Her Cowboy's Triplets. Sasha Summers
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of the restaurant. Tanner sat at the end of the table, staring at them. “Sara’s checking on something special, boy.”
They were just seated when a little girl came walking down the hall. Her long strawberry blond pigtails bounced above her shoulders. She had pink embroidered jean shorts on. But she was wearing no shoes.
“Amberleigh,” a voice called after her. “Shoes.”
The little girl stopped, sighed and walked back down the hallway.
“You think she’s lost?” Cal asked.
India grinned. She had a pretty good idea whom the little girl belonged to. Besides the little girl’s red-gold curls, India recognized the man’s voice. That precious barefoot toddler had to belong to Brody Wallace. Which meant he was here.
A few seconds later, Brody appeared—followed by three absolutely adorable little girls.
He stopped when he saw her, smiling widely at her quick back-and-forth inspection of his daughters. “Yep, they’re mine,” he said.
“I can see that,” she returned, marveling how similar they were. Similar, but not identical. “Wow. I mean, really, wow.”
He nodded. “Yep. India, Cal, these are my girls. This is Marilyn.”
Marilyn wore a headband and had a light dusting of freckles and a quick smile.
“And Suellen,” he said, patting his other daughter’s shoulder.
Suellen’s hair curled up tight, two tiny bows—one on each side of her head—and a dimple in her left cheek.
“And Amberleigh,” he finished.
Amberleigh had lopsided pigtails, lots of freckles and a slow, shy smile. She’d been the shoeless one.
“It’s nice to meet you,” India said. Brody had kids. Three girls. Would they ever know how lucky they were to have him for a father?
“Your dog?” Marilyn asked, pointing at Tanner.
“He’s big,” Suellen said, hiding behind Brody’s leg.
“This is Tanner,” Cal said. “He’s a real good dog.”
But the two little girls didn’t look convinced. Only Amberleigh approached Tanner, smiling as the dog sniffed her all over before licking her cheek. Amberleigh giggled.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Brody said, one brow arching and the corner of his mouth kicking up. Almost embarrassed.
“You asked us,” Cal said, matter-of-fact.
“Daddy,” Marilyn spoke up. “Color?”
“You sure can, darlin’.” Brody pulled back a chair at a table next to their booth. “Climb on up and we’ll get you girls situated. Thing is, my folks decided to invite themselves. I imagine they’ll be along shortly.”
Meaning she and Cal would not be enjoying the pleasure of Brody’s adorable girls for dinner. Not unless Vic Wallace had decided to stop blaming her father for stealing his family’s land. As ridiculous as the feud was, she didn’t deny that the insult to her father—and her family name—stung.
“That’s nice,” India said, watching as Brody pulled coloring books and crayons from his beaten leather messenger bag.
Brody made a face. “I guess.”
She giggled.
“Fairies? Mermaids?” Cal frowned at the girls’ coloring books. “And dragons.” His disapproval lessened. “Who likes dragons?”
“Amberleigh,” Suellen said. “Dragons. And mud.”
“No clothes. Or shoes,” Marilyn added.
India shot Brody a grin. He shrugged.
“Dragons are cool.” Not that Cal was fully on board.
“Color?” Suellen asked. “There’s a scary fairy picture I don’ wanna color.”
“Scary?” Cal asked, peering at the picture Suellen showed him. “She is mean looking.”
Amberleigh proceeded to make the mean fairy face. Suellen and Marilyn covered their faces with their napkins, but Cal only grinned at the scowling little girl. Which made Amberleigh giggle again.
“That’s twice,” Brody said, smiling at his daughter. “Just about the sweetest sound imaginable.”
The tenderness on his face was too much for her. So she focused on his little girls, diligently coloring, instead. “They’re gorgeous.”
Amberleigh waved Cal forward and patted the chair beside her, holding her coloring book. “Mom?” Cal asked India.
“Amberleigh doesn’t share her coloring book with just anyone,” Brody said.
“Just until we order.” Which probably wasn’t the smartest answer—considering his folks were on the way. But, resisting Amberleigh’s offer was plain wrong. Cal climbed into the chair beside Amberleigh, and conversation came to a stop. All four kids were coloring quietly, happily preoccupied.
Leaving her and Brody, sitting next to her at his table. Her nerves returned. Now they’d have that awkward what-have-you-been-doing-with-your-life conversation she dreaded. She’d gone to school, gotten married, had Cal and divorced. Now she was back home. Not exactly riveting conversation.
Considering they were both back in the place they’d been so determined to leave, it was clear things hadn’t gone according to plan for either of them.
But she had questions for her one-time best friend. Like, what did she do to make you divorce her? India knew without asking that Brody hadn’t done a thing. He was a good guy, always had been—always would be. Even though he was much taller and larger and all man, he had the same kind eyes and warm smile. He was handsome in a way any woman would appreciate. Whoever his ex-wife was, she was an idiot.
“What’s a fancy-pants lawyer like you going to do with all your free time?” she asked, diving in. Had he chosen to leave his high-power, big-money job in Houston, or had something happened that made him leave?
“Well, you’re looking at a good portion of it.” He leaned back, long legs sprawled out in front of him. He sort of spilled out of the wooden chair, too big and broad for it. “The ranch won’t run itself, either. And the grocery and feed stores will need looking in on now and then.” He shrugged, glancing her way, then away.
When they’d been younger, that look meant he was holding out on her. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more?”
He shrugged again, smiling this time.
“As I live and breathe, a Boone and a Wallace sitting down and working together?” Miss Francis’s startled question caught her and Brody by surprise. “I’m all for ending the feud, but you might want to build up to it first. I just saw your folks parking out front, Brody.”
India’s stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. She’d grown up knowing the Wallaces were stubborn, mean-spirited people. But she’d never thought about Brody as one of them. He was just Brody.
“Cal,” she said, calling her son back to their booth—across from Brody and his girls. “We should order. I don’t want you up too late.”
Cal handed Amberleigh the crayon. “I’ll finish next time.” He stepped over Tanner and slid into the booth.
Amberleigh frowned but took the crayon. She slumped in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out a big sigh.
India tried her hardest not to laugh.
“India, you don’t have to—”
“She’s still wearing her clothes, Ramona. No need to worry,” Vic Wallace announced as he entered the Soda Shop. “Your