Her Cowboy's Triplets

He shrugged again, smiling this time.

“As I live and breathe, a Boone and a Wallace sitting down and working together?” Miss Francis’s startled question caught her and Brody by surprise. “I’m all for ending the feud, but you might want to build up to it first. I just saw your folks parking out front, Brody.”

India’s stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. She’d grown up knowing the Wallaces were stubborn, mean-spirited people. But she’d never thought about Brody as one of them. He was just Brody.

“Cal,” she said, calling her son back to their booth—across from Brody and his girls. “We should order. I don’t want you up too late.”

Cal handed Amberleigh the crayon. “I’ll finish next time.” He stepped over Tanner and slid into the booth.

Amberleigh frowned but took the crayon. She slumped in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out a big sigh.

India tried her hardest not to laugh.

“India, you don’t have to—”

“She’s still wearing her clothes, Ramona. No need to worry,” Vic Wallace announced as he entered the Soda Shop. “Your mother was fretting the whole ride. Francis, why are you everywhere I look?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess,” Francis answered.

The man had aged. She had few memories of Vic Wallace. When she’d been little, she’d been scared of him. He’d been taller than her father, his fiery red hair making him appear all the more hot-tempered. Her father wasn’t a small man, but something about Mr. Wallace had seemed...looming. And when he got riled up, his red face would rival his red hair. Her father tended to make sure Vic Wallace’s face was blazing red before he walked away.

When Ramona Wallace glanced at their table, India did her best to appear absorbed in her menu. Like Cal. He read well enough for a five-year-old—he wouldn’t need help choosing his dinner. “Not getting the chicken fried steak?” she asked.

“Just seeing what else they have.” He grinned at her. “But I think I’ll go with the steak.”

“Sounds good,” India said.

“Done coloring?” Miss Francis was talking to Amberleigh.

Amberleigh had stopped coloring and was now peeling all the labels from her crayons. A shoe sat on the table, by the little girl’s fork.

“Amberleigh, put your shoe back on, sweetheart.” Mrs. Wallace was embarrassed more than anything.

The little girl picked up her shoe, tried to put it back on, then tossed it in frustration. The white slip-on went flying, landing on the floor in front of Tanner. Tanner sat up, glanced at the shoe, then Cal. It took every ounce of India’s control not to laugh. Brody was fighting the same battle. She saw it in those clear toffee eyes of his.

But the expressions on Ramona’s and Vic Wallace’s faces, on Miss Francis’s, were simply hilarious. She giggled, pressing her napkin to her mouth to stifle it.

Brody, she noticed, was clearing his throat behind her.

Cal studied the shoe, then Amberleigh. He slipped from the booth and picked up her shoe. “Lose your shoe?” he asked.

“She threw it, Cal,” Marilyn offered. “Don’t like them.”

“Hit your dog?” Suellen asked, hiding behind her napkin again.

“Nope. Tanner is fine,” he said, slipping from his seat and walking to Amberleigh. “Want it?”

Amberleigh shook her head, but there were tears in the little girl’s eyes. And India couldn’t stop herself from joining her son. “Want Cal to help you put it on?”

Amberleigh stared at her with wide hazel eyes. India could only imagine what was going on in that little head of hers. “Don’t like ’em,” Amberleigh announced.

“Your shoes?” India asked, taking the shoe from Cal and peering inside. “I had shoes like this when I was little. They pinched and made my toes feel squished.”

Amberleigh watched her closely.

“Is that the problem?” Brody asked. “We can get you new shoes, darlin’.”

Amberleigh shook her head. “Don’t like ’em.”

“Don’t blame you,” Cal said, sounding off. “Barefoot’s always better. Unless you’re working outside.” He placed the shoe back on the table.

Amberleigh smiled at Cal again, offering him more of her newly peeled crayons.

“Not in a restaurant, it’s not,” Vic Wallace said, recovering from his embarrassment to scowl in Cal’s direction.

She stiffened. He could be as rude as he wanted to be to her father—or her. But her son was another matter. She urged Cal back to their table and sat, smiling his way.

“The boy’s trying to help,” Miss Francis said.

“No help needed. She needs to learn to keep her shoes on,” Mr. Wallace grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”

India watched Amberleigh slump farther down in her seat.

