The Cowboy's Texas Twins

A DOUBLE SURPRISE...

Rodeo cowboy Grayson Cox had no intention of returning home to Cupid’s Bow, Texas. His troubled past was something best left behind. But when he suddenly finds himself serving as guardian to twin godsons, Grayson knows he’s in way too deep to stay away.

Thankfully, not everyone in Cupid’s Bow holds a grudge. Librarian Hadley Lanier remembers Grayson’s rebellious youth, but she also sees how good he is with the twins—and she definitely likes what she sees. It feels like a perfect match, until Hadley receives a career opportunity she’s long dreamed of, leaving her with a tough decision. But how can she choose between something she’s always wanted and the man she’s discovering she can’t live without?

TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle-school algebra class (which probably explains her maths grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

Also available by Tanya Michaels

Falling for the Sheriff

Falling for the Rancher

The Christmas Triplets

The Cowboy Upstairs

Claimed by a Cowboy

Tamed by a Texan

Rescued by a Ranger

Her Secret, His Baby

Second Chance Christmas

Her Cowboy Hero

Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information

The Cowboy’s Texas Twins

Tanya Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07732-3

THE COWBOY’S TEXAS TWINS

© 2018 Tanya Michna

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Thank you,

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

Chapter One

When Grayson Cox left town at eighteen, he’d sworn hell would freeze over before he ever moved back. Now, ten years later, his stomach clenched as the truck’s headlights hit the Welcome to Cupid’s Bow sign. Hope the Devil likes ice skating.

Grayson still couldn’t believe he was taking Aunt Vi up on her offer, but he had a damn good reason. His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, and he checked on the passengers behind him. Make that two good reasons. His godsons, twin five-year-olds, were asleep in their booster seats, each leaning toward the other, so close their blond heads were almost touching. The two and a half weeks since their parents’ funeral had been full of upheaval—tears, bad dreams, acting out; this rare moment of peace reminded Grayson of the morning they’d been christened, cherubic infants who hadn’t even cried when the priest poured the water.

Blaine had heckled him before the ceremony for getting the twins confused in their matching christening gowns. “What kind of loser can’t tell his own godsons apart?”

Grayson had responded with the same mock-derision. “What kind of loser picks a bull-riding rodeo bum as a godfather? Don’t you know any respectable people?”

At that, Blaine had squeezed his arm. “A few, but they ain’t family.”

Neither were Blaine and Grayson—not technically. But they’d been as close as brothers, and Grayson had doted on Miranda, his honorary sister-in-law.

I can’t believe they’re gone. He swallowed hard, fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Grayson was no stranger to tragedy—he’d been orphaned at fifteen—but even he had trouble processing a twist of fate this cruel. His own father wrapping a car around a tree in a drunken stupor had probably been inevitable. But Blaine and Miranda Stowe had been big-hearted, wonderful people enjoying their first romantic vacation since the boys were born when their charter plane crashed in Mexico. As a guardian, Grayson would never be able to fill their shoes, but he would try his hardest to do right by the twins.

Which meant finding a better place to live than the one-bedroom trailer he’d used as a home base between rodeo competitions and seasonal ranch jobs. He also needed to find a stable income—and someone to help watch the boys while he was earning said income. Aunt Vi to the rescue. Again.

As he crossed the cattle guard that was a holdover from years past, when his late grandfather kept a few cows on the small farm, déjà vu gripped him. He remembered pulling in to this same yard with Aunt Vi after his father’s funeral, her assurances that he’d get used to his new home. She was younger than I am now. There were only nine years between him and his mother’s younger sister. Violet Duncan must have been terrified at the prospect of taking in an angry teenager, but she’d never shown it. Until he’d met Blaine at a rodeo outside of Waco, Vi had been the only person in his life he’d ever been able to count on.

And how did I thank her?

He tamped down the rush of guilt. He had other things to worry about now besides not coming home for holidays or a truckload of teenage misdeeds he hoped she’d never learned about.

There was a carport to the side of the white one-story house, but the space next to Vi’s car was taken up by a large doghouse. So Grayson parked on the grass. He barely had the key out of the ignition before porch lights came on and the front door swung open. Violet hurried out of the house with a mismatched pack at her heels—three dogs of varying size and color. When he’d lived here, it had been cats—a calico named Xena and a deaf white cat named Baby Blue. Aunt Vi took in strays of all species. When she’d come to cheer him on at a rodeo championship a few years ago, she’d told him about a seventeen-year-old girl who’d stayed for a month while her parents screamed through the worst of their divorce.

