a couple of horses.”

“Really?” Frankie didn’t let on he’d already told her this.

“He must be staying in town, then.”

“I...couldn’t say.”

Disappointment shone on the woman’s face. She’d obviously been hoping for more of a reaction from Frankie.

Unbelievably, the subject of their conversation breezed into the café, the glass door whooshing closed behind him.

“Great,” Frankie muttered under her breath. The one time Spence arrived promptly, and she had to be sitting with someone itching for a repeat-worthy moment. “I, um, hate to ask you to...”

What should she say? Please leave?

Of course, Spence spotted her immediately and came right over, returning the greetings given him from various old friends, but not stopping.

Frankie had barely caught her breath when he appeared at the table, grinning broadly, looking scrumptious and not at all fazed to find someone with her.

“Morning,” he addressed the woman. “We run into each other again.”

“Yes, we do.” Her glance traveled between him and Frankie. “I didn’t realize you were waiting for him.”

Frankie’s hands betrayed her, starting to tremble. She hid them beneath the table, cursing the coffee she’d drunk and knowing it wasn’t the cause.

“Am I late?” he asked.

“No. I just got here.” Did half an hour ago count as “just”?

“You ready?” He held out his hand.

What the heck was going on?

“If you don’t mind.” He turned his attention to the other woman, who stared at him with wide eyes. “Frankie and I don’t have much time.”

Frankie grimaced. As if tongues weren’t already wagging.

“Don’t let me hold you up.” The woman vacated the booth.

Frankie suddenly realized Spence was rescuing her from an uncomfortable situation. Not causing trouble. When had he become astute enough to read other people’s feelings, and thoughtful enough to respond?

“Uh, yes.” She tentatively accepted his hand and let him assist her from the booth. They started walking toward the door. “You can let go of me,” she whispered.

“Come on. Let’s really give them something to talk about.”

It wasn’t the stares bothering her. Not even close. What worried Frankie was that the instant she and Spence had touched, familiar sensations stirred inside her. And rather than resist, she’d savored them.

Outside, she reclaimed her hand. “Where are we going?” Her original intention had been to talk in the café.

“Let’s walk. I haven’t had a chance to check out the town since I got back.”

This time of year, mornings were cool enough to be outdoors. Within a few hours, however, the temperature would soar to the mideighties.

“As you can see,” Frankie said, “things are mostly the same.” At least walking provided an outlet for her nervous energy.

“I see the feed store has changed hands.”

“The owner sold the store after his assistant manager was involved in a series of horse thefts around the valley.”

“And your sister Mel helped catch the thieves. She’s marrying the deputy who headed up their capture, right?”

“She tell you that yesterday?”

“Actually, I heard about it last month when I was passing through town.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

“The timing wasn’t right.”

Was it because he finally had money? Frankie had never cared that Spence wasn’t wealthy. She’d grown up in a modest home, but one filled with love. Though she’d lost her mother at a young age, her father had done his best to ensure his daughters’ happiness. She knew there were more important things in life than having a fat bank account.

They crossed the street at the corner and headed down the next block.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked. “And for the record, I wasn’t late.”

No, he’d been early. “My catering business. I’m not sure you know, but a ten thousand dollar contribution entitles you to a 10 percent ownership and a share of the profits.”

“Sounds a little like my arrangement with Han Dover Fist. I own 15 percent of him and get a share of the profits.”

“Do you have a say in his management?” Frankie was genuinely curious.

“Not anymore. He’s retired from the track and living the life of a king at Cottonwood Farms. Quit a winner—that was my boss’s philosophy.” Spence indicated a group of boisterous riders tying their horses to a hitching rail beside the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill. “I see that practice hasn’t changed.”

“And likely never will as long as we’re a ranching community.”

At the next corner, Spence asked, “What are your plans for the catering business? Mel and Ronnie mentioned you’re just doing side jobs right now.”

It was a reasonable question, especially from a potential investor. Besides, Frankie would rather talk about her business than the girls.

“I’d like to buy a smoker. Commercial grade, I should say. All I have now are two small ones. More chafing dishes. And warming boxes to transport food. Then there’s advertising and promotion.”

For the next five minutes, she outlined her ideas. Spence made several intelligent comments that had her contemplating her answers.

“Sounds good,” he remarked when she was done.

“How involved would you expect to be?”

“Are you asking if I intend to stick around?” He flashed her the same happy grin he’d used back when they were dating, to lighten her mood or ease her worries.

“Honestly? Yes.” She kept her voice level.

His response was more important to her than she cared to admit.

“I suppose it depends a lot on you.”

“Me?” She stopped to look at him.

