The Cowboy's Twin Surprise. Cathy Mcdavid

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