Grayson couldn’t predict what the boys would think of Cupid’s Bow or the kindergarten class they’d be attending once he got them enrolled, but they were sure to love the big-hearted redhead who baked some of the best desserts in the state.

He swung open his truck door and hopped down to hug her. “Sorry it’s so late.” He’d decided that the drive would be easier after dinner, when the boys were likely to fall asleep instead of getting bored, fretting about the relocation or bickering with each other. “You didn’t have to wait up for us.”

“Pffft. I’m a night owl anyway. You know that.” She kept her voice low as she glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping twins in the cab.

He chuckled. “If the three barking dogs aren’t waking them up, I don’t think you have to whisper.”

Ignoring his teasing, she reached for the truck door. “I’ll get the little guy on this side, if you want to go around to the other.”

“I can carry both of them.” Honestly, he’d lifted saddles that were heavier than the twins put together.

She balled her fists on her hips. “I’m not even forty, Gray. Hardly frail.”

“No, ma’am. I just meant, they’re so scrawny.” Some of that was inherited body type—Blaine was tough but wiry, Miranda was slim—but Grayson worried. “I think Sam’s losing weight. I can barely get him to eat.”

The light spilling from the truck was enough for him to see the sympathy in Vi’s expression. “Just give him time. And maybe some of my peach cream-cheese pie. It was your favorite, remember?”

“I remember.” In the months before his father’s fatal car accident, Violet had frequently dropped by the house with baked goods. As an adolescent with a bottomless appetite, Grayson had thought she was just being nice. Looking back, he suspected the visits were her way of checking up on him—and on Bryant Cox’s drinking.

In a way, Grayson’s father had abandoned him just as his mother had years earlier. Except, Rachel Cox had left in one fell swoop, disappearing entirely from Grayson’s life and never looking back. Bryant had deserted him drop by drop, glass by glass. Lord, let me do better by these boys than my parents did by me.

Luckily, it wasn’t a very high bar to clear.

Once the twins were unbuckled, he and Vi each took one, falling in step as they approached the house.

“The four of us should go to the grocery store tomorrow afternoon,” she proposed. “Let the boys show us their favorite foods, and I can plan some cooking projects. Kids are more likely to eat something they feel invested in.”

“Sounds good.” Even better, it sounded simple. The last few weeks had been so overwhelming. Deciding which belongings to bring with the boys and which to leave in storage. Gathering all the records needed to transfer them to Cupid’s Bow Elementary. Creating a to-do list of new parenting tasks. He needed to memorize their allergies, find a pediatrician, consider whether they would benefit from grief therapy. In comparison, picking up dinner ingredients at the supermarket was so easy, he felt light-headed with relief.

Vi had left the front door standing open when she came out to greet him. The smallest of her canine pack dashed past Grayson on the porch stairs, nearly tripping him. As he steadied himself, Vi made an apologetic noise behind him.

“Sorry, should have warned you. I give the dogs treats when we’re all in for the night, and Shep gets a little greedy for hers.”

“No harm done. I’ve got to start doing better about watching where I walk anyway. I stepped barefoot on one of the boys’ Legos last week and thought I was going to cry. Those suckers hurt.”

Inside the house, she told him, “I’m putting the boys in your old room and you can sleep on the twin bed in my office. Is that okay for tonight? We can figure out different arrangements if—”

“Vi, you’re doing us the favor,” he reminded her. “You could put me in the doghouse and I wouldn’t complain.” Considering a few of the cheaper motels during his early days on the rodeo circuit, the doghouse would not be the worst accommodations he’d ever experienced.

The bed in Grayson’s former room was a queen-size, with plenty of space for two little boys to share it without bumping into each other or accidentally pushing each other off the mattress. But the second Sam and Tyler were tucked under the sheets, they rolled toward each other, as if seeking comfort.

Gray reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “I’ll get some night-lights, but can we leave this on for now? Tyler’s a tough little dude during the day, but he hates the dark. The last thing I’d want is for him to wake up scared in an unfamiliar place.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should have timed the drive differently, so that we arrived during the day and they’d have a few hours to acclimate.”

“Don’t second-guess yourself. If they’d spent the afternoon in the new place, they might have been too anxious or excited to fall asleep. You’ll be right next door if they need you tonight. In the meantime, they look like they’re getting much-needed rest. What about you? When was the last time you got eight hours?”

