Her Cowboy's Triplets. Sasha Summers

almost dinnertime and we’ll eat real food. Okay?”

      Marilyn nodded, wiping off her tongue. “Nasty mud.” She wrinkled up her little freckle-covered nose.

      “Daddy.” Suellen held a long, wriggling earthworm between her fingers. “Look.”

      “You found a friend?” he asked. “Might want to let him go home, Suellen. He lives here, taking care of the flowers.”

      “He does?” Suellen asked, studying the worm.

      “Yes, ma’am. He helps them grow.” He ran his hand over Suellen’s cheek. “Be gentle with him.”

      She cradled the worm in both hands then, stooping to carefully place the worm back in the soil Amberleigh had saturated. “Good, Daddy?”

      “Perfect, baby.” He smiled, nodded and turned to face his father. “I’ve been thinking about it. Miss Francis hasn’t given me much choice.” He glanced at the grinning older woman. “What do you think, Dad? About me running? I’ve been gone for a while—”

      “You’ve always been a Fort Kyle boy, Brody. Even if you did hang your hat in Houston for a while. You came home,” Miss Francis argued.

      “Dad?” Brody pushed. If he did this, and it was a big if, he’d want his father’s support.

      His father stared at him, considering his words. Which meant he was thinking of the right thing to say. “You want to do it, you should.”

      Brody sighed. His father had lumped him into the defector camp the day he’d left for law school. Vic Wallace had money, and his son didn’t need to go off to make more—that was what he’d told Brody anyway. But Brody needed to find his own way, become his own man, and leaving had been the best way for him to do that. He didn’t regret going. Or coming back.

      “I’m not sure,” he confessed, glancing at his girls. “Got plenty to keep me busy right now.”

      His father snorted. “You think it’ll get easier when you have three teenage girls running around? Live your life, boy. Fort Kyle’d be lucky to have you for mayor.”

      The hint of pride in his father’s voice was the best endorsement Brody could ask for.

      His father burst out laughing. “Besides, I can’t wait to see Woodrow Boone’s face when a Wallace is mayor.”

      And there it was. Brody frowned, his gaze returning to his daughters. He had no expectation when it came to India Boone, he knew better. The bad blood between their fathers was too full of vitriol to allow their long-term secret friendship to become public. Or for India to ever discover how deeply he’d loved her for the past fourteen years.

      * * *

      INDIA SAT AT the table in the back corner of Fort Kyle’s small library. Her textbooks, notes and laptop covered the table, along with an array of highlighters, pens and pencils. She’d been reviewing her best practices for school counseling prevention and intervention for the last two hours, and her head was starting to spin.

      She had five weeks until her test. Once she passed, she could apply for a full-time counseling position—which she was more likely to find in the city. She’d never be rich, but she and Cal wouldn’t have to stay here, being a burden to her father. That was what she wanted: choices. For the last few years, her fate had been determined by someone else. From now on, she would be the one to decide her fate. And when she stood on her own two feet, she wanted it to be away from her dad’s judgment and scrutiny. A positive fresh start for her and Cal—in a place where her father’s unwavering disappointment wouldn’t have her questioning her decisions and weighing her down. She could be a better person—a better mother—if she wasn’t living in the shadow of a painful past her father still blamed her for.

      “Mom,” Cal said from the beanbag in the corner. “I’m hungry.” Tanner, whom the librarian kindly turned a blind eye on, sprawled on his patch of carpet, snoring.

      She glanced at her watch. “You’re always hungry, Cal.” But it was 6:13 p.m. Dinnertime.

      He chuckled. “I’m a growing boy, Mom.”

      She glanced at her son, already taller than most boys his age. “Don’t I know it?” JT had been tall. And broad. And strong. All nice traits. Thankfully, that was where the resemblance ended. He’d just turned two when JT left, so Cal had been spared most of his father’s mercurial mood swings. But India remembered things all too clearly. How jealous he’d been about Cal, how frustrated he’d been by their infant son’s tears and how needy the new baby was. Thinking of how he’d yanked Cal from his high chair on one particular occasion still knocked the breath from her lungs. She’d managed to get her baby into the safety of his room and locked him inside before JT turned violent. The marks he’d left on her that night must have scared him, too, because JT had left the next day. The divorce papers she’d received six months later was the last she’d heard of him. She hoped it stayed that way.

      “Are we going to the Soda Shop?” Cal asked.

      She started packing up her things. “For dinner?”

      “It’s Tuesday,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

      She nodded, powering off her laptop.

      “Chicken fried steak. With your...friend?” He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was listening.

      “Cal.” She giggled, instantly remembering Brody’s offer. “He was kidding.” Surely he had been? Besides, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Not because of their fathers or their ridiculous feud, but because she needed to stay strong—without leaning on Brody’s broad shoulders. “Do you want chicken fried steak?” she asked, zipping up her backpack.

      He shrugged. “I don’t want brisket.” Which was standard Tuesday fare at her parents’ dude ranch.

      “I’ll take that as a yes.” She glanced at her watch again. It was after six. Chances were, he’d eaten and left. If he’d even shown up. “Okay. Let’s go.”

      “Come on, boy,” Cal said, patting his side. Tanner hopped up, instantly ready to go.

      They strolled down the stone sidewalk. The walk from the library to the Soda Shop was short—nothing was far in town. They said hello to their neighbors, watched the storefronts closing up and crossed the street to get to the Soda Shop. She ignored the sudden onset of nerves that gripped her as she pushed through the door. It was just Brody, after all.

      “Maybe he didn’t come,” Cal said, glancing around the restaurant.

      “We can still have dinner.” She nudged him, smiling. “Even if it’s just me.”

      He smiled up at her. “I don’t mind.”

      “Miss Boone,” Sara greeted them from the bar. “You two here for dinner? Pick a table and I’ll bring you some menus. I might even have a bone or two for Tanner.”

      Cal waved at the teenager. “Thanks, Sara. Let’s get a booth, Mom.” He led her to a booth on the far side of the restaurant. Tanner sat at the end of the table, staring at them. “Sara’s checking on something special, boy.”

      They were just seated when a little girl came walking down the hall. Her long strawberry blond pigtails bounced above her shoulders. She had pink embroidered jean shorts on. But she was wearing no shoes.

      “Amberleigh,” a voice called after her. “Shoes.”

      The little girl stopped, sighed and walked back down the hallway.

      “You think she’s lost?” Cal asked.

      India grinned. She had a pretty good idea whom the little girl belonged to. Besides the little girl’s red-gold curls, India recognized the man’s voice. That precious barefoot toddler had to belong to Brody Wallace. Which meant he was here.

      A few seconds later, Brody appeared—followed by three absolutely