Home on the Ranch--The Colorado Cowboy's Triplets Page 9

  “What do you mean?” she asked over the seat back.

  “I mean, there are no groceries back here.”

  “I left the cart right where you’re standing.”

  He looked left and right, then groaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look! Is that it?” He pointed to the far side of the parking lot where the wind had caught their overloaded cart, sailing it perilously close to the edge of a deep ravine.

  “Yes! Run!”

  * * *

  Jed hauled ass after the rogue cart, snagging it by the handle mere seconds before losing dozens of sacks filled with food and baby necessities to a ravine with walls too steep to climb without ropes.

  At the rocky bottom roared a swift-running stream.

  The remains of three rusty carts rested on their sides alongside assorted beer cans, bottles and other trash.

  The wind filled a plastic sack, transforming it into a balloon floating high above Jed’s head.

  Raising his coat collar against the falling temperature, he rolled the cart back to the SUV, to find his nieces blessedly quiet and Camille...laughing?

  “What’s so funny?” he asked through the open hatch while placing a five-pound sack of potatoes against the wheel well.

  “The sight of you chasing down our runaway cart. I had no idea you could run so fast.”

  He grinned and winked. “I had no idea you weren’t smart enough to hold on to a shopping cart in forty-knot gusts.”

  Kneeling in her seat, hugging the headrest while supervising his work, she stuck out her tongue.

  “Since when did you get so sassy?” And sexy? The things he wouldn’t mind doing to tame her, if they didn’t have three tiny chaperones sharing the car... Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hazel eyes bright. Her long hair all wind-tousled and wild.

  It irked him to no end that she used to be his and now...

  They were virtual strangers.

  He finished loading, parked the cart in its designated corral, then hopped back behind the wheel.

  “Sorry I laughed. I just couldn’t believe that after all we’d already been through, you were now having to chase a runaway shopping cart. It struck me as kooky enough to be funny.”

  “Kooky? You use that kind of language around the hard-boiled detectives you used to work with?”

  Her smile faded. A shadow passed over her expression, darkening it just like the now angry sky.

  “I didn’t mean anything by that,” he said.

  “No. For the record, I never used words like that.” She’d straightened in her seat, looking away from him to fasten her seat belt. “Interesting how when my vocabulary largely consisted of pint-sized body bags and blood coagulation times, that didn’t leave a whole lot of room for kooky.”

  “I get that. Sorry.”

  “I just find it tough to joke about my work.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Sure feels like it.” She fumbled with the heater controls until a warm stream left the vents.

  “Accept my apology or don’t. Honestly? It’s been a damn long time since I’ve been around a woman and I’m rough around the edges. Toss in constant sleep deprivation and I’m not exactly up to speed on my social graces.”

  “Still...”

  “It’s all I’ve got.” Sighing, he slouched in his seat. “I’m sick of bickering. You didn’t used to be so touchy. We always bantered back and forth and you gave as good as you got.”

  “What if I can’t? What if the part of me capable of firing back those zingers carefully targeted to put you in your place no longer works?” Silvery tears trailed down her cheeks. Her motions almost vicious, as if she resented her body showing weakness, she swiped them away.

  “Babe...” Unable to stop himself, he reached out to her, cupping his hand to her cheek, brushing more tears with the pad of his thumb.

  She started to push him away, but then leaned into him, covering his hand with hers.

  Staring straight ahead, she said, “You were right about me running. Hiding. This place—your farm and Gramps’s. This town. They feel safe. There are no gang members shooting each other for no better reason than they got caught standing on the wrong side of the street. Back in Miami, I was always afraid. Waking up with night sweats from horrifying dreams. I begged Mom to move, but she insists her neighborhood is safe. But as a soldier, tell me, Jed, is anywhere on this earth truly safe?”

  Sighing, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “Let’s just say there are degrees of safety. You’re right that, in terms of not getting shot, our mountain is a good place to be. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t hunting accidents and hikers dying from exposure, and cars and grocery carts careening over cliffs.”

  “Grocery carts?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it was a start toward lightening the heavy mood.

  “None of us can hope for total control. At best, all we can do is hedge our bets and pray for the best.”

  Sniffling, she nodded. “What’s wrong with us? Neither of us used to be this emotional.”

  “That was before two close relations younger than us died within weeks of each other. Whether we want to accept it or not, it takes a toll.”

  “You’re right.” She fished through the glove box for a napkin and found one, which she used to blow her nose. “Ready to head home?”

  Home. Such a funny word. Not ha-ha funny, but odd.

  The old farm hadn’t been home to him in over a decade, but now—with Camille—it had become the one place he most wanted and needed to be.

  One of the babies fussed, which in turn activated her sisters.

  Jed backed the vehicle out of its spot. “Mind putting George back on? I’m afraid without him it may be a very long trip.”

  His heart skipped at the sight of Camille’s sideways smile. “Remind me to write him a thank-you note.”

  * * *

  Back at the house, while Jed hauled groceries, Camille tackled the babies. They needed diapers changed and feeding.

