A Daddy For Her Triplets. Deb Kastner
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then some.
This whole thing was a disaster in the making.
“Maybe Olivia is right,” he suggested, running a hand across the stubble on his jaw. “She’s not ready to venture out yet. And the boys are still young. There’s plenty of time for them to learn mountain skills.”
“But we want to go now, Mr. Clint!”
He hadn’t even seen the kids return, but there they were, and their expressions punched Clint right in the gut. He’d never seen such downcast features, complete with quivering lips and the onset of tears. These boys really wanted to spend time in the mountains. He got that. He felt the same way.
“Well...” he hedged. “What do you think, Olivia? We can take it as easy as you and the boys need to. It doesn’t have to be a big production. We don’t have to do the official beginner’s challenge. I can tailor it to whatever your needs are. It might even be kind of fun.”
Sure, if “fun” meant wrangling three overexcited youngsters for an entire day. He didn’t think that qualified as a good time.
Olivia sighed and rubbed her fingers on the tense muscles at the nape of her neck. “I just don’t know.”
“You can trust Clint,” Libby said, curling a hand in the crook of his elbow and patting his biceps.
“No, I know. Clint is the expert. So what exactly does this day trip entail?”
She was cracking, not that he could blame her. How could she not give in, with Libby’s gentle persuasion? In his experience, Libby could pretty much talk anyone into anything, himself included.
This whole taking-the-Barlows-on-a-day-trip thing being a case in point.
“We can take horses up Pine Meadow Trail. It’s an easy ride and there are several places to stop and enjoy nature.”
“It’s just for a few hours, right?”
“Sure. Whatever you want. Give the boys a little taste of the mountains. Have a picnic.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip and he couldn’t look away. See? She was already distracting him, and they hadn’t even started the beginner’s challenge yet.
“Okay. But if we’re doing this, I insist on bringing the picnic.”
“I’m all for that,” Clint agreed. “I can’t cook a lick. Grab a package of hot dogs and we can roast them with a stick over a fire.”
“And marshmallows?” Her eyes glinted, the first sign of interest she’d shown.
He chuckled and nodded. “Absolutely. Marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers. What is a picnic in the mountains without s’mores?”
He pulled out his cell phone and opened his calendar. “I’ve got next Saturday available, or—”
His sentence was interrupted by a shouted exclamation and the murmur of the crowd.
“It’s Robin Hood. He’s here!”
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