Page 46 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

He looks up and nods at us. “Don’t forget about the mayor’s fundraiser this weekend.”

A strange expression passes over her face. “Right,” she says slowly. “All three of you are going, right?”

I groan at the reminder. “Shit.” I flop down at the table with my brother. “I’d rather not. I have to prepare for the rodeo at the end of the month.”

“You have to go,” Owen counters, setting his phone down and rising to start lunch.

But Emerson takes over the task and waves him down. “Sit down. I’ll make lunch today.”

“No, he can do it,” I say.

“I’m doing it,” Emerson insists as Owen looks from one of us to the other.

He settles for perching at the kitchen island.

She winks at him. “You can be my sous chef if I need you.”

I roll my eyes and settle back in my chair as I stare at them. “I guess we can go for a few hours. The mayor won’t forgive us if we don’t make an appearance.”

“It’s the cost of being a Collins,” Owen quips. “Anyway, Emerson and I did most of the planning for the rodeo when she first got here. We laid out most of the groundwork. How much more really needs to be done?”

I nod slowly. “Right, I saw the plans.”

Emerson is unusually quiet as she washes salad greens.

“The fundraisers aren’t so bad,” I offer. “And the food usually isn’t terrible.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she agrees. “But maybe I should sit this one out. I mean, it’ll look weird having me there, won’t it? I’m…” She shrugs and looks at me across the room. “I’m no one to the ranch.”

I frown at the self-deprecating comment and stand, venturing toward the kitchen. “You’re a very important part of the team,” I counter. “If not for you, half of what we do here wouldn’t happen.”

“He’s right,” Owen agrees, his forehead creasing. “Where is this coming from?”

She sets her knife down as I join her, reading the minor distress on her face. She bites on her lower lip, and I know she’s worried about something.

“Hey,” I growl, tipping her face toward me. “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head, avoiding my stare. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles.

But I don’t let go of her, and I cup her face gently.

“Brock…” Owen tells me warningly.

I sigh, releasing her. “We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us, Emerson. That’s how you got in trouble in the first place.”

Relenting, I retreat to the dining room, and she resumes her cooking, her cheeks paling.

“No one is going to force you to come if you don’t want to come,” Owen adds. “I mean, these fundraisers aren’t like college parties or anything, but they’re not terrible, either.”

“They would be more fun with you there,” I joke.

She gives me a half-smile. “Let me think about it. We’ll see how far along we are with the rodeo plans and whatever else we have going on. I think I could probably do more good with finishing off the rodeo plans back here while you guys represent the ranch at the fundraiser.”

It’s not a ringing endorsement, but I’m the one who doesn’t want to push her.

At the end of the day, I invite her over for dinner, but she refuses for the first time all week.

“I think I’m going to have a bath and go to sleep early,” she yawns. “Tomorrow is my day off, and my best friend is visiting with her husband.”

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