Kaitlyn Rice - Ten Acres And Twins

Abby finished the job and hopped down. As she carried the chair back in, she said, “I asked you here to help with Rosie and Wyatt. I can finish unpacking.”

Sharon jiggled both baby and lamp, prompting a happy squeal from Wyatt. “Shush,” she told Abby. “Scrap or keep—that’s all I need to know.”

Abby knew not to argue. She squinted at the lamp. “Keep,” she answered. “Put it on the table beside the sofa.”

Sharon swept the lamp and the giggling Wyatt off toward the living room, and Abby headed off in the other direction to cart the chair back to the kitchen.

Her helpful new friend was well on her way to becoming a cherished old friend. She had appeared on that very same porch the morning after the accident, and she’d been just as obstinate then about lending a hand. She’d pushed her way in behind a pierogi casserole, explained that she was the wife of the farmer down the road, and had commandeered the babies and the kitchen duties so Abby could deal with the tragic news.

That morning, Abby had been too stunned to argue. She’d been baby-sitting the twins the night before, and had waited up all night for Paige and Brian’s return. She’d thought they must have decided to stay out overnight, and reasoned that they’d been having too much fun to let her know.

She had only learned the grisly truth at dawn, after their overturned car was discovered near a dirt road just two miles from the farmhouse. The white-tailed deer Brian had swerved to avoid was found dead a few yards away, and the furrowed path in the steep embankment told the rest of the story. At first, Abby blamed herself. If only she’d thought to call someone, perhaps they could have been saved. But the coroner had said their death was immediate. He’d called it merciful.

Abby didn’t know if a healthy young couple could die a merciful death. She only knew they were gone forever, leaving her behind with a couple of babies who would never be orphans as long as she was around.

That night had created a deep and unhealing chasm in her memory. Everything before had become part of a past that was already lost. Everything since was the future.

Uncertain. Frightening. As important as air.

The delicious sound of baby cackles broke into her thoughts and led her down the hall. She discovered her neighbor and the twins—vital components of her new life—cavorting in one of the rooms she had emptied for Jack.

Sharon now held a baby in each arm, and she was spinning lazy circles in the middle of the room. “Looks funny without Brian’s exercise equipment,” she said. “You sure about this living arrangement?”

Abby glanced around at the generous space, unwilling to voice her turmoil. “Sure I’m sure,” she said.

And she was, in a way. At least she was glad to know that Wyatt would be here, in this house, with her and Rosie. Abby might have snagged a rather large stray in the form of Jack Kimball, but since the baby boy she’d tried to lasso was included, it should be well worth it.

“Since I volunteered to baby-sit the twins during the funeral, I’ve never met Jack,” Sharon said. She stopped turning, and caught Abby’s eye. “I assume you know what you’re getting into.”

“I think so,” Abby said with a shrug. “Besides, this was the only way to keep Wyatt for the time being.”

“Didn’t you say Jack was granted permanent custody?”

“I did.” She pulled Wyatt away from Sharon. “He’s a bachelor, though. He has no idea what he’s getting into. I’m predicting that he’ll want out within three months.”

Sharon frowned. “You know they can learn, right? Most men start off clueless when it comes to their first baby.”

“But Jack isn’t like most men,” Abby said with growing confidence. “He’s like Tim, my ex-husband.”

“How’s that?”

Abby counted off the similarities on her fingers. “He likes women, he spends too much time in bars and he buys expensive, big-boy toys.”

“Sounds like a typical single man, if you ask me,” Sharon said. “My Earl rode a Harley before we got married. He only traded it for the tractor after our third son was born.”

Abby swung Wyatt to her opposite arm and used her other hand to continue her tally. “Well, now I’m just guessing on these,” she said. “But I’ll bet that Jack bores easily, avoids commitment and hates self-sacrifice. He’s a Tim, not an Earl.”

“What does he look like?”

Abby scowled. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Is he tall?” Sharon asked with a chuckle.

Abby nodded. No need to deny that particular quality, since Sharon would find out for herself soon enough.

“Brian had nice eyes. Does Jack?”

She thought about a pair of devilishly handsome eyes and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Sharon’s mop of graying blond hair floated triumphantly out of the room. “Sounds to me as if you’ve got more than the twins to worry about.”

“Jack Kimball is completely resistible,” Abby said as she followed her friend into the living room.

“What if you aren’t?”

Abby stopped near Paige’s plum curtains and pulled them closed. “Are you kidding?”

Her neighbor turned around and shook her head. “You said he likes women. You are one, Abby.”

She laughed at the thought. “I’m not his type.”

Sharon sat on the sofa with Rosie on her lap and tickled the little girl under her chin. “And that’s a problem?” she said. “Opposites attract.”

“Stop it,” Abby said. She jiggled Wyatt. “This is the only irresistible bachelor in my life. And besides, even if Jack doesn’t know better, I do.”

