The Cowboy's Twins. Tara Taylor Quinn
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open, Natasha just sat there. What was probably one of the most critical moments of her life, and she had nothing to offer in response.
Except a couple of inexplicable, seldom-present tears that slid slowly down her cheeks.
It was happening again.
Just as it always would.
For her mother.
For her.
Because, as the women they were, the women they’d been born to be, there was no other choice.
* * *
“SO, BRO, THAT’S one hot babe you’ve got staying with you,” Bryant said. Spencer had stopped to tell his right-hand man that he was taking the kids to school. Bryant, who’d been after Spencer to take a look at some new side-by-sides for hands to use to check fence line, had invited himself to hook up the trailer to the back of Spencer’s truck and ride along.
He’d talked Spencer into purchasing two of the all-purpose off-road vehicles. Which had used up more of his cash than he’d have liked. There was still a bundle put away. But that was all the security his kids had, and he didn’t like dipping into it. Ever.
“She’s not staying with me,” he said now, still brewing over the side-by-side matter. Maybe he was being too much of a stickler by refusing to buy anything on credit. Maybe Bryant was right and he needed to loosen up a bit.
“You put her up in your old house...”
With a sideways glance at a man he wanted to punch on a regular basis—mostly because Bryant knew Spencer too well—he shrugged.
If he overreacted, Bryant would be on it like a newborn calf on her mother’s teat.
What a night they’d had. The city woman had not puked as he’d been half expecting—hoping?—and she’d actually been a bit of a help there, toward the end. For a second...
“You got nothing to say for yourself?” Bryant’s words prodded him. But not as much as the other man’s grin. “You know when you say nothing, you’re just telling me that I’m getting to you.”
There came that urge to punch again.
“I’m not going to feed your lurid and completely drama-filled and ludicrous imagination,” Spencer said, focusing on the road. He was kind of looking forward to getting the new vehicles off the back of the trailer he was pulling and giving them a go. So they’d be ready for a spin when the kids got home...
“She’s in that house because it’s the nicest one on the ranch.” As it should be, since, as Bryant said, it had been his.
He’d built it himself when he and his mother had decided it was time for him to have a place of his own. He’d moved back into the big house only after his mother had passed. The year before he’d married Kaylee—another city girl.
And the biggest mistake of his life.
“And be a little more respectful, would you?” he continued, because Bryant had a way of putting him out of sorts like none other. “You don’t go around referring to a successful television producer and star as a hot babe. Next thing you know, Justin will be calling her that to her face.”
His son adored Bryant—a lifetime cowboy if ever there was one—which mostly pleased Spencer no end. Justin was one of them.
He was also young. Impressionable. Had an overabundance of energy. And no mother.
“Point taken,” Bryant said. And then turned a wicked grin on him. “But just between me and you...she’s hot.”
He didn’t agree. “If you like that type of woman, maybe,” he allowed so Bryant wouldn’t think he was holding out on him. And start thinking he had something for auburn-haired model types.
Although...her hair was almost as long as Tabitha’s. Perhaps the woman could give him a hint about the morning tangles...
With an eye on meeting his goal of a winceless morning for his little girl, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
“You like that type of woman.” Bryant’s words dropped to the floor of the truck with such force Spencer could have sworn he felt it.
He wasn’t going to validate them with an answer.
“All kidding aside, Spence, we both know what type of woman gets to you. I’m only saying that if you keep it light, joke about it, she’s not going to do a number on you.”
Though he’d cooperated because Spencer had asked him to do so, Bryant had been against him signing the contract with Family Secrets from the beginning. Was this why?
He gave his best friend a quick once-over.
“No worries, bro,” he said, feeling easy again. He sat back and put the pedal to the floor as they crossed miles of empty California desert. “Glamorous women might be tempting, but Kaylee cured me of ever...and I mean ever...wanting to be with one again.”
He spoke with total confidence. The second his wife had left her dust behind her as she’d driven off the farm—leaving him with full custody of their two-year-old twins—he’d been cured of any attraction he might have had.
Glancing at Bryant one more time, he grinned.
It was good to know that he had a friend—more like brother—who had his back.
“JUSTIN! JUSSSTIIIIN! YOU come out of there right now.”
In the middle of spooning a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough onto a tray in one of the kitchens on her newly staged set, Natasha froze.
Her staff, including Angela, had all been dismissed to other tasks. At the moment, “staff” meant a handful of techies, two camera operators and her stage manager/right hand/assistant. All of whom—except for Angela, who’d driven back to Palm Desert—had been sent off to town to squeeze in what R & R they could before working almost around the clock for the next few days.
Filming the show on location was taking more out of all of them than they had expected. She had to make sure they enjoyed their lives, too.
Losing employees was not something she took lightly.
The Family Secrets crew were her family. And...
“Justin, I mean it. Come out now.”
The first command had come in the form of a stern whisper. The second in a more stern, loud whisper. The identity of the commander was a mystery.
Whoever Justin was, or wherever he was, remained unknown to her, as well.
But she had a theory.
She’d heard that Spencer Longfellow had a couple of children. And the whisperer was definitely of the child variety.
From what she’d understood—and she’d been pretty clear about gaining complete understanding on this point—the Longfellow children were the only human minors on the ranch. She’d have chosen to film elsewhere if that were not the case. And had almost chosen to move on down the road when she’d heard about the rancher’s kids.
While she had nothing against children, Natasha needed to be able to work undisturbed. And to have her contestants and staff able to do the same. A lot was at stake for the winner of the show. Her show offered external economic value to the winner, and to contestants as well, and it was paramount that she provide a fair competition environment.
Filming on location was already going to create certain levels of stress and inconvenience, and they couldn’t have added interruptions from little ones.
“Justinnn. I’m telling you.” The voice was just above a whisper now. And closer. “Daddy said to stay out of this barn. Period.”
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