A Rancher for Christmas

He laughed at that. “And there’s the Marty who protects her little ones.”

Her smile returned, settling in her gray eyes. “You’d better believe it.”

Jake believed it.

And he’d do his best to give Breezy a chance. But flat-out trust? That was something he’d have to work on. He’d learned—in life and in business—to reserve the right to form opinions at a later date.

Time would tell, he told himself as he headed out to the barn. She’d stay or she’d go. While she was in Martin’s Crossing he’d do his best to treat her like family, because that’s what Lawton would have wanted.

Chapter Three (#ulink_7558359a-3f44-569e-bb1e-7a1dcdcbfeb9)

Breezy was standing on the porch when Jake pulled up to Lawton’s house the next day. She could see two little girls in the backseat of the truck. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. This was it. Her new life.

She’d spent the rest of yesterday and this morning wondering how she would do this. How would she stay in Martin’s Crossing? How would she know how to take care of two little girls? After cleaning a layer of dust off the furniture the previous evening, she’d sat down and tried to list the pros and cons of staying in Martin’s Crossing.

And she’d gotten stuck on Jake Martin, on the wariness in his eyes, on the way he’d questioned her, on the way his hand had touched her arm. Jake Martin had trust issues. Breezy had her own issues. She didn’t know how to settle, how to put down roots.

Sticking around now took on a lot of importance, for herself and for two little girls. She watched Jake unbuckle the girls from their car seats. Staying meant everything. She headed his way to help.

If he would let her.

It shouldn’t bother her. She’d grown up used to people giving her suspicious looks. She’d spent her life adjusting to new people, new situations. She knew how to reinvent herself. She could be the person two little girls needed her to be. Once she figured out who that person was.

She stepped close to the car, watching as he unbuckled one of the twins. Then he placed that little person in her arms. Dark hair straight, face thinner than the other little girl. “Hello, Violet.”

The little girl just stared, her eyes big and unsure. Yes, Breezy was getting used to that look. It mirrored the expression on Uncle Jake’s face. The man in question pushed the truck door closed. He held Rose in one arm against his side and the little girl patted his cheek with her tiny hand. Breezy watched the change that took place when he was in the presence of these little girls.

The twins made him human. They softened the distrust in his blue eyes.

“Are you ready for us?” he asked with a grin that surprised her.

Breezy nodded. “I’m ready.”

She walked in front of him, Violet in her arms. The little girl smelled like baby soap and fabric softener. Her arms had gone around Breezy’s neck. They reached the front door and Jake reached around her to push it open, a small touch of chivalry she hadn’t expected.

As they stepped inside, Violet struggled to be free. Breezy let the little girl down and Violet toddled as quickly as her little legs could carry her. In the center of the living room, she looked around, unsure. And then she cried.

“Momma!” Violet wailed, walking through the room. “Momma!”

Jake went after her, scooping her up with his free arm. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

By then both twins were crying and clinging to Jake.

“I’m sorry.” Breezy stood helpless and unsure of how to help. Should she reach for the twins? Maybe she didn’t have the mom gene. How could she, really? She’d never truly had a mother of her own.

Jake noticed and his expression softened although the concern remained in his eyes.

“It isn’t your fault. It’s just too soon to bring them here.”

Breezy looked around, trying to come up with something. “They have toys here. Let’s pull out the toys and let them settle down. I’m not sure that avoiding this house is what they need. They lived here. It’s familiar to them.”

“I think I know where they lived.”

“I think you should give me a chance.” She reached over and this time Rosie held her arms out and fell into Breezy’s embrace. The toddler’s arms around her neck took her by surprise.

“I’m working on it,” he said in a raspy voice.

Of course he was. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and Rose slid off her lap and headed for the guitar Breezy had left leaning against the wall. The little girl moved quickly. Breezy moved faster, getting the instrument before the child could grab it. But she held it, letting Rose pluck the strings. With a few strands of hair on top of her head in a pink bow, Rose smiled and jabbered.

“Do you want a song?” Breezy asked, settling on the sofa again. Rose rested against her knees.

Jake had moved to the nearby chair, still holding Violet. As Breezy started to play, the child slid down from his lap and joined Rose. Breezy swallowed past the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat. She managed not to cry. Instead she sang a Christmas song because it sounded like one a child would be soothed by.

As she sang, Rose clapped a few times and sounded as if she might be singing along. But it was hard to tell in the language of a two-year-old. She finished and set the guitar back on the floor. Violet had wandered back to Jake and was leaning against him, her thumb in her mouth, twirling dark curls around her finger.

He cleared his throat, and the little girl looked up at him. He scooped her into his arms. “We should feed them.”

“Yes, of course.”

If the music had soothed the girls, it seemed to have had the opposite effect on Jake. He headed off to the kitchen like a lion with a thorn in his paw. She remembered the folk tale, and knew, with certainty, that she wasn’t the mouse who would offer to remove the thorn. She wouldn’t want to get that close to the lion.

“I made soup and grilled cheese.” She walked to the stove, ignoring the man who had taken the girls to the dining room. “I have the sandwiches ready to grill and the soup is warm.”

She wasn’t about to admit that she’d pondered for a very long time over what to feed the girls. She had no idea if they could eat a sandwich or if they were still eating baby food.

“They’ll eat that.” He settled Violet in her high chair and then reached for Rosie.

Breezy watched from the doorway but then turned to the kitchen and the job of finishing lunch. She turned the griddle on and pulled the already buttered bread out of the fridge, along with the cheese slices she would put in the middle. When she had them on the electric griddle, she found Jake Martin in the doorway watching her.

“You play well,” he said in an easy tone.

“Thank you,” she said, turning back to the griddle. “What would you like to drink?”

“I can get our drinks. The girls are buckled in and I can see them from here,” he offered as he took glasses from the cabinet.

She nodded, as if she wasn’t making a mental list of parenting dos and don’ts. One: always make sure they are buckled and within line of sight. Yes, those things seemed like common sense, but what if she forgot something? What if there was a rule that most people knew but she didn’t? She’d learned a lot of those rules when she’d moved in with Mia, but Mia’s stepson, Caleb, was almost seven now. He didn’t require safety seats or high chairs anymore.

“Are you talking to yourself?” He opened the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of tea she’d made that morning. Tea should never be instant. Mia had taught her that rule. There were other rules, too. Going to church on Sunday was another one.

Had she been talking to herself? She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head, hoping that was the right answer. “No, of course not. I was telling you there are sippy cups here and milk in the fridge.”

“Of course. Because the word milk sounds like rules.”

“It could,” she hedged. She flipped the sandwiches off the griddle onto a plate.

He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

She started to feel a little bubble of laughter coming to the surface. She didn’t want to laugh, not with him. Laughing with Jake would make them feel like friends and he clearly was not a friend.