“Vic,” Mrs. Wallace scolded, softly.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a cow,” Brody said, making the girls laugh. “Or a hippopotamus.”

“Or a ephelant?” Marilyn asked.

“Elephant?” Brody nodded.

“Or...or a whale?” Suellen asked.

“Maybe,” Brody agreed, winking at them. “I’ll ask Sara if there’s whale on the menu.”

The three girls “aahed” in unison, their little noses wrinkling up in distaste.

“We should celebrate. Sara, get the little ones here a milk shake,” Mr. Wallace said. “Not every day your son decides to run for mayor. We’ll run a big campaign, plaster the name Wallace all over the place.”

Brody for mayor?

“Might run.” Brody glanced her way.

He’d do a good job—because he was a good man.

“Time to make a decision. There’s not a single reason to stop you, Brody,” his father said.

Brody glanced her way again. “I can think of a few. Besides, I’m not much of politician, Dad. What you see is what you get.”

“That’s why at least half of Fort Kyle wants you, Brody. There’s no one else in these parts with the experience you have.” Miss Francis seemed to be his biggest fan. “You’d do good things. Be fair.”

India agreed, but she didn’t say a word. Brody would make this town proud and make the town a place to be proud of.

“And you’d make your daddy happy.” Miss Francis nudged Vic Wallace in the side, earning a small smile from the man.

India had given up trying to make her father happy—it was impossible. Besides, something this big shouldn’t be about one person. It was a lot to take in, to consider. Especially for a single father of three.

She was a single mother to the smartest, kindest, most patient five-year-old in the universe, and it was tough.

Brody’s sigh drew India’s attention his way. There was a slight furrow on his brow, like he was working through something complicated. Did he want this? If there was one thing the last few years had taught her, it was to follow your instinct.

Clearly, Brody was conflicted. Did he have someone to talk to, to weigh the pros and cons of such a monumental job? Did he have someone special? Or was he lonely, like her?

Her phone alarm jingled, reminding her to pick up milk on the way home and jarring her from thoughts of Brody and his life choices. Brody Wallace was part of her past, not her future. If he was serious about running for mayor, her father would consider that an act of war. Being Brody’s friend—an act of treason.

Chapter Three

Brody rode around the near-dry water tank. The ground wasn’t baked dry enough to crack yet, but it was coming. Texas weather was erratic, arctic cold to blazing heat—in the span of a day. But occasionally they had a nice in-between. Like today. A cooling breeze, bright blue sky and fluffy clouds towering up and casting long, slow-moving shadows on the ground beneath his feet.

“We could use a good rain.” He spoke to his horse, Bear.

The massive buckskin snorted in reply.

He chuckled, tipping his hat forward to shield his gaze from the glare of the sun. He scanned the horizon carefully.

A pack of wild pigs had come through the back property, tearing through the fences and digging ruts to keep cool. Besides being mean-tempered, the animals could cause a hell of a lot of damage to property. The game warden had called and asked him to keep an eye out, but Brody had yet to see them.

A distant whip-poor-will sang out, making Bear’s ears perk up and Brody search the blooming cactus, mesquite and grasses for some sign of the bird. No luck; the bird was camouflaged well.

Out here, things were clear-cut and simple. He could whittle through what he wanted and what he needed and envision what his future could be. A future that included things like happy daughters, healthy parents and a loving woman at his side.

He knew who he wanted that woman to be. But, even out here, he had no idea how to make that work.

She was beautiful. But the world knew that. Head cheerleader, prom queen and Miss Fort Kyle Cattle Queen four years in a row. The girls liked her. And the boys lined up to date her. He’d grown up seeing her for who she was—an awkward lonely girl who’d just wanted to be one of the crowd. Not looked up to or fawned over, but accepted.

His mission was to be that person for her. It hadn’t happened overnight. Hell, it probably wouldn’t have happened at all if her father hadn’t made him off-limits. Nothing spurs a teenage girl into action like her father’s disapproval. Surprisingly, their friendship had become important to both of them. But what had started out as friendship turned into something more for him, something he’d never been able to shake, something India never knew about.

When she’d headed to Texas Women’s University in Dallas, he’d headed for University of Texas in Austin. The distance had changed things.

