Twins For The Rancher. Trish Milburn

Twins For The Rancher - Trish  Milburn


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      “Do you want to see the building after dinner?” she asked her mom.

      “No, tomorrow’s soon enough. Tonight, I just want to spend time with my granddaughters.”

      Bethany let out an enthusiastic squeal as if to say that was the best idea ever, drawing chuckles from the older couple at the next table.

      “Nice set of lungs on that one,” the older guy said.

      “Let me assure you they are twins in every way,” Lauren said as she held a tiny spoon of green beans up to Harper’s lips.

      After they’d all had a delicious meal, Lauren accompanied her mom back to the room they would share while Papa Ed headed back to his own for a well-deserved rest and, if he could find one, probably a fishing show on TV.

      Once back in her room, Lauren opened her computer to check if there were any pressing messages. She grinned at the sight of her mom tickling the girls’ bellies, making them laugh.

      “They adore you.”

      “The feeling is mutual.” Her mom glanced toward Lauren. “Are we interrupting your work?”

      Lauren shook her head. “I’ve had about enough work for the day. Just checking email and social media.”

      “If you want to go to sleep—”

      “No. It’s too early. If I went to sleep now, I’d wake up at two in the morning.”

      Despite having worked all day, an odd restlessness took hold of her.

      “You should go out and do something fun.”

      “I’ve already left the girls with Papa Ed all day. I can’t just pass them off to you now.”

      “Why not? You never take time for yourself.”

      “There’s a bit too much on my plate for spur-of-the-moment girls’ nights. Besides, I barely know anyone here.”

      Despite her protestations that she shouldn’t just up and leave the girls again after being gone all day, Lauren couldn’t concentrate on anything. Maybe it was that she felt confined in such a small space.

      Or maybe her mom was right. Since her breakup with Phil and the discovery not long after that she was pregnant with not just one baby, but two, Lauren hadn’t taken any real “me” time. She told herself she couldn’t afford it, or it wasn’t right to leave the girls or expect her family to take care of them while she went off to do something that wasn’t work-related. And now she’d added opening a restaurant to the mix, as if she had an unending reserve of both time and energy.

      “Why don’t you at least go take a walk?” her mom said. “It’s supposed to be a lovely, clear night, not too cold yet.”

      This time Lauren didn’t argue against the idea. “I won’t be gone long.”

      “No need to hurry back. These little stinkers and I will be right here discussing all the yummy things their mommy will bake for them when they have more teeth.”

      The mention of teeth caused Lauren to remember Adam Hartley’s comment about her getting a share of the local dentist’s profits. A ball of warmth formed in her chest at the memory of how easy it had been to talk with him, even after the awkward moment with the other woman at the café.

      “Lauren?”

      “Huh?”

      “You had this faraway smile on your face.” The unspoken question in her mom’s tone sent a jolt through Lauren.

      “Just imagining how I’m going to convince the daughters of a baker that they can’t have dessert for the main course of every meal.”

      After a couple minutes of loving on her babies, Lauren left the room for an evening stroll to clear her head and stretch her legs.

      Though there was a slight chill in the air, she decided on a walk through town. She felt like meandering along Main Street, since it was quieter and less crowded than during the middle of the day.

      As she checked out the window displays of the downtown shops, she made a mental note to do some Christmas shopping soon. It’d be much easier to keep her purchases secret if she shopped when her family was otherwise occupied, especially Violet. Her sister had a habit of trying to find and figure out what her presents were well before Christmas morning. The habit was so annoying that their mother had threatened to stop buying her presents on more than one occasion. Violet would swear she’d reform, but that only lasted about a day at most. Lauren thought Violet perhaps did it mostly to see everyone’s reaction.

      She promised herself she’d check out the cute outfit displayed in the window at Yesterwear Boutique, see if A Good Yarn had the lavender-scented candles her mom liked and browse the shelves at the little bookstore. At some point, she’d introduce herself to Keri Teague, the resident baker of Blue Falls, and hope Keri didn’t see her as an adversary. But though the bakery still appeared to be open, Lauren didn’t feel up to it tonight.

      As she eyed a lovely western-themed living room set in the window of a furniture store, the sound of music drew her attention. She followed it to what turned out to be the Blue Falls Music Hall. A man in cowboy attire opened the door for a woman, allowing the sound of a band playing to rush out into the early evening. She found herself walking toward the entrance. After all, if she was going to be a local business owner, she should support the other businesses in town. Maybe it would help pave the way into the fabric of the town, toward acceptance, considering she was an outsider.

      She knew how small towns worked. While she had a recognizable name that could bring in additional tourists, some locals might see her as unfair competition. Her goal was to assure everyone she wanted to create a mutually beneficial relationship with the lifelong residents of Blue Falls. She’d only stay a few minutes then return to the inn.

      The moment she stepped into the building, Blue Falls didn’t seem so small. That or the entire population of the town had crammed inside to drink, dance and listen to music. Picturing all these people streaming into her restaurant brought a smile to her face as she made her way toward the bar. Before she reached it, however, someone asked, “Is that smile for me?” before spinning her onto the dance floor.

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