A Cowboy For The Twins

She and Josiah had talked of starting the restaurant together, and he had promised once he was done working for Noah, he would come on board. Now that dream was gone too.

“I can’t believe he’s back. Acting as if nothing has happened.” Her mother’s voice broke as she folded her arms over her stomach, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Shauntelle felt the usual sympathy blended with her own grief. “He came around the store today to get gas, if you can imagine.”

“Maybe it was the closest place,” Shauntelle suggested, trying to rise above her own reactions. Sometimes she was tired of how much they had ruled her life recently.

Her mother harrumphed. “He could have gone to the Petro Pumps. It’s just down the road.”

“Or he could’ve just been trying to give you some business.”

Her mother frowned at her. “And why are you defending him? Josiah was your brother. If it wasn’t for Noah, he’d be still alive.”

Shauntelle knew this was her cue to stoke the fires of her mother’s anger, and normally it wasn’t difficult to do. But today she was bone weary and simply didn’t have the energy.

“I know,” was all she said.

“Are you okay, honey?” her mother asked, her voice still thick with emotion. “Are you thinking of Josiah too?”

“I sometimes wonder what he would be doing right now.” She easily slipped into one of her mother’s favorite conversations—imagining a life for Josiah had he not died.

“Probably working for your father. Maybe taking over the gas station.”

Shauntelle doubted that. One of the reasons Josiah had originally talked about working with her on a restaurant was to avoid exactly that scenario.

“He’d probably be traveling,” she said. “Where do you think he would go?”

Her mother said nothing for a moment, then looked back at her, her eyes dull. “Doesn’t matter, does it? He’s gone. And Noah is here. I don’t know how I’m going to handle that.”

The sorrow in her voice was Shauntelle’s undoing, and she hurried over to her mother’s side and pulled her into her arms. “You can pray about it, Mother. You’ve always said you receive your strength from the Lord.”

Her mother sniffed, nodded, and then pulled back. “Yes. If it wasn’t for my faith, I don’t know how I would have gotten through this dark time.” She tugged a tissue out of the box close at hand and dabbed at her eyes. “But I just hope Noah is only here for a short while. I’m not ready to face him for too long.”

Shauntelle knew she wasn’t either. Seeing Noah had been a shock on so many levels. He’d always been the boogey man. The “evil” man. The man who could create a twist in her stomach at the sheer mention of his name.

But even before that, he’d been someone who intrigued her. Someone she, at one time, had spun futile dreams around.

She shook the emotions off. He wasn’t for her, and she didn’t have room for him. She was being utterly foolish giving him even one second of her thoughts.

Chapter Three

“Think you’ll sleep okay tonight?” Noah bent over his mother and brushed a kiss across her forehead.

She sat up in her bed, propped against a ridiculous number of pillows with an equally ridiculous number of books stacked on her bedside table and the floor beside it. A small diffuser steamed beside her bed, filling the room with the rich aroma of one of the many oils she had lined up in front of it.

“Of course I will,” she said with a smile, setting aside her book. “Thanks again for dinner. It was very good.”

“Takeout from the Brand and Grill,” he said with a grin as he perched on the edge of her bed. “Dining at its finest.”

“I enjoyed it. I enjoy anything I don’t have to make myself.”

Noah glanced around the room, unable to quash the feeling that he was invading his mother’s privacy. His parents’ bedroom was the one room in the house that was off-limits to him, and he was only allowed in by invitation.

“Too bad I came back so late. We could have gone out for a walk after supper,” he said.

“That’s okay. I’m looking forward to our trip to the Farmer’s Market.” She gave him a sly smile. “Maybe Shauntelle made some chocolate cake after you said it was your favorite.”

“I highly doubt Shauntelle cares one way or the other that I like chocolate cake.”

His mother’s expression grew serious. “I know that family doesn’t think highly of you, but I’m sure Shauntelle knows better.”

Noah thought of the “evil man” comment Millie had made, and the anger simmering in Shauntelle’s eyes. “I’m not so sure. Besides, it doesn’t matter what she thinks.”

“I’m glad you could help her get all her deliveries done though.”

