Page 66 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

“Let’s just leave this in her hands.” Brock’s voice carries a newfound confidence, though tinged with sadness. “If she wanted us in the baby’s life, she knows where to find us.”

“Eventually, I suppose we’ll get an order for child support too,” he adds as an afterthought.

I’m disheartened to imagine that might be the last we’ll hear of Emerson and her child.

* * *

My heart isn’t into the rodeo at all. We’re here to sell horses, and Toby is here to perform.

Everything reminds me of Emerson now. Her suggestions for maximizing our sponsorship opportunities transformed our booth at the event. It looks more professional and inviting than ever before—all thanks to her ideas.

Toby’s riding at noon and three today, which means I can’t even duck out early. It’s going to be a long day.

Families tromp by our booth in matching hats and spurs.

“You coming to the dance later, Toby?” a blonde asks me with a suggestive wink.

“I’m Owen,” I correct her.

Her smile broadens. “Even better. I’d love to see if you’re any different in bed than Toby.”

In the past, I might have taken her up on that offer.

Not today. I no longer have a thing for blondes… only redheads.

Toby appears at my side, and I turn away from the woman to face my brother. He appears mildly panicked. When Toby doesn’t acknowledge the blonde still eyeing us both hungrily, she wanders off, leaving us alone.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Emerson’s friend is here.”

I stare at him blankly. “Who?”

“The one who came to visit the ranch. Mae.”

My pulse speeds up, and my head whips around to look for her, even though I don’t have the faintest idea what she looks like. I hadn’t met her on the day she arrived. “Is Emerson here too?”

Toby shakes his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see her.”

“Did she see you? Did you speak to her?”

He shakes his head again, and disappointment strikes me.

I doubt Mae’s here because of anything to do with Emerson. “Well, half of central Texas is here. So what?”

My brother’s face tells me he was hoping to see her, too. I place a hand on his shoulder. “Toby…”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” he mutters.

I’d laugh if he didn’t seem so serious.

“Since when do you believe in signs?”

“Since everything is going to shit because Emerson’s gone.”

I feel like he’s being a bit dramatic, but I understand his sentiments.

“Tell you what,” I propose. “Let’s go find her and see if she knows how Emerson’s doing.”

---