Braden leaned toward her.
The very moment he touched her skin, her breath caught and her heart fluttered to a stop.
As her pulse scrambled to make up for the lost beat, Elena couldn’t take her eyes off him. Why was that? You’d think she didn’t trust him, but the truth was, right this very minute, she didn’t trust herself.
She ran her tongue around her lips, hoping to lick off whatever sweet, sticky mess she’d left there. Yet, as she did, their gazes zeroed in on each other once again, and her hormones spiked. A jillion silent words seemed to swirl around them, yet neither of them uttered a single one out loud.
This was so not good. Not good at all.
Could she last the three weeks?
* * *
Brighton Valley Cowboys: This Texas family is looking for love in all the right places!
The Cowboy’s
Double Trouble
Judy Duarte
Since 2002, USA TODAY bestselling author JUDY DUARTE has written over forty books for Mills & Boon Cherish, earned two RITA® Award nominations, won two Maggie® Awards and received a National Readers’ Choice Award. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she enjoys traveling with her husband and spending quality time with her grandchildren. You can learn more about Judy and her books at her website, www.judyduarte.com, or at Facebook.com/judyduartenovelist.
To my critique partners, Crystal Green and Sheri WhiteFeather. Can you believe we’re celebrating our twentieth anniversary this year?
I have no idea where I’d be without you, your story skills—or, more importantly, your friendship.
I love you, guys!
Contents
A snarl, a hiss and a cat’s frantic “meeee-owww” shattered the silence in the barn.
Braden Rayburn turned away from the stall of the broodmare that was ready to foal and spotted six-year-old Alberto climbing up the wooden ladder to the hayloft while juggling a squirming orange tabby in his arms. The boy had found the small stray earlier this morning, but clearly, the cat wasn’t up for an adventure.
“No!” Braden called out, hoping to stop an accident ready to happen before any blood could be spilled. “Alberto! Put it down.”
The small boy turned at the sound of his name and froze on the third rung, but he continued to hold the cat. He undoubtedly understood the word no, but that was it.
Alberto—or “Beto,” as his twin sister called him—didn’t speak English. And Braden’s Spanish was limited to a few words, mostly isolated nouns.
“Put the...” Braden blew out a ragged sigh and tried to remember how to say cat in Spanish. “Put the gato down. It’s going to scratch the living daylights out of you.” From the tone of his voice, his frustration was coming through loud and clear.
Fortunately, Beto seemed to finally understand and climbed down. Still he held the poor critter that didn’t appear to be the least bit relieved by their descent, so a bite or a scratch was imminent.
“Let the gato go.” Braden used his hands in his own form of sign language and motioned as he added, “Down.”
Reluctantly, the boy released the cat. But the frown on his face indicated he wasn’t happy about doing so.
“Where’s your sister?” Braden asked. Then, attempting to bridge the language barrier, he added, “Bela? Dónde?”
The boy pointed to the corner of the barn, where his twin sat, holding a black cat, undoubtedly the tabby’s littermate.
What was wrong with people who dropped off their unwanted animals near a ranch, assuming the owner would be grateful to take in another critter to feed?
Having grown up on this horse ranch near Brighton Valley, Braden was all too familiar with what ranchers like him and his late grandpa had to put up with.
Ironically, he thought about the twins and how they’d ended up with him, and he slowly shook his head. Not that he couldn’t afford them or didn’t care about their emotional well-being, but he was completely out of his league when it came to dealing with young children, especially when there was a serious communication problem. But then again, the twins had been raised in Mexico, so the language barrier was to be expected.
He glanced at the boy and girl, who were now sitting together with the stray cats and jabbering a mile a minute, although Braden had no idea what they were saying. He wished he did, though. And that he could talk to them, explain how sorry he was that their parents had died.
Three months ago, Braden hadn’t known they’d been living in a Mexican orphanage—or that they’d even existed. But once he and his half siblings had found