The Texas Cowboy's Quadruplets

And even if he were, in some alternate reality, it was impossible.

She returned his assessing look. Stood, and replied, as matter-of-fact as possible, “If I were going to get married, cowboy, I would have done so ten years ago.”

His eyes gleamed. “Funny. Me, too.”

Thinking maybe they should go back inside, before she did something really stupid, like kiss the smug look off his handsome face, Mitzy headed for the door.

Able to feel the heat of his smoldering gaze, she tossed the words over her shoulder. “This is no joking matter, Chase.”

For him, either, apparently.

He sobered, the heartbreak of the past dragging them back to the troubled confines of the present. They crossed the threshold. “I gather you asked me to come here to talk about business,” he prodded.

Not sure where or even how to begin, Mitzy nodded. She might not want to turn to her ex, but he had the expertise and the dispassionate outsider’s view that she desperately needed. “I did.”

He looked her in the eye with a sincerity and warmth she found disquieting. “What can I do to help?”

“I went online and read some reviews of our saddles after you and I talked. They weren’t as good as usual.”

He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on either side of his fly. “I’m aware. I’ve been reading them, too.”

Guilt welled up inside her. She’d promised her dad she would take care of things. She hadn’t. Thus far, anyway. That was about to change. Deliberately, she continued, “Which got me to wondering what’s going on.”

“Have you talked to any of the Martin Custom Saddle employees?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to come in and look around first. And the perfect time for that is today since it’s Thanksgiving, and no one is slated to be working.”

“And I’m here to...?”

She led him toward the front of the facility again, where production of the saddles began, her shoulder briefly nudging his bicep in the process. “Look around,” she said, working to keep a more circumspect physical distance. “See if anything jumps out as a potential problem.”

The first was apparently easy for him to spot. “This leather isn’t top grade.” He moved to another workstation. “The oils and dyes they’re using aren’t top quality, either.”

She frowned, alarm causing her pulse to flutter. “You’re sure about that?”

“Positive.” His gaze narrowed. “But you don’t have to take my word on that. You can look up the reputation of these suppliers yourself.”

Mitzy rubbed the tense muscles of her forehead.

Chase squinted down at her. “I don’t recall your father ever skimping on materials.”

Mitzy winced. Admitting miserably, “He didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “And you didn’t order it?”

“No.” Heaven’s no!

His expression remained maddeningly inscrutable. “Any idea when the change might have been made?”

Her throat constricting, she headed for her dad’s private office, thinking a clue as to why this all happened might be there. “I don’t know.” Hoarsely, she admitted, “I haven’t been here since Dad died last May.”

And as CEO, she should have been. Frequently. No matter how difficult or gut-wrenching she found it.

Silently berating herself for her inexcusable lapse in judgment, she slogged past the door that had always stayed open. Flipped on the lights. Saw her dad’s worn denim jacket slung over the back of his chair. A box of his favorite mints sitting open on the desk. The World’s Greatest Dad coffee mug she had made for him in elementary school sitting there, next to his calendar, clean and ready to be filled.

For a moment, it was almost as if her father had just stepped out for a spell. And would come striding back in, larger than life, at any second.

A sob caught in her throat, as she realized just how much she wanted that to happen.

An anguished cry left her mouth.

And then the grief and tears she’d been holding back came pouring out in a harsh, wrenching torrent.

The next thing she knew, Chase’s arms were wrapped around her. He pulled her close as even more tears flowed and her slender body shook with sobs. She clung to him and he held her until the worst of the storm passed. And for one sweet moment, time really did stand still. There’d been no decade apart. No heartbreaking end to their engagement. No years of them pretending each other didn’t exist. No years of not speaking.

There was only him and her, and her overwhelming need for comfort and the urge to lean on his incredible strength.

The surprising yearning to kiss him one last time.

So she lifted her head, and did.

Though it was supposed to be the goodbye kiss she had never given him, the final denouement in their ill-fated relationship, the brief caress quickly turned into something else entirely.

A reminder of all they had shared that was at once passionate and tender, sweet and loving, as well as a jarring testament of all they had given up.

And that, too, was more than she could bear on this very emotional day.

She and Chase had let each other down and crushed each other’s hopes and dreams once. She’d be a fool to venture down the same path and hope for a different result.

Hand pressed against his chest, she tore her mouth from his and pushed him away. “No,” she gasped, common sense returning with reassuring speed. It didn’t matter how much she was hurting or how alone she felt.

She looked Chase in the eye. “There’s no way in hell we’re getting involved again!”

Chapter Two (#u84c59c1f-c695-516c-b530-9ab9ad85c15f)

Mitzy half expected Chase to argue with her. Try to persuade her otherwise, as he had during the days immediately following their breakup, years ago. Instead, he stood there, watchful, patient, infuriatingly silent. His implacable calm—in the wake of her complete emotional upheaval—leaving her even more on edge. Finally, he said, “You’re right. We have more important issues to address right now.”

What was more important than where the two of them went from here? If not straight into bed? “Like what?” Mitzy asked, wishing he didn’t look so big and strong and completely irresistible.

He lounged against the wall, arms folded in front of him. “The fate of your dad’s company.”

Needing some distance between them, Mitzy walked around her dad’s desk, then stood facing him with her hands hooked over the back of the chair. She gestured at the dust gathering everywhere she looked. “Obviously, I need to cowgirl up and get it back on track.”

He nodded seriously, then warned, “Before you can do that, however, you’re going to have to assess the depth of the damage.”

His sexy baritone kindled new heat inside her. Aware he was watching her, gauging her reactions as carefully as she was measuring his, she tilted her chin. “You think there’s more?”

“There usually is.”