Home on the Ranch--The Colorado Cowboy's Triplets Read online

  Jed carried Allie and Callie to the kitchen.

  Camille, with Sallie in her arms, trailed behind.

  The crying seemed to have taken a life of its own, like a ghostly monster shrouding them all in gray.

  “I’ll put this one in her carrier,” Camille said, “then make the bottles. You might try jiggling? That worked with one of my coworker’s babies.”

  “Right. I’ll give it a go.”

  While he walked and jiggled, Camille opened a fresh can of premade formula, warmed it, then fitted disposable liners over three bottles before filling them, then screwing on the tops.

  “Ready!” she called.

  “In the den!” Jed shouted above the racket.

  Snow had turned to dime-sized hail. Howling wind pounded it against the old paned windows hard enough for Camille to fear they might break.

  In the den that Chase had used for his man cave, with his two charges propped in opposite corners of the sofa, Jed built a fire in the stone hearth.

  “That fire feels awesome,” she said with a shiver. “Good call.”

  “Glad you like it. This room warms faster than the living room.”

  Landing in the overstuffed red sofa’s center, Camille managed to hold Allie on her lap, propping her bottle with a throw pillow. The baby sucked as if she’d been starving. Even cutting the screams’ volume by a third helped. She reached for Callie, leaning her against her ribs and under her arm. With her bottle propped with another pillow, and the baby suckling with huffing grunts, Camille repeated the drill one last time until the only sounds remaining were the catching fire’s soft crackle above the hail and howling wind.

  “Whew,” she said. “That was intense.”

  “No kidding.” After adding logs to the fire, Jed joined her, relieving her of two of her charges. His size made it a breeze for him to cradle both his nieces at once, but during the trade-off their bottles fell.

  Instant tears were just as quickly stopped when Camille fitted the bottles back into the girls’ mouths.

  “Thanks,” Jed said. “We make a good team.”

  I always thought so. Swallowing an unexpected and unwanted knot in her throat, Camille forced a smile.

  He arched his head back and sighed. “None of this feels real. A few days ago I was on base, running landing drills. Now...” There was no need for him to finish the thought, since they both knew where it led.

  “Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?” Was it worth leaving me?

  “The navy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a great life. Lots of friends. What happened between us was—” he blanched “—unfortunate. But you know what they say. Shit happens.”

  I never said that. I said I loved you and you walked away.

  “Yeah.” The knot in her throat returned.

  She generally wasn’t one to hold grudges, so why was it so hard to let go of Jed’s offenses? Especially when they’d both been at fault for their relationship not so much even falling apart, so much as evaporating. She’d had college to finish at Florida State and her dream of becoming a police detective—not because the work would be in any way satisfying, but because her father had been killed in cold blood and his murderer never found. Camille couldn’t bear another family facing that injustice.

  The pity was that she soon learned solving murders was too much like fixing a broken dam by poking your finger in the hole.

  The water, the killings, never stopped. The only thing she’d accomplished along her chosen path was losing Jed.

  “You apologized last night—for what happened. Between us. But I was just as much at fault.”

  “Let’s not get into it.” He shifted, wincing as if in physical pain. “Like you said, water under the bridge.”

  “I know, but it looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together—at least until your mom gets home. I don’t want there to be awkwardness hanging between us.”

  “I didn’t think there was.”

  Why had she shown her cards?

  Are you crazy? she longed to shout. Didn’t he feel the spark every time they touched? Considering the fact that circumstances had forced them together, she couldn’t be sparking every time he was near. Not only was it inappropriate, given his nieces were now parentless, but as soon as his mom showed up, he would return to California, to his life that consisted of nothing but violence. Sure, he might be fighting on the side of good, but that wouldn’t make a knock on her door with strangers telling her the man she loved had been shot any easier.

  She glanced down to find Callie had drifted off.

  Outside, the hail had transitioned back to snow.

  Gotta love spring in Colorado.

  “I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”

  “That’s random.” His two charges still suckled with gusto. Their grunts were the only sounds rising above the crackling fire.

  “I suppose. Seeing you again—I, well...” Where did she even start? Why hadn’t she asked him about something not half as explosive, like politics or religion? Nothing hurt worse than remembering their past. “Well, being back here, seeing you, it all reminds me of... You know. When you married only a few months after we—”

  “My marriage was doomed from the start.” He lifted his gaze from the babies to lock stares with her. “The only reason I still think about Alyssa at all is because we still run in the same social circle. In reality...”

  Camille’s breath caught in her throat.

  Had his eyes always been so blue? Had the slight cleft in his chin that she used to kiss grown deeper or was the shadow of his stubble playing tricks with her broken heart?

  “This is embarrassing as hell to admit,” he said, “but at the time I made my vows, all I wanted was to stop missing you.”

  “So you married a stranger?” Was I that easily replaced?

  “Like I said, sounded good at the time.”

  Sounds stupid.