His laugh was hollow. Over the past decade, he’d trained himself to sleep anywhere, from noisy hotels with thin walls to the ground on occasional cattle drives. But the last decent night’s sleep he’d had was before the phone call about Blaine and Miranda.

“I keep a bottle of emergency whiskey over the fridge,” she said. “Think a slug of that would help you sleep?”

“I don’t touch alcohol.”

“Understandable. Hot tea, then? I’m going to have some lemon balm. Valerian is relaxing, too.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Thanks, but I’m not really a hot-tea kind of guy. All I need is a glass of water and...maybe a cookie?”

“I baked a fresh batch of oatmeal cranberry last night.”

They made their way to the kitchen, where the smallest dog—a mixed breed with the coloring of an Australian shepherd but the implausibly short legs of a dachshund or corgi—was impatiently turning circles by the counter, whimpering for her nightly treat.

“That’s Shep,” Vi said. “The one-eyed beauty behind you is Tiff and the golden doodle who grew a lot bigger than his former owner’s expectations is Buster.”

“You and your strays.” Thank God she was so willing to open her doors to anything that needed refuge. I hope the boys like animals. “You must have the biggest heart in Texas.”

She looked away, her expression troubled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve had my share of selfish moments, made my share of mistakes. In fact...”

He reached for the Holstein-patterned cookie jar, so delighted to be back in this kitchen that it took him a moment to realize she trailed off. He might hate the surrounding town—the place where everyone knew his mom hadn’t wanted him, where classmates bullied him until his freshman growth spurt, where his dad’s drinking was public knowledge—but all of that mattered a little less at Violet’s kitchen table. “You were saying?” he asked as he pulled out three cookies.

“Never mind. You’ve already had a long day. Plenty of time for us to talk later.” She stuck her head in the pantry and emerged with a box of tea bags. “It’s so weird. Sometimes when I look in your direction, I still expect to see a dark-haired kid with two front teeth missing, not a six-foot cowboy.”

“Whereas you never age,” he said fondly. “If hot tea is your secret, maybe I should rethink turning it down.”

“Pffft. The laugh lines are increasing, the red in the hair is fading and working at home has destroyed any sense of fashion I may have once possessed.” She held her arms wide, showing off the ancient University of Texas shirt she wore with purple plaid pajama shorts.

“You’re gorgeous. You look like that actress...” He snapped his fingers. “Jessica Chastain.”

“Uh-huh. Spoken like a guy sucking up to get baked goods.”

Grinning, he bit a cookie in half. “Mmm. It’s been too long since I had these.”

“Maybe you should have visited more.”

Shame flooded him. He’d sent her tickets to watch him in the rodeo and had even convinced her to spend a sandy Christmas at a beach resort with him, but he knew his unwillingness to come to Cupid’s Bow had stung her. She’d deserved better. At eighteen, he’d been so hell-bent on leaving that he’d gone the day after his last high-school exam, depriving her of even watching him walk across the stage a week later to get his diploma. “Vi, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. I was teasing, and I shouldn’t have. You have a lot on your plate right now and don’t need me guilt-tripping you. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry. You must feel taken for granted, with me staying away until I needed a huge favor.”

“The favor was my idea,” she reminded him. “And I’m happy to help. That’s what families do.”

Theoretically. His mother had apparently missed that memo. At least I have an aunt who loves me. Blaine, who’d grown up in the foster-care system, had been less lucky.

“I am beyond grateful. And I promise, I won’t take advantage of the situation, leaving all the parenting to you. These boys are my responsibility. I won’t be a slacker guardian, but day cares are expensive, and it could be up to a month before the life-insurance money comes.” More than a babysitter, though, what he really needed was a second opinion. Last summer, Blaine had accepted a promotion that moved his family to Oklahoma so it had been nearly a year since the boys had seen Grayson. He must seem like a stranger to them, and he had no idea what he was doing.

Self-doubt scraped him raw. “Every decision I make feels like a trap. Honest to God, Vi, I’ve had broken ribs that hurt less than the worry I’ll somehow make this worse for them.”

“I felt the same way. I think everyone questions their ability to raise kids—biological parents, adoptive parents, experienced parents who already know the ropes. But you can do this. Imagine it like bronc riding. It won’t be easy, but you hold on and hope for the best.”

And pray you survive.

