The Cowboy's Secret Twins

In approximately ten miles she should be at the destination that she suspected was MysteryMom’s home. Excitement danced in her chest as she thought of finally coming face-to-face with the woman who had been not only a friend, but also a surrogate mom through the trials and tribulations of being a single new mother to twins.

If she didn’t like the looks of the place she’d turn around and make the two-and-a-half-hour drive back home. If she got any bad vibes at all, she’d just drive away. There was no way she’d put her babies or herself at risk.

The first surprise was the enormous stone monuments that marked the entry to the address she sought. The second surprise was when she drove down the tree-lined narrow drive and got her first glimpse of the house. No, house was too plain a word for the mansion that rose into view.

The two-story home was as big as a hotel, with several equally impressive outbuildings. Lights spilled with a cheerful welcome from several of the windows as the evening had begun to thicken with night shadows.

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered to herself. The whole place breathed money.

As she drove up the circular driveway she saw that one of the outbuildings was a stable and she was more convinced than ever that this was MysteryMom’s house. MysteryMom had mentioned that she loved working with horses.

She parked the car and glanced into the backseat where Joey was awake. Of the two boys, Joey was the most laid-back. He rarely fussed and seemed content to take life as it came at him.

On the other hand, James was a handful. Demanding and impatient, he was the first to set up a frustrated cry if he needed a diaper change or a meal or if she took away his beloved rattle. But, he also had begun to belly laugh when happy and the sound of it never failed to delight her.

She looked at Joey, who gazed at her with bright blue eyes. “Are you ready to go meet Mommy’s new friend?” she asked. He waved his arms as if to show his excitement.

As she got out of the car she realized it had grown darker, as if night hadn’t just stealthily approached but had rather slammed down without warning.

She opened the door to the backseat and first unbuckled Joey and pulled him up on her hip, then went to the other door and did the same with James. In the past four months she’d become quite adept at not only carrying both boys, but also her purse and a diaper bag all at the same time.

The cold air chased her to the front door, where she managed to use her toe to knock. Her heart hammered with excitement as she waited for MysteryMom to answer. When the door opened her excitement transformed to stunned surprise.

He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and lean hips, and his blue eyes widened with the same shock that she felt. His gaze swept over the two babies in her arms and his face paled.

James.

For a moment her mind refused to accept what she saw. “Henry? Who’s here?” a feminine voice called from somewhere in the house.

Two thoughts flew into Melissa’s head. Apparently his name wasn’t James and he must be married. Oh, God, this was all a mistake. A terrible mistake.

Before she could take a step backward, before she could even move a muscle, a ping sounded next to her and the wood of the doorjamb splintered apart.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Another ping resounded and James or Henry or whatever his name was leaned forward, grabbed her and pulled her inside the house. He slammed the door behind them.

“Call the sheriff,” he yelled. “Somebody is shooting at the house.” He opened a drawer in the ornate sideboard in the entry, pulled out a gun, then without a backward glance at her, disappeared out the front door.

Melissa stood in the center of the entry, her heart banging frantically. Mistake. This was all some sort of horrible mistake.

What kind of a man was her babies’ father that somebody shot at the house the minute he’d opened his door? Was he a drug dealer? A criminal of some kind?

As Joey and James began to cry, Melissa fought back tears of her own.

Henry Randolf clung to the shadows of the house as he tried to discern exactly where the shooter might be. He thought the attack had come from the stand of trees directly in front of the house.

As he moved forward he tried not to think about the woman who had appeared on his doorstep. Melissa, that was her name. She’d crossed his thoughts often over the past year, but he couldn’t think about her now or the two babies she held in her arms. He couldn’t afford to get distracted while somebody with a gun was on his property.

One problem at a time, he told himself. The shooter first, then he’d have to figure out what to do about his unexpected visitor.

He clenched his gun tightly as he worked his way to the stand of trees, listening for a sound, seeking a shadow that would indicate where the attacker might be. As he thought of how close those bullets had come to Melissa and those babies, a slow seething rage built up inside him.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot at in the past week. Three days ago he’d been riding his horse across the pasture and somebody had taken a potshot at him. His mount had reared and taken off for the stables as Henry had pulled his gun to defend himself from the unknown.

He was still outside checking the area when the sheriff’s car pulled up. Sheriff Jimmy Harrick lumbered out of his patrol car like a sleepy bear exiting a favorite cave. He pulled his collar up against the cold night air as Henry approached him.

“I’ve checked the area. There’s nobody around now. The shots came from that stand of trees over there but it’s too dark to see if there’s any shell casings or evidence.”

He pointed toward the house. “Let’s go inside and talk.” Henry didn’t wait for a reply but headed for the door. He hadn’t felt the cold when he’d first burst outside, but now the damp December air seeped into his bones.

“Got company?” Jimmy asked as they passed the older model car in the driveway.

“Yeah, an old friend.” Henry’s stomach kicked with nerves as he thought of the woman who had stood on his doorstep carrying twins who looked remarkably like he had when he’d been a baby.

Damn, what mess had he gotten himself into? He had a feeling his life was about to get extremely complicated.

As he and the sheriff walked into the living room he saw Melissa seated next to his mother on the sofa, each of them with a baby in their arms.

Melissa’s blue eyes were wide with fear. He couldn’t blame her. There was nothing like a welcoming committee of bullets to put that expression in a woman’s eyes.

Henry tore his gaze from Melissa and focused on the sheriff. “Something’s got to be done, Jimmy. This is the second time somebody has taken potshots at me in the past week.”

Jimmy shoved his meaty hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m not sure what to do about it, Henry. There’s no question that you’ve made some enemies with your decision to run for mayor.”

“And so it’s okay for somebody to try to kill me? Because they don’t like my politics?” Henry was acutely aware of Melissa listening to every word, watching him with those amazing eyes of hers.

Jimmy pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Now, you know that’s not what I’m saying,” he protested. “I’m going back out there with my flashlight and I’ll take a look around, then I’ll head back to town and start asking questions. I’ll let you know if I find anything. If I don’t then I’ll give you a call sometime tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Henry said curtly. He knew nothing more could be done tonight and in any case he was having a difficult time thinking about anything but the woman who sat next to his mother.

He walked Jimmy to the door, then closed and locked it and drew a deep breath to steady himself. How had she found him? They’d only exchanged first names on that crazy night they’d shared a little over a year ago and he hadn’t even given her his real first name.

And then there were those babies. Henry had decided he was never going to marry and he’d certainly never planned to be a father, but there was little question in his mind about the paternity of those twins. Now he had to figure out what he was going to do about it.

He returned to the living room, where the two women on the sofa didn’t appear to have moved, although Melissa and the two little boys no longer wore their coats.

His mother had that look on her face she used to get when he was a kid and had done something he knew he shouldn’t do. He definitely had some explaining to do.

She stood and walked over to him and thrust the baby she held into his arms. “I’m retiring to my room. It appears you and Melissa have a lot to talk about.”

The little boy smelled of baby powder and gazed up at him with curious blue eyes. As Henry stared down at him the little boy’s lips curved up in a sweet smile.

“That’s Joey,” Melissa said. “And I have James.” She said the name with forced emphasis and he remembered that the night they’d been together he’d told her his name was James.

That night he hadn’t wanted to be the wealthy Henry James Randolf III. He’d just wanted to be an ordinary cowboy named James. “My name is Henry. Henry James Randolf,” he said.

As he looked at her several things struck him. She was still as pretty as he’d remembered her with her long blond hair and those big blue eyes, but she seemed tired and stressed.

Her cheeks grew pink beneath his scrutiny. “I don’t quite know what to say. I didn’t expect you.”