Her Secret Twins. Janette Foreman

       Chapter One

      That familiar Ford pickup rumbling up the long drive could only mean one thing.

      Grant Young had arrived.

      Lifting her hands from the sudsy dishwater, Kallie Shore braced herself against the kitchen counter as the rusty blue truck came closer and closer. Was she ready for this? Nearly two years ago, she had stood in this exact spot, watching through the flowery curtains as this pickup’s taillights left her South Dakota farm for what she thought had been the last time.

      Now he’d returned. Not because he wanted to—she was certain of that. But because he was summoned by the tragedy that would change both of their lives forever.

      Wiping her hands on a towel, she dropped her gaze to the envelope on the counter. At their last meeting, the attorney had given it to her while they had discussed the contents of Dad’s will. Inside the envelope was a typed note, composed at the end of Dad’s life when he had lost the use of his hands. It was his final wish to her, his only child, and it made her ache for him every time she recalled it. I love you, Kallie Bug. Carry on a better family legacy for the kids than I left behind for you.

      His opinion of himself was skewed, of course. Frank Shore had left her a wonderful legacy. He had been a gentle and hardworking man, who’d loved his farm and had loved his bird dogs. And most important, he had loved her and her thirteen-month-old twins, Ainsley and Peter.

      She would do her very best to leave behind a legacy for her kids that Dad would’ve been proud of—caring for this spread of land until her dying days, then leaving it to the kids. It’s what he would have wanted.

      A low growl sounded beside her. “Shh, it’s okay, Ruby.” Kallie reached down to rub her hand over her Llewellin’s silky orange ears. “It’s only Grant.”

      Except he wasn’t only Grant. He was her ex-fiancé. Dad’s best former employee. Father to her children.

      And unfortunately for Kallie, Dad had willed him half of Bitter Creek Farm.

      “He is not coming for us, Ruby. The sooner we remember that, the better,” Kallie whispered. “He’s only here to make arrangements for his half of our stuff.” Whatever he had meant by arrangements over the phone, she didn’t know. “Hopefully this meeting is quick and painless.”

      Ruby regarded Kallie with her coppery-brown eyes as if she didn’t believe a word Kallie said.

      “Truth be told, girl, I don’t believe me, either. Now that he’s here, we have way too much history to unravel and sift through.”

      Including the kids she’d never told him about.

      Taking in a deep breath, Kallie stepped through the screen door off the kitchen, Ruby on her heels. For this first meeting, Kallie had sent the kids to spend the afternoon and early evening with her friend Rachel in the town of Bitter Creek, a twenty-minute drive from the farm. It was best this way, Kallie reasoned. She needed to find the right time to tell Grant about them—and, truthfully, a part of her didn’t know if she should. Dad had introduced Grant to her as his employee, and they’d hit it off immediately. Fell into a whirlwind romance like nothing she’d ever experienced.

      But after one passionate night where they’d gone too far, Grant had left. He’d confessed he wasn’t ready for commitment or for life on the farm.

      His leaving had felt like betrayal. Like he’d never loved her like she’d loved him.

      Kallie descended the porch steps, a breath of summer wind warm on her skin. Maybe she’d only loved him with the excitement of young love. If she had been realistic at the time, maybe she would’ve realized it never would have worked. He didn’t want kids, and his wanderlust would have driven him crazy if he’d lived here—the place that had captured her, heart and soul.

      But honestly, what scared her most was the possibility of rejection. What if she told him about the kids and he only rejected them like he had her? Then would it have been better if they’d never met him at all?

      The pickup rolled to a stop in the front yard and the driver’s-side door opened. She faltered as her foot met gravel, and she clutched the railing.

      A boot and pant leg showed beneath the pickup’s door, and then a second boot and leg. Grant stepped into view and Kallie’s eyes traced the length of him. Faded denim knees. Trim waist and a button-up Western shirt. Lean muscular arms beneath sleeves rolled to the elbows. Short