They stood in front of the auto parts store, with its slight smell of oil and flashing neon sign, lit even during the day. Not the most romantic setting.

“I’d like to stick around, Frankie. Mustang Valley is a good place for me to start my racing quarter horse farm.”

“You said yesterday you wanted another chance with me.”

“There’s that, too.”

They began walking again. “Not that it’s any of my business,” she said, finally giving in to her curiosity, “but have you met anyone these past four years?”

“I’ve dated a couple gals. Nothing serious.” He chuckled, with more nervousness than humor. “I had a lot of trouble getting over you, Francine Hartman.”

Then why didn’t you come back? Her life, and that of her daughters, might now be entirely different.

“Let me rephrase,” he said. “No one’s compared to you.”

“I see.” She shouldn’t be happy. And she wasn’t.

Fine, fine. She was a little happy. She’d pined over him, too.

“What about you?” he asked. “Anybody special?”

“I know for a fact my sisters told you I’m single.” Damn them, she thought.

Spence smiled sheepishly. “I just wanted to hear it from you.”

She resisted. For two seconds. “I’ve dated, too. Nothing serious,” she added, echoing him.

“Why not? You’re a catch.”

Frankie hesitated. She couldn’t tell him she’d been too busy working and raising their daughters to give much thought to dating. Or that most single men weren’t interested in a ready-made family.

“Lately, I’ve been busy trying to get my catering business off the ground.”

“Nice pat answer. What’s the real reason?”

Okay. He asked for it. “It’s been hard for me to trust anyone again after you.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you I wasn’t the guy for you at the time, and that I was trying for a clean break? Much as I loved you, and I did, I couldn’t bring myself to settle down and have that family you wanted.”

“And now you’re different?”

“Yes, I am.” His confidence returned. “You can trust me.”

She wasn’t entirely swayed. But he had gone out on a limb to admit the truth to her, and that took courage.

“I have a short shift at the café. Come by my house tonight. Seven thirty.”

His eyes sparked. “To talk business?”

“No.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

She felt suddenly uncomfortable. “We’d better get back. My shift starts soon.”

At the entrance to the café, he took her hand again. Only rather than hold it, he brought her palm to his cheek. The bristles of his day-old beard tickled her skin. “I meant what I said about staying. Give me a reason, Frankie, and I’m here for good.”

She could do that, give him a reason. And throw him for a heck of a loop in the process.

“We’ll talk more tonight.” Her hand fell away from his face. “Goodbye, Spence.” Hurrying inside, she quickly changed into her uniform, her fumbling fingers struggling with the zipper.

She didn’t have much time. For all she knew, Eddie or someone else had already mentioned her girls, and Spence was biding his time, waiting for her to confess or to call her out on her unforgivable lie.

Just breathe. In and out.

Frankie stopped in the doorway and fought to slow her racing heart. The moment she’d been dreading for years had at long last arrived. No amount of panicking would delay it.

* * *

IT HAD TAKEN every ounce of Spence’s willpower not to follow Frankie inside the café earlier. He’d told her he wanted to stay in Mustang Valley, which in his mind amounted to admitting he still cared. Her response had been to stare blankly at him, and then suggest they get back.

Okay, he was man enough to admit that stung. Then again, she hadn’t given him the boot. And she’d invited him to her house. He’d been contemplating the endless possibilities for hours.

Contrary to what he’d implied, his buddy Eddie had divulged very little about Frankie. Not that Spence had asked. He hadn’t wanted to appear interested, which, of course, he was.

The house he pulled up in front of was in the new residential section of Mustang Valley, built less than a mile from the park and center of town. With its stucco siding and Santa Fe styling, he thought the home exactly the type Frankie would have picked. Someday, when she finally had that family she wanted. But now?

While far from huge, it did seem a lot for one person, especially with its spacious backyard and modest horse setup. That part struck Spence as odd, seeing as Frankie wasn’t much into horses and livestock like the rest of her family, other than as a spectator. But, then again, most people in Mustang Valley owned horses, and most houses came with a horse setup.

Solar lights lined the walkway to Frankie’s front door, casting slanted ovals of gold on the desert landscaping and reminding Spence of the late hour. Seven thirty? He pondered the reasoning behind Frankie’s request as he knocked on her front door.

His pulse beat faster, revealing his anxiety. She answered quickly, making him think she’d been watching out the window. As the door swung open, he took in the sight of her, and his throat promptly went dry.

“You look great.” So much for playing it cool. “Seriously, Frankie.”

She gave him a once-over but, unlike him, managed to refrain from blurting the first thing to pop into her head.

“Come on in.”

