The Cowboy's Triple Surprise. Barbara White Daille

school, and after meeting Tyler at the wedding, she had liked that he made her feel petite. She still liked it. His towering didn’t bother her.

      It was his nearness that left her feeling shaky. This close and at this stage in her pregnancy, her rounded stomach nearly brushed his flat abs. This close, she could see every darker fleck in his dark blue eyes, making her wonder if any of her babies would have eyes the same shade.

      She didn’t move. He didn’t, either. After a moment she realized she stood leaning back against the freezer door. The cool metal sent another shiver through her. The cold tub he held in one arm, so close to her, added to her chill.

      And still, they stood as frozen as two ice cream sandwiches.

      Finally, she tore her gaze away, breaking whatever spell had captured her, and pushed past him. It took effort for her not to run. “If you intend to help me, you can put that tub in the freezer case up front.”

      As he followed, she heard his boots on the tile floor behind her. She should have heard him in the ballroom yesterday and here in the workroom a few minutes ago. But, no, both times she had been so wrapped up in thoughts of him, she hadn’t noticed his approach. Not good at all when she needed to stay in control any time she was near him.

      She had lost control with him once, and look what had happened.

      At the freezer case, he slid the tub into the empty space. To her relief, he then walked back around to the front of the counter.

      Through the plate glass of the front window, she saw a family walking up to the shop. Her heart tripped a beat, whether from anxiety or elation, she wasn’t sure.

      “You can’t stay here,” she hissed.

      “Why not? It’s a store.”

      “But we can’t talk here. Or now.” Behind him, the door opened. She waved to the Walcotts and their two kids. The family went to their favorite table near the front of the store, and she glanced up at Tyler again. “Please go,” she murmured.

      “You’ll talk to me when you get off work.”

      He hadn’t made it a question. “Yes,” she said between clenched teeth.

      “What time do you finish up?”

      She could tell him a lie. Give him a later time. Or, if the shop stayed as quiet as it was at the moment, she could tell him the truth, then rush through closing and leave before he returned.

      Anything to avoid the conversation she didn’t want to have.

      He must feel as uneasy as she did about their impending talk, or why wouldn’t he just have blurted out the crucial question and been done with it?

      As wonderful as all her options for evading him sounded, she knew she couldn’t be that devious. She sighed and admitted, “I’ll be done in a couple of hours.” At least that would give her time to collect her thoughts and plan exactly what she would say.

      “All right, then,” he agreed.

      Relieved, she sagged against the counter.

      “I’ll just stick around,” he added.

      “But... I’m working.”

      “We covered that. And I’ve got nowhere to go except back to the Hitching Post. No sense in my driving all the way out there just to turn around and come back. Give me a triple dip of that butter pecan.”

      When she hesitated, he shot a glance toward the front table, where the Walcotts were still deciding on their own order.

      He faced her again and leaned across the counter, bending down so close she could feel his breath against her cheek as he spoke quietly into her ear. “The Garlands corralled you at the Hitching Post yesterday. Then you ran off from the banquet room and never came back. And now, thanks to your customers, you’ve been saved by the bell. In case you weren’t counting, that’s three strikes for me. Do you seriously think I’m going to walk off and let you make yet another escape?”