Chapter Two

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

Hadley Lanier glanced up from the computer, where she’d been entering a request for a book transfer from one of the county’s sister libraries. “Hey, Becca.” She grinned at the strawberry blonde. “Or should I say Madame Mayor?” Even with all the months that had passed since her friend had been sworn in, Hadley was still thrilled. Becca was terrific for Cupid’s Bow, a natural leader. And, on a more selfish note, Hadley had helped with the campaign, so she considered herself a tiny part of the victory. “What quiet ones are you talking about?”

“You.” Becca set a stack of books on the library counter, the top one a thriller with blood-red letters across the cover. “Of the nine women in our book club, you’re the Quiet One, but—”

“I am?” Hadley was shy as a kid but hadn’t thought of herself that way in years. Straight A’s in school had bolstered her confidence, but the real breakthrough had been on the softball field, with a crowd cheering her on from the bleachers. A pang of nostalgia went through her, and she absently rubbed her shoulder.

Becca frowned. “Well, yeah. But maybe that’s just in comparison to the rest of us because we’re such loudmouths. You know how Sierra is, and I’ve been bossy since birth. So you come across as the sweet, quiet one. But I just finished the book you picked for tomorrow, and, quiet or not, you have a dark side.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“It was well-written—very well-written—but a little disturbing. I may have to check beneath the bed before I can sleep tonight.”

“I would have thought a big strong cowboy like Sawyer in the house makes you feel extra safe,” Hadley teased.

Becca’s mouth curved in a soft smile at the mention of her fiancé. “There are definitely perks to having him around. But when book club rotates back to you to pick our selection, maybe something without a serial killer next time?”

“Deal.” Hadley liked to alternate between her two favorite genres, anyway—creepy suspense novels that made her heart race and romances that made her heart race for different reasons. Bookworm cardio.

They chatted for a few more minutes about what snacks they were each bringing to book club tomorrow and about their friend Sierra, who was getting married in June. Both Becca and Hadley were in the bridal party. Then Becca’s little boy, Marc, approached the counter with his selections from the children’s library.

After Hadley checked out their books and waved goodbye, she glanced at the clock. Closing time. On Sunday, the Cupid’s Bow Public Library was only open from one to five. This was her shortest workday of the week, and it had gone by fast. There’d been a steady flow of students needing resources for projects due after spring break and citizens wanting to use the free internet. She gently reminded the two people still on computers that it was time to go, then went through her end-of-the-day ritual of shutting everything down and making sure the restrooms were empty.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the double glass doors at the library’s main entrance, faltering at the flock of large black crows that dotted the lawn. They were all facing the library, as if they’d been waiting for her.

This is why you shouldn’t read scary books, dummy. They only spur your overactive imagination.

Real life frequently made her think of some story she’d read. When she’d been eight and walked out of a store to encounter two ladies dressed in antique gowns and bustles, she’d believed for a full second that she’d time-traveled. But, no, the women had been handing out flyers for a historic reenactment. Well, you’re not eight, anymore, she reminded herself as she rubbed away the goose bumps on her arm. You’re a mature, rational twenty-seven.

In her defense, the sky was overcast, uncharacteristically dark for this time of day, which could give anyone a sense of foreboding. Deciding that a friendly voice would be a good distraction, she pulled out her cell phone as she crossed the deserted lot.

Her older sister, Leanne, answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you!”

“Something good?”

Leanne snorted. “I was mentally cussing you out for talking me in to night classes. Why did I think I could go back to school after all these years? I’m not as smart as you.”

“You’re plenty smart! You were just...easily distracted in high school.”

“Boy-crazy, you mean.”

Not everyone would catch the edge of regret in her offhand tone, but Hadley knew her sister well, knew there were decisions she wished she could take back. “I only pushed you to go back because I know you can do it.”

“I hope you’re right. Studying for this bio exam is kicking my butt.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner in about an hour?” Climbing into her car, Hadley reached for the seat belt with her free hand. “I’m leaving work now. I’ll stop at the store, grab something easy to cook and help you study.”

“That sounds great—as long as we can eat something besides barbecue.” Five nights a week, Leanne waitressed at the most popular barbecue place in the county. The Smoky Pig regularly graced tourism lists of top Texas barbecue restaurants, and it stayed busy.

“Hmm...now that you mention it,” Hadley joked, “barbecue sounds pretty tasty.”

“I’m hanging up on you, brat.”

“See you in an hour.”