College, law school, Barbara, his career and the girls. Life had kept him too busy to think much beyond what was right in front of him. When he’d decided to bring the girls here, he’d made the choice to make time for the things that mattered. Like his girls. His parents.

And now, maybe, India.

He and Bear headed back to the ranch and straight for the barn. He stored his saddle and bridle, brushed Bear’s coat and made sure to clean out his hooves before turning the horse into the large pasture behind the barn.

“How’s it look?” His father joined him at the fence. “They’re saying we might get a shower or two end of the week. That’d help.”

Brody nodded, inspecting the sky. “Depends. We need a good soaking, not a flash flood.”

“I’ll take what I get, son.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Water’s water.”

Which was true, but a hard, fast rain eroded just as much as drought. “The well looks good. If the tank dries out, we’ll fill the troughs. We’ll be fine. Like always.”

His father nodded. “Chance of heading into town? Your mother got a package needs to be picked up. Maybe stop in, check on Willie, see how he’s running the store.” His father leaned against the fence, doing his best to act casual.

“Can do,” he agreed. On top of the ranch, the Wallaces owned the local grocery store and feed store. Both were successful, thriving businesses his father oversaw personally. But now, with his health, it was too much. His father had a hard time asking for help—that was one of the reasons he’d come home. If his father wanted something done, and he often had a roundabout way of asking, Brody would do it.

“Give Mom a hand with the girls?”

The older man nodded. “Can do. Maybe check in at the bakery, see if they’ve got some of that peach cobbler for dessert. Don’t tell your mother, though.”

Brody chuckled. “Can do.” His mother wasn’t much of a baker, but neither of them would ever say as much.

He walked his father back to the house, kissed the girls on the head and headed into town with a grocery list from his mother—and Amberleigh. By the time they’d reached Wallace Family Grocery, Amberleigh had tugged off her boots and her socks. But she was happy, her little feet bouncing along with the George Strait songs coming through his radio.

“Shopping for Nana?” Amberleigh asked when they’d parked in front of the grocery store.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, carrying her inside. “Wanna ride?”

She nodded, sliding her legs through the grocery cart opening. “Go fast, Daddy.”

He grinned, pushing the cart down the aisle at a slow jog. Amberleigh squealed with glee, her little eyes shut and her head tilted back. Until they rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt a few feet from an old woman pushing her cart.

The old woman scowled and kept on going, moving at a snail’s pace.

“That was some look,” he said to Amberleigh. “Think we’re in trouble?”

Amberleigh nodded. “Scary fairy.”

Brody burst out laughing at the comparison of the old lady and the mean fairy in their coloring books. “Pretty close, Amberleigh. Pretty close.”

He stopped in the office, talked to Willie and let Amberleigh ride on the coin-operated horse by the ice-cream section.

“Like Bear, Daddy.” His daughter smiled. “Giddy-up, horsey.”

“Don’t let him get away from you.” He winked at her.

Her hold tightened on her reins. “Whoa.”

“Good job.” He nodded. His father had purchased ponies for the girls, but only Amberleigh had been interested. Marilyn had refused. Suellen was more interested in petting it and sneaking the pony carrots and apples. He knew they were fraternal triplets, but he’d never expected the girls to be so different.

Not that he’d have it any other way.

“All done.” She reached for him, laughing when he swung her around and deposited her back into the cart.

“Time to get some shopping done.” He set off again.

He turned shopping into a game, sneaking around corners and dodging all the other carts. All it took was his daughter’s laugh to keep him going. He figured her sisters talked so much Amberleigh didn’t feel the need to join in. Hearing her talk was a rare treat.

They loaded the groceries into the truck. But the sight of India disappearing inside Antiques and Treasures made him pause.

* * *

INDIA HIT ENTER on the computer keyboard. Nothing. The prompt popped up again, so she reentered the access code—rechecking each keystroke before moving on. If it took the entire hour she had before Cal got out of school, so be it. She could do this. She would do it. She hit Enter again.

“Come on,” she said, frowning at the computer screen. “Please.”

“Pretty sure manners won’t make much of a difference,” Brody said from the doorway, startling her so that she knocked her bottle of water from the desk and into her lap. “Damn, India, I’m so sorry.” He was across the room in an instant, offering his handkerchief.

