Montana Twins. Charlotte Maclay

want or need. In the long run, that attitude wouldn’t be healthy for the twins.

      Short term, it would make it all the harder to put the babies back in her car and take them away from Eric.

      Finally running out of steam, Eric handed Rebecca off to Hetty, who cuddled, cooed and happily pinched the baby’s cheeks.

      Joe Moore, Hetty’s big, burly husband, who looked nothing like a storekeeper, was called from the back room to help carry the purchases out to the car.

      Laura had the distinct feeling she and the babies had been dropped into the middle of a fast-moving stream at flood stage and were being carried along by the current. A helpless feeling and inherently dangerous.

      ERIC PLACED the oversize teddy bear near the crib, fluffed its polka-dot bow and stepped back to admire his work. He’d brought everything up from the car. The low chest of drawers was in place across from the windows. The wind-up, jumping-rocking swing was at the closet end of the room right next to an oak rocking chair. Hetty had told him all moms needed a rocking chair.

      A dad would, too, he reasoned, smiling. Yep, he’d done all right for his first day as a father.

      The cry of a baby preceded Laura’s arrival in the nursery, one of the twins in her arms. He couldn’t tell them apart yet but he would soon enough.

      She handed him the baby. “Mandy needs a change.”

      “You want me to do it?”

      “It comes with the territory, Sheriff. Spending money does not a father make.”

      “I know that,” he mumbled. “It’s just that I haven’t ever—”

      “Changed a diaper. I suspected as much. It’s time for your first lesson.”

      “Maybe I ought to watch first.”

      “Hands-on is the best way to learn, and Becky dozed off after her bottle, so this is a good time. Unless you’d like to wait until they’re both fussing.”

      “You have a vindictive streak, don’t you?” He carried Mandy to the dresser and laid her on the thick pad he’d bought for this very purpose. He should have known Laura would make him initiate the darn thing.

      Laura’s smile was all too smug. “Possibly.”

      Almost immediately, Mandy began to fuss and kick her little legs.

      “Hold still, Twinkle-Toes.” He managed to un-snap the legs on the pink-and-white sleeper but had trouble getting the toes unhooked. “Hey, Sweet Cheeks, how ’bout a little cooperation for your old man?”

      Mandy’s crying increased in volume.

      Eric began to sweat. “Feel free to help out anytime you feel like it.”

      “You’re doing fine.”

      Like hell! A little more struggling and he got one foot out. The second came easier. He gave Laura a grim smile of accomplishment. “Now what?”

      “Take the old diaper off, use a wipe and put on some lotion so she doesn’t get a rash.”

      It all sounded so easy the way she rattled off the instructions.

      By bending Mandy’s legs over the top of her head, he got the old diaper off. He needed a third hand to reach the new diaper, and by the time he got that more or less in place, he realized he hadn’t done the wipe and lotion part. So he started again.

      By now Mandy was pretty frantic, little sobs lifting her chest.

      He opened the diaper, did a swipe, spread the lotion, reconnected the sides to the front with the sticky tabs and lifted Mandy, smooching her on the forehead, quieting her immediately.

      He exhaled in relief, giving Laura a triumphant smile. And the diaper slipped down around Mandy’s ankles.

      Laura’s stern, disapproving expression cracked. He’d thought of her eyes as an ordinary shade of pale blue, and they suddenly sparkled with amusement—at his expense—and he decided they held an amazing depth. Her smile was like a sunrise after a stormy night when the dark clouds had finally lifted. Her laughter reminded him of a lyrical songbird, light and airy. The uncanny transformation flustered and bewildered him. Beneath her tough-as-nails, I’m-the-teacher exterior lurked an entirely different woman.

      A woman a man might have trouble resisting—if she were interested.

      “I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth to silence her laughter, and he was sorry she’d hidden her beautiful smile. “It’s just that you looked so—”

      “Ridiculous. I know.”

      “No.” Her gaze softened. “Endearing. You were trying so hard, and then—”

      “Yeah. I sort of made a mess of things.” Except now Mandy had her head buried against his neck, sucking on his collar, and seemed as contented as a baby could be. That part felt good.

      “Perhaps we should start again and begin with me showing you the basics.”

      He met her gaze, nodding. “Starting again sounds like a great idea.” He didn’t limit his thoughts to simply starting over with basic baby-care lessons.

      SHE SHOULD HAVE PAID closer attention to Hetty’s comment about Eric eating frozen dinners.

      Laura gazed into the refrigerator at the meager contents. A gallon of milk, a six-pack of beer, some eggs, two apples—one of which was already half rotten—and an assortment of condiments.

      “I’m not much of a cook,” he admitted. “Most of the time I grab a burger and fries over at the saloon. Or stick something in the microwave.”

      She opened the freezer and found the selection pretty much limited to pot pies and lasagna. “You might want to consider adding fresh vegetables to your diet.”

      One side of his lips kicked up into a half grin. “Guess I’ll have to be a good example to the twins, huh?”

      Now that he’d stopped glaring at her all the time, he looked less formidable. Which didn’t make him any less dangerous. More so, since he was so set on being a good father.

      “I’ll treat you to chicken pot pies tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll pick up some fresh stuff when I’m in Great Falls. Hetty doesn’t have a real good selection.”

      “I noticed.”

      While Eric started dinner, Laura surveyed the spacious kitchen. The twins were in their car seats in the middle of a long oak picnic-style table with benches, probably crafted by the same man who had made the chest of drawers upstairs. The cabinets were a darker wood and needed a face-lift as did the tile counters. But there was a big window over the sink that faced west. It was dark now but Laura suspected it would provide a view of some spectacular sunsets.

      “How long have you been sheriff?” she asked Eric while she tickled Rebecca’s tummy with one finger. Her reward was a wide, gummy smile.

      “About five years. Before that I was on the rodeo circuit.”

      “I noticed the trophies.” How could she not when they were on such prominent display?

      “I had some Best-All-Around years until I took one too many headers off a bronc named Lucifer. I broke my leg in three places. Now I’ve got a couple of pins that set off security alarms in airports.” Still in his uniform, he stood with his back to the counter, one booted ankle crossed over the other, looking very much at ease. “I had to stay off my feet for six months, so I moved back to the Double O Ranch. About the time I was mobile again the former sheriff announced his retirement. I decided settling down was a good idea.”

      “But not on the ranch?”

      “Walker enjoys punching cows a lot more than I ever did, and he’s a good manager. Rory and I still have an interest in the place, though, and help out during roundups, that sort of thing.”

      “I