ALL HE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS…

From the moment they were born, Hannah Tanner fell completely in love with her best friend’s twin girls. Then a terrible car crash leaves her their sole guardian. And before she can even get the twins settled, their biological father shows up at Hannah’s door…determined to take her girls away.

Noah Knight isn’t leaving Ramblewood, Texas, without his daughters, and Hannah isn’t giving them up without a fight. Worse still, Noah can’t deny her fierce love for the girls—or his own growing feelings for her. It’ll take more than a Christmas miracle to keep his new family together—he’ll need to win Hannah’s heart!

She couldn’t help but wonder if including Noah in their lives had happened too fast…

“I kind of wanted to cut down a tree for you and the girls the way your dad did,” Noah said.

No, no, no. Don’t say something romantic!

“I didn’t grow up with that experience,” he continued. “We had a fake tree and store-bought decorations.”

“Okay, let’s find ourselves a tree.” Hannah pushed the stroller past him until his hand covered hers, strong and firm. Breathe, Hannah, breathe. She did…and inhaled his fresh, woodsy scent. Almost pine, but not quite. Whatever it was, it was raw and intoxicating.

“Allow me.” His lips were so close, her hair moved as he spoke.

She gripped the stroller tighter for fear if she let go she’d melt into a puddle. This can’t be happening.

She wasn’t permitted to think of Noah as anyone other than Charlotte and Cheyenne’s father. She was in trouble. Being around him heightened her senses and left her feeling very protected at the same time. She didn’t need to feel protected. She could take care of herself. She could take care of the girls herself, the same way Lauren had.

But she didn’t want to. God help her, she didn’t want to do it without Noah…

Dear Reader,

I had a very clear image of Clay Tanner’s sister, Hannah, when I wrote A Texan for Hire last year. Even though she had a very small part in that book, every time I closed my eyes, the opening scenes from Twins for Christmas played out before me. Whenever I drove past an old farmhouse, I envisioned her and Noah standing on the front porch with two little faces peering through the screen door behind them. Finally, one afternoon I sat down and wrote the entire synopsis in under three hours. While it was the easiest proposal I’ve written, the same couldn’t be said about the book. It was the hardest to date. The emotional backdrop of this story broke my heart. I wanted to reach through my computer and wrap my arms around Charlotte and Cheyenne—the eighteen-month-old twins featured in this story. A huge part of me fell in love with this family, and someday I’ll revisit the girls as they grow older.

Twins for Christmas is the ninth book in the Welcome to Ramblewood series…where the door is always open.

Feel free to stop in and visit me at amandarenee.com. I’d love to hear from you. Happy reading!

Amanda Renee

Twins for Christmas

Amanda Renee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AMANDA RENEE was raised in the Northeast and now wriggles her toes in the warm coastal Carolina sands. Her career began when she was discovered through Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest. When not creating stories about love and laughter, she enjoys the company of her schnoodle, Duffy, camping, playing guitar and piano, photography, and anything involving horses. You can visit her at amandarenee.com.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Noah Knight’s wet jeans clung uncomfortably to his thighs. Drenched, he took refuge from the rain in a dimly lit bar. Finnegan’s Pub in College Station, Texas, catered to an older crowd. At thirty-two he wasn’t exactly middle-aged, but he was too old to find common ground with the majority of the local college students.

Once, sometimes twice, a year he conducted helicopter-logging recruitment seminars in town. Now he had four hours until his flight home to Aurora, Oregon. It gave him enough time to grab a bite and a beer or two before catching a cab to the airport. Noah wanted a booth to himself, but they were all taken, so he sat at the bar. He wasn’t in the mood for company after being awake for the last thirty hours.

He placed his order and reviewed the preliminary applications he’d collected during the seminar. One out of the twelve had potential, while the rest had been drawn to the danger of the job rather than the job itself.

“Enough work for today,” Noah muttered. He flipped his portfolio closed and jammed it into his bag, then picked up the folded newspaper someone had left behind on the stool next to him.

“That poor girl.” The bartender nodded to the paper as he set a pint of beer on a coaster in front of Noah. “She used to come in here and study right over there in that booth.” He nodded toward the corner of the pub. “Said it was quieter than the sorority house. Lived on coffee and fries.”

Noah read the obituary.

Lauren Marie Elgrove, 24, Boston, Massachusetts, formerly of Ramblewood, Texas, was killed Friday, November 18, 2016, in a car accident. Born on October 30, 1992, to James and Elizabeth Elgrove (both deceased) of San Angelo, Texas. She is survived by her twin twenty-one-month-old daughters, Charlotte and Cheyenne. Graveside services will be held at 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday at the Memorial Garden Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, contributions to the Charlotte and Cheyenne Education Fund are being accepted through Hannah Tanner of Ramblewood.

Noah felt a touch of sadness. A single cold paragraph seemed inappropriate when someone’s life had been cut so short. He unfolded the newspaper and the woman in the photograph above the obituary almost knocked him off his stool. Carefully he read the caption: “Lauren Elgrove with her daughters, Charlotte and Cheyenne.”

Lauren. His shoulders sagged. They’d met a few years ago in this very bar. She had graduated earlier that day and had been celebrating with a friend. The memory made him smile. He had found her fascinating as she spoke of biochemistry and physics. He could still hear her infectious laugh. They’d spent the night together tangled between the sheets, but he woke up the following morning alone.

Last names and phone numbers had been an afterthought and he’d never seen her again, which was a shame because he had wanted a chance to get to know her better. She’d popped into his head a few times since then, probably more than he cared to admit.

He calculated the dates quickly in his head—they’d slept together around two and a half years ago. Staring at the photograph, he saw his own eyes reflected back in the twins’ faces. Noah’s chest tightened and he swore he stopped breathing. Was it possible? Were Charlotte and Cheyenne his daughters? His gut told him he already knew the answer, but he needed confirmation.

His mind raced. “Excuse me.” Noah fought to steady his voice and waved for the bartender. “You—” He cleared his throat as the man approached. “You said you knew this woman—Lauren Elgrove?”

The bartender’s head slowly bobbed up and down. “She had a bright future ahead of her.”

“There’s no mention of the children’s father. Do they have one?” Noah winced at his own question. Nervousness trumped diplomacy and tact. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was the father.

