The Inherited Twins

“She agreed to let you?” his boss asked.

“She needs the cottages rented. At the moment, the majority of them are vacant.”

“Did you talk to her about Wiley Higgins?”

“She wasn’t in a frame of mind to hear it.”

“He’s not going to wait long before he pursues his goal,” Orrin warned.

“Well, he better wait a while. ‘Cause I’m telling you, if he goes in there too soon, his chances of success are nil.”

Orrin paused. “What do you think your chances are of getting Claire Olander to see things your way?”

That his intervention could, Heath thought, be the answer to all her prayers? “At the moment? Slim to none.”

Chapter Two

Heath had just driven up and parked when Claire came out of the ranch office late that afternoon. She walked straight toward him. “I had a call from someone named Wiley Higgins today. He wants to see me about a business matter and he used you and the bank as a reference.”

It was all Heath could do not to grimace. “I didn’t know he intended to phone you today.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “What does this guy want? Aside from a cottage to rent from now until after Thanksgiving?”

Heath nodded at the dusty truck making its way up the lane. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

As Wiley parked his pickup, then climbed down, Claire eyed the name and logo painted on the side: Higgins Oil Exploration.

She tensed, just as Heath figured she would.

The young wildcatter wore a turquoise Western shirt, mud-stained jeans and expensive alligator boots. He swept off his black Resistol, held it against his chest and extended his other hand. “Claire Olander?”

She shook hands with him, her reluctance to have anything to do with oil companies reflected in her wary expression. “Mr. Higgins, I presume,” she murmured dryly.

“You said on the phone you had a cottage I could rent.”

She nodded. “And you said you had a business proposition you wanted to discuss with me.”

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am—” Wiley shoved his cowboy hat back on top of his tangled, dishwater-blond hair “—I’d rather do that over dinner this evening. Soon as I have a chance to get cleaned up. Maybe the two of us could go back into town?”

A wave of unexpected jealousy flowed through Heath. He frowned.

Claire shook her head. “That’s not going to be possible. I have two little ones to feed.”

As if on cue, Henry and Heidi walked out of the ranch office. “We’re hungry, Aunt Claire!” her nephew announced.

“We’re going to have dinner as soon as I take care of Mr. Higgins and show him where he is going to be staying.”

Undeterred, Wiley suggested, “I could join the three of you.”

Why couldn’t the oilman get the message to back off? Heath wondered. He turned toward the interloper, his shoulder brushing Claire’s in the process. “The ranch doesn’t serve dinner,” he interjected mildly.

“I’d be happy to pay extra,” Wiley declared.

So would Heath, as it happened. And not just because it would be convenient.

Claire looked at him. He shrugged and said, “Serving dinner would be a way to increase income for the ranch on a daily basis. I’d be in.”

“We’ll make it worth your while,” Wiley offered. “Twenty-five dollars for each of us. You can’t say no to an extra fifty bucks.”

Claire looked as if she just might. “You don’t even know what we’re having for dinner tonight,” she protested.

The wildcatter straightened the brim of his hat. “Doesn’t matter, so long as it’s hot and home cooked.”

Heath hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since he’d moved from Fort Stockton and lost access to a full kitchen. “Got to agree with him there,” he said.

“Fine. But just so you fellas know, it’s a one-time-only proposition,” Claire said. She handed Wiley the paperwork for his cabin and a key. “I’ll meet you in the ranch house kitchen at six-thirty. Henry, Heidi, come on, we’ve got work to do.”

HEATH HAD JUST FINISHED shaving and brushing his teeth when the cottage phone rang.

Claire was on the other end of the line. “Would you mind coming over about ten minutes early? I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Be right there.” Whistling, Heath crossed the yard. Thanks to the recent switch from daylight saving time, it was already dark. The lights of the sprawling ranch house shone warm and welcoming. The smells coming from the kitchen were even better.

The twins were seated at the kitchen table, busy with coloring books and crayons. They each had a small bowl of dry cereal and a glass of milk nearby—probably to take the edge off their hunger while they waited for whatever it was that smelled so good to finish cooking.

“Hi, kids.” Heath took in their angelic faces and thought about the lack of family in his life, how much he wanted to have a wife and kids of his own and a home just like this to come to every night…He’d had his chance, of course, but it hadn’t worked out. Now all he had were his regrets.

“Hi, Mr. Fearsome.” It was Heidi who spoke, but both twins beamed.

“McPherson,” Claire corrected.

“Mr. Fearsome,” the little girl repeated, enunciating carefully.

Heath grinned. “Close enough. Need a hand?” he asked Claire.

“What I need to know…” she paused to taste the applesauce simmering on the stove “…is what’s going on between you and Wiley Higgins.”

Reluctantly, Heath moved his gaze from her soft, kissable lips to the fire in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

She added another sprinkle of cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg to the aromatic compote. Deliberately, she set the spoon on its rest, wiped her hands on a tea towel. “I saw the two of you exchanging words in the yard before you entered your cottages.”

Heath waited.

She propped her hands on her slender waist. “I have the feeling I’m at the center of the disagreement.”

Hoping to spare the twins any unnecessary worry or alarm, Heath kept his gaze on Claire’s and inched closer. “Then you would be right.”

Her eyes darkened. “Why?”