He stepped over the threshold and was instantly assaulted by a pair of friendly dogs, one a Lab mix and the other a yappy terrier. Both sniffed his pant legs and boots. Apparently, he passed inspection, for they quickly moved away, tails wagging and tongues lolling.

“I see you’re still collecting strays.” Spence bent and gave each dog an ear scratching. “Where are the cats?”

“Cat,” Frankie clarified. “And she’s around somewhere.”

She had a tender heart and was always rescuing one needy animal or another. Also, apparently, long-lost half sisters.

On quick inspection, he saw the living room was decorated with a few items he remembered from her dad’s house. The oil painting hanging over the couch. The pine side table her grandfather had made. A braided rug beneath the table. Various pictures of little girls hung in a pattern on the wall. She and her sisters as children, Spence guessed.

“You have a nice place.”

“We—I like it.”

He followed her inside, quite enjoying the view. She paused and turned. He enjoyed this view even better.

Capri pants emphasized her shapely calves. Bare feet exposed red toenails. A gold chain circled her slim neck, the engraved disk nestled in her generous cleavage. A second gold chain circled her right ankle. Tiny crinkles that appeared at the corners of her eyes when she smiled had him falling for her all over again.

“Frankie.” Unable to help himself, he reached for her. “I’ve missed you.”

“Spence—”

He didn’t give her time to finish and pulled her against him, aligning the body parts that mattered the most. “I’ve been waiting for this since I saw you in that ugly uniform yesterday.” He dipped his head.

“Ugly—?”

He cut her off again, this time with a kiss. Her spine stiffened, and she resisted him. For a moment. And while not exactly surrendering, she did relax and let his mouth move over hers in a familiar pattern he’d dreamed about for four straight years.

Fire instantly flared inside him, the one only she could ignite. His hold on her tightened as he wrapped an arm around her waist and increased the pressure of his mouth, urging her lips to part. When they did, and he tasted her, the fire raged until it nearly consumed him.

The next instant, it died when she extracted herself from his embrace. “Not now,” she said in a low voice, and stepped away, establishing a safe distance between them.

“All right.”

Had he really just answered her with complete composure? She’d left him shaken, both because of the intensity of their kiss—incredibly potent even after all this time—and her unnerving calm. How could her world not be spinning? His was, wildly out of control.

Then again, she’d said, “Not now.” She hadn’t said, “Not ever again.” Spence wasn’t one to split hairs, but in his mind, there was a big difference.

“Have a seat.” She gestured toward the couch.

“Thanks.” He thought he detected a slight shakiness in her raised arm. Maybe she wasn’t immune to him, after all.

Removing his cowboy hat, he placed it on the coffee table next to a stack of colorful books. Dr. Seuss? Really? Must be more childhood mementoes. Taking a cue from the dogs, who’d already claimed nearby spots on the floor, he lowered himself onto the couch.

Was that a noise he heard from down the hall? Had Frankie left a TV on in the bedroom? Perhaps her sister Sam was here and had been issued strict instructions to stay out of sight while Spence was visiting.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said.

“This is mostly Dad’s doing. He won the lottery last spring. Maybe you heard.”

“Your sisters mentioned something. I remember him buying tickets every week.”

“Same numbers for over thirty years.”

She chose the chair next to the side table rather than the end of the couch near him. Drat. Foiled again.

“It wasn’t a fortune,” she said. “But enough to make all our lives easier. Dad split the money four ways between himself, Mel, Ronnie and me. I used my share for a down payment on this house and some furnishings. He and Dolores were getting married, and I didn’t want to be living with them.”

“That was generous of him.”

“It was. Ronnie started her barrel racing school with her share and Mel bought her vet practice. Dad paid for his wedding to Dolores and their honeymoon in Hawaii.”

“You like her? Your stepmom?” Spence remembered the Frankie from high school who desperately missed her late mother and believed it was her job to help raise her younger sisters.

“She’s wonderful. We love her to pieces.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t use your share to start your catering business.”

“I thought about it. But getting my own place was more important. We were living wi—” She stopped herself, not for the first time tonight. “No new bride needs a third wheel.”

“I suppose not.”

A lull fell, one that Spence felt acutely. This wasn’t typical. For them, conversation had always flowed easily.

“It’s a good-sized house,” he said. “Lots of room for you and Sam. She lives with you, right?”

“She does, though she’s with friends tonight.” Frankie shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Spence. There’s a reason I asked you over tonight and it has nothing to do with my catering business or us.”

“Okay.” His insides clenched, responding to the somber tone in her voice and worried expression on her face.

“Wait here.” She rose. “Don’t move. Promise me. I have two very special people I’d like you to meet.”

