Gabriel raised his brows. “Expecting a deep freeze?”
Dane sighed. “It’s just not peaceful and quiet there like I imagined it would be. Like you have here. I thought I’d be out at Pop’s alone, at least until you or Pete or Jack showed up.”
“I got my million dollars,” Gabriel confessed. “I won’t be coming, bro. You’re on your own at the Morgan ranch with your trio of singing females.”
Dane stared at him. “When did that happen?”
“Dad gave me my money before he went back to France.”
“Because you sold out,” Dane whispered, with a careful glance at Laura. “Wedding bells coaxed Pop to give in on the part about you having to live at the ranch for one year to get your money?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Nope. He just felt that I’d proven myself.”
“Proven yourself?” Dane glanced around the small, clean home. “You’re living in pretty tall cotton, Gabriel. Can’t see that your life is all that hard.”
Gabriel shook his head. “You don’t get it.”
Dane didn’t think it was fair that Gabriel had been let off the hook. “Sucking up to Pop shouldn’t be part of the deal.”
“Why?” Gabriel looked at him. “All Dad wants is family harmony.”
“And grandchildren!” Dane tried to sound horrified and maybe even accusative—Gabriel had definitely sold out, the weasel—but looking at Laura’s gently rounded stomach made it a bit hard to be completely indignant.
The fact was, Gabriel had done what Dane, Pete and Jack didn’t want to do. Jack would never make up with Pop, not after Pop kicked him out for luring his too-young brothers to the rodeo all those years ago. Dane and Pete still harbored enough bad feelings to fill a valley. Still, he couldn’t fault Gabriel. “Never mind,” Dane said, morosely finishing off his cookies. “The baby always has it the easiest.”
He brushed off the crumbs and stood to leave. Laura handed him a lace napkin full of cookies to take with him. He headed to the door, glanced around at Gabriel and his family and the life he’d chosen. Then he tipped his hat to Laura, kissed both the children, thanked them for sharing their delicious cookies, and braced himself for the cold outside.
It was nothing, he knew, like the cold he was going to get at the ranch. He only had three hundred sixty-four more days to go. It wasn’t a lifetime, something he’d already felt he’d lived.
He’d retired from the Texas Rangers following years of service. After enlisting in the military—just to get away from Pop—Dane had gotten his college degree, then moved on. He went into the police academy, becoming a top recruit. With his competitive nature, he’d pushed himself hard enough to make it into the Rangers.
And then, at twenty-eight, he’d burned out. He’d seen the worst in people while on the job, but always felt he had his friends to fall back on, no matter what. The final straw was his best friend talking him out of his life savings. Dane realized he wasn’t as much of a tough guy as he thought he was, and began to doubt his ability to see the good in people.
Suzy seemed good, but she sure had dug her way into an old man’s life with ease. Pop was supposed to be a tough guy, too.
Maybe Morgans were just easy marks for a sad story. He’d find out in the next year of hell with the rulemaking Miss Winterstone.
He got into his truck, carefully placing the cookies on the seat next to his so they wouldn’t break. On the other hand, there was something to be said for sucking up, he decided. Yet, he wasn’t sure he could survive three hundred sixty-four more days in a house with a woman he’d kissed, since he frequently found himself wondering about kissing her again.
He’d always been a bit of a rebel, something that irked Pop no end. The practically neon sign the little mother was wearing that said No Trespassing made him definitely want to jump the fence.
But knowing Pop would be rewarded for his manipulative ways, Dane vowed to give up trespassing, at least where Suzy was concerned. He’d refused to even look at the babies this morning—he knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could get sucked into a life just like Gabriel’s.
It was all about the children, and Dane understood the game.
SUZY PUT HER TWO TODDLERS down for a nap, then lay beside them, rubbing their backs as they snuggled into the bed comforter. She’d chosen the large back bedroom for herself and the children. It was big enough for them to sleep in the same room with her. That way, if she needed to get up in the night to check on them, she wouldn’t risk running into Mr. Loves-the-Dark Ranger. She didn’t trust him, not one bit. He’d probably jump out and grab her again just for the pleasure of hearing her yelp. And he’d made it obvious this morning that he didn’t want her there—he hadn’t spoken a word to her. Not even a polite good morning. So she’d sung to keep the frosty awkwardness in check.
“Fine by me,” she told the girls. “It’s better when he’s not around being pigheaded.”
The babies slept on without heeding her comment. She’d named the eighteen-month-old girls Nicole and Sandra after her mother. For the hundredth time, she thought about calling her mother, then decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her mother, who lived in Fort Wylie, had told Suzy in no uncertain terms that being pregnant and unmarried was a disgrace. Her mother and father were scions of Fort Wylie and reputation mattered to them. Appearances were important.
Suzy’s appearance was one of loose living, her mother had said, and they hadn’t spoken since. She’d never visited the hospital to see the newborns. It killed Suzy, broke her heart, but it was her mother’s right to feel as she did. “I wasn’t delighted when your father packed up, either,” she murmured to her daughters. “I didn’t foresee Frank being so afraid of responsibility.”
He’d liked her well enough for her family’s money—but when he’d realized that the Winterstones were, well, wintry about their new grandchildren, cutting off even Suzy’s trust fund she would have received at age thirty, well, Frank had disappeared like a puff of dust under a vacuum cleaner.
“Speaking of vacuums,” she said, closing her eyes, “just as soon as we finish our beauty rest, girls, we need to lug that monstrous canister up here and vacuum all the rooms thoroughly. Don’t think it’s been done in thirty years.”
She hadn’t planned on napping, but the wind was howling outside, the snow sugaring the ground, and at the moment, she felt so blessed lying on the bed with her children that she drifted off to sleep.
DANE WALKED IN WITH A LOAD of firewood, and remembering Suzy’s caution about dirtying up the floors, swept off the snow and ice as best he could from the logs and his boots. Last thing he wanted was a further discourse on his cleanliness. He carried the wood upstairs. There were two fireplaces up, plus two downstairs. He’d take care of the upper level fireplaces first, particularly in his room. It was a great night for a nice, cozy fire in the hearth in Pop’s bedroom, which he had decided to commandeer for himself as the only son in residence.
He deserved some of the finer things in life. One, for living in this godforsaken backwater and, two, for having Suzy and her tiny crew cast upon him.
At the door of the bedroom, he stopped in his tracks. On his bed lay Suzy, her two little angels sleeping soundly beside her. Well, they weren’t angels, they were more like time bombs, he reminded himself, backing into the hallway. Set to explode his world, drawing him in with their cherubic faces. Tingles ran over his arms. He allowed himself to give Suzy a thorough, yet lightning-fast once-over, avoiding the pink-wrapped dolls beside her.
“Holy smokes, that was close.” He went down the hall, placed the firewood in the stacker in the smaller bedroom. What the hell was she doing in his room? On his bed? She couldn’t stay there, that was for certain. Somehow he was going to have to explain to her