The Trouble With Twins. Jo Leigh

      “One second. Tell them to sit at the table.”

      “Right.”

      She heard an impressive whine, something along the lines of, “I don’t wanna.” The crash of a chair tipped over, which explained the sound she’d heard at the front door, followed by childish laughter. These kids needed lunch, a bath and a nap.

      She put the fried eggs on one big plate, then used Cheerios and shredded wheat to make faces with the eggs as eyes. She picked up two small plates as she headed toward the danger zone.

      The children were sitting. And so was Gray. Only they were all on the floor. “Is that where you want to eat?” she asked.

      The kids screamed, “Yes!”

      “Then that’s where you shall eat.” She put the big plate between them and gave them a second to look at it.

      Scout pointed. “It’s a clown.”

      “It’s a big poop,” Jem countered.

      “It’s lunch,” Gray said, his voice as weary as the sigh that followed. He looked at Shelby and tried to smile. “Jem is big on poop these days.”

      “So I gathered.”

      “His mother says it will pass.”

      “Everything does.” She crouched beside them, grateful she’d worn jeans instead of a skirt, and served each of the kids one egg and split the cereal between them. They tackled the food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week.

      Gray stood up, watched the children for a moment, then turned to her. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “You want some coffee?”

      “I’ll get it. You sit down. How do you like it?”

      “Hot,” he said. “And black.”

      She nodded, then went to the kitchen.

      GRAY STARED at the swinging doors as they swayed on the hinges. He always felt like a cowpoke at his brother’s. At least the urge to bolt had left with the propitious arrival of the redhead from Austin. Her hair was an interesting color, a mixture of copper and rust and gold. He liked that she wore it down past her shoulders so it swayed, too.

      She had nice eyes. Wide. Green. Filled with amusement. It didn’t even bother him that her amusement was at his ineptitude. What in hell had he been thinking? No way he should be taking care of these kids. Someone would end up in the emergency room before he was through, and that was the last thing Ben and Ellen needed.

      The woman came back carrying two cups of coffee. He took a moment to check her out. A little rounder than he was used to, but nice. An hourglass shape that would have knocked them dead in Marilyn Monroe’s day. She put her coffee down first, then turned the other cup around so he could take it by the handle. Her nails were painted the same color as her hair. “Did you tell me your name?”

      “I don’t think so.” She sat across from him. “It’s Shelby. Shelby Lord.”

      “It’s a real pleasure, Shelby. You couldn’t have come at a better time. Another few minutes and I would have raised the white flag.”

      She smiled, her lush lips curving easily over straight, white teeth. “So how did you end up in this mess?”

      He shook his head. “I was a fool. An arrogant idiot. I didn’t know, honest. I haven’t been around kids much. Especially not twins. And certainly not on my own.”

      “Their parents?”

      “My sister-in-law, Ellen, had to go see a specialist in Dallas.”

      “She’s ill?”

      “Yeah. But it’s not dire. Not yet. And now it looks like things are going to be fine.”

      “That’s wonderful.”

      “I thought so. Which is why I said I’d watch the kids.” He sighed again. Sipped some coffee. “I’ve been staying here for the last couple of months, although this is my first time watching the kids by myself. Ellen and Ben made everything look so easy. Ha.”

      “So you’re not from here?”

      “Originally, yes. But I’ve been away for years. Los Angeles, mostly.”

      “Ah, but you’ve come back to your roots, eh? Home to stay?”

      He shrugged. “Maybe. If I get the job I’m hoping for.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Marketing. There’s a company out here, Lattimer Spices. They make barbecue rubs and specialty sauces. They’re going national and they need someone to head the operation.”

      “That explains the racks of jars in the fridge.”

      He winced. “I’m supposed to go to the grocery store.”

      “It might be a good idea.”

      He shook his head. “I called a service and hired a baby-sitter. She was due here at eight this morning.”

      “She didn’t call you?”

      “Not a word.”

      “Maybe something happened. You might call them and see.”

      “I would. Except I can’t find the phone.”

      “Oh.”

      “Let me rephrase that. I can’t find any of the phones.”

      She nodded. “I see.”

      “I imagine you can. It’s been…” He didn’t finish. It was obvious what his day had been like. The house had been immaculate before Ben and Ellen had taken off. Everything in its place. They’d made it sound like a piece of cake. Feed the kids, play games, maybe a nap. They should have warned him. But then Ben probably thought it was a big joke. “My apologies. You haven’t caught me on my best day.”

      Her smile stayed generous. “No problem. But now that we have a moment, I’d like to ask—”

      “The genealogy question.”

      She nodded. “You’re one of triplets, aren’t you?”

      He nodded, wondering where she’d gotten her information. And why. “I have a brother, Ben, and a sister, Kate. Ben’s the oldest, but— Never mind. It’s triplet stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

      “Want to bet?”

      “Are you kidding?”

      She shook her head, making her hair shimmer.

      “Is that what your study is about? Triplets?”

      “In an indirect way. I am a triplet. I have a brother, Michael, and a sister, Lana.”

      “I haven’t met many.”

      “Me, neither. Lots of twins, though.”

      He shook his head. “Twins. They think they’ve got problems. They don’t know the half of it.”

      “Well, perhaps they don’t know one third of it.”

      He grinned. “Right. So, what is it about my being a triplet that brought you here?”

      Her smile faded, and her gaze went past his shoulder to the far wall. “We were abandoned as infants, along with my older brother, who was two. My brothers are trying to find out who our birth parents are. We’ve got records of about five triplet births around that time that match our configuration—two girls, one boy. The only couples left to check were your parents and one other. Your hospital records were lost, so we didn’t know for sure what the sexes of the triplets were—or even the exact date of birth. Obviously we’re down to our last possibility.”

      “I’m sorry