A Cowboy For The Twins. Carolyne Aarsen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ though. Heard things were slowing down.” Then, before Shauntelle could ask her what exactly she meant by those unsettling comments, she swished her long skirts and headed off to her table to set up her spices, homemade jam and condiments on her table.

      Shauntelle felt a tremor of unease at her comment, but then shrugged it off as Farmer’s Market gossip. The usual chitchat of people who had time on their hands and a listening ear.

      She turned her attention to getting the last of her baking set out. Ten minutes later everything was ready, and people were already drifting into the parking lot where they were set up, wandering around the tables.

      A few people came directly to her table. These were her regulars who showed up every Saturday to pick up preorders that she couldn’t deliver.

      “Thanks so much, Mrs. Michaels,” Shauntelle said as she handed the elderly woman the tray of muffins and cookies she had just bought. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a hazelnut torte cake?”

      The tiny, bird-like woman just laughed, showing her crooked teeth as she hooked the bag over her walker. “Sugarplum, if I bought that I would eat it all myself and end up fatter than I already am.”

      Considering she couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, even with her walker, Shauntelle thought that highly unlikely.

      “I might be tempted to buy one.”

      Shauntelle looked over at her newest customer, and there was Mrs. Cosgrove. Then her heart plunged when she saw Noah join her.

      His dark hair and equally dark eyebrows arching over hidden, deep-set brown eyes could have given him a menacing look, but she remembered that melancholy smile of his yesterday. In spite of how bitter she was over what happened to Josiah because of him, seeing Noah face-to-face made it difficult to know exactly what to do with her anger.

      “I thought my son should find out firsthand how good the baking that he delivered yesterday actually is,” Mrs. Cosgrove said.

      Shauntelle dragged her attention away from Noah, granting Mrs. Cosgrove a more genuine smile. Fay Cosgrove was a loving, caring woman who, when Shauntelle had come here, had gone out of her way to support and encourage her. It wasn’t hard to separate her feelings for Noah from this woman.

      “I’m glad you came. I hope you can find something.”

      “I’m sure I can.” Mrs. Cosgrove’s smile grew but then she seemed to wince and shook her head. “Sorry. Feeling a bit punk yet.”

      “Should we go home?” Noah asked.

      “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” Mrs. Cosgrove waved off his concern. “I’m tempted to get one of those cakes, though Noah will have to step up and do his part to finish it.”

      “I don’t think that will be much of a hardship.” He turned to Shauntelle again. “Do you have any meat pies today? I know when we were delivering them, they looked and smelled pretty tasty.”

      “I have a few,” she said, disappointed at the flush his compliment gave her. It felt wrong.

      “My mommy just made these cakes.” Millie walked over to where Noah was standing, and to Shauntelle’s embarrassment, grabbed his hand, dragging him closer to the table and directly in front of Shauntelle. “She said they were an experiment, but I think they look awesome.”

      “More of a trial run,” Shauntelle hastened to explain, far too aware of his towering presence. “For the restaurant. Thought I could offer them as desserts.”

      “They look really nice, Millie,” he said, addressing her daughter instead of her. For some reason that bothered her.

      “I helped my mom bake them,” Millie said, folding her hands in front of her and rocking back and forth, obviously pleased with Noah’s attention.

      Yeah, he had that effect on women and girls of all ages, Shauntelle thought, remembering how she, too, had once admired him from afar.

      “You didn’t help that much,” Margaret put in, coming to join them, clearly not too happy with the compliment Millie had received. “I did more.”

      “No you did not,” Millie grumbled. “You were busy reading your book. I helped Mom mix the dough and set the timer—”

      “But I mixed the icing and helped her put the cakes together.”

      And why did they have to pick a fight right here and now in front of the Cosgroves? In spite of their bickering, people walking past them slowed and smiled at the girls.

      Every time she took the twins out, people seemed drawn to them. Though Shauntelle let them choose their own clothes and encouraged them to develop their own style, they always picked matching outfits and accessories.

      Today they wore green-and-yellow-striped sweaters and hot pink leggings. If only one of them wore this outfit, they would stand out.

      But the two of them, bickering and picking at each other, their ponytails bobbing, drew unwelcome attention this time.

      “I don’t think we need to talk about who did what,” Shauntelle said with a forced smile, coming around the table and laying a warning hand on each of their shoulders. “You both helped.”

      “And you both did an amazing job,” Noah said, crouching down to get to their level.

      Which put him below hers. She could see the top of his head, the thick wave of his hair. She caught herself, frustrated at her reaction to him. She was as bad as her daughters.

      “And you girls both did a great job yesterday too,” Noah said, piling compliment on compliment.

      Immediately the girls quit their squabbling, both looking rather smug at Noah’s praise.

      “So now you have to help me pick out a cake for my mother,” he continued.

      As Noah stood, his gaze drifted up and snagged hers. His smile slowly faded, and the serious and somber look that replaced it sent a shiver down her spine. What was he thinking when he looked at her?

      Pulling her gaze away, she fiddled with the arrangement of the cakes, straightened a package of cinnamon rolls. Anything to avoid looking at Noah again. When she saw him yesterday, her anger had simmered hard, but today, after she had spent the afternoon with him, she found it had dissipated.

      Until she saw her parents. Then it had returned full force.

      “What do you think, Noah? Should we buy one of those?” Fay was asking.

      “I think we should, but then we need to get going,” Noah said to his mother. “You’re still not feeling well.”

      The concern in his voice and the tender way he laid his hand on his mother’s shoulder created battling emotions inside Shauntelle.

      In spite of that, she couldn’t forget the texts her brother sent her.

      Texts complaining about how hard he had to work. What a slave driver Noah was. Money-hungry and pushy. Even given her brother’s tendency to exaggerate, Noah still came across in those texts as a hard-nosed businessman concerned only with the bottom line.

      Then СКАЧАТЬ