The Rancher's Twin Troubles Read Free Page A

teacher said, patting Bonnie’s back. “I’m proud of you.”
    His daughter beamed.
    Feeling damned proud for having raised such a conscientious sweetheart, Dallas couldn’t help but grin.
    â€œCome on, Daddy.” Betsy yanked his arm. “Let’s play.”
    â€œWell…” Oddly reluctant to end the conversation, Dallas said, “Guess I’d better get going. My bosses are calling.”
    The look Josie Griffin shot him was painful. As if she disapproved of his play on words. The notion annoyed him and brought him back to the reality of who she was in the grand scheme of things. A teacher he’d never see again after his