A Cowboy For The Twins

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 her brother had died, and once again the bottom fell out of her world. She swallowed down an unwelcome knot of pain.

“You’re probably right,” his mother said, then turned to Shauntelle. “I think we’ll take this chocolate one.”

“Good choice,” Shauntelle said, reaching for a box to put the cake in.

“And the meat pies,” Noah prompted.

“Right. Sorry. I forgot about them.” She boxed up the cake, disappointed to see her hands trembling as she closed the flaps. She wanted to show him that she was capable and in charge, unaffected by his presence, but the pounding of her heart made that impossible.

Seriously, she really had to get a handle on her emotions.

She tied a ribbon around the box and handed it to him with a forced smile. “That will be fifteen dollars.”

“And the meat pies?” he reminded her.

She did a mental facepalm. “Of course.” She boxed up a couple of pies and handed them to him as well, giving him the final total.

“That’s pretty cheap,” he said, taking them from her. “You might want to consider raising your prices.”

“I’m still trying things out.”

“For what?”

“The restaurant I want to start up.”

“Really? That’s ambitious. Where will it be?”

“It’s going to be part of the arena. I’ll be running a snack bar as one part of the operation with a restaurant attached to it. The contractor said he might put in a courtyard where I could have outdoor seating. People like to look at trees and flowers when they’re eating, I guess, and I’m not going to argue with that. I think it will look nice.” She stopped her babbling. He was making her uneasy, and she was doing that talking-too-much thing that she did when she was agitated.

He took the boxes from her, his own lips curving slightly. “Sounds like you have a good plan in place.”

“I work in a bank. The only way I’d get the money was if I had everything figured out down to how many teaspoons of baking powder I’ll need.”

He chuckled at that, and the shift in his expression was a surprise to her. He looked more approachable. More like the old Noah she remembered from school.

But right behind that came the memory of her brother.

“Enjoy the cake,” she said, looking away.

He didn’t leave, which made Shauntelle more uncomfortable.

“I know I should have said it earlier but I didn’t get a chance.” He took a breath, and she steeled herself for what he was going to say. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

The apology sounded heartfelt and it should have made Shauntelle feel better, but if anything, it brought back her anger.

Josiah was gone, and Noah was still alive. Her parents had lost a son and she a brother. A hole in their family that could never be filled.

She didn’t know what to say, so all she did was nod to acknowledge his apology. Then, as if sensing her pain and anger, Noah took a step back, turning to his mother.

“We should go, Mom. Time to get you home.”

“Did you get the meat pies?” Mrs. Cosgrove asked, looking from Noah to Shauntelle. “I thought we were getting some meat pies.”

“We did,” Noah muttered.

But just before they could leave, someone was calling out his name and Owen Herne joined them by Shauntelle’s table.

“Hey, Noah, good to see you again,” Owen said, clapping him on the shoulder. “How long you back for?”

“Just for Cord’s wedding, then back to Vancouver.”

“So a couple weeks?”

“Probably less.” He looked like he was trying to edge away, but Owen stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“Okay. I need to talk to Shauntelle and was hoping I could catch you too somewhere along the way.” Owen glanced over at Shauntelle, and the foreboding look on his face wasn’t encouraging. “Do you have time?” he asked Shauntelle.

“You want to talk to me here?”

He jerked his chin in the direction of the now-empty coffee table. “We could go over there.”

“Give me a minute?” she asked, wiping suddenly damp hands down the side of her pants. She shot a look over to Millie and Margaret, wondering if they should be here. “Girls, why don’t you go check out Rory’s booth? See if she has any new jewelry.”

“But I thought you said we had to stay and help,” Millie said, looking very interested in whatever Owen might say.

“We need to talk, and I’d like you to go,” she said.

Margaret looked like she was about to protest as well when Mrs. Cosgrove, sensing what Shauntelle wanted, walked over to the girls, taking their hands. “You know, I haven’t been to the Farmer’s Market in a while. Maybe you could show me around. Would that be okay?” she asked Shauntelle.