“I haven’t seen Lauren in at least two years.” The bartender shrugged. “I didn’t even know she had kids until I saw her obituary. Your order will be right up.”

Noah attempted to wrap his mind around the possibility he’d fathered twins without knowing it. What were the chances? If she had spent the night with him, maybe she had done the same thing with other men. That didn’t seem like Lauren. Not that he knew who Lauren had really been. One night certainly hadn’t made him an expert. Despite the passion they’d shared, there had been a shyness about her and he doubted she’d slept around.

He raked his fingers down his face and exhaled. How could it be possible? They had used protection. Picking up the paper again, he braved another glance at the photo. His hands shook as he scanned the grainy print. Speculating wouldn’t do him any good. He needed to physically lay eyes on them and see for himself.

Noah smacked the top of the bar. “Change of plans. Make mine to go and can you call me a taxi?” Home would have to wait. Instead, he intended to rent a car and drive to the town mentioned in the newspaper. Ramblewood, wherever that was. He wasn’t leaving the state until he found out if those girls were his. His head began to spin. What if they were his daughters? Did he want to be their father?

* * *

FOR THE SECOND night in a row, Hannah Tanner paced the floor of the twins’ bedroom. She cradled one girl in each arm in an attempt to soothe them. It had been less than a week since Lauren’s death. She hadn’t yet processed that she’d never see her best friend again, let alone that she was the legal guardian of twins.

“Mommy!” Cheyenne shrieked at the top of her lungs. The girls had been restless last night, but tonight was much worse. She’d been adamantly against letting them attend Lauren’s funeral earlier in the day, but her family had convinced her the children needed some semblance of closure and a chance to say goodbye. She didn’t feel they needed to see the coffin or know Mommy was going in the ground. She shivered at the thought. She understood death, but it was Lauren. How could she be gone?

The twins were having a hard time adjusting to the drastic changes in their lives and she couldn’t blame them. It had been bad enough when Lauren accepted a job so far away, moving her small family to Boston. Now the children were uprooted once again. Hannah couldn’t remember anything that had occurred in her life at twenty-one months old and she hoped the girls would forget both the upheaval and the funeral this morning. But doing so would mean they’d forget their mother, and Hannah couldn’t bear the thought.

“What’s a matter, baby girl?” Her sister-in-law, Abby, entered the room and lifted Cheyenne out of her arms. “Hannah, why don’t you take a shower and unwind for a little bit. I’m not going anywhere. You need a break.”

The strength to protest escaped her, which would have been fine if her heart didn’t fill with guilt every time the girls were out of sight. They were perceptive and they knew something was wrong. Her mother said they were grieving. How was that possible if they didn’t understand the concept of never seeing their mother again? No, they were confused. They’d been in a horrific car accident and now Mommy wasn’t around.

Hannah padded down the hallway into the bathroom, closing the door and shutting herself off from the rest of the world. She could still hear the officer explaining what had happened. Lauren had been thrown from the car and had died on impact. Thankfully, the twins had been relatively unharmed. Hannah had caught a flight to Boston the following morning to pick up the girls, her mother by her side. Monday morning, the four of them had flown home to Ramblewood. The funeral home had arranged for Lauren to be flown back with them.

Everything had happened so fast. Thanksgiving was in two days. The twins’ second Thanksgiving and the first without their mother. And then there was Christmas. How would they ever get through Christmas? How would they get through today?

After her shower, she peeked in the room at Charlotte and Cheyenne. Both twins were curled up together in one crib while Abby read them a bedtime story. She tiptoed down the stairs, praying the worn boards wouldn’t creak and shift the twins’ focus from Abby onto her. Her belly growled. It had been days since she’d last eaten a decent meal.

Trays of food covered the butcher-block kitchen countertop. She had intended to sand and oil the counter this week as part of her never-ending house renovations. It’d have to wait along with the rest of her plans. She grabbed a plate from the cupboard and lifted the foil lids of various dishes.

“Honey, I didn’t hear you come down.” Her mother appeared in the doorway. “I’ve devised a system. Desserts not needing refrigeration are on this counter.” Fern waved her arm dramatically as if she were Vanna White turning a letter. “The other nonperishables, like breads and crackers, are over here. And I managed to freeze most of the casseroles, but I left the sandwiches and salads in the refrigerator for you to nibble on. What wouldn’t fit in your freezer, your father took home to ours. Let us know when you need something and we’ll send it over.”

“I think we have enough food to last a year.” Hannah chose a turkey sandwich, poured herself a glass of water and sat at the table. “Mom, how am I going to afford this? Most of my money goes into the ranch. I still have upcoming competitions I’d be crazy to back out of. We need the prize money. It helps that I board and train horses, but it’s still not enough for the three of us to live off. I can’t compete in Vegas in a few weeks with all this going on. I’d pick up some extra hours teaching at the rodeo school if I had any extra hours to give.” She shook her head. “That would mean spending less time with the girls, and I won’t do that to them. I still can’t believe Lauren didn’t have life insurance.”

Fern sat across from her at the table, clasping Hannah’s hands between her own. “You have a huge support system in place. Everybody loved Lauren and the girls. Donations are already coming in. And your father and I will help you in whatever way we can.”

Hannah cringed. She hated feeling like a charity case, but as much as it pained her to admit it, she needed the charity. When Lauren had discovered she was pregnant, Hannah promised she’d help raise the babies. Lauren’s parents had died years earlier and she’d had no one.

“This house isn’t ready for children,” Hannah said. Her father and brother had begun working on the turn-of-the-century farmhouse as soon as Hannah and her mother had left for Boston. She wasn’t complaining, but the expenses had already gotten out of hand, charity or not. The ranch was supposed to be a long-term endeavor, and now she had to rush to finish the projects she’d started after Lauren moved out. “None of this feels real. I keep waiting for her to call or pop in and yell surprise any minute.”

Hannah pushed the sandwich away. She had the annual Christmas Dash-4-Cash barrel race on Saturday and she needed to take home first prize. She couldn’t even begin to think how she’d maintain her rodeo schedule next year with the twins in tow. But giving it up was out of the question if she expected to keep a roof over their heads.

She had already spread herself too thin. Between her part-time job teaching at the rodeo school and training barrel race horses on her ranch, she hardly found time to practice her own sport. As much as she loved racing, she didn’t want to be doing it when she was fifty.