She disappeared from the room and padded down the hall. Spence strained his ears, hearing voices. So he hadn’t been wrong about someone else in the house. But who? Not a guy; she wasn’t dating, and not Sam. Her stepmom maybe?

Finally, after what felt like an agonizing amount of time, Frankie reappeared, trailed by two little girls. What the heck...?

Stopping in the middle of the room, she gathered the girls to her sides. They were a study in contrast: one short and blonde, the other taller and with dark hair. Nonetheless, something made Spence think they were sisters.

“This is Paige—” Frankie lifted the shorter one’s hand, clasped firmly in hers “—and this is Sienna.” She patted the top of the taller one’s head with her other hand. “My daughters.”

Spence was never at a loss for what to say. Until now. He stared at Frankie and the girls, a malfunction occurring in the area of his brain responsible for speech.

Daughters? Impossible!

Well, apparently not, for there they stood, wearing matching pajamas and staring at him with a mixture of shyness and curiosity.

“Um...uh, hello,” he managed to choke out.

“I thought you three should meet. Girls, say hi.”

“Hi,” they both said simultaneously and softly, clinging to their mother.

Their mother! Frankie had children. Two of them! This explained the pictures on the wall and the Dr. Seuss books.

When had it happened? Well, obviously during the last four years. How old were they? Spence wasn’t good at these things, having no experience. He was the youngest of three siblings and not a father himself. His oldest brother had children, but he and his wife lived in Marana. Spence visited them only once or twice a year.

“We’re twins,” the shorter one said, as if she made that announcement regularly.

“Really? You don’t look alike.”

“They’re fraternal twins,” Frankie explained.

Whatever that meant. Not wishing to appear stupid, Spence said nothing.

“I’m older.” Again, the smaller one spoke. “Six minutes.”

“Then how come you’re smaller?”

“Grandpa says I’m still growing.”

Did the taller one talk at all? Spence looked at her closely. Large, expressive eyes. Brown hair straight and thick as a horse’s tail. She reminded him of someone, though he couldn’t put his finger on who. The shorter one was the spitting image of Frankie. A Hartman through and through.

“Well,” she started, “I just wanted to introduce you before I put them to bed. Say good-night, girls.”

They did, and Frankie escorted them back to their bedroom.

Unable to just sit there after they left, Spence sprang up from the couch and crept along the entryway leading down the hall. There, he waited and listened to Frankie conversing with her daughters as she tucked them in bed.

She was sweet with them, making promises for the next day, reciting a good-night prayer and telling them to “Sleep tight.” He was admittedly touched.

Before she turned off the light, Spence crept away and resumed his seat on the living room couch. His entire body shook, the result of shock and wonder and surprise. He’d returned to Mustang Valley thinking, hoping, possibly to win Frankie back.

Her having daughters changed that. Spence wasn’t sure he was ready to step into the role of parent, even a stepparent.

His first instinct was to leave town. But then, wasn’t that always his first plan of action? And probably what Frankie expected of him. She could be testing him again, like she had this morning about being on time. He’d bragged to her he was a changed man. Leaving town would show he’d lied.

But daughters. Two of them. He was entitled to be taken aback. And reevaluating his return to Mustang Valley in order to woo Frankie was completely understandable.

Hearing her sigh, he glanced up.

She smiled weakly. “That took longer than I thought. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“No worries.” He stood and reached for his cowboy hat. The idea of stealing a good-night kiss had also vanished. “It’s getting late. And you’re busy. I should probably go.”

He saw the look in her eyes, silently accusing him of running. Damn. He just couldn’t stop himself and turned toward the door.

“Wait, Spence.” She hadn’t moved. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

There was more? He tried to grin, certain it fell flat. “Sure. What?”

“Paige and Sienna. Aren’t you the least bit curious about their father?”

“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”

She gazed directly at him, and her stare was so powerful and unwavering, Spence tensed. His gut screamed she was about to deliver life-altering news.

“I should have told you sooner.” She inhaled, then blew out slowly. “And I certainly understand if you’re angry at me.”

“Why would I be angry?”

Suddenly, everything clicked into place, and he knew her answer before she spoke.

“You’re their father, Spence. Paige and Sienna are your daughters.”

Chapter Four

Spence’s vision dimmed to a hazy gray. He was aware of his surroundings and the words Frankie had spoken—Paige and Sienna are your daughters—but nothing made sense.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He swore he could feel each and every bead forming. Hearing a muffled thump, he looked down at his cowboy hat on the floor. Glaring at his hands as if they were at fault, he bent and retrieved the hat. The motion caused a dizzying sensation, as if he were on an elevator that had stopped too fast.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.