Page 12 of Snowed in with the Rancher

Then Tate realized what the noise was and went into action, leaping out of bed clad only in his pajama pants. He threw open the door and was greeted with the sight of smoke curling its way lazily up the stairway.

He charged down the stairs where he was met with two four-year-olds chattering and bouncing around as Olivia fanned the air with a dish towel and stared up at the offending smoke alarm.

“There's the rescuer!” Jackie said, pointing.

Olivia's gaze flashed to his, and he saw the apology in her eyes.

“I'm so sorry we woke you,” she said. “I'm generally competent in the kitchen, but your toaster really hates me.”

Tate pulled a bar stool with him into the kitchen and stood on the lower rung to reach up and press the reset button on the smoke alarm. The high-pitched beeping stopped, and everyone in the room let out a relieved sigh. Lobster stopped howling in the bedroom and came ambling down the stairs. The girls saw the dog and ran to hug him, crawling on the floor while he lolled on his back, eating up the tummy rubs.

“That toaster hates everyone,” Tate mumbled as he pulled the cord from the outlet and picked up the offending item. “I should have gotten rid of it ages ago…” He walked to a closet and shoved the toaster inside.

Olivia stared at him as he walked back into the kitchen. He saw her gaze slide to his bare chest for a brief moment, and heat washed over him. But when she looked at him again, she had a polite mask back in place. Before he could decide how that made him feel, an enormous crash sounded. Both adults jerked in unison, their heads swinging toward the noise. Jackie stood, red-faced, eyes wide, staring at what remained of Tate's large glass award from the Northern Montana Ranchers' Association.

Melissa shook her head. “I told her not to touch it,” she said sternly.

Jackie burst into tears, and Olivia strode over, scooping her up and rocking her slowly as she whispered in her ear. Tate snapped his jaw closed as he stared down at what was left of his award glittering in the overhead light. In that moment, he felt as though his life was in as many pieces but without the sparkle. Forcibly unclenching his jaw, he started for the laundry room to get the broom and dustpan.

“No!” Olivia's voice was sharp. He turned in time to see Melissa scowling as Olivia navigated around the shards of glass to pick her up as well. “Your feet are bare, baby—you'll cut yourself all up.”

Shit. Tate watched as Olivia balanced a kid on either hip. They were too big for her to carry like that, but it hadn't occurred to him to help. He hadn't even thought of the fact that they were in the midst of all that glass with bare feet.

He snorted softly. Some damn father he'd be.

“I'm going to get them dressed, then we'll clean up the mess,” Olivia said as she made her way to the stairs.

“Don't worry about it. I'll get it.”

“We made the mess, we can clean it up. We'll all work on it, won't we, girls?” The two little brunette heads nodded in unison as they trained their big brown eyes on him.

“It's fine,” he reassured them, simply wanting to sweep the offending pieces up and be done with it. “It'll be a lot faster and easier if I just take care of it myself. That's how most things work in life. Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that.”

“That's not what Mommy says,” Jackie admonished.

“Yeah,” Melissa added with a solemn look. “We're always better together. And Mommy, Jackie, and me are a team.”

“The Thwee Musketeers!” Jackie shouted.

Olivia shook her head sadly and carried them upstairs.

Tate was left with a big mess all around his feet—and the sinking feeling that he'd made an even bigger one with the three people staying under his roof.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Olivia made her way back downstairs, planning on making some breakfast for the girls. When she arrived, however, Tate had already taken charge of breakfast as well as cleanup. The smell of bacon wafted through the open floorplan cabin, and she could see pancakes on the stovetop. The broken glass was nowhere to be seen.

Guilt twisted her stomach. It seemed like charging in and making a mess was all they'd done to Tate since they'd arrived. The smoke alarm, the shattered award…and the way she'd shaken up his life telling him the twins were his. She remembered how blown away she'd been by those two lines on the pregnancy test. At least she'd had the luxury of time to process the news—to be stunned and anxious and excited before she actually had real live babies in her arms needing her attention and care.

Olivia sighed and knelt to pet Lobster, lurking with a look in his eyes that said,Pay attention to me, why don't you?

“Can I have a turn putting the batter in the pan?” Melissa's voice came from the kitchen.

Olivia whirled, expecting to see chaos breaking out again. Instead, she was met with the sight of both girls seated on the high kitchen stools, one on each side of Tate. He was in front of the stovetop, a spatula in hand as he flipped pancakes.

“Yes, you get the next turn, and if you want, I'll show you how to make the Mickey Mouse pancakes.”

“Yesss!” Jackie bounced up and down on her stool.

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