He should have known that his mother wasn’t going to leave the subject of Shauntelle alone. To his surprise, they hadn’t talked about her at suppertime. Instead, his mother had brought him up-to-date on all the comings and goings of the Walsh clan. Cord’s wedding and Morgan’s future one, and now his other cousin, Nathan, was engaged as well. All this was delivered with a careful sigh directed to Noah.

He easily read the subtext. When would he get married?

“I’m glad I could too,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “And the entire time I got a running commentary from Millie about all the people we brought the baking to.”

His mother chuckled. “Those girls are quite the pair. For twins, they sure are different though. Millie is such a pistol, and Margaret is so quiet.” Then she grew serious, her dark eyes suddenly intent. “And how was Shauntelle with you?”

Noah held her gaze for a few beats, then sighed and looked away, knowing what she was referring to. “Uptight. Tense. Angry. I think she would have preferred not to accept my help, but she was stuck.”

His mother covered his hand with hers, squeezing lightly. “Don’t take it personal, son. She’s had a lot to deal with recently. It has to be hard being a widow and taking care of her children. Roger Dexter was a good man, and I’m sure she misses him.”

He noticed that she deliberately left Josiah out of the conversation. As if she wasn’t sure where to put the death of Shauntelle’s brother either.

“Roger died in Afghanistan, didn’t he?” Noah continued, sticking with an easier topic.

His mother nodded. “He often worked overseas. In fact, he was working with Doctors Without Borders when he was killed. He wasn’t military, but in my mind he was a real hero.”

“Sounds like it,” Noah said, though even as he spoke the words a small part of him wondered why anyone would want to leave a wife and twin girls behind. If he had a family, he would never stay far away from them. He’d keep them close.

If.

The closest he had come to settling down was with Holly, his former fiancée. But somehow, after he proposed, things changed. She became more demanding of him and his time. Which made him wonder what would have happened on the job site that day if he hadn’t given in to her constant pleas to be doing something, going somewhere. Would that have stopped Josiah from going up on that man lift? Would he have maybe given him yet another safety lesson just to make sure?

“You look pensive,” his mother said, poking him gently.

“I do that to put people off,” he said, once again pushing his memories down. “My dark hair and glowering eyes keep people away.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you know.” She spoke quietly, smiling, but Noah heard the faint warning in her voice. “Keep people away. I know that Josiah’s death has affected you more than you admit, but you weren’t found to be at fault.”

Maybe not, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty that he hadn’t been there. He caught her concerned look again and forced a smile. “I know. But that doesn’t change what happened to him. Or how his family feels.”

Shauntelle’s strong reaction to him earlier still stung.

“They just need time.” She patted his arm. “So how long are you sticking around?”

He held her yearning gaze, feeling the weight of all the years he had stayed away dropping on his shoulders. “I had figured on staying until Cord’s wedding. Then I’m off to Vancouver to see about a new business.” He hadn’t made a final commitment yet, but his mother didn’t need to know that.

She gave him another one of her pensive looks. “I wish I could think of something that could make you consider staying. Permanently.”

Another picture of Shauntelle flashed into his thoughts. She had always been attractive, but she was older now, and even though life had dealt her some harsh blows she was, if possible, even more beautiful than she had been when he left Cedar Ridge.

As quickly as the memory came, he dismissed it. Shauntelle, with her hero husband and banked anger, was out of reach.

“You know Cedar Ridge doesn’t hold a lot of good memories for me,” he said. “Neither past nor present. I have no intention of sticking around here longer than I have to.”

Too late, he realized how harsh that sounded. He tempered his comments with a smile. “We’ll have fun together, and once you move to Vancouver, then we’ll spend a whole lot more time together,” he said. “It’s a beautiful city, and the winters are much milder than our Alberta winters.”

“We’ll see.” She gave him a sorrowful smile, and he could tell he hadn’t convinced her to leave yet. “I know you want me to sell the place. It’s too hard to run with hired help.” She waited a moment, holding his gaze with hers. “I guess I had always hoped you would come back,” she continued, sounding wistful. “And maybe now that you’re here...”