She had a strong five-year plan. At least she’d thought so a week ago. She’d bought the ranch with organic farming in mind, but the large stables and round pen areas had given her the opportunity to board horses in addition to training them. Every waking hour of her day had been chock-full before the twins had become her full-time responsibility. None of her careful planning mattered anymore. Her first priority had to be Charlotte and Cheyenne, and she didn’t even know where to begin.

* * *

IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock in the evening when Noah rolled down Main Street. Ramblewood was located in the heart of Hill Country, almost two hundred miles southwest of College Station. The town was quiet except for a local honky-tonk. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he drove into town. He’d had an inexplicable need to get to Ramblewood, uncertain of what he’d find or even wanted to find. He’d asked himself the same question repeatedly during the three-and-a-half-hour drive. What will I do if the girls are mine? Somewhere south of Austin he’d concluded he wasn’t ready to be a dad. It might be a little too late for that, though.

He had passed a hotel on the way into town and decided to double back and check in for the night. After he spoke to his boss and let him know he wouldn’t be coming into work until sometime after Thanksgiving, he phoned his mother. Her disappointment that he wouldn’t be home for the holiday coupled with her curiosity about the business that would keep him away left him antsier than before. He loved his mom, but he felt the need to leave out the majority of the details. She’d be on the next plane to Texas complicating matters further if she knew the whole story. Once he had the paternity results, then he would tell her—if there was anything to tell.

He walked down the hotel hallway to grab a soda from the vending machine. How do you let your mom know you’re the father of almost-two-year-old twins? Hell, he couldn’t even fathom the fact he may have created another life, let alone two lives. His knees buckled. He reached out for the wall to steady himself, almost knocking a fire extinguisher to the floor.

I can’t breathe.

Noah barreled through the exit leading to the outdoor pool. He collapsed into one of the lounge chairs and closed his eyes, praying the world would stop spinning. Paternity test. He’d heard about them on The Jerry Springer Show, but he’d never actually known someone who needed to take one. He had no idea how long a test would even take, but he’d schedule it right after he found out where the girls lived. If he could find them. He had to find them. But then what? Take them home? He supposed the sooner the children had an established routine, the better. The thought alone surprised him. Hours ago, he was a childless man sitting in a bar. Now he might be the father of two, worrying about their routine. No, he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

Noah had hoped to find fresh perspective by morning, but that would’ve required sleep. Instead, he was back in town before the sun was even above the horizon. Memorial Garden Cemetery had been simple enough to locate. The freshly covered grave and flower arrangements were visible from the street. His feet felt leaden as he forced himself out of the car and onto the lawn. The gentle autumn breeze carried the delicate scent of roses and carnations, almost teasing him with the promise of something happy.

A hand-printed sign had been placed at the head of the grave. The L and E in her name stood out long before he got close enough to read the rest. He’d been to more than his share of funerals, but he’d never seen this many flowers. The obituary had even requested donations be made to an educational fund for the girls in lieu of flowers. The phrasing had left a bad taste in his mouth. His children shouldn’t need donations when he could provide for them. And he would have if he had known they existed. He snorted quietly. Here he was getting annoyed about other people providing for two kids he didn’t even know were his. The sound of a truck backfiring startled him. A battered Ford pickup trundled into the cemetery on what appeared to be its last legs. Appropriate place for it to die. He caught a glimpse of the driver. She looked remarkably like the woman he’d pulled up on the internet last night. Hannah Tanner...one of the country’s top barrel racers. Hers was the only other name mentioned in the obituary. His only lead to the truth.

He casually walked away from the grave, slipping his sunglasses on to hide his obvious perusal. After exiting the driver-side door, she lifted two tiny tots out of the passenger side. Since when was it okay for kids to ride in the front seat of a truck? Holding each of their hands in hers, they made their way slowly toward the mountain of flowers. Hannah’s long copper-red hair shone in the morning sun. And that was when it hit him.

Hannah was the woman who had been with Lauren when they’d met. In the pictures he’d seen online, her hair had been pulled away from her face and she’d worn a cowboy hat. This morning she wore an unadorned black button-down dress and a cropped denim jacket along with a pair of worn cowboy boots.

He climbed back into his car as he watched them, almost feeling guilty for intruding on their private moment. A part of him wanted to walk up and say hello. But if she recognized him, how would she explain who he was to the kids? He had been a one-night stand, nothing more. He wasn’t exactly a friend, either. If only the twins would turn around and look his way. A photo in a newspaper wasn’t the same as seeing them in person. He needed to be sure before he approached them.

After watching them for a few minutes, he detected the twins’ subtle differences. One was slightly taller than the other. Their barely shoulder-length, rich mahogany-brown hair reminded him of Lauren’s. When the shorter of the two faced his direction, he noticed hers was a shade or two lighter. Her gaze met his and he knew. His heart began to race. The urge to run to her and scoop her into his arms caught him off guard. She had his eyes—electric blue. They were piercingly visible even from a distance and he’d bet any amount of money in the world they were rimmed in black. He should go to her—to them—but his body remained frozen. Perspiration trickled down his left temple.

Before he could muster the will to approach them, they climbed into the old pickup and left. Noah’s palms began to sweat against the steering wheel, which he’d been using for support. Panic set in. What if he never saw them again? Fear and anxiety gripped his heart. He may not be ready to be a father, but he couldn’t walk away. Not without making absolutely sure.

He started his rental car, preparing to follow them. As they drove onto Main Street, he almost lost them at a traffic light. Once it changed, he managed to catch up while maintaining a reasonable distance until they turned onto a dusty ranch road. Quickly jotting down where he was and how he got there, he reluctantly headed into town. He could have followed them home, but that seemed creepy. He didn’t want to scare them or cause Hannah to feel unsafe. Approaching them required some thought and definitely more finesse than he had at the moment.

If he planned to stay in Texas for more than one night, he needed to buy some clothes and toiletries. His original trip to Texas hadn’t involved staying longer than a day. Maybe he’d be able to learn more about Hannah and her connection to the kids before he made his next move. He’d start with calling the hospital about a paternity test. If he was right, he had some enormous decisions to make. That both terrified and excited him. None of his relationships had reached the kid-talk stage. He’d assumed he would have kids someday, but he had never given much thought as to when.