  But who was she to judge? How many times had he begged her to marry him? How many times had she turned him down?

  “Since we’re on this hike down memory lane, how about you? Anyone serious?”

  “A few times I thought things were, but the job kept getting in the way.”

  “Did it help?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Finally becoming a detective? Did it help banish the hurt from what happened to your dad?”

  “Nope.” She dropped her gaze, twirling one of Allie’s downy curls. If anything, it had made her issues with losing her father infinitely worse.

  “Hate hearing that. I only ever wanted the best for you.”

  “Same.” Their gazes locked again, propelling her back in time. Back to when she could tell his every mood with one glance. Now they were for all practical purposes strangers who’d come full circle. They’d become friends, sweethearts, lovers, enemies, and now back to friends again—at least, she hoped they were.

  Sallie had drifted off. Her bottle fell from her mouth. Thankfully, Jed caught it before the motion spooked her into more tears.

  “Too early for a nap?” he asked.

  “For them or us?”

  “Both.” He laughed.

  “We owe it to ourselves to try.”

  A few minutes later, they’d settled the girls into their cribs, tucked them beneath fluffy pink covers, then tiptoed back to the den’s crackling fire.

  “If you want,” he said, “why don’t you head back to your grandfather’s?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?” She eased onto the sofa, cuddling beneath the nubby earthen-toned afghan Emily had knitted.

  “Lord, no. I need you. But the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated to stay.”

  “I’m exactly where I want to be. Gramps usually isn’t home from his mine till six or so. I
’ll need to make him dinner and make sure he takes his meds. After that, I’ll come back.”

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  “So is caring for three newborns.”

  “True.” He sighed, taking the corner opposite hers. Once upon a time he might have stretched alongside her, resting his head on her lap while she stroked his hair. She wished at the time she’d given more care to preserving their memories—especially the seemingly trivial moments she’d taken for granted. The times when doing nothing had meant everything.

  “I’m worried about how Mom will cope,” Jed murmured.

  “I’ll help. I have no plans to return to Miami anytime soon.”

  “That would be great. Maybe we could set up a more formal arrangement. I could pay you a salary.”

  “If I had the energy to move, that asinine suggestion deserves a smack.”

  “Why? I meant it as a compliment. You’re good with my nieces. You deserve to be paid for your services.”

  “What I deserve...” She bristled. “...is to be treated like a friend and not a stranger.” Her cheeks reddened upon remembering that it had been only a few minutes since she’d been the one labeling them strangers.

  “Sorry. The last thing I want is to bicker.”

  “We’re not. I’m merely explaining that it’s an insult to think I want to be reimbursed for helping care for the infants of two of my oldest—now dead—friends.”

  “Message received.” Holding up his hands in surrender, he said, “The subject will never be brought up again.”

  Outside, lightning flashed.

  Thunder boomed.

  Camille held her breath, praying their charges slept through the rowdy weather.

  Only when a few minutes passed without lightning or tears did she dare exhale. And then her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. “Are you as tired as I am?”

  “I think so?” He didn’t raise his head from the sofa’s backrest, merely rolled it till his weary gaze met hers.

  He faintly smiled.

  So did she.

  Being back on the same page, even about their mutual exhaustion, felt right.

  “Wanna take a nap?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I can move.”

  “No need. Let’s crash here.” She kicked off her sneakers, resting her head on the sofa’s arm. The afghan didn’t fully cover her, but it felt good on the chilly exposed skin of her arms.

  “Good call.” He took her suggestion. Literally crashing in place, closing his eyes without moving another muscle.

  Moments later, he was not only softly snoring, but had tipped far enough to his right that his head rested on her lower legs. Like old times, he’d draped his arm over her. She knew the action meant nothing, but she couldn’t help smiling.

  The two of them as a couple might be ancient history, but that didn’t stop her from remembering more of the good than the bad.

  Naps on rainy afternoons certainly fell under the good.

  Still sporting her faint grin, Camille also drifted off. She wasn’t sure how long the dreamless sleep had claimed her when lightning struck too close.

  The resulting thunder boomed loudly enough to shake the whole house.

  Camille’s instinctive response was to sit up.

  Jed’s was to hold her closer. Then he raised his head from where it rested on her outer thigh. The afghan must’ve slipped, as the side seam of her jeans had imprinted itself on his cheek.

  Lord help her, he looked adorable—not the sort of description she supposed a career soldier would appreciate. Lucky for him, she had no intention of sharing. Just enjoying.

  “Um, sorry.” He released her, rising up as fast as if she had cooties. “Guess I must have...” He waved his hand in a vague sweep of their surroundings.

  “No sweat.”

  “I need you to know I never would have—”

  “Jed, stop. I get it. Never in a million years would you willingly touch me again.”

  He winced. Opened his mouth to stay something, then clamped it shut just as lightning struck again, followed by another house-rattling boom.

  In unison, all three babies wailed.

  In unison, Camille and Jed groaned.