“You won’t have a problem with being chased around this fine, faux leather sofa?”

“That won’t happen,” Abby said with confidence.

Her friend patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down and spill it,” she said. “What are you up to?”

Abby laughed. She walked across the room and flicked on the lamp. “What do you mean?”

“I recognize that look in your eye,” Sharon said. “We’re finished moving for tonight. Sit and talk.”

Abby set Wyatt on the carpet amid a cheerful clutter of toys, then took Rosie from her friend’s arms to put her down there, too. After that she plopped down on the sofa, shrugged and admitted, “I do have a teensy little plan.”

JACK KNEW HE’D NEVER succeed at running his own business if he didn’t devote himself to it passionately. He spent most of his weekday hours developing and marketing software, training clients or troubleshooting problems.

Most days, he had lunch delivered to wherever he was working, and often ate dinners there, too. The only personal things he rammed into his grueling schedule were an hour’s exercise at whichever end of the day he could fit it in, and a shower and shave after that.

No one could work harder, and he had achieved a degree of success that allowed JK Business Software Systems to enjoy a nice little profit.

He also knew that play restored him, and he worked hard at that, too. He couldn’t do well at one thing without focusing ample attention on the other.

Therefore, most of his off hours were reserved for fun—any kind of fun. Wild or civilized, carefully charted or slapdash. His only requirement was that it, and the woman he chose to share it with, held his attention.

By the time Friday night rolled around, he was usually the first in line for entertainment. This weekend was no exception. Although he’d returned to Kansas City to pack for his temporary stint in the country, there was no reason he couldn’t squeeze in a few dates with his lady friends.

A year spent in the sticks taking care of two babies, with Abby’s solemn eyes judging his every move, sounded exhausting. And long. Possibly joyless. He wanted to cram as much of his usual rakish lifestyle into this weekend as possible.

It had taken him only a few hours this morning to pack his things and dismantle his computer. He’d boxed everything and stacked it by the front door. The movers would pick up a few big items tomorrow and deliver them to the farmhouse on Sunday. It wouldn’t make sense to get out there before his furniture did, which meant most of the weekend was open.

It only proved that he led a charmed life—he had plenty of time, and three beautiful girlfriends who should fill it rather nicely. Maybe if he could smooth things over with each of them, an occasional weekend visit might be arranged, making the year a little less arid.

Since Diane happened to be a real estate agent, he called her first. Maybe she could help him find a temporary tenant for his condo. Even if that didn’t work out, she was well worth his time. His latest paramour had a cap of sexy black hair and mile-long legs. But his favorite feature by far was the seductive laugh she only used in the bedroom.

He dialed her cellphone number, knowing her Friday morning would have been spent showing houses or scouting out opportunities.

“Diane Westmoreland,” she barked.

“Hey, Diane. I’m back in town.”

“Ooh, Jacky!” she said, in a tone fairly dripping with carnality. “How good to hear your voice.”

“You must be alone,” he said, chuckling at the change. She’d gone from frigid to fiery in a second.

“Way, way too alone, big boy.”

Good. He would enjoy seeing her, but more than that, he needed her help. “You busy in an hour?”

“There’s not a thing happening here that can’t be rearranged for you.”

“How about meeting me for lunch? We can go to your favorite Italian place in the city.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she purred. “I’ll be waiting.”

Wonderful it wasn’t. It was closer to woeful. Or wintry.

Once Jack told Diane that he was moving to rural Topeka, her temperature went right back down to 98.6 degrees. And when he explained about moving into the farmhouse with Abby, it plummeted well below freezing.

The mood had been so frosty at lunch, he’d worried that they’d both develop hypothermia. Or at least indigestion.

He spent nearly an hour trying to convince her that he was not involved with Abigail Briggs. He told her that Abby was too countrified, often sharp-tongued and genuinely not his type. For some reason, Diane didn’t believe him.

She had finished her meal and gathered her purse to leave before he remembered that he was going to ask her to sublet the apartment for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but after looking at her dour expression one more time, he thought better of it. He’d just have to call her later, after she had warmed back up to room temperature.

There was no point in hiring a stranger just because the wiliest Realtor in town was a little miffed.

Besides, there was no need to be alone tonight—Paula was next on his list. He owed her the choice Friday night slot because she’d been the most enduring girlfriend of his adult life.

Ultrasophisticated Paula put up with his other lady friends and always greeted him with a smile. He was hoping she’d be willing to let him crash at her place whenever he had to come into the city on business.

She surprised him. Their understanding about dating other people seemed to fly out the window as soon as he said the word roommates.

“What do you mean, you’re going to live with her?”

Jack held Paula’s wineglass out to her. She’d always understood his need to date around. This was only a slight deviation from normal, and it shouldn’t truly upset her.

“She’ll be living in the same place, but that’s all,” he explained. “We’re not romantic. Think of her as a housemother, if you wish. Or the girl next door.”