Page 36 of Snowed in with the Rancher

“He's kept a distance between himself and everyone else in his life for years now. And when the girls told me he hadn't been around this last week—hell, when I saw him here before seven a.m. every day—I knew he was doing it again.”

Well dammit,Olivia thought. Just in case she'd thought her day couldn't get any worse.

She shook her head. “I'm not sure what to do with that information.” Feeling sad, she looked at Thomas. “What are you asking from me?”

The older man smiled sweetly and patted her on the hand. “That's up to you, dear. Like I said, I don't want to interfere. I just thought that you should know, so maybe you can be a little patient with him. He has it in him to love deeply, but he's been hiding for a very long time. It's not going to happen quick.”

Lucy called from the kitchen, echoed by the twins, and he added, “Sounds like we'd better head that way.” He got up from his chair, and she followed suit.

“Wow, everything smells so good. My compliments to the bakers,” she told Lucy and Jackie as she followed Thomas into the kitchen. She looked around the airy kitchen, surprised at the number of racks hosting cooling cookies.

“They're for Christmas,” Jackie announced, looking every bit the baker in her flour-covered apron. “But we made extra so we could have some now, didn't we, Grandma?”

“Indeed we did,” was Lucy's reply as she walked to the cabinet to take down empty glasses for milk.

Olivia watched Melissa inspect the cookies while her sister whispered in her ear, pointing out the different types. As if on cue, Melissa reached for a sugar cookie decorated in what looked like crushed peppermints and white chocolate.

“Those are one of my favorites,” Lucy told her, grabbing a cookie for herself and biting into it.

Melissa lifted her chosen cookie to her lips and took a careful bite. Her eyes seemed to light up when the peppermint and sweetness from the white chocolate hit, and she nodded her head in agreement. Pointing to what looked like snickerdoodles, Jackie proudly proclaimed that she'd made those, and Oliva picked one up. Before taking a bite, she inhaled deeply of the rich scent of sugar and cinnamon.

“Well now, I'd best catch up,” Thomas chimed in, breaking Olivia out of her thoughts. They all talked and laughed together while overindulging in warm cookies and cold milk. It was the first time in nearly five years she'd felt anything like what she'd had with her parents, and it helped ease her mind somewhat. These were two people who already loved her children. Good people. Trustworthy. People who would support her. By the time she'd packed up the girls and was heading to the car, Olivia had at least one thing in her new life settled—no matter what happened with Tate, both she and the girls had people they could rely on. Thomas and Lucy were going to make wonderful grandparents.

Now if only she knew whether their son could fulfill his role.

FIFTEEN

Normal did not include one twin screaming while the other stood naked, dripping water all over the living room floor.

Tate stood, arms crossed, facing Melissa as she shivered and dripped. An equally wet Jackie sobbed in Olivia's arms.

“It's okay,” Olivia soothed. “But I can't listen to what you want to tell me if you don't stop crying.”

Melissa's obstinate expression told Tate that whatever had happened, she was likely the one responsible for it. He reached over to the back of the sofa and grabbed a chenille throw, bent down, and wrapped it around forty pounds of wet, slippery child.

Jackie buried her head in Olivia's shoulder, and the sobs finally quieted. Tate hated to see the girls upset, but he'd also had a very long day at the ranch. His plan had been to come home, take Lobster out for a quick hike, eat something in front of the television, and readRancher's Quarterlyuntil he fell asleep—the sooner the better.

Instead, he'd come home to a kitchen that looked like a tornado had passed through, both girls out of sorts, and Olivia trying to fill out some sort of paperwork for her rental house while simultaneously dealing with the girls, a load of laundry, and Lobster's dinner.

He'd quickly realized that he wasn't going to be able to cook what he wanted, watch what he wanted, or do what he wanted. This was the new normal his father had been warning him about, and it was deeply unsettling. He wasn't meant to feel this lost and out of place in his own home.

“So, why don't we start from the beginning,” he said to Melissa as he knelt in front of her. “What happened?”

Above him, he heard Olivia sigh as she rocked with Jackie in her arms. Melissa continued to scowl.

“Lissa,” Olivia said. “You need to tell us what happened.”

The small girl shook her head and crossed her arms.

“Well,” said Tate, at a loss for what to do. Only one idea seemed like a decent possibility. “I guess everyone can just go to bed, then.” Jackie started wailing again, and Melissa glared at him before her bottom lip began to quiver. She turned around and stomped upstairs.

Tate looked up at Olivia in time to see her narrow her gaze, her lips uncharacteristically tight. Then she too marched upstairs, carrying Jackie, indignation following in their wake.

Tate stood and looked at Lobster, who had wisely stayed on his bed in the corner during the fracas.

“At least I got my quiet back,” he mumbled—though that was poor compensation for having all three of the ladies of the house angry with him. Lobster sighed, his big, soft eyes accusing.

Half an hour later, after cleaning the kitchen for the second time since he'd been home, Tate finally sat down on the sofa and opened hisRancher's Quarterly. It was after nine, and he needed to be at work before six in the morning, so he didn't anticipate much reading at this point.

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