Three Kids And A Cowboy

Katie grabbed her curly blond head with both pudgy hands. “I get dizzy just going on the merry-go-round. I don’t want my head to spin, Daddy. Don’t let her do that.”

“I’ll try my dam—Uh, I’ll try real hard, darlin’,” Brodie said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t done much this last year to keep folks from thinking I am a grouchy old hermit.”

“Don’t you know anyone who can say different?” Grace asked.

“Just Crispy, and you can guess how much weight he’ll carry.”

Katie wrinkled up her nub of nose. “He’s too skinny to carry any weight.”

“My brother, but he hasn’t exactly got the kind of reputation that dazzles the family-values crowd. My in-laws would’ve stood up for me, but they’re in Phoenix. The only other folks who would have gone to bat for me are…” Brodie pressed his lips shut.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stone,” Bubba filled in. “And they’re dead.”

Dead? Could that be so? From the looks on Brodie’s and the children’s faces, Miranda realized it must be.

Miranda had known Donna and Travis for years, but they had been in Brodie’s class in high school—three years ahead of hers—and she’d never been close to either of them. Still, it was a shock to learn of their passing.

When Miranda first discovered her infertility, Donna had rushed over, thinking that as two childless women they would forge a common bond. But Miranda had pushed her away, unready for that kind of reminder of her own failure. She had also feared that the Stones, who had tried everything and were considering adopting, would side with Brodie, forcing her into trying some extreme fertility treatment she simply couldn’t handle. And now they were gone.

Suddenly everything became crystal-clear—where the three children had come from and why Brodie had stepped in to care for them. He was determined to fix this, too. And by some strange quirk of fate these kids might just fix him, as well. They brought out something in him that she never could.

Even through her own hurt and confusion, she could see the risk that Brodie would be cheated out of the family he’d always longed for. Only this time, things were different. This time, it was within her power to give him that family—if she dared.

“Then if what Mrs. Beetle says counts a lot, we’re in big trouble,” Grace said, her blond head wagging back and forth.

“’Cause she’s the lady that said you and Mr. Crispy needed to live in a stable.”

“She said the household needed to be more stable,” Bubba corrected.

“She might have been right the first time.” Miranda smiled as she stepped into the hallway. The smile was a big, fat fake. Beneath it she was scared—no, terrified.

This was where her training on the pageant circuit came in handy, she thought as she walked purposefully toward the four stunned people gaping at her. Stopping in front of them, she placed her hands on her hips and tried to sound absolutely charming as she said, “I don’t know about Crispy, but this fellow here is sure more at home in a barn than almost anywhere.”

Brodie stood and towered over her, his eyes narrowed so that she could not see his reaction in their depths. “What are you up to, Miranda?”

“I’m up to about here,” she answered, slashing her open hand over her head. “And getting in deeper every second.”

Miranda swallowed. She was about to do either the stupidest or the smartest thing she had ever done. Either way, it would change her life forever. More important, it would change Brodie’s life—for the better. She owed him that much, after the year she’d just given him.

Her gaze dipped to the small children staring up at her, their mouths hanging open. It didn’t hurt that she was helping three sweet-faced orphans find a family, either.

She wet her lips and tilted her head back to fix her eyes on Brodie.

He cocked his head.

“Brodie,” she whispered, “I know this won’t make up for the way I left. I know it won’t change the fact that you will someday want your own flesh-and-blood baby, or that you’d need another woman to give you that. But for now, for you and these sweet kids, I’m offering to help you convince the social-service people that this is the best home ever, and you are the best parent in all of Texas.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_b8a7c1a1-7346-56f0-963d-7b159b037169)

“Mrs. Beetle, I’d like you to meet—” Brodie unfurled his arm toward Miranda as she stepped into the formal living room “—my wife.”

His what? Miranda froze. She’d stolen away for only a few minutes to make herself presentable after her long drive, and to mentally prepare herself to defend Brodie’s character. And what had happened in her absence?

“Randi, darlin’?” Brodie motioned with one hand for her to enter the room.

Miranda attempted to smile, but couldn’t help thinking she must look like a deer caught in some headlights. That was certainly how she felt.

“Randi?” He took one sidestep toward her. His long fingers massaged her shoulders as he manipulated her under the mantle of his muscular arm. “Darlin’, come in and say howdy to Mrs. Beetle…you know, the social worker.”

Her fine Texas upbringing forced Miranda to acknowledge the silver-haired woman nestled in her father’s favorite wingbacked chair.

“How do you do, Mrs. Beetle? It’s so nice to meet you,” she murmured, her mind more on Brodie’s nearness and the sensation it set off in her than on her own words.

“It’s certainly nice to meet you, my dear. I was so pleased when your cook told me that you’d returned to the ranch.” A wizened smile seemed to ease the severity of the wrinkles draping around her eyes. “I hope you’re not too tired to talk to me after your long drive.”

“My cook?” Miranda struggled to make sense of the puzzle pieces of information jumbled in her head.

“Crispy,” Brodie leaned close to whisper. “Seems he got to Mrs. Beetle before I did. The old coot painted a pretty rosy picture of your return.”

The warm stirrings of her husband’s breath tickled the shell of her ear and sent a faded but not forgotten yearning swirling though her body. The full meaning of his message failed to register in her muddled mind.

“Um, apparently there’s been some confusion here concerning my trip back, Mrs. Beetle.” She wriggled to put distance between Brodie and herself.