Their Inherited Triplets. Cathy Gillen Thacker

away.

      “Now, Frank,” her mother warned, “Lulu can make her own decisions.”

      On the other end of the connection, her father harrumphed.

      Lulu didn’t want what she saw as her problems bringing conflict to her family. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offers made by you and my brothers,” she said soothingly. All five of whom wanted to help out by either temporarily taking her into their home or standing guard over her and her property. “It’s just that I need some alone time right now.”

      She needed time to think, to figure out how she and Sam were going to manage the triplets. Without continually bringing up any of their former angst.

      With uncanny intuition, her mother asked, “Is there anything else going on?”

      Glad she had opted not to FaceTime or speak with her parents in person, at least not until after Sam had formally become the triplets’ guardian and she their nanny, Lulu tensed. “Like what?” She feigned innocence. Knowing her folks, they were going to have a lot of opinions about her decision to become a parent this way, too.

      “I’m not sure.” Her mother paused.

      Lulu’s heartbeat accelerated as she saw Sam get out of his pickup truck and stride through the twilight. He still had his cell phone and a laptop in his big hands. “Listen, Mom, Dad, I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.” She hung up before they had a chance to reply.

      The doorbell rang.

      Her body thrumming with a mixture of impatience and anticipation, she switched on the porch light and opened the door. She stood, blocking him, and gave him a deadpan look. “Yes?”

      His legs were braced apart, broad shoulders squared. Looking as confident and determined as ever, he turned his ruggedly handsome face to hers. “I wanted to tell you what the cattlemen have unearthed thus far,” he said in the low, masculine voice she knew so well.

      Lulu blinked in surprise and glanced at her watch. “It’s only been a few hours.”

      A stubble of evening beard, a shade darker than his wheat-blond hair, lined his jaw. A matter-of-fact smile turned up the corners of his sensual lips. But it was the compelling intensity of his eyes that unraveled her every time. No matter how fiercely she determined that he would not get to her. Not again. “When it comes to rustlers, it’s important to strike before the trail gets cold,” he explained.

      She couldn’t argue that.

      Their eyes met for one brief, telling moment, that—however fleeting—had them on the exact same page.

      Gratitude oozing through her and figuring they might as well sit down for this, she ushered him in. He followed her past the cozy seating area and over to the kitchen island, where she’d been working on her own laptop, notifying fellow beekeepers of what had transpired.

      Sam set his belongings down but remained standing. “First,” he said, “I want to tell you that I phoned Hiram and told him you and I were going to be jointly caring for the boys, at least in the interim. Me as their permanent legal guardian, you as their nanny. He was on board with the idea of the two of us joining forces during the kids’ transition, so the triplets are being brought to my ranch tomorrow afternoon around 3:30 p.m.”

      Wow, Sam worked fast. On multiple fronts. But then he always had. His ability to really get things done was one of the things she admired most about him.

      He paused to check an incoming text on his phone, then turned his attention back to her. “Apparently, they are going to have everything they need with them for the short-term, and the rest of their belongings will be delivered by movers the following day.”

      She nodded, trying not to think about how attracted to him she still was.

      His gaze roving her head to toe, he continued, “So, if you would like to be at Hidden Creek with me to greet them...”

      There were times when he made her feel very comfortable, and then there were others, like now, when he made her feel very off-kilter. Lulu moved around to the other side of the island. “I would.” She busied herself, putting a few dishes away.

      He smiled. “Great. And second of all...” He settled his six-foot-three-inch frame on the bar stool, opened up his laptop and, eyes locked on hers, continued, “I know that you gave some of this information to the sheriff’s department regarding the theft, but I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything, if that’s okay.”

      Ribbons of sensation ghosting down her spine, Lulu dipped her head in assent. He nodded back at her, then typed in a few words. “The burglary happened sometime this morning.”

      His manner was so businesslike, Lulu began to realize she could lean on Sam, at least in this situation, if only she allowed herself to do so.

      Determined to keep him at arm’s length, she fought the waves of sexual magnetism that always existed between them. “Sometime between eight o’clock, when I left for town to set up my lunch service for my food truck,” she confirmed. “And when the sheriff’s department notified me at around five o’clock, to let me know there had been a break-in.”

      Which left a huge nine-hour window.

      His big hands paused over the keys. “A customer reported it?”

      Aware she was suddenly feeling shaky again, Lulu moved around the island in search of a place to sit down. “Lucille Lockhart came out to buy some honey. She hadn’t read my social media page advertising the location of my food truck today, so she didn’t know I wasn’t here.” But the thieves likely had.

      Sam made a low, thoughtful sound. “And everything was gone when Mrs. Lockhart arrived?”

      She settled in the high-backed stool next to him and swiveled to face him. The sincerity in his gaze was almost as unnerving as his unexpected, unrelenting kindness. “The entire apiary was emptied, and so were the storehouse shelves. Panic-stricken, Mrs. Lockhart tried to call me, and when she couldn’t reach me, she notified the sheriff. We don’t know much more than that right now.”

      “Actually, we do.” He swiveled toward her, too, and braced one elbow on the counter next to his laptop. His other hand rested on his rock-hard thigh. Nodding tersely once again, he added, “I put out the word when we got here. I’ve heard back from almost all our members.”

      She caught her breath at the worry in his eyes.

      “Apparently two trucks were spotted on the farm-to-market road that goes by here around one o’clock this afternoon. They seemed to be traveling together and were headed north. One was a white refrigeration truck, the other a flatbed loaded with two off-road forklifts.” His lips compressed, and his gruff tone registered his disappointment. “We didn’t get an actual license number, but someone noticed the plates were from Wisconsin.”

      Hope mingling with dread, Lulu laid her hand across her heart. “They’re sure it was a refrigeration truck?”

      “It had the cooling unit on top of the cab.”

      Relief filtered through her. She didn’t know whether to shout hallelujah or sob with relief. In truth, she felt like doing both. “Oh, thank heavens,” she whispered finally.

      “That’s important?” Sam guessed.

      Lulu swallowed around the ache in her throat. “Very. The bees wouldn’t survive in their boxes if they were transported a long way in this kind of heat.” She ran her hand over the side seam of her denim skirt. Sam’s glance followed her reflexive move. Realizing the fabric had ridden up, Lulu did her best to surreptitiously tug it down. Yet, maddeningly, the hem remained several inches above her bare knees.

      Knees he had once caressed with devastating sensuality.

      Pushing aside her rush of self-consciousness, she added, “Moving bees is hard on them as it is.”

      Sam lifted his glance and locked eyes with her yet again. He regarded her with the