Twins For The Bull Rider. April Arrington

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СКАЧАТЬ mug. “Coffee refills are free, right?”

      The smile wavered. “Well, yes, honey.”

      Forcing a bright smile of her own, Cissy passed her the metal condiment holder. “Then I’ll take a refill and as many sugars as that’ll hold. Thanks.”

      The smile slipped. “Sure thing, honey,” the waitress murmured, lowering her eyes and carting the small container away.

      Cissy lifted her chin. Lord, she really hated that look. That sad, woeful tilt of the lips. That sappy expression of pity. She should be used to it by now. But each time she found it stung even more than the time before.

      “Aunt Cissy, look over there.” Kayden pointed at a row of candy machines by the entrance. “They got—I mean, they have—jawbreakers.”

      “No, Kayden,” she returned, rubbing a hand over her brow. “You’re about to eat supper.”

      “But they’re only twenty-five cents and you get two.” His voice continued to rise. “Me and Jayden could save ’em for tomorrow.”

      Cissy’s head throbbed, her patience thin. Oh, for goodness’ sakes. What did a quarter matter now? Digging deep into her pocket, she dragged out a quarter between pinched fingers. Kayden plucked it from her almost before air hit it.

      Moments later, the slap and bang of hands and feet on glass sounded.

      “Boys.” Cissy crouched around the side of the booth, shooting glances at the stares leveled on them. “Stop it.”

      “But it’s stuck, Aunt Cissy,” Jayden said, clenching his hands into small fists. “And it’s got our quarter.”

      Cissy sucked her teeth and slid out of the booth. She grabbed the silver knob on the candy machine and gave it a few good turns.

      “See. Told you,” Jayden stated.

      “Yeah, it’s ripping you off, Aunt Cissy.” Kayden stamped his foot.

      “It’s not ripping me off. And I’m not the one that had to have a jawbreaker anyway.”

      Truly reaching her breaking point, Cissy tightened her grip and twisted in rough jerks. The machine creaked and tilted forward on its loose pole with each of her efforts.

      “Aw, she ain’t gonna be able to do it. She’s a girl.” Kayden pouted.

      Jayden nodded, looking disappointed.

      “That’s, she will not be able to do it,” she corrected, “and I most certainly will.”

      Girl. That upped the stakes. She’d made it this far without help. Girl or not.

      She braced her foot on the skinny pole connected to the base and gave the knob a vicious tug. Nothing.

      Cissy’s throat constricted. Maybe this was the last of many signs that she should have gone back. Returned the boys.

      What had she expected? That her luck would suddenly change and things would go her way for once? She knew better than that. One thing she’d learned in her twenty-five years was to always keep expectations low. Yet, here she was thinking she could provide for the boys. That she could give them a better life than—

      No. She wouldn’t go down that road. It was out of the question. She’d made a promise to Crystal. And the only thing she had left of value was her word.

      Gritting her teeth, Cissy bent over and yanked the handle toward her as she turned. She whooped as it gave a fraction of an inch. Finally, a break.

      Petty or not, she paused to gloat. “See. I’m getting it.”

      She resumed the successful position and growled, her arms trembling under the strain. Heavy footfalls and a soft rush of wind at her upturned backside alerted her that someone approached. She pressed her foot harder into the pole and hopped forward a couple inches.

      Good manners forced her to mutter a tight, “Excuse me.”

      A deep chuckle rumbled at her back. “Need a little help, ma’am?”

      Cissy cut her eyes heavenward. Great. Just what she needed. Another testosterone-filled jerk.

      “No, thank you,” she grunted, her whole body tightening with effort.

      “Oh, let him, Aunt Cissy. He’s big. He can do it.” Jayden’s fingers tugged at her shirt, his eyes widening at the man behind her.

      Tilting her chin up to the side, she found her eyes level with a large gold buckle, flat abs and thick thighs. She ripped her gaze away only for it to cling to the broad chest stretching a black T-shirt. Her mouth had gone dry by the time she made it past the man’s chiseled jaw and sexy dimples, her attention landing on the sensual curve of his mouth. His grin widened, lifting his tanned cheeks. The dark pools of his chocolate-brown eyes sparkled.

      “No,” she choked, spinning back to her task. Tingles of awareness spread through her body, raising the tiny hairs on her arms.

      She clamped down harder on the machine. No way was she going to play into this guy’s hands. Well built, smug smile, knowing eyes... She knew the type.

      Men. The second you had a menial task of no consequence, they abounded. But the minute you got yourself truly in a pickle, they were nowhere to be found. She squeezed her eyes shut as her irresponsible cousin sprang to mind.

      Right. She could do this herself. She could do all of it. Obviously, Crystal had believed in her. It was time she began believing in herself. And the first order of business was to master this dang candy machine and get her quarter back.

      As it was, she needed every penny she had.

      * * *

      DOMINIC SLADE DRAGGED his eyes away from the shapely bottom wiggling in front of him and knuckled his Stetson higher on his brow. A quick glance to his right reminded him the majority of male eyes in the room were also getting a good look. Only truckers and vagrants peppered the diner this time of night. He took a couple of steps forward, shifting his stance to shield the blonde from their gaze.

      Not that he blamed them. He appreciated the curves of a woman as much as any other man, but he’d never ogle them in front of her kids. That was low.

      Dominic sighed as his body demanded otherwise. He’d been on the road too long. He should’ve given in two states back and taken what the pretty redhead at the bar had offered. He should’ve accepted when she’d pressed a cold bottle of beer into his hand and her breasts against his biceps.

      But he couldn’t. Not after what the last morning-after had brought. Emptiness and regret. Self-recriminations and discontent. Part of what drove him back home was that feeling of reaching for something and never quite getting a grip on it. That and the thousandth guilt trip his brother had laid on him through the phone last week.

      Brow creasing, he studied the woman as she struggled with the candy machine. Her attacks were relentless, the toned muscles in her pale arms and legs straining.

      “Ma’am,” he proffered, “why don’t you let me give it a try?”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