It only took Hadley ten minutes to reach the grocery store, but by the time she parked, the heavy clouds were accompanied by a brisk wind and rumbles of thunder. No lightning yet, but there was an almost tangible electric charge to the air. It rushed over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She doubled her pace, hoping to get in and out of the supermarket before the storm broke. Grabbing a cart, she formulated a mental shopping list. Pasta with shrimp was quick and simple, and she could round out the meal with a salad. As she made her way toward the seafood counter at the back of the store, a crash reverberated. Not thunder this time, but something closer and more difficult to identify. Had it come from the next aisle?

She heard the scolding murmur of a man’s deep voice, followed by a high-pitched wail. Then a little boy yelled, “You made my brother cry!”

“Sam, I didn’t—Tyler, don’t...” The man’s voice was slightly panicky as he tried to shush the unhappy children. “Boys, please!”

His ragged tone made Hadley want to help. Besides, she didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and she was unabashedly curious. Her mother used to say it was a toss-up as to what would get Hadley into more trouble—her overactive imagination or her need to investigate situations that were none of her business. Momentarily abandoning her cart, she peeked around the corner at the cereal aisle.

Boxes were everywhere. Among the cardboard wreckage, one boy sobbed facedown on the floor while another sat a few feet away, making similar noises. Yet his eyes were suspiciously dry, as if he wasn’t so much crying as expressing solidarity. It took her a second to realize the boys were identical. Meanwhile, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man was trying to placate them while simultaneously righting the freestanding display that had been toppled.

She cleared her throat softly. “Need a hand?”

The man whipped his head toward her, almost guiltily, and she got her first clear look at him. Hair so dark it was almost black was brushed upward from his forehead. The short style emphasized the masculine beauty of his square, stubbled face; granite was softer than that jawline. “Sorry about the disturbance, ma’am.”

Flashing him a reassuring smile, she kneeled to retrieve a dented box of cornflakes. “This hardly qualifies as a disturbance. You should see the library on story day when half the preschool audience needs a nap.”

He gave her an answering grin, and dimples appeared. Oh, mercy! His muscular body had been impressive even before he turned around, but now that he was smiling and his eyes shone with—

“What the heck happened here?”

Hadley glanced past Dimples to find a bewildered Violet Duncan, holding a bag from the pharmacy while she gaped at the sobbing boys and scattered boxes. Violet was a web designer who volunteered her skills to keep the library’s online community calendar updated.

The horizontal twin lifted his tearstained face and responded, “It w-w-was a accident!”

“Grayson yelled at Sam!” the other twin accused.

Grayson...

Good Lord. Dimples was Grayson Cox? Hadley hadn’t recognized her former classmate. She knew he was Violet’s nephew, of course, but she’d been under the impression that his visits to Cupid’s Bow were as rare as unicorns. Was he in town for their high school’s ten-year reunion next Saturday? And who were these little boys? With their brown eyes, she might have guessed they were his except the kid had called him Grayson, not Dad.

“I did not yell!” Grayson defended himself. “I told him to stop running, which he didn’t, and then I pointed out the consequences of not listening.” He gestured at the mess around them.

Violet scooped up Sam and set him in the shopping cart. The action startled the boy out of his crying.

“I’m too big to ride in the cart,” he protested.

“You’re also too big to throw temper tantrums in the grocery store,” Violet said mildly. “If I let you walk, will you quiet down?”

With one last dramatic sniffle, Sam nodded.

“Good. If you and your brother will behave, you can come help me pick out something for dessert tonight.” With a sigh, she turned to Grayson. “You want to finish restoring order here and meet us in the baking aisle?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his gaze, looking as boyishly chagrined as young Sam.

When Hadley chuckled at his expression, all eyes turned to her.

Violet gave her a wan smile, acknowledging her as she shepherded the boys away. “Hey, Hadley.”

“Hadley?” Grayson echoed, turning back toward her. He blinked. “Hadley the Cannon?”

“No.” The quick denial felt like a protective gesture, warding off the once beloved nickname. “I mean, no one calls me that.” Not since she was seventeen.

“But you are Hadley Lanier?” He studied her from top to bottom, the intensity in his gaze making her shiver. Like her, Grayson had brown eyes, but his were a few shades lighter, nearly the color of her dad’s favorite bourbon, ringed in a circle of darker brown that made his eyes unforgettable. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him sooner—or that she had yet to look away. Quit staring. Easier said than done.

Outside, she’d felt the prickle of storm-charged electricity against her skin, but that was nothing compared to the sizzle that went through her now. “I, uh... What was the question? Oh!” Her cheeks burned. “Yes. I’m Hadley.”

His hand clenched around a cereal box as he scowled at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”