“It was an accident,” she said, pushing out of her chair. “There wasn’t much left anyway. It was...refreshing. And cold.”

He shook his head, eyeing her pants.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, resting her hand on his arm. “It’s water. Not a national security crisis. Or a stupid software problem.”

His hand covered hers. “I might be able to help with the computer. Make up for dousing you with cold water?”

His hand was warm. His arm was warm. Even the look in his tawny gaze was warm. And it washed over her, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. A peculiar tightening settled deep in her stomach.

“Will it get me out of the doghouse?” he asked.

She swallowed. “If you’re offering to help me not throw this piece of junk into the trash, I’m not going to complain about getting a little water on my pants.” She glanced down at her pants. “Okay, more than a little water.”

Brody chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

India wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was good. All the warmth and the touching and the smiling... She should let go of him.

“Let me see what I can do,” he offered, moving toward the computer—and taking his warmth with him.

This was weird. Brody was, had been, her friend. She’d never stared at his broad shoulders before. Or, when he climbed under her desk, his rear. But now, India was completely distracted by pretty much everything about Brody. It was unnerving as hell. But not necessarily bad.

“Looks like the modem was plugged in incorrectly,” he said, sitting back on his knees and inspecting the back of the modem.

“Of course it was.” She shook her head. “Please don’t tell me I’ve spent the last week stressing out over nothing.”

He grinned up at her. “If it was stressing you out, it was something.” He’d always been good at that—making things better. “Let’s try it now.” He tucked the modem back into place, then sat in her chair. “Aw, shit.”

She covered her mouth, laughing at the wet spot soaking the back of his pants. And his mighty-fine rear. “Um, it might still be a little wet.”

He cocked a brow. “Thanks.” With a shake of his head, he sat and focused on the task at hand. His expression changed, eyes narrowing, lips quirked, his jaw going rigid as he plugged in the codes. With a few more clicks, the screen turned blue and the welcome popped up. “Looks like it took.”

“That was it? A plug? Really?” She glanced back and forth between him and the computer screen. “I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you.”

He stood. “I’d prefer a hug. A hug is the better choice.”

She laughed, hugging him before she had time to think it through. “Thank you, Brody. You have no idea how frustrated I’ve been.”

His arms were strong and secure around her. “Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff.”

She nodded, far too content to stay in his arms. “You were right,” she whispered, trying not to burrow closer. It was hard.

“About not sweating the small stuff?” he asked. “Can’t take the credit. It’s one of those inspirational quote-of-the-day things.”

“Not that.” She laughed again. “About the hug.”

“Oh.” His arms tightened. “That. Yeah, I’m enjoying it. You always gave good hugs.”

She gave up the fight and burrowed closer. “I was going to say the same thing.” The problem was she didn’t want to let go.

“You okay, Goldilocks?” he asked, his voice close to her ear.

“Of course.” Was she? She was trying to be. Maybe her hold on him was a little too tight, a little too needy, to be convincing.

“I think we should load up the truck and head out to the ridge—like we used to,” he said. “A little stargazing and solving the world’s problems.” His breath brushed her ear.

“Think it’ll work?” she asked.

“Might be worth a try.” His hand stroked her back.

Except they were no longer teenagers. They were adults. Parents. With very different goals. Hers was to get out of Fort Kyle. His was to become mayor.

“Um, hi.” India’s sister, Scarlett, stood awkwardly in the doorway, Amberleigh in her arms. “She was looking for her daddy.”

India stiffened. At least it was Scarlett. She wouldn’t say a word to anyone—not that there was anything to tell.

“You need to get a doorbell or something,” Brody said, letting go of India. “Or someone could sneak up on you and scare you.”

India laughed in spite of herself.

“We didn’t mean to scare you, did we?” Scarlett asked Amberleigh.

Amberleigh shook her head. “Brought cookies, Daddy.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” Brody crossed the room to his daughter.

India watched as he stooped, taking the cookie his little girl held up. Maybe his hug had reinforced just how lonely she was. Maybe it was because Brody was synonymous with comfort and security. Or maybe it was because he was incredibly attractive. It was probably a combination. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake this new awareness of Brody.

