Page 28 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

A smile of relief breaks over his face. “It got moved to Wednesday. The mayor couldn’t make it, so she rescheduled.”

That boy has the devil’s own luck.

“You’ll take Emerson with you,” I decide suddenly. She’ll keep him in line, my brother and his irresponsible ways.

“Fine by me.” Toby takes a swig of his beer.

I groan aloud. He didn’t even put up a little bit of a fight.

“Toby, just keep your hands to yourself. I mean it!” I remind him.

He sets his beer down on the table. “I’ll behave! Promise.”

How can a twenty-nine-year-old man act like such a child? He’s like a little boy compared to Owen and me.

But Toby had always been like this, doubling my protectiveness and irritation with him. Still, he’s just as much an owner in Pine Sky Ranch as we are. Our mother’s will had seen to that.

Owen places a plate with the freshly made wraps in the middle of the kitchen island, and Toby jumps in first to grab one.

Silently, I chew, my mind traveling back to the redhead working diligently in our offices. I hope Toby doesn’t scare her off. Maybe I should give her a heads-up about my oversexed brother. But that might pre-emptively scare her off.

Anyway, Emerson Ward seemed like the kind of woman who could handle herself just fine.

CHAPTER7

Emerson

The job is both harder and easier than I expected. There is a lot of learning to be done about the ranch and its systems, but the software programs aren’t difficult to navigate. The Collins brothers give me free rein to learn at my own pace.

But the first week is a whirlwind of activity between them, learning the books and administrative tasks with Brock on Monday and today with Owen preparing for an upcoming rodeo event and cattle drive.

People flitter in and out of the office, and I deal with client phone calls and random staff demands throughout the day.

But I barely notice the time flying by, or that we’ve hardly eaten all day. The daytime slips away to the late afternoon, and we find ourselves still working. I’m so consumed with getting these plans finished and working on every detail with Owen, nothing else seems relevant.

A local country station twangs lightly in the background through the speakers, the same song playing for at least the third time today, but I don’t mind. It’s a popular artist I like, and I find myself singing along under my breath.

I’m overwhelmed with the amount of planning involved as Owen effortlessly plots out what we have to do at the rodeo, and I marvel at his notes and organizational skills.

“You’ve got a talent for filling out forms,” I joke, giving him a playful look as we pore over the pages sprawled over the desktop.

He nods, not catching my teasing at first, because his concentration is too great on the work in front of him.

I back off, allowing him his space. I don’t want to distract him.

As I reach for a random flyer, he does the same, and our hands brush. Heat rushes through me, and an image of him bending me over the hotel room bed jumps into my mind as our eyes lock.

His steely-gray eyes widen, and for half a second, I think he recognizes me.

Swallowing a gasp, I dart my eyes downward, my cheeks flaming crimson. I hadn’t even thought of a cover story, an excuse if I were caught, if they recognized me, and now?—

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Working alone with you here so late?”

My head jerks back up in shock, my mouth parting. “No,” I answer quickly. I laugh at the absurdity of the question.

His eyes shadow in annoyance.

“I’m sorry. I laugh when I’m nervous—not that you make me nervous—you don’t. I’m not nervous….”

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