The Rancher's Texas Twins. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ girls was going to mean he’d have to actually talk to them on occasion. Avery would have classified his behavior yesterday as an awkward tolerance—or perhaps it was more of a cornered surrender, now that she thought about it. The discomfort seemed to grow larger as Gabe scratched his chin and considered how the girls should address him. “Mr. Everett?” he offered halfheartedly, as if he couldn’t come up with anything better.

      Avery was afraid he’d say that. She really didn’t think she could refuse, so she was especially glad when Marlene countered, “Don’t you think that’s a bit formal for someone their age?” The housekeeper shot a disapproving look Gabe’s way.

      Avery was wracking her brains for a suitable moniker when Debbie bounced off the bed and walked right up to Gabe with the air of a woman in possession of the solution. “Boots,” she declared, pointing to Gabe’s large brown cowboy boots.

      Gabe looked around, waiting for someone to pronounce what a bad idea that was.

      “You can be Mr. Boots!” Debbie said again, this time squatting down to pat her hand up against the dusty leather.

      Dinah, not to be outdone, slid off her bed and began to chant “Mr. Boots” while pointing at Gabe’s other leg. Poor Gabe, he’d been christened against his will now; once the girls latched on to something like this, they rarely let go.

      “Could have been worse,” Marlene offered with a grin that broadcast just how much she was enjoying this. “They might have picked ‘Mr. Scowl.’”

      Avery felt like she had to at least try. “Don’t you think you girls could learn to say ‘Mr. Everett’?”

      In reply, the girls only chanted “Mr. Boots!” louder.

      “Um, I’ll try to keep that down to a minimum,” she said above the noise as the girls began to circle around Gabe’s legs like little pink cats, patting Gabe’s boots while he stood there in mild shock and not-so-mild annoyance.

      Avery was composing a suitable apology when Gabe just seemed to shrug and resign himself to the new nickname. “I’ve been called worse.”

      The man was huge and intimidating—she didn’t doubt he’d been called a great deal of things. Only right now, she called him her host, and that deserved whatever kindness she could provide. “If it helps, I promise I’ll never use it.” It seemed slim consolation to a man whose spare bedroom had just been transformed into a tidal wave of pink gingham.

      Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’d be much obliged for that.”

      “Well, I’m making no such promises,” Marlene offered with a wink and a grin. “I rather like ‘Mr. Boots.’”

      Gabe gave her a dark look and carefully extracted his long legs from the girls’ endless circles. “I’ve got to return a couple of calls, ladies. Marlene, how long before lunch?”

      “We were just discussing lunch now. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes. So no cookies.” Marlene slanted a sideways glance at Avery. “That man always sneaks food into his office.”

      “Too late!” Gabe called, and Avery caught sight of the man producing a stack of cookies from his shirt pocket and waving them in the air like a schoolboy who’d just gotten away with a prank. Clearly, Marlene and Gabe one-upped each other on a continual basis.

      Such behavior didn’t fit the domineering, driven Gabriel Everett she’d met on her first day in Haven. That man was bent on getting what he needed, pressing for her compliance, pushing hard for whatever it took to secure the boys ranch. His own ranch was huge and clearly prosperous—those sorts of businessmen didn’t sneak cookies or open their homes to little girls.

      Of course, Gabe Everett had opened his home because he needed something from her—she knew that. He hosted to keep her from leaving because he needed her here for the celebration. Cyrus’s will stipulated that she, as well as the three other original residents of the Lone Star Cowboy League Boys Ranch, had to be present on March 20. If not, the property left to the ranch would be sold to a strip mall, which would send half the ranch’s current residents elsewhere. Well, she told herself as she led Dinah and Debbie to the bathroom to wash up for lunch, if I’m going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, at least the hard place is looking nicer every minute.

       Chapter Three

      “I hate him, you know.”

      Gabe looked at Avery later that evening as she stood on the porch watching the stars come out. Jethro had taken the girls inside to read them one of his cowboy stories—Jethro had written down stories for as long as Gabe could remember, and was taking full advantage of his tiny new audience. The quiet of the falling dusk was as thick as a blanket after the commotion of moving-in day. Gabe felt like he could exhale for the first time since that wild meeting on Roz’s porch.

      “Who?” Gabe replied. He had a notion who she meant, since she’d just refused a tour of the ranch—her grandfather’s home—but felt he ought to ask anyway.

      “Grandpa Cyrus. Well, Cyrus Culpepper to all of you. Even before I knew who he was, I hated him.”

      Between the imposter Avery and the real Avery, Gabe was having trouble keeping his Cyrus stories straight. “I thought you never knew Cyrus.” Of course, Gabe knew knowing didn’t really come into a situation like this—he, of all people, knew how easy it was to hate someone you’d barely known. In fact, it was almost easier to hate the idea of someone than to hate an actual person. He resented his own grandfather deeply for abandoning him at a young age; it wasn’t hard to believe Avery felt the same.

      “Daddy would always say that if things went bad, Grandpa would come and save us. ‘Grandpa will do this’ and ‘Grandpa will do that.’” She turned to look at Gabe, pain filling her eyes. “I know I was only six, but I remember the promises. And I waited. After Daddy died, I waited in one foster home after another. Only Grandpa never came. Never. That man never did a single thing to help me.” Her words were sharp and bitter.

      “You’re sure? I mean, he could have been trying.” Gabe remembered harboring the silly hope that somehow his own grandfather had tried valiantly to get in touch with Mom. He made up all kinds of reasons how their many moves had stumped Grandpa Theo’s efforts. After a while, the hard truth of his abandonment won out over the optimism of such stories. Gabe knew what a hollow space that left.

      Avery turned to look at him. “That’d make a nice story, wouldn’t it? Only no. The foster service tried multiple times to find him and reach him. They had contact information for him. No one ever answered.” She hugged herself, shoulders bunching up. A sore point to be sure, and who could blame her?

      “That must have been hard,” Gabe offered.

      She didn’t answer, simply nodded.

      “I’m sorry,” he tried again, even though it felt intrusive and inadequate. Gabe was all too familiar with how rejection brewed a slow, sour kind of pain, one that was deep and hard to shake. “I think maybe Cyrus regretted it in the end, if that helps.”

      She gave a lifeless laugh. “It doesn’t.”

      Gabe walked over beside her, putting one boot up on the lower rung of the porch rail. It made him think of the chorus of “Mr. Boots!” he’d heard СКАЧАТЬ