Twins Under the Christmas Tree. Marin Thomas

she insisted that the boys would work things out on their own.”

      “How long ago did you speak to this lady?”

      “I guess it’s been a month.”

      Conway’s jaw hardened. “I can help. Will you trust me to handle this?”

      “You don’t have any experience with kids.”

      “I grew up fighting bullies who picked on me because of my name.”

      His comment triggered more tears. “The teacher said I should encourage the boys’ father to become more involved in their lives, but that’ll never happen.”

      “Why?”

      “Their father refuses to acknowledge that the boys are his.”

      Conway scowled. “Make him take a paternity test.”

      “He’s already married with kids.”

      “You slept with a married man?” Conway gaped at her.

      “He didn’t tell me he was married.”

      “And you didn’t ask him?”

      “He wasn’t wearing a wedding band, so I assumed he was single.”

      “The boys’ father should be paying child support. If he helped out financially, you could afford day care.” Conway swept his hand in front of him. “You’re barely getting by raising them on your own.”

      “We’re fine.” She wasn’t proud of accepting government assistance to help meet her monthly expenses and put food on the table, but as soon as she earned her degree, she’d find a full-time job with benefits and be able to support herself and the boys all on her own.

      “Being a single parent isn’t easy.” She swallowed hard. “I have no one to—”

      Conway cut her off midsentence by pressing his finger against her lips. The tip of his finger slipped past her lip and touched her tongue. A spark of heat warmed her brown eyes as they locked gazes.

      “What are you doing?” she mumbled against his finger.

      “Trying to stop you from talking.”

      Did he have any idea how long it had been since a man had touched her so intimately? Feeling short of breath, she said, “Don’t do that again.”

      Good grief. No sense playing with fire when they were both destined for different futures—Conway wanted marriage without kids and if she ever committed to a man, he would have to love her boys as much as she loved them.

      “Is my touch that awful?” His eyes sparkled with humor.

      “Stop trying to distract me.”

      “Isi. You’re a great mom and the boys are lucky to have you in their corner. Let me help Javier.”

      Just because you accept his help doesn’t mean you’re a failure. “Fine.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “See you after midnight.”

      Isi stepped outside and blew kisses to the boys. “Be good.” Then she drove off, thinking she’d better keep her guard up around Conway in case he turned out to be an authentic Mr. Nice Guy—a Mr. Nice Guy who rocked her world. Again.

      * * *

      WHEN CONWAY ENTERED the preschool, he strode up to the desk and announced, “I’m staying with the boys.”

      Both Miguel and Javier smiled.

      “You can’t stay,” the lady said.

      Conway peered at her name tag. “Why not, Rose? I’d like to observe what the boys do during their time here.”

      “I can tell you what they do. First, they sit in a circle for story time then—”

      “I don’t want to hear about it, I want to experience it.” Conway tapped his finger against the sign-in sheet on the clipboard. “Is there a guest form I need to fill out?”

      Flustered, Rose said, “Wait here, Mr. Cash. I’ll get the director.”

      Miguel tugged on Conway’s pant leg. “Now you’re in trouble. Ms. Kibble’s mean.”

      “You guys go hang up your backpacks. I’ll be there in a minute.”

      After the boys walked away, an older woman with a salt-and-pepper bob stepped from her office. “Mr. Cash, I understand you’d like to observe today.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He held out his hand.

      “Is there a problem with Miguel or Javier?” she asked.

      “Well, ma’am, there is. It seems Javier is being picked on and nothing’s been done to address the problem.”

      The director’s eyes rounded and Rose made a hasty exit.

      “This is the first I’ve heard of any bullying going on in my school,” Ms. Kibble said.

      “No, ma’am, it’s not. According to the boys’ mother, she’s spoken to you about this before, and because the teasing hasn’t stopped, Javier doesn’t want to come to school anymore.”

      “Which boys are bothering him?”

      “He won’t say, but I intend to find out.”

      “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Cash. I’ll make sure the teacher is aware of the situation.”

      “Good. I’m eager to see how she deals with the bullies.”

      Ms. Kibble’s mouth tightened, but she backed down. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

      When Conway joined the boys for story time on the floor, Miguel whispered to the kid next to him, “That’s Conway Twitty Cash. He’s my new friend.”

      Javier inched closer to Conway but remained silent. Story time turned out to be boring as hell and it was all Conway could do to keep his eyes open. When the teacher—Ms. Haney—closed the book and asked if anyone had questions, Conway raised his hand.

      “Yes, Mr. Cash?”

      “When’s recess?” The room erupted in giggles, which earned Conway a dark scowl from the teacher.

      “Go to your tables and start your work sheets,” the teacher said.

      When the kids bolted in all directions, a boy walked past Javier and elbowed him in the back. Conway noticed the teacher’s attention was elsewhere. The boy with the sharp elbow sat at the same table as Javier, and Javier refused to make eye contact with the kid.

      One bully identified. Now he needed to find the others. The only way to do that was to sit away from Javier. He joined Miguel at his table and Conway’s gut twisted at Javier’s hurt expression. It was all he could do not to rush to the boy’s side and reassure him.

      While the group worked on their alphabet sheets, Conway watched Javier. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until the teacher asked the students to pass the papers to the head of the table. A freckled-faced boy swept Javier’s paper onto the floor then stepped on it before putting it back in the pile and handing it to the teacher.

      Bully number two identified.

      The class spent the next hour moving from activity to activity until snack time. Fruit punch, crackers and small boxes of raisins were doled out to each kid. Miguel stuffed his face, eating everything in front of him and asking for seconds of the punch. Javier didn’t touch his food—or rather he didn’t have a chance to, because the red-haired bully had stolen his box of raisins and Javier hadn’t protested.

      By the time recess arrived, Conway was spitting mad that the teacher hadn’t noticed what was happening right under her nose. He followed the kids outside and Javier raced to the swings while Miguel veered off toward the monkey bars and a group of gossiping girls.

      When the bullies closed in on