  Camille didn’t begrudge leaving the sofa to comfort Emily’s girls. What she did resent was not knowing what Jed had been on the verge of saying...

  Chapter 5

  Thirty minutes later, with the babies happily gumming toys on a quilt Camille had spread near the den’s warm fire, Jed asked, “Mind if I duck outside to check the animals?”

  She sighed. “I forgot about that other whole side of the family.”

  “Me, too.” Chase had not only helped Emily care for their newborns, but chickens, goats, dozens of cattle and two old mares named Lucy and Ethel. Chase and Emily truly had been living saints, which made losing them so young that much more inconceivable.

  “I need to make a schedule.” Jed took his jacket from where he’d slung it over the back of a chair and slipped it on, adding his cowboy hat before shoving his feet into his cowboy boots. “It’s been almost a full day since I checked their feed and water. Thankfully, Emily told me a neighbor bought their cattle shortly after Chase’s death.”

  “I’m sure the rest of the animals are fine, but just in case, you should go.” She shooed him on his way.

  Outside, the snow had transitioned to a fine mist.

  After the storm’s rage, the world had now calmed.

  Wish I could say the same for myself.

  His pulse was still erratic from waking to find himself snoozing on Camille’s thighs. Hugging Camille’s thighs.

  What the hell?

  Even worse, he’d been drowsy enough to have almost admitted how good holding her had felt. He conked his forehead. Clearly, grief and sleep deprivation were taking physical and emotional tolls.

  “Hey, ladies and gent,” he said inside the chicken coop. They’d run out of food and water and showed their displeasure by converging on him all at once. A few even pecked his cowboy boots. “I know. Sorry. This will never happen again.”

  Emily had loved her chickens. They all had names, were special breeds and even laid blue and brown eggs. Would they miss her, too?

  As soon as the flock was fed and watered, Jed turned on their heat lamp to ward off the afternoon’s chill.

  Next stop was the goat pen. Same story, different critters.

  Though Emily had put making goat cheese on her to-do list, she hadn’t yet gotten around to it, thank goodness, meaning her herd of six weren’t yet carrying kids.

  Before Emily’s overdose, Jed had at least moved them from their pasture to the barn, but that had also left them without necessities. He filled one trough with water and the other with hay. He then gave them each a handful of grain, which they greedily gobbled, making his palms slimy in the process.

  Since the weather had improved, he left their pen’s outer door open, making a mental note to bring them back in for the night. The coyotes up here were no joke.

  Out of the barn, he unhooked the chain around the horse pasture’s gate, stepped through and closed it behind him.

  Lucy and Ethel loved attention, meaning they left their ponderosa pine cover to greet him.

  “Hey, ladies.” He rubbed their noses. “Are you as put out with me as the rest of the crew?”

  Ethel snorted.

  “Sorry, gal.” They were set enough in their routine to follow him back to the barn’s rear entry, where he grabbed them a hay bale, busting it open to flake.

  Chase had once told him horses had better internal clocks than humans, meaning they knew when it was time for breakfast, and that today Jed had missed it. This time of year, their high-altitude grazing needed supplementing.

  “Things are gonna be different around here...” With the cool a
fternoon air still, save for the horses’ chewing, he stroked their manes. Hard to believe it had been snowing an hour earlier, but that was Colorado for you. If you didn’t like the weather, wait ten minutes and it was guaranteed to change. One of the things he loved best about being on his Coronado base was the dependable sun. “I know you two are used to way more attention than you’ve been getting, but we’ve got three little hellions up at the house that are major attention hogs.”

  His speech earned him another snort.

  He topped off the galvanized metal water trough, buttoned up the barn, then moseyed back to the house. What did it mean that his chest felt heavy with dread at the mere thought of resuming his new parental responsibilities?

  Sure, someday he’d planned on having kids, but with the benefit of nine months to prepare—and maybe just one for starters instead of three.

  He hadn’t even begun to process losing Emily.

  Maybe he never really would?

  Once his mom showed up, his CO would expect Jed to return to base. But if he and Camille were struggling as a team, how would his mom be expected to cope on her own with the girls, having just lost her son-in-law and daughter?

  Groaning on his way up the front porch steps, he rubbed his hand over two days’ stubble.

  Time to get over himself and embrace the difficulties of his new temporary life. He’d hire help for his mom and nieces. Camille had offered her support for free.

  The selfish bastard in him wishing to escape from this whole untenable situation reasoned why not hire help now? Why not retreat to Cali, where the weather was fine and his most pressing concerns were target practice and shaving a few seconds off night beach-landing times?

  Interesting that when Camille turned down his marriage proposal, his first inclination then had also been to run—only not so much toward a destination, but away from the devastation being without her caused. He’d thought his speedy marriage was the solution to his every problem, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Could he also be mistaken in believing just because he escaped from his nieces that he’d feel better?

  In fact, a more probable scenario was that guilt from abandoning Camille or his mother with his three little responsibilities would eat him from the inside.