  Since Jed was in and out of the kitchen, she took the girls upstairs one at a time for diaper duty, then popped them back in their carriers.

  Next, while Jed stowed groceries in cupboards and the pantry, she set the babies in a row, made their bottles, then formed an assembly line for feeding. Since she could hold only two bottles at a time, she propped Callie’s bottle with a rolled dishrag.

  “I applaud your ingenuity.” Jed set the last few bags on the counter. “What I’m not a fan of is how much stuff you bought, because I’m too exhausted to haul it. You must really love to cook.”

  “I do.” She used a burp cloth to wipe formula from Allie’s chin. “Hope you like to eat?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is it still blustery outside?”

  “The wind’s not as strong up here. Why?”

  “I’d love to stretch my legs. Should we bundle up the girls and introduce them to Lucy and Ethel?”

  “If you want.” He stood with his back to her, arranging canned goods with precision and order. He stretched to put a cracker box on a shelf above his head. The pose showed off his muscles to a ridiculous degree. It wasn’t fair that after all this time, he looked better than he had before.

  When he turned, she glanced away, not wanting him to catch her staring.

  “It’s okay, you know.”

  “What?” She focused on wiping the sides of Callie’s mouth, since she’d finished her bottle.

  “Admiring the view...” He laughed.

  “You wish.” She pitched the burp cloth at him.

  Funny how they’d slipped back into old patterns. One of the things she’d enjoyed most about them as a couple was how they could transition from a serious topic to lighthearted and back as easily as flipping mood switches.r />
  “Holler when you’re ready to head outside.”

  “I’m good now.”

  “Let me take the stroller from the SUV and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “I’ll get coats, hats and mittens.”

  As was starting to be the norm, it took forever to get everyone dressed and ready for their outing. But once she stood in the pasture alongside the horses Emily and Chase had loved, Camille breathed deeply of the chilly air, which smelled musky and loamy with spring.

  She spied lavender-toned wild crocus, plucking a few to later put in a vase on the windowsill above the kitchen sink.

  “Hey, ladies...” While Jed steered the all-terrain stroller across the short grass, Camille set the flowers safely atop the stroller canopy before rubbing the horses’ noses.

  Their snorts wreathed their heads in foggy exhalations.

  The babies stared in wonder.

  “I worried they might be scared, but more than anything they seem fascinated,” Camille said.

  “Good.” He stroked Lucy’s cheek. “Emily always loved horses. For Christmas, Mom and Dad got her horse toys or earrings or T-shirts—at least until she got Lucy for her sixteenth birthday.” His eyes welled up. “I think the only day I ever saw her happier was when she married Chase. I couldn’t be here with her when she had the girls.”

  Crushing sadness threatened to steal the air from her lungs. “I didn’t realize she’d had Lucy so long? Geez, even the horse must be in mourning.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. Chase bought her Ethel as an engagement gift. They used to go on overnight trail rides. Mom would get all bent out of shape about it not being proper, but then Dad would remind her that since she planned on marrying the guy, it wasn’t as if they didn’t already know about the birds and bees.” He laughed. “You and I sure did.”

  “Jed!” She smacked his arm, but the soft pink woolen mittens she’d borrowed from the coat closet didn’t deliver much of a punch.

  “It’s the truth.”

  There went her cheeks again, blazing with enough heat that she took off her scarf and fanned herself with it.

  Golden afternoon sun punched through the clouds, accompanying them while they crossed the pasture in companionable silence. Jed still pushed the stroller, while Camille stayed in line with the horses, which seemed appreciative of the attention.

  She’d forgotten how pretty the farm was, nestled in an alpine meadow, surrounded on three sides by pine forests and snow-capped peaks. The winters were long, but the summers were sublime. Some of the happiest times of her life had been spent in this very field.

  As kids, they’d played tag, hide-and-seek, and built forts from fallen branches in the warm months and from snow during the cold.

  Once she’d been old enough to appreciate Jed for more than just being Emily’s fun big brother, they’d played games of an entirely different kind. Truth or dare. Spin the bottle. Strip poker.

  This used to be her happy place, but with Emily and Chase gone, all she now associated with the farm was tragedy.

  “Guess we’ve shot your fancy new schedule all to hell?” Jed stopped at the tree line to stretch.

  “It’s okay. With this rowdy bunch, maybe it’s best if we fly by the seat of our pants?”

  Cringing, he said, “In most matters, I do love a good plan.”

  “Me, too. But I’m afraid this is a case of the inmates running the asylum.”

  Laughing, he said, “You’re probably right. Speaking of running things, what are you making for dinner? And do we need to take something down to your grandpa?”

  A wave of guilt surged through her. “I’m a terrible person. I haven’t even thought about him all day.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Truth be told, judging by what you’ve said about your gramps spending so much time up at that old mine, he probably hasn’t thought much about you, either.”

  “Thanks?” Counsel like that made her think she’d have been better off leaving Jed at the house and keeping the horses for company.

