The Cowboy's Twin Surprise

“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.