Noah took a deep breath. Most men had nine months to plan for this; he hadn’t even had twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter. He’d love them more than life itself. Noah smiled. He already did.

* * *

THE RAP AGAINST the screen door caught Hannah by surprise. Everyone she knew didn’t bother with formalities and always let themselves in.

“It’s open,” Hannah called from beside the living room hearth. She wanted to finish replacing the loose tiles before her mother dropped off the kids. The person knocked again.

What in the world? Hannah huffed.

She scraped off her trowel and loosely covered the tub of adhesive grout. Her parents had taken the twins over to their house to play, giving her a chance to make some repairs without them underfoot. Just when she completed one task, she’d notice another potential hazard. She’d even considered sending them to her parents’ house to stay for a week or two, but she didn’t want to confuse them even further. “I said it was open.”

Hannah rounded the corner to the front door, surprised to see a stranger in a pantsuit peering at her through the screen.

“Miss Hannah Tanner?” the woman asked.

Hannah hesitated. The woman looked official...too official. “May I help you?”

“Are you Hannah Tanner?” the woman asked a bit more sternly.

Hannah stiffened her spine and gripped the doorframe. “I am, and who might you be?”

“I’m Constance Malone from Luna County Social Services.” The woman’s face showed zero expression. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend Lauren Elgrove. Normally I would have called first, but I was unable to find a number for you. I’m here to follow up on the placement of Charlotte and Cheyenne Elgrove. May I come in?”

“I don’t have a house phone, just a cell.” Hannah opened the screen door, allowing her to enter. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you. I gave all my information to Social Services in Boston. I didn’t realize there was anything more for me to do.”

Constance glanced around the foyer toward the living room, and then in the opposite direction at the dining area, which had become a construction catchall over the past few days.

“Please pardon the mess.” Hannah wrung her hands. “We’re in the middle of making some improvements on the house.”

“We?” Constance removed a pen and notebook from her oversized tote and began writing.

“My family and I.” Hannah didn’t appreciate being on the defensive in her own home. “I am trying to baby-proof the house. The girls’ arrival was quite unexpected.”

“Where are the children? I would like to meet them.”

“They’re visiting with my parents for a few hours while I work on the house.” Hannah pulled her phone from her pocket. “I can call and have my mom bring them back.”

“I can meet them another time.” Constance stepped farther into the living room. “I understand they have lived with you before. Do you mind if I have a look around? I’m required to perform a home evaluation.”

Oh, crap! “Um, sure. I wasn’t exactly prepared for your visit.”

“I understand this is rather sudden. Everyone involved needs time to adjust. That’s why I’m here—to aid in the girls’ adjustment.” Constance examined the thermostat. “Do you always keep it this cold in here?” She jotted down something on her notepad.

Hannah tugged the bandanna from the top of her head in a vain attempt to look more presentable. “I lowered it because my brother sanded the banister earlier and I wanted to air the residual dust out of the house before I damp mopped the floors. That’s also why the front door was open.” She ran her hand down the front of her paint-stained T-shirt.

She followed closely behind Constance for almost an hour as the woman took numerous notes. Hannah’s jaw began to ache from clenching it so tightly. After a mini interrogation about her lifestyle and finances, the social worker handed her a mile-long list of items that needed to be resolved before next week’s inspection.

“What happens if I can’t get these completed by then?” Hannah asked. They’d been mired in long-term renovations even before they realized they’d need to baby-proof.

“Miss Tanner, we understand this is a very difficult time for you and the children.” Constance removed her glasses. “It’s not my intention to appear hardhearted, but your home isn’t exactly a child-friendly environment. I know you were in the middle of renovations when the twins arrived, but it’s my job to put their safety first. I sympathize with you, but I’m afraid if the repairs aren’t made, I’ll be forced to remove the children and place them in temporary foster care until your home is ready. And I’m emphasizing temporary. It wouldn’t be forever. Just until you are better equipped to manage them.”

“Foster care?” Hannah tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m their legal guardian. Our attorneys drew up the documents when Lauren created her will before the twins were born.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Constance gathered the paperwork she’d spread across the kitchen table. “Since you already have a couple of completed rooms and what appears to be a strong support system, I feel comfortable leaving them here with you, for now. But I urge you to complete that list. I will work with you in whatever way I can. It’s clear to me you’re making a valiant effort. Please be sure the children are available next week. I will be out to see you next Friday.”

Hannah followed Constance to the door. Even with her family’s help, it would be impossible to finish everything. “What if I move into my parents’ house with the girls until the repairs are completed? Will that give me more time?”

Constance shook her head. “I’m allowing an additional two days because of Thanksgiving. I probably won’t have a chance to perform another home evaluation before next Friday at a residence you may or may not be living in. You have nine days.” Constance reached into her tote and removed her notepad once again. “Give me your parents’ address and I’ll try my best to visit them before the end of next week. No guarantees, though. So please complete that list. I try to do everything I can to prevent placing a child—let alone two—in temporary foster care before a weekend, because it ties everyone’s hands until the following Monday. Thank you for your time today.” She gave Hannah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I have faith you can do this, Miss Tanner.”

Hannah’s world tilted on its axis. She closed the front door behind Constance and scrambled into the kitchen, pushing the containers of food aside on the counter in an attempt to find her phone. Help! She needed it and fast. She refused to let Lauren down. Hell would freeze over before anyone took those children away from her, even temporarily.

Chapter Two

Noah had spent the majority of his afternoon getting to know Ramblewood while attempting to plan his next move. The town wasn’t much different from his hometown of Aurora, Oregon. It was quaint and tidy. The kind of small town where everyone knew everyone else and children grew up, married and had children of their own. He still hadn’t decided what he would do if Cheyenne and Charlotte were his children. Take them back to Aurora and raise them? Or allow them to stay in Ramblewood with Hannah, if she was their guardian? He didn’t know for certain.

Being a helicopter-logging pilot made him a very methodical man, so he began with what he already knew. He steadied his nerves and drove to the ranch turnoff Hannah had taken that morning. As he approached the entrance, he stepped on the accelerator, speeding past it. Why was he so nervous? If he was correct, he had a legal right to his children. At least he thought he did.

He checked the rearview mirror and slowed down to make a U-turn so he could head back toward Hannah’s...if she even lived down that road. She could have been visiting someone. It could lead to another road, too.

As soon as he drove off the blacktop, clouds of dust engulfed the car. Within seconds, he spotted her truck in the front yard. Relief eased the tension from his neck and shoulders only to be replaced with a bout of nerves bigger than the state of Texas. He pulled in behind the pickup, stepped from the car and looked up at the two-story white clapboard farmhouse.

Noah assumed the home had been beautiful in its day. Now large sheets of paint were peeling from the siding as if trying to escape. The bare wood rail running the entire length of the expansive front porch along with the recently stripped and sanded floorboards told him it was a work in progress. Despite the repair, the house needed serious help.

The front screen door swung wide and Hannah appeared. Her coppery waves were twisted into a casual bun. Paint had splattered her faded jeans and gray T-shirt. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” Noah jammed his hands in his pockets.

Hannah walked to the top of the stairs, shielding the sun from her eyes. “Oh, my God. It’s you.”

Noah didn’t know if he should be thankful or scared that she recognized him. He opened his mouth to respond when two tiny faces appeared in the front door. Leaning to the right, he attempted to look past Hannah. She quickly glanced over her shoulder and shooed the girls inside.

“I thought you two were asleep on the sunporch.” The screen door bounced against the door frame behind her. “I need to talk to this man for a minute and it’s your naptime. You had a busy morning at Nanny’s. When you wake up, we’ll play.” Hannah disappeared, leaving Noah to wonder who Nanny was. It was his understanding he was the twins’ only living relative.

Hannah reappeared a few minutes later. “I didn’t want them to hear our conversation. They should sleep for a good hour or two.” She eased the door open cautiously. “How did you find us?”

“I was in College Station and saw Lauren’s obituary.” Noah stood at the bottom of the porch stairs, gazing up at her. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. “She tried to find you.”

“I think that answers my next question.” Noah swallowed hard. He gripped the car keys so tight they dug into his palm. “Am I their—”

Hannah stepped outside but remained within listening distance of the doorway. “Yes, you are.”

And there it was. The answer had come much easier and faster than he’d imagined and he didn’t know what to do with the information.

“I’m their father.” The full impact of the words hit him once he said them aloud. He thought his legs would give out. He turned and sat on the steps, attempting to maintain steady breaths.

Hannah sat down beside him. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling, but the girls have been through a lot. I will answer any questions you have, but I’m begging you, don’t push this issue with them right now. Give them a chance to get to know you before announcing who you are.”

Noah shifted on the stairs to face her. “Can I see them?”

Hannah nodded. Her eyes were glassy, but she didn’t shed a tear. “Lauren would have loved to have seen this day.” She rose and motioned for him to follow her inside. “I’m sure this is a surprise, but if it’s any consolation, she did try to find you.”

“I wish she hadn’t run out on me the way she did. I would have liked to have gotten to know her better.” As set as he was in bachelor life, there had been something special about Lauren. He’d been disappointed she hadn’t left behind a phone number. And he’d searched the room, too, probably harder than he should have after such a brief encounter. At first, he thought a scrap of paper could have fallen off the dresser or the table, then possibly behind the bed. He’d searched until checkout time, and then he had no choice but to leave Lauren and their night together behind.

“She was embarrassed.” Her hand lightly rested on his forearm. “Instantly falling in bed with someone wasn’t Lauren’s style. She was the ‘sweet tea on the front porch, date a few times before a first kiss’ kind of girl. Then you happened. Her life was just beginning and she didn’t want anything serious. She regretted her decision.”

Noah appreciated Hannah’s honesty. Inside the house, he followed her through rooms in various stages of disrepair. “Pardon the mess. I’m in the middle of renovating.”

He appreciated a work in progress, but practically every area was under construction. And he wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Were his daughters safe here? The baby gates gave him some sense of security, but this uneasiness was unfamiliar to him. When they reached the sunroom on the back of the house, Hannah blocked his way forward.

“I’m sure you’re anxious to get to know them, but I’m serious when I say I don’t want them to know who you are yet.” She kept her voice low. “They’re still looking for Lauren. They know she’s gone, but they also know she’s in town and keep asking to see her at the cemetery. I’ve tried to explain it to them. So has my mom and Abby—she’s my sister-in-law. The social worker in Boston explained it will take a while for them to adjust.”

Noah adored the way Hannah protected his children. His children. That was going to take some getting used to.

Hannah stared up at him, as if trying to read his mind. He was all too aware of their physical closeness. At six foot three, he stood a solid eight inches taller, if not slightly more. Her crystal-blue eyes were the clearest he’d ever seen of any eye color.

She was pretty, even with messy hair and paint-splattered clothes.

She inhaled deeply, sadness replacing her curious expression. She climbed over the baby gate into the large sunroom. It was spotless, freshly painted sunny yellow. Crisp white curtains framed the windows that overlooked a long row of horse stables and a riding area. There were four horses in one corral and two miniatures in another. In the distance, he saw more horses and dark soil-covered fields. He hadn’t realized her property was this extensive. It was deceiving from the front.

Noah zeroed in on the two sleeping figures curled up together on the white, slip-covered sofa at the far end of the room. He hadn’t anticipated that it would physically hurt to see them. There were two little lives less than fifteen feet away that he had helped create. Hannah reached out to wake them.

“Don’t.” His whisper cracked in the silence. “Let them sleep. I need to process this.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.” A bittersweet smile graced her lips. “Would you like to sit down?” She gestured to a pair of oversized beanbag chairs on the carpeted floor. “This is their playroom.”

Noah sank into a chair, letting it envelop him. He chuckled, unable to remember when he’d last sat in something so ridiculously comfortable and fun. They remained silent for a few minutes, watching the twins sleep. His nerves began to fade as the girls’ rhythmic breathing relaxed him. He may have known Lauren for only one night, but her face had been ingrained in his memory. Where the girls had his eyes, they had her dark hair and rounded nose. All children were beautiful, but Noah felt as if his were extra special.

“I know they look identical, but they’re fraternal twins,” Hannah said. “Cheyenne is an inch taller than Charlotte. And Charlotte has a tiny birthmark under her left eye.”

One of the girls stirred and sat upright before he had a chance to ask any of the millions of questions swirling through his brain. As Hannah rose, the little girl climbed off the sofa and toddled to them. “Charlotte, this is a friend of your mommy’s. His name is Noah and he came to meet you.”

Charlotte’s sleepy eyes blinked at him, still waking up from her nap. He had been right. Their irises were rimmed in black, the same as his were. “Go see Mommy?”

Hannah sucked her lips inward and looked toward the ceiling before answering. “Maybe tomorrow. You’ve already been twice today.”

Charlotte reached for Noah’s outstretched leg and pulled herself onto his lap. He held his breath. This little person was his child. His child was touching him. He stared down at her. She had little bits and pieces of him floating around inside her. It was a miracle—she was a miracle. And he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“It’s okay to breathe, you know.” Hannah smiled warmly at the two of them.

He wanted to hug her for welcoming him into her home and allowing him to be there. He wanted to hug his daughter, but he didn’t know what was appropriate and what wasn’t. It felt surreal and natural at the same time.

“So this is what twenty-one months feels like.” Charlotte played with the silver cross around his neck. “They’re smaller than I th—” Noah shook his head. “I don’t know how big I thought they would be. I’m still overwhelmed by this. I can’t even begin to imagine what they were like when they were born. I don’t even know when that was.”

“Valentine’s Day. Which couldn’t have been more appropriate considering Lauren called them the greatest loves of her life.” A faraway look overshadowed Hannah’s smile. “They were good-sized babies for twins. I was in the delivery room when they were born. Charlotte was 7 lbs. 2 oz. and Cheyenne was 7 lbs. 6 oz. Between my parents and me, we have a ton of pictures.” She began to speak, then cut herself short. Tears filled her eyes. “Um, my mom and I weren’t able to take much from her house in Boston when we picked up the girls the other day. The company she worked for has someone packing her belongings and sending them to me. When they arrive, I’d be happy to share them with you. I think it’s important the children keep her memory alive, although at this age, how much can they possibly remember? Excuse me.”

Hannah stood and climbed over the baby gate, disappearing down the hall. Tiny fingers touched the side of his face, rubbing the rough stubble. She giggled loudly, waking Cheyenne on the other side of the room. When Hannah reappeared, two pint-size angels were playfully attacking him with their stuffed animals.

“I apologize.” She rejoined them in the sunroom. “Lauren’s dea—Her not being around any longer still doesn’t seem real.”

“Neither does this.” Noah smiled down at his daughters happily playing on his chest. “Did you and Lauren grow up together?”

“Play gently, Cheyenne,” Hannah said to the bouncing toddler. “We met in college and became best friends. Lauren didn’t have any family, so she came home with me on weekends, holidays and summer break. My parents thought of her as one of their own, so even though I was only a part of her life for six and a half years, she felt like a sister.” She scooted closer to the girls on the floor. “The twins strengthened the bond with my family even further. They call my parents Nanny and Grandpop.”

Now Noah understood who Nanny was. “When did Lauren move to Boston?”

“September.” Hannah stared into the distance. “Her leaving was hard...for all of us. My mom watched the girls during the day while Lauren went to work. Let me tell you—” she smiled, visibly fighting back tears “—my mom loved every second of it. These two have her—heck, all of us—wrapped around their fingers. But then it happened.” She sighed as the joy she’d expressed only a moment before slid from her face. “A pharmaceutical company in Boston offered Lauren a research scientist position. She was a biochemist—I don’t know if you knew that or not. Anyway, the job had incredible medical benefits, plus on-site day care and a relocation allowance. She would have been foolish to turn it down. Their new life had so much promise and it was hard to do anything other than wish them well.”

“How did it—” Noah didn’t want to say the words in front of the girls.

“How did it happen?” Hannah’s brows rose. “She hit a patch of ice on the way home from work. It was no one’s fault. Just a cruel twist of fate.”

Noah felt the need to comfort her in some way but didn’t know how. I’m sorry didn’t seem like enough.

“In case you don’t have plans for tomorrow...” Hannah hesitated. “You’re welcome to join us for Thanksgiving at my parents’ house. It’s loud and crowded, but it’s a lot of fun and there will be many people sharing stories about Lauren.”

Thanksgiving had always been him, a couple of the guys and football. He’d been raised by an incredible single mom. She spent her holidays serving food to the homeless in a Portland soup kitchen but had always found time to make a special Thanksgiving breakfast for just the two of them. She never included whomever she was dating at the time. Not that any of them had paid him much attention anyway. And he never knew his dad or his dad’s side of the family. It was their special tradition and this was the first year he’d miss it. “I’d love to. Thank you.”

He looked down at his daughters. Hovering multimillion-dollar helicopters above the tree line with two-hundred-foot logs swinging from a cable beneath him had always given him an adrenaline rush, but it was nothing compared to this.

* * *

HANNAH WAS NERVOUS Thanksgiving morning, which was ridiculous because she had no business being nervous about sitting down to a family dinner with the father of her best friend’s children. While she had to admit he was attractive—if you were into the tall, sandy-blond, mouthwatering Chris Hemsworth type—she didn’t have time to fawn over him. Or any man, for that matter. The clock was counting down to her next home inspection.

Hannah closed the door on the grain room in the stables. After feeding and turning out her own four horses and the thirteen boarders, she still had to muck the stalls and collect the eggs from the henhouse.

While everyone else slept off their food coma tonight, she’d be working on her house. And she still needed to find time to exercise her horse Restless for their barrel racing competition on Saturday. The prize money would about cover the cost of the raw materials necessary to pass inspection.

Ironically, the house probably would have passed a couple of months ago. It had needed some serious TLC, but she hadn’t begun pulling everything apart until after Lauren left. She’d had the luxury of time on her side, or so she’d thought. She had started one project after another before completing any of them. Truth be told, she had felt a bit unsettled without Lauren and the girls around. Her concentration outside of the rodeo arena had been next to zero and having a multitude of unfinished home repairs hadn’t mattered as much as they did now. She knew she’d eventually get to them. Now she didn’t have a choice.

Her brother had been able to round up some friends willing to help her meet the social worker’s deadline. She’d have to figure out a way to repay them afterward. Generosity was one thing, but she refused to take advantage of everyone’s kindness.

For a small ranch, chores took up the majority of the day. By the time she finished, she had just enough time for a quick shower before leaving for her parents’ house. She climbed the back stairs and hesitated at the door. For a split second, she swore she saw Lauren through the window, sitting at the kitchen table feeding the girls. Her chest ached when she realized it was only Abby.

Her sister-in-law had stopped over early to help her get the girls dressed and ready the same way Hannah had helped Lauren with the girls for the first nineteen months of their lives. It had been easier then. They’d rented an apartment in the center of town after college until Hannah purchased the small ranch in April. Lauren and the girls had moved in until they’d headed to Massachusetts two months ago. She wondered how Lauren had managed in Boston by herself. She had never complained, saying each day was a blessing. She had seen the beauty and grace in the simplest of things, whereas Hannah had always questioned everything.

Thanksgiving was a casual affair at the Tanner household. She threw on a pair of jeans, an ivory draped top and her favorite pair of Old Gringo boots, which Lauren had given her last Christmas. She quickly applied a little mascara and a slick of gloss over her lips on the way out the door.

She’d given Noah the address of her parents’ ranch. Back in their heyday, her parents had been sheep wool farmers. She asked him to meet them there around noon, and as she unfastened the twins’ car seat buckles, he drove toward her along the main ranch road. “Let me help you,” Noah said as he stepped from his car.

His arm brushed against hers as he reached into the cab and lifted Cheyenne out of her seat. Hannah shook off the tingling sensation it created, reminding herself of the Girlfriend’s Golden Rule—never lust after or date your best friend’s ex. Hannah gasped. The unexpected thought sucked the breath from her lungs. Any tingle from Noah would be completely inappropriate. She couldn’t betray Lauren. She wouldn’t.

“You look nice, by the way.” Noah’s voice snapped her to attention.

His casual comments didn’t help matters. “Thank you.” Every minute she spent around Noah, she understood Lauren’s attraction to him more. Granted the man would be in her life forever because of the girls, but it didn’t mean it was a one-way pass to a relationship.

“Are children their age permitted to ride in the front seat of the truck?”

His question knocked her off-kilter. She didn’t appreciate the insinuation she was illegally toting the kids around. “I assure you it’s quite legal. If a pickup truck doesn’t have an extended cab, children can ride up front if they are in an appropriate car seat or safety harness.” Hannah had read the manuals. She knew the rules. She’d even had the police department install the seats. There was no doubt in her mind the children were safe. Her truck wasn’t ideal, but she couldn’t afford a more child-friendly vehicle right now.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Noah hip-checked the truck door closed once the twins were out. “Although I can see why you would be. I’m sorry. I guess I’m being overly protective. I mean, that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? That’s a fatherly thing.”

Hannah tried not to laugh at his explanation. He really was new to this. “I’m the one who should apologize. You’re asking the right questions. I’d be worried if you weren’t. This is old hat to us Charlotte and Cheyenne veterans.” She tugged at the bottom of Charlotte’s dress where it had caught in her white stockings. Not that those would last more than an hour the way the kids played. “For the record, I haven’t told anyone who you are yet. I mentioned I was bringing someone to dinner and figured we could tell them together. But again I ask you, please be careful what you say in front of the twins.”

Noah leaned closer to Hannah so the girls wouldn’t overhear. “I’m their father. You do plan on allowing me to tell them sometime soon, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” Hannah had the sinking feeling the next sixteen and a half years would be much harder than she’d imagined. He’d probably ask for a visitation schedule. She wasn’t ready for any overnight visits to his house and neither were the girls. “I’ve spent almost every day of their lives with them. I know what’s best. Trust me.”

Hannah introduced Noah to all sixteen members of her family—newly enlarged courtesy of her brother Clay’s marriage to Abby.

Once the girls were playing safely out of earshot, Hannah gathered her parents, brother and sister-in law together in the kitchen.

“I have something to tell you,” Hannah began. Her stomach clenched. “Noah isn’t just a friend of mine. He’s Charlotte and Cheyenne’s biological father.”

“Heaven help us.” Hannah’s mother reached for the counter to steady herself. “What does this mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything yet.” Hannah spoke before Noah had a chance to respond. “The girls don’t know and we need to take this day by day.”

Noah excused himself, and for a brief second, Hannah wondered if he was making a break for it. From the outside looking in, she could see how her clan could be a tad intimidating.

“Why didn’t you call me as soon as Noah made contact with you?” Clay demanded. “I need to run him through the system and make sure he’s legit. I assume you’re going to schedule a paternity test. Taking this man at his word isn’t smart or safe.”

Hannah reeled from her brother’s onslaught of questions and demands. It was the downside to having a private investigator in the family. “I’m quite certain he’ll want a paternity test. But I’m positive he’s the father. He was the only person Lauren had been with during that time. As for a background check, I’m fine with it. I don’t think he needs to know, though.”

“Where does he even live?” Clay asked. “And what are his intentions with the twins?”

“I don’t know.” Lauren and Noah hadn’t spent much of their night together talking. And Hannah hadn’t thought to ask during his visit yesterday afternoon. “He met Lauren in College Station and he learned of her death there, too, so I’m assuming he lives somewhere in that vicinity.” It wasn’t next door, but three and a half hours away would allow him to visit on weekends. Maybe after a while she’d even be willing to make up a guest room for him so he could spend more time with his daughters.

Clay rolled his eyes. “My naive little sister, things aren’t always as they appear on the surface. What’s his last name? I’ll have one of my associates begin working on it.”

Hannah hadn’t remembered him mentioning a last name. She groaned inwardly. “I have no idea. I took him at his word.” Maybe she had more of Lauren in her than she thought.

“I’ll handle it. Until we know more about him, you should limit his time with the twins and make sure someone else is there when he’s around.” Clay enveloped her in a hug.

“I know this is hard, kiddo.” Hannah’s father joined them. “We’ll help you through it any way we can. Clay’s right, though. Until we know more about him, you need to keep your distance. At the very least, have one of us there with you.”

They rejoined the rest of the family as Noah reappeared bearing a bouquet for her mother and a couple of bottles of wine for her father. Her parents appreciated the sweet gesture. Something Lauren used to say came to mind: “You can’t fake sincerity.” Hannah had always argued that fact, until yesterday. Noah seemed genuinely enamored with his daughters, which was what Lauren had always hoped for. She had always vowed to find him one day.

By the end of dinner, Clay had grilled Noah more than a steak on a barbecue. His last name was Knight...as in shining armor. Lauren would have howled at that. And his first name was William. But there had been so many Williams in his kindergarten class he’d asked the teacher to use his middle name instead. He went by Noah from then on. That explained why Clay hadn’t been able to locate a pilot named Noah when Lauren asked him to find the father of her unborn babies. His job as a helicopter-logging pilot sounded as cool as it did dangerous.

“Aren’t you concerned with deforestation?” Hannah’s father, Gage, asked.

“Heli-logging actually works in harmony with the environment. Instead of scarring the hillside by dragging the logs out or building new roads to transport them, I’m able to lift a telephone pole–sized log straight up.”

“So you’re not creating huge sections of missing trees?” Abby asked.

“No, we’re not clear-cutting,” Noah continued. “We’re also eliminating the soil erosion that can arise from traditional logging.” Noah reached across the table for the salt and pepper shakers and placed them in front of his plate. “Heli-logging thins the forest and opens it up by creating wide spaces between the trees.” He moved the shakers apart from one another to demonstrate. “You’re always hearing about forest fire devastation. A fire will whip through a thinned forest and rarely burn a tree because it remains on the ground. When a forest hasn’t been managed—” he moved the shakers closer together “—there are felled trees and overgrowth providing fuel that concentrates and intensifies the heat on the ground.” He placed his silverware and napkin around and between the shakers. “The fire doesn’t have a chance to flash through as it does in a managed forest. It’s never a matter of if there will be a forest fire, it’s when. Heli-logging helps control the burn before it begins. That’s just one aspect of the job.”

“I never knew any of that existed.” Fern offered him more sweet potatoes. “Your life definitely sounds interesting.”

Charlotte and Cheyenne had insisted on sitting next to him at the table and Hannah wondered if they instinctively knew he was their father.

What had surprised Hannah most was that he lived two thousand miles away in Oregon. She and the girls definitely wouldn’t be seeing him as much as she’d anticipated. That unsettled her. A weekly visitation schedule would be better for the girls. How could they bond with him if they were together only a few times a year?

“Noah,” her father said. “I don’t know what your plans are for the rest of the evening, but we have a tradition of cutting down a live Christmas tree and decorating it on Thanksgiving. We’d love to have you join us, since you’re the expert logger.”

Noah laughed. “I’d be honored, sir. But my team does most of the cutting on the ground. I’m more of a removal man. Hopefully you don’t choose a tree large enough for me to bring in one of my Chinook helicopters.”

Hannah hadn’t expected to enjoy decorating the tree when the men returned. She’d made up her mind earlier that she would duck out just after they left on their tree expedition. It was too painful without her best friend there. Her family’s high spirits kept the mood elevated even though everyone felt Lauren’s absence. The girls had fallen asleep shortly after they’d brought the boxes of decorations down from the attic. Thankfully, her mother had kept their cribs after Lauren left for Boston. They’d return to their old routine of staying with Nanny during the day once Hannah went back to work at the rodeo school. Her job had graciously given her time off while she settled the house and the girls’ routine.

“These were Lauren’s.” Her mother carefully unwrapped the tissue paper–covered ornaments. “I had promised to send them to her once she’d settled in. Now I will pass them directly on to her daughters.”

Noah sat on the couch beside her mother and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders. “I’ll make sure they’re the first ornaments the girls hang every year, and I’ll even send you pictures.”

“Excuse me?” Hannah stared at Noah. “You make it sound as if Charlotte and Cheyenne will be with you.”

Noah looked around the room and stood. “Where else would they be? I’m their father.”

“And I’m their legal guardian.” Hannah took a step toward him. “Father or not, Lauren named me in her will, not you.”

“Only because she didn’t know where to find me,” Noah countered. “You even said she’d been looking for me.”

“She may have been looking for you, but she had no intention of handing her children over to you. You have no legal claim to them.”

“I will once I take a paternity test, which I’ve scheduled for tomorrow at Grace General Hospital.”

“You did what?” Hannah couldn’t believe what was happening. He honestly expected to take the girls away from her and her family? “Who do you think you are, coming into my home, my parents’ home, and announcing your plans to rip Charlotte and Cheyenne from the only family they’ve ever known?” Her pulse quickened and the room began to spin. He couldn’t take them. She refused to consent to it. She grabbed hold of her brother’s arm for support.

Clay stepped between them. “Noah, I think you should leave.”

“I don’t understand.” Noah held up his hands. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve seen your house and you’re clearly struggling financially. I don’t want my daughters to be a burden. Plus, we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“First of all, a social worker has already completed a home inspection and I’m well aware of what needs to be done to my house. And second, I may not make as much as you, but those children will never be a burden to me. We won’t be millionaires, but we will survive.”

“I don’t want my daughters to just survive. I want them to thrive and I can provide that for them.”

Hannah felt a shiver down to the bone. “A few hours ago you wondered if asking questions regarding their safety was the fatherly thing to do. You don’t have experience with these children. There’s no way in hell you’re getting those girls.”

“I understand your attachment to them.” Noah spoke with controlled firmness. “I would never cut you out of their lives. That wouldn’t be fair to them or you. But I am their biological father, and you can’t keep me from raising them. You’re more than welcome to visit anytime you’d like, but those girls are coming home with me.”

Clay grabbed Noah by the collar and ushered him to the door. “Until you have a court order saying otherwise, stay away from my sister and my family.” He pushed him through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

“Oh, my God.” Fern began to cry. “Does he have a chance of getting the girls?”

Clay glared down at his sister. “You need to prepare yourself for the fight of your life.” He gripped Hannah’s shoulders. “Maybe I can uncover something to use against him in court. Call Avery. You need an attorney to help you fight this. If a paternity test proves he’s their biological father, a judge can sever your claim to them, despite Lauren’s will.”

This must be a cruel joke. Charlotte and Cheyenne were a part of her as if they were her own flesh and blood. She’d already lost her best friend—she refused to lose the girls, too. She felt a steely grip squeeze her heart. Lauren. She never would have wanted this.

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