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The Bull Rider's Valentine

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Год написания книги
2019
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Sam had left that part out. Well, no matter. It was enough he had a place for the next four days.

“Did Sam tell you, I insist on paying rent?”

“She did, and I won’t hear of it. You can help with chores and maybe some repairs.”

“Anything you need.”

The teenager scurried about, unloading Big John first and taking him to his stall.

“In the meantime,” Frankie said, “you’ll find a garden hose and heavy-duty electrical cord in the tack room. It’s unlocked. There’s an outlet over there.” She pointed to the side of the small barn. “And the closest water spigot is by the corral.”

Nate tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“When you’ve finished, come knock on the door. I’ve got supper in the oven, and you can meet my daughters. Spence, too, if he gets home in time.”

“I don’t expect you to feed me.” Though Nate wouldn’t mind. His lunch had consisted of a stale leftover doughnut.

She ignored his protest. “And while we’re eating, you can tell me the real reason you’re here.”

He surprised himself by agreeing. “And maybe in exchange, you can tell me about Ronnie.”

* * *

TWO PAIRS OF EYES, one of them brown and the other one green, stared at Nate from across the kitchen table. Weren’t twins supposed to look alike? Frankie’s two certainly didn’t.

“We’re four,” the smaller one announced and held up the appropriate number of fingers.

“Not yet,” Frankie corrected as she set plates in front of them. “In a couple of weeks.”

The little girl giggled impishly and then, like her sister, dug into her food. Nate did as well, after Frankie had taken her seat. Waiting wasn’t easy.

“This is good.” In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d tasted better meat loaf.

“Mommy caters food,” the smaller girl said around a swallow of milk.

Did the taller one ever talk?

“Is that so?” Nate asked.

“I-Hart-Catering. H-A-R-T. Like our last name.”

“Clever. And congratulations on your new business. Sam raved about it on the drive over here. Said you’re really picking up steam.”

He’d expected the teenager to join them for dinner, only to learn she’d made plans with a friend. Spence, Frankie’s fiancé, and the father of her daughters, was working late at the horse racing farm where he was head trainer. That left just her, the twins and Nate.

The slight discomfort he’d initially felt at being alone with them—not to mention his anxiety about the questions Frankie might pose—had been vanquished by the hospitality she’d shown. Hospitality that included feeding him an incredible home-cooked meal.

“Thanks.” She stopped to reprimand the girls for sneaking their vegetables to the dogs beneath the table. “I only just got I-Hart-Catering off the ground. Time will tell if I can make a go of it.”

He savored a mouthful of superbly seasoned green beans. “With food this good, I don’t see how you can fail.”

“It’s not easy. I’m still working full-time at the café and catering mostly on weekends. That may change if things keep going like they are.”

“Well, good luck to you.”

She gave her head an incredulous shake. “I still can’t believe your mom and Sam’s mom are such good friends. What are the odds?”

“Beyond my limited math skills.”

“I wonder why Ronnie didn’t make the connection when Sam first arrived.”

“Well, they never met. And while I’m sure I mentioned Sam’s mom, I doubt her last name ever came up.”

“Did Sam tell you how she found us?”

“She said your dad won the state lottery earlier this year and she tracked him down online.”

The story was an interesting one, and Frankie recounted it while they ate.

“He split the winnings four ways. It wasn’t a fortune but enough to better all of our lives. I bought this house with my share. Mel acquired her veterinary practice. Dad paid for his wedding to Dolores and for their honeymoon. And Ronnie started her barrel racing school. Before that she worked for the Powells, teaching classes and training horses. Because the money was spent before Sam got here, we all pitch in to help cover her rodeo expenses. She, in turn, helps us out as much as she can in exchange for room and board and Big John’s medical costs.”

“Must have been a shock, learning you had a half sister.”

“Quite a shock. But we adapted quickly.” Frankie set her fork down. “All right, not that quickly. But that’s to be expected.”

“Have she and Ronnie always squabbled like they do?”

“Funny you should mention that. No, they haven’t. Just lately. Sam’s really worried she won’t qualify for Nationals, and Ronnie’s trying hard to get her there. That’s probably putting a strain on their relationship.”

Nate thought back on his own rodeo career. In hindsight, he’d never worried much about qualifying. If it happened, great, if not, no big deal. He’d competed strictly for fun. That he’d earned a long list of titles and made decent money by anyone’s standards had often amazed him.

He had his late brother, Allan, to thank. Knowing his life would end prematurely, Allan had instilled Nate with a seize-the-moment attitude, and for many years Nate embraced the philosophy. He’d also reaped the rewards.

But Allan hadn’t lived long enough to learn the higher one flew, the farther they fell, and the more difficult it was for them to recover.

“Maybe the reason Ronnie and Sam bicker is because they’re a lot alike.”

Frankie stared at him as if he’d just solved a difficult scientific equation. “You’re absolutely right. Can’t imagine why that didn’t occur to me before. Those two are peas in a pod.”

The taller twin spoke for the first time. “What’s a pod, Mommy?”

While Frankie explained, the four of them finished their dinner. Afterward, she dispatched the girls to the family room to play.

“Can I help with cleanup?” Nate asked.

“An offer I never turn down.”

Their friendly conversation continued, centering on Ronnie and Nate’s rodeo days and the good memories, of which there were many. During a break, Nate asked Frankie the question that had been bothering him from the moment his mom called and requested he stop in Mustang Valley.
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