“Please don’t,” he said, interrupting her hopeful words. “Cedar Ridge hasn’t been my home for a while, and certainly can’t be now.”

“Does your father still have such a strong hold over you?”

His mother’s mournful voice created a mixture of feelings. Resentment that she should ask when she knew precisely what he had gone through, blended with emotions he had struggled against for most of his life. Where had she been while his father was being so hard on him? Why hadn’t she stood up for him? Taken his side?

“You haven’t forgiven him, have you?” she continued.

Noah pulled in a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders, trying to settle the sorrow he knew he should have been done with long ago.

“He’s not around to forgive, so it doesn’t really matter anymore does it? Besides, it’s memories too.” He gave his mother an apologetic smile.

“I pray for you every day,” she said. “That you can find it in your heart to forgive your father. I think when you do, you will find your way back to your other Father. The one who loves you perfectly. His love will give you real peace.”

“You don’t have to worry about my faith life,” he said finally, pushing down the wavering emotions his mother’s words created. For the past few years he and God had had an understanding. Noah wouldn’t bother God, and God wouldn’t bother him.

Besides, God wouldn’t want to have much to do with someone who couldn’t even take care of his own employee.

Someone who would never, ever be referred to as a hero.

Like Shauntelle’s husband was.

* * *

“Mom, can I put those out?” Millie pointed to the cooler holding the layer cakes Shauntelle had spent hours baking last night and icing this morning. Her mother had let her use her car until she figured out what to do about transportation, but it was tiny and Shauntelle had worried about how the cakes would travel in the little hatchback.

“I’ll take care of them, honey,” Shauntelle said, hurrying over. There was no way she was letting anything happen to those cakes after all the work she’d put into them.

She had found the cakes while she was on Pinterest and plunged down the rabbit hole that is the internet. When she read the recipes, she was intrigued. If people liked them, they could be potential dessert menu items for her restaurant.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Margaret asked, shivering as she pulled her jacket closer around her. “And why couldn’t we be inside today?”

“Just a few weeks ago you were wishing we could be outside.” Shauntelle tapped her daughter playfully on her nose.

Though she found the weather a bit cool herself, she was still glad to be outdoors. Last week they had set up in the multipurpose room of the old arena, stuck in a damp, echoing space that was always too noisy and cramped.

The new arena couldn’t be completed soon enough, for the other members of the Farmer’s Market or her. Next week she could finally implement all the ideas roiling around in her head ever since she’d come up with her plan for a restaurant and snack bar.

For a moment she felt a shiver of panic. What if all her plans for her own business were a waste of time and money? What if she was fooling herself, thinking people would want to come to her restaurant for dinner? Cedar Ridge already had the Brand and Grill in town, plus Angelo’s, and she heard the bakery had just set up a bistro.

Was there room for her restaurant? Would she make enough to take care of herself and her daughters?

She struggled to fight down the anxiety she always felt when doubts about her decision attacked her. And lately they’d been coming harder the closer she came to implementing them.

But she wasn’t a quitter. She’d put her husband through med school, raised the girls on her bank salary while Roger pursued his dream and vision during his internship. She put in long hours to make sure they had the basics in life. And after Roger died, she dug back into her emotional reserve and carried on. She fought her own sorrow and put on a brave face for her daughters while her own heart was breaking. And now she was supporting her parents through their own grief over the loss of their son and her brother.

As well as dealing with her own grief and anger.

She hadn’t quit then, and she wasn’t about to quit now. Through it all she had depended on her Lord to give her the strength she needed, and He hadn’t failed her yet. Come what may, she knew she always had her faith.

“That looks really nice, Mommy,” Margaret said, full of admiration as Shauntelle set out the third fancy layer cake.

“I thought they turned out well,” she said, with a touch of pride, as she shifted the one chocolate cake with its fancy trimming to show it off the best. While she did, she imagined cakes, cheesecakes, pies and fancy squares lined up on shelves in a glass case at the entrance of her new restaurant, tempting the patrons even before they sat down to order dinner.

She’d set up far too many boards on Pinterest with ideas for decor, layout, furniture and menus. It was endless, and she often had to stop and prioritize.