  “You know what I mean.” He turned the stroller around. “Since the sun’s setting, let’s get you and the kiddos inside, then I need to circle back to the barn. I’d like Lucy and Ethel inside for the night, plus I’ll make sure the chickens and goats have their heating lamps on.”

  “What if I’d rather do all of that and you tackle the babies?”

  “Fine—assuming you don’t mind having tuna straight from the can for dinner, with a few dozen shakes of Tabasco.”

  “You’re just saying that to get out of diaper duty.”

  He winked. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Whatever.” They finished the trek back in silence. At the pasture gate, she hugged both horses’ necks, promising to visit again soon.

  A quick diaper check found everyone surprisingly dry. Since no one was crying, Camille settled the girls into their swings while she made a dinner of meat loaf, scalloped potatoes and salad.

  Jed came in from the barn and washed up at the kitchen sink. “Smells heavenly in here. Thanks for cooking.”

  “You’re welcome. Guess while everyone’s calm I need to take Gramps his supper.”

  “Want me to take it for you? Or we all go together?”

  “Thanks, but no.” I need a breather from not just your nieces, but you. “I won’t be long.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” Darting in front of her, blocking the kitchen pass-through, he said, “What if your grandfather came here to live till Mom gets home? There are plenty of rooms.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Why not? The more the merrier.”

  She had no answer for him—at least not one she cared to share. The more time they spent together, the more they were starting to feel like a family. Not a good thing, considering he was leaving for California as soon as his mom returned, and Camille had witnessed too much pain to ever expose herself to that kind of emotional liability.

  Being a parent meant opening her heart, but how could she do that when she feared it was permanently closed?

  She forced her way around him, trying but failing to ignore icy-hot tingles of awareness stemming from their merest touch. There’d once been a time when she might have considered that fact significant. Like it meant she and Jed were destined to be together. But that was as foolish as believing there would ever again be peace and contentment in her world.

  Chapter 9

  “Think that’s funny?” Jed scooped a handful of no-tear bubbles onto Callie’s head. He leaned farther over the edge of the tub, trying to get all three tenors scrubbed and rinsed before Camille got home.

  There was that word again. Home. He’d never tell her, but without her here, the place felt lonely. He felt lonely but fought the feeling by horsing around more with his nieces. If they had to have bath time, might as well make it fun.

  He crowned all three babies with bubbles, giving them views of each other by rearranging their low-slung infant bath seats.

  Sallie and Allie couldn’t stop grinning at the sight.

  Callie cooed and slapped her palms against the warm water.

  “I didn’t know you were developmentally able to smile,” he said, truly awed at the cuteness, “but I’m not complaining.”

  Jed indulged in playtime for a few more minutes, then got back to business, washing the girls with mild soap and a bath mitt, then rinsing with a plastic cup.

  He drained the tub but was unsure how to dress and dry everyone at the same time, when all three shivered from the shift from warm water to chilly night air. The old house was drafty. If Jed was sticking around, he’d need to look into adding more insulation. But with him soon returning to base, he’d hire a contractor to tackle the job.

  He wrapped the babies in their zoo-themed hooded towels. Allie was a lion. Callie a giraffe. And Sallie, a hippo
.

  “You all look very ferocious,” Jed said, along with a teasing animal roar.

  The trio didn’t look amused.

  “You gals are no fun.”

  To prove it, they started to cry.

  “Aw, come on. We were having fun.”

  They cried louder.

  Jed’s night went downhill from there.

  Would Camille ever return?

  He dried his nieces’ tiny limbs, lotioned them, diapered and dressed them. Still they cried.

  Since they were still small enough for him to carry all three at once, he scooped them from Allie’s crib, where he’d corralled them after cleaning the mess bathing had created, then hauled them to the kitchen, being careful to support their heads against his chest.

  Once there, he realized he’d left their carriers upstairs.

  By now, the trio had worked up a helluva tantrum. He didn’t know if they were hungry, missing their mom and dad or just pissed at their tiny corner of the world. Whatever the problem, he didn’t have a clue how to solve it.

  His only option was to triage the situation, breaking it down one emergency at a time. Most pressing, setting the girls in a safe place.

  He eyed the colorful rag rug in the center of the kitchen floor and knelt, depositing the girls in a howling, red-faced jumble at his feet.

  Time to work the next problem—making bottles. Having Camille fix them had been a luxury he now missed. He knew how to do it, but that didn’t mean he liked it. More and more he needed her, and he wasn’t too proud to admit it.

  The girls might not be happy, but they were safe—for the moment, all that mattered. Their fury struck a chord in him he’d never before seen and didn’t like.

  He felt panicked and frenzied, desperate to calm and soothe them.

  He’d spent a decade learning to maintain his composure no matter how chaotic a situation. But no amount of training could have prepared him for this.

  Hunched over, he forced deep, slow breaths. He needed to center himself. Get his head back in the game. His nieces were expressing themselves the only way they knew how. Their tantrum wasn’t personal. Just a form of communication that Jed had never before encountered.