“Share, Daddy,” the little girl said. “Manners.”

Brody broke the cookie evenly, offering India half.

The brush of his fingers against hers was far too potent for her liking. “That’s right, Amberleigh. Manners are important,” India agreed.

Amberleigh smiled. “Where’s Cal?”

“He’s still at school.” She grinned.

Amberleigh nodded.

“In a few years, you’ll be at school, too,” Scarlett said. “You’ll see Cal all the time. And bunches of other kids.”

Amberleigh perked up.

She’d have to talk to Brody about the half-day pre-K program the school offered. Amberleigh was smart and busy and ready for more social interaction. “Lose your shoes again?” India asked, smiling at the little girl.

Amberleigh shook her head. “Daddy’s truck.”

“I pick my battles,” Brody said, winking at her.

India tried not to stare.

But Brody’s gaze held hers, and his jaw tightened.

“Want me to go put Amberleigh in the truck?” Scarlett asked. “Or wait outside?”

Heat singed her chest, up her neck and cheeks. “He fixed my computer.”

“After I spilled water all over her,” he interjected.

“The hug was a...thank-you?” Scarlett didn’t buy it. But she smiled. “That’s all?”

“What else would it be?” Brody asked. “I’ve got too much sense to fall for a woman who has no intention of staying put.” He scooped up Amberleigh. “We’d better head out soon or your grandparents will run for the hills.”

“Thank you, Brody,” India said, waving them off.

Scarlett waited until they’d gone before turning a wide-eyed gaze her way. “You know, Fort Kyle is a good place, India. I’d love it if you stayed. So would Mom. I know you and Dad don’t always see eye-to-eye, but that won’t change whether you stay here or go. Don’t let him steal your chance at a very good thing.” She pointed out the large window at Brody and Amberleigh. “That right there is a very good thing.”

India watched Brody pack his little girl into his truck, her sister’s words more tempting than they should’ve been.

Chapter Four

“What in tarnation is happening to this town?” her father asked, slamming the newspaper down on the breakfast table hard enough to make the glasses shudder and the cutlery clink.

“What’s the matter, dear?” her mother asked, unruffled by his outburst.

“That boy, that Wallace boy, is running for mayor? There’s an official press release,” he thundered. “What is he thinking? Why, he hasn’t even been in Fort Kyle long enough to run, has he?”

He’d done it. Brody Wallace was officially running for mayor of Fort Kyle. And, after spending the last few months listening to her father hem and haw over the current mayor, he stood a very good chance of winning. Even with the last name Wallace. India caught Cal’s eye. He winked at her, chewing his pancakes with enthusiasm.

“He’s a lawyer, isn’t he?” Scarlett asked. “He’s really nice, Dad—”

“Really nice?” her father interrupted. “A snake in the grass, I’ll bet. Just like his father. Full of venom, too.”

Scarlett glanced at her and tried again. “Click knows him pretty well—”

“Click Hale?” he snapped. “Hmph. I know he up and married your cousin Tandy, but that doesn’t magically erase his past. Makes sense he and the Wallace boy would be friends.”

“Click’s past?” India asked, her patience vanishing. Why she let her father get to her was a mystery she’d yet to solve. She wasn’t normally adversarial. But she and her father couldn’t seem to avoid ending every conversation with an argument. In this case it was justified. Her father was too quick to label and criticize. Now he wanted to judge the sons on the sins of their fathers. Click. And Brody. “Click Hale never did anything to anyone—except marry Tandy. And I’m pretty sure that was one hundred percent voluntary on both their parts. His parents’ drama shouldn’t be his burden to bear.”

All eyes were on her.

“You turn everything I say into an argument.”

She stared at him. She did?

“When did you get so fond of Click Hale?” her father asked.

“The day he became family,” she countered. “You’re the one who says blood is thicker than water.”

“Let’s try to have a peaceable breakfast,” her mother pleaded. “Cal, would you pass the toast, please?”

Cal nodded, passing the towering plate of toast to the other end of the table.

“Besides, Woodrow, I wouldn’t worry too much about Brody Wallace, dear. Mayor Draper’s done a fine job.” Her mother took a piece of toast. “I’m sure he’s not going anywhere.”