Twins Under the Christmas Tree. Marin Thomas
nodded.
“I’m not that kind of cowboy.”
Javier made eye contact with his brother and Conway swore the boys conversed telepathically. “What kind of cowboy are you?” Miguel asked.
“Part-time rodeo cowboy. When I’m not bustin’ broncs, I work on a farm.”
The boys stared with blank expressions.
“You know what pecans are, don’t you?”
They shook their heads.
“Nuts that grow on trees. People eat the nuts or use them in pies.”
Javier whispered in his brother’s ear then Miguel asked, “How come you’re in our house?”
Not sure what answer Isi would want him to give her sons, he asked a question of his own. “Have you ever seen a man in your house after you woke up in the morning?”
They shook their heads again.
For some stupid reason that pleased Conway.
Javier whispered in his brother’s ear.
“You can ask me questions yourself, Javier,” Conway said.
“I mostly talk.” Miguel’s chest puffed up. “Why are you sleeping on our couch?”
“Your mom wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed the night in case something bad happened.”
“Is Mom dying?” Miguel paused, then said, “Like what?”
“No, your mom isn’t dying. For Pete’s sake!” Conway had trouble following the conversation—he’d never talked with four-year-olds before. “Like what, what?”
“What kind of bad things?” Miguel asked.
“Well, there could have been a fire in the middle of the night.”
Javier ran from the room then returned with a small fire extinguisher.
“We know how to put out a fire,” Miguel said.
He doubted the boys had the strength to pull the pin on the extinguisher, but he was impressed that they knew what the canister was used for. “Or a bad guy could’ve broken into the trailer.”
Javier set down the extinguisher then opened the closet door in the hallway and removed a baseball bat, which he dragged across the carpet. Conway got the impression the kid was trying to tell him that they didn’t need his help protecting their mother.
“Can you lift that?” he asked.
Javier raised the bat and Conway intercepted the barrel before it hit Miguel in the back of the head. “Whoa, slugger.” He confiscated the weapon and laid it on the couch.
“Javi...Mig... Where are you guys?” Isi’s sluggish voice rang out a moment before she appeared in the hallway. Conway sucked in a quiet breath. The bruising beneath her eyes had deepened to dark purple.
“Mom!” Miguel dashed across the room, Javier following him. “What happened?” Both boys hugged Isi’s legs.
“I had an accident at work last night. I ran into a door and broke my nose.”
“Does it hurt?” Miguel asked.
“Yes. Did you have breakfast?” Isi dropped to one knee and hugged her sons. She whispered in Miguel’s ear then he went into the kitchen, climbed onto the counter and retrieved two cereal bowls from the cupboard. Javier remained by Isi’s side—he was definitely the insecure twin.
“Mom.” Miguel set the bowls on the table.
“What?”
“Conway Twitty Cash slept on our couch.”
“You can call me Conway.”
“Mr. Conway,” Isi said.
“I told them I stayed last night, because you weren’t feeling well and I needed to be here in case of an emergency.”
“We don’t need his help, do we, Javi?” Miguel said.
Javier wouldn’t look at Conway.
“It was nice of Mr. Conway to stay, but I’m fine now.” Isi sent him a time-to-leave look.
Conway stood up and the Cheerios that had gotten caught in the wrinkles of his shirt spilled to the floor. He stepped over the Os to avoid smashing them into the carpet. “Your sitter left this for you last night.” He handed her the piece of paper Miguel had pushed aside on the table. “She wanted you to read it first thing in the morning.”
While Isi read the note, Conway said, “I’d really like to make it up to you for what happened last night. Is there anything I can—”
Isi glanced up from the note a stunned expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nicole quit.”
“What?”
“She’s moving to Tucson to live with her father.”
“When?” Conway asked.
“Today.” Isi sighed. “If I don’t find a sitter by Monday, I’ll have to skip class and I have an exam that day.”
“Maybe your mother could help out with the boys.”
She frowned. “My mother’s dead.”
That’s right. She’d told him her mother had passed away right before she’d immigrated to the U.S. He inched closer to the door. “Maybe a relative—”
“Conway—”
Hand on the doorknob he froze. “What?”
“I told you a long time ago that I don’t have any family. It’s just me and the boys.”
Really? He couldn’t recall Isi talking about her family. He was always wrapped up in his dating dilemmas and the information had probably gone in one ear and out the other. He swallowed hard. That Isi was all alone in the world didn’t seem right. He might have had a mother who cared more about chasing after men, and a father who hadn’t wanted the responsibility of raising him, but he’d had siblings and grandparents who cared about him.
“You offered to help,” she said. “Would you watch the boys until I find a replacement sitter?”
Babysit? Him? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It would be for two or three days at the most.”
“I don’t know anything about kids.”
She ignored his protests. “I’d need you to drop them off at preschool and bring them back here afterward.”
“I’m sure—” he winked at the boys “—they’d rather have anyone but me watch them.”
“Never mind.” Her shoulders sagged.
Did she have to act so dejected?
“I’ll take the boys to school with me and hope the professors allow them into the classroom.”
“I don’t want to go to your school, Mom,” Miguel said.
It’s because of me that Isi’s nose is broken.
Oh, hell. How hard could it be to watch a couple of four-year-olds? For two years Isi had listened to him bellyache about women. He couldn’t turn his back on her when she needed him most.
“Okay, I’ll watch the boys,” he said.
She flashed him a bright smile. “You’ll need to be here by noon on Monday.”
“See you then.” Right now, Conway couldn’t escape fast enough.