“Sweetheart, can you set out the muffins?” she asked Millie as she set some loaves of bread on the shelf in front and to one side of her table.

“I want to see what Rory has,” she grumbled. “She told me she would have some new jewelry when she came this week.”

“I want to see too,” Margaret chimed in, abandoning her job.

“Later. The market will be open in ten minutes and I want to be ready.”

“Hey, girls!” Sonya called out, dragging two rolling suitcases past Shauntelle’s table. Sonya DeBree was short and heavyset, her dyed black hair worn in a perpetual braid down her back. The young woman stopped and whistled loudly. “Wow, those cakes turned out fantastic. I’d ask you to save one for me, but I think I’ve got enough cake stored up in me to last me until I die.” She massaged her protruding belly, laughing as she did so. “Once you start that restaurant I’m going to be in such trouble.”

“I hope so,” Shauntelle said with a wry look.

Sonya must have caught the hint of concern in her voice. “It will be just fine. Here’s hoping those construction people can get the arena done in time though. Heard things were slowing down.” Then, before Shauntelle could ask her what exactly she meant by those unsettling comments, she swished her long skirts and headed off to her table to set up her spices, homemade jam and condiments on her table.

Shauntelle felt a tremor of unease at her comment, but then shrugged it off as Farmer’s Market gossip. The usual chitchat of people who had time on their hands and a listening ear.

She turned her attention to getting the last of her baking set out. Ten minutes later everything was ready, and people were already drifting into the parking lot where they were set up, wandering around the tables.

A few people came directly to her table. These were her regulars who showed up every Saturday to pick up preorders that she couldn’t deliver.

“Thanks so much, Mrs. Michaels,” Shauntelle said as she handed the elderly woman the tray of muffins and cookies she had just bought. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a hazelnut torte cake?”

The tiny, bird-like woman just laughed, showing her crooked teeth as she hooked the bag over her walker. “Sugarplum, if I bought that I would eat it all myself and end up fatter than I already am.”

Considering she couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, even with her walker, Shauntelle thought that highly unlikely.

“I might be tempted to buy one.”

Shauntelle looked over at her newest customer, and there was Mrs. Cosgrove. Then her heart plunged when she saw Noah join her.

His dark hair and equally dark eyebrows arching over hidden, deep-set brown eyes could have given him a menacing look, but she remembered that melancholy smile of his yesterday. In spite of how bitter she was over what happened to Josiah because of him, seeing Noah face-to-face made it difficult to know exactly what to do with her anger.

“I thought my son should find out firsthand how good the baking that he delivered yesterday actually is,” Mrs. Cosgrove said.

Shauntelle dragged her attention away from Noah, granting Mrs. Cosgrove a more genuine smile. Fay Cosgrove was a loving, caring woman who, when Shauntelle had come here, had gone out of her way to support and encourage her. It wasn’t hard to separate her feelings for Noah from this woman.

“I’m glad you came. I hope you can find something.”

“I’m sure I can.” Mrs. Cosgrove’s smile grew but then she seemed to wince and shook her head. “Sorry. Feeling a bit punk yet.”

“Should we go home?” Noah asked.

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” Mrs. Cosgrove waved off his concern. “I’m tempted to get one of those cakes, though Noah will have to step up and do his part to finish it.”

“I don’t think that will be much of a hardship.” He turned to Shauntelle again. “Do you have any meat pies today? I know when we were delivering them, they looked and smelled pretty tasty.”

“I have a few,” she said, disappointed at the flush his compliment gave her. It felt wrong.

“My mommy just made these cakes.” Millie walked over to where Noah was standing, and to Shauntelle’s embarrassment, grabbed his hand, dragging him closer to the table and directly in front of Shauntelle. “She said they were an experiment, but I think they look awesome.”

“More of a trial run,” Shauntelle hastened to explain, far too aware of his towering presence. “For the restaurant. Thought I could offer them as desserts.”

“They look really nice, Millie,” he said, addressing her daughter instead of her. For some reason that bothered her.

