The Cowboy's Texas Twins

“Actually, yes. But it’s a personal favor.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How personal are we talking?”

“Well, not like erotic-poem personal—”

“Grayson!”

“Shh.” He grinned, charmed by the pink that washed over her cheeks. “We’re in a library.”

Despite her glare, she was obviously fighting a smile.

“I’ve started interviewing for jobs,” he said, “and I’ve already been asked for local references. I don’t suppose...” It was difficult to voice the request, hypocritical to ask her to vouch for him considering how short-tempered he’d been with her in the past. Why had he been such a jerk? It hadn’t been Hadley’s fault that reports of faraway places set his teeth on edge. And it hadn’t been her fault that her steady boyfriend was an SOB—although Grayson had been disappointed someone with her smarts couldn’t see through the guy.

Maybe Grayson had been jealous of her standing in the community. Since the day his mom left him behind, he hadn’t felt as if he belonged in Cupid’s Bow, and with each passing year, he became more of an outsider. Hadley Lanier had been beloved by teachers and friends and teammates; she was probably adored as town librarian. People like her made it look so easy to fit in, but he knew what it was like to feel other people’s whispers like fire ants on his skin.

“Grayson? You okay?”

How long had he been standing here, scowling silently? “I don’t know what I am.” Dammit, he was supposed to be showing her his good qualities so she could rave about him to potential employers. He shook his head. “Being back here has fried my brain. I swear Cupid’s Bow brings out the worst in me.”

“That’s a shame, since it sounds like you’ll be here awhile.” She pursed her lips. “Were you about to ask for my phone number?”

“What? No, I—”

“To put down as a reference?”

“Oh. Yes. That is, if you’re willing.”

She held out her hand. “Got a phone on you?” When he passed it over to her, she typed in her contact information. “There. Now you have my number for job references and picture-book recommendations. Or to, um, invite me to lunch sometime. Maybe all you need to get along with Cupid’s Bow better is the right tour guide.”

Was she kidding? “I grew up here—not much you could show me I haven’t already seen.”

“Do you ever read mystery novels?”

“One or two.”

“They’re all pretty similar. Someone gets killed, someone figures out who dunit. It’s not like the format is a surprise. But they’re all different, too, because they’re told from different points of view. The reader gets to see the plot unfold through a new character’s eyes. Maybe you just need to see Cupid’s Bow from another perspective.”

He wasn’t convinced, but, for now, Cupid’s Bow was the boys’ home. He owed it to them to try. “What about tomorrow? Are you free for lunch then?” The question was surprisingly liberating. So much of his time since becoming the boys’ guardian had been spent planning, worrying, regrouping. It was a relief to do something as simple as ask an attractive woman to share a meal with him. “Or do you work all day?”

She stared for a second, as if expecting him to retract the invitation. “I, ah... Bunny Neill, the semiretired librarian who ran the place before me, makes sure I get lunch hours and every other Wednesday off. I’d love to—”

“Is it time to go yet?” Sam loudly demanded from the front entrance.

Grayson winced. “I’ll talk to him again about his library voice, I promise.”

“I’ll let it slide,” Hadley said with a grin. “But just this once.”

* * *

THE WALK FROM the truck to the community center got a lot longer when the boys got distracted watching roly-poly bugs on the sidewalk. Grayson didn’t mind. It was a sunny spring day, and Vi hadn’t texted yet that she was ready for her ride home, so he slowed his walk to a relaxed amble, letting the boys take their time.

When an older woman carrying a yoga mat exited the building, he scooted the boys to the side to let her pass. The woman nodded to Grayson with a smile, but then stopped short.

“Grayson Cox?”

“Um, yes, ma’am.” He tried to place her but it took him a moment to match the friendly woman in relaxed athletic wear with the history teacher who’d worn buttoned-up blouses and disapproving scowls. “Ms. Templeton?”

“That is you.” Her smile spread. “What a delight to have you back in town!”

It was? She must recall his eighth-grade history class differently than he did.

“Will you be staying long?”

“I think so.” He nodded toward Sam and Tyler. “I have an appointment to sign them up for school tomorrow.”

“Wonderful. If they’re half as bright as you are, they’ll—”

His bark of laughter was involuntary. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you sure you don’t have me confused with another student? You gave me a lot of Cs.” And more than a few lectures.

She glanced down her nose at him in a gesture he recognized. “Why do you think I was so hard on you? Because I knew perfectly well how bright you are and wasn’t about to reward you for coasting by on minimum effort. But you certainly grew out of that! My nephew and I were at the rodeo last summer and happened to see you ride. I can’t begin to imagine the bone-jarring effort that takes.”

“Th-thank you.” If anyone had asked him when he was thirteen, he would have sworn Ms. Templeton hated him. His phone began ringing in his pocket, signaling that Vi was finished.

“I’ll let you get that,” Ms. Templeton said. She gave him one last smile. “Welcome back home.”

He stared after her, almost too bemused to answer Vi’s call. “Hey,” he said once he’d regathered his wits. “All done?”

“Yes.” Vi’s voice was tight. She didn’t sound as if the meeting had gone well.

“Okay, the boys and I are right outside the front doors.”

She hung up and a moment later, he saw her striding through the lobby. Before she reached the exit, however, two men in tank tops and shorts crossed her path. Grayson squinted, realizing that the one carrying a basketball was Jim McKay, Violet’s ex-boyfriend. Were they on friendly terms? For Vi’s sake, he hoped so. In a town this size, you were bound to run in to an ex from time to time.

With the men standing in front of her, he couldn’t see Vi’s expression, but when she came through the door a few minutes later, her movements were stiff and jerky, her smile of greeting brittle.