“I helped my mom bake them,” Millie said, folding her hands in front of her and rocking back and forth, obviously pleased with Noah’s attention.

Yeah, he had that effect on women and girls of all ages, Shauntelle thought, remembering how she, too, had once admired him from afar.

“You didn’t help that much,” Margaret put in, coming to join them, clearly not too happy with the compliment Millie had received. “I did more.”

“No you did not,” Millie grumbled. “You were busy reading your book. I helped Mom mix the dough and set the timer—”

“But I mixed the icing and helped her put the cakes together.”

And why did they have to pick a fight right here and now in front of the Cosgroves? In spite of their bickering, people walking past them slowed and smiled at the girls.

Every time she took the twins out, people seemed drawn to them. Though Shauntelle let them choose their own clothes and encouraged them to develop their own style, they always picked matching outfits and accessories.

Today they wore green-and-yellow-striped sweaters and hot pink leggings. If only one of them wore this outfit, they would stand out.

But the two of them, bickering and picking at each other, their ponytails bobbing, drew unwelcome attention this time.

“I don’t think we need to talk about who did what,” Shauntelle said with a forced smile, coming around the table and laying a warning hand on each of their shoulders. “You both helped.”

“And you both did an amazing job,” Noah said, crouching down to get to their level.

Which put him below hers. She could see the top of his head, the thick wave of his hair. She caught herself, frustrated at her reaction to him. She was as bad as her daughters.

“And you girls both did a great job yesterday too,” Noah said, piling compliment on compliment.

Immediately the girls quit their squabbling, both looking rather smug at Noah’s praise.

“So now you have to help me pick out a cake for my mother,” he continued.

As Noah stood, his gaze drifted up and snagged hers. His smile slowly faded, and the serious and somber look that replaced it sent a shiver down her spine. What was he thinking when he looked at her?

Pulling her gaze away, she fiddled with the arrangement of the cakes, straightened a package of cinnamon rolls. Anything to avoid looking at Noah again. When she saw him yesterday, her anger had simmered hard, but today, after she had spent the afternoon with him, she found it had dissipated.

Until she saw her parents. Then it had returned full force.

“What do you think, Noah? Should we buy one of those?” Fay was asking.

“I think we should, but then we need to get going,” Noah said to his mother. “You’re still not feeling well.”

The concern in his voice and the tender way he laid his hand on his mother’s shoulder created battling emotions inside Shauntelle.

In spite of that, she couldn’t forget the texts her brother sent her.

Texts complaining about how hard he had to work. What a slave driver Noah was. Money-hungry and pushy. Even given her brother’s tendency to exaggerate, Noah still came across in those texts as a hard-nosed businessman concerned only with the bottom line.

Then her brother had died, and once again the bottom fell out of her world. She swallowed down an unwelcome knot of pain.

“You’re probably right,” his mother said, then turned to Shauntelle. “I think we’ll take this chocolate one.”

“Good choice,” Shauntelle said, reaching for a box to put the cake in.

“And the meat pies,” Noah prompted.

“Right. Sorry. I forgot about them.” She boxed up the cake, disappointed to see her hands trembling as she closed the flaps. She wanted to show him that she was capable and in charge, unaffected by his presence, but the pounding of her heart made that impossible.

Seriously, she really had to get a handle on her emotions.

She tied a ribbon around the box and handed it to him with a forced smile. “That will be fifteen dollars.”

“And the meat pies?” he reminded her.

She did a mental facepalm. “Of course.” She boxed up a couple of pies and handed them to him as well, giving him the final total.

“That’s pretty cheap,” he said, taking them from her. “You might want to consider raising your prices.”

“I’m still trying things out.”

“For what?”

“The restaurant I want to start up.”

“Really? That’s ambitious. Where will it be?”

“It’s going to be part of the arena. I’ll be running a snack bar as one part of the operation with a restaurant attached to it. The contractor said he might put in a courtyard where I could have outdoor seating. People like to look at trees and flowers when they’re eating, I guess, and I’m not going to argue with that. I think it will look nice.” She stopped her babbling. He was making her uneasy, and she was doing that talking-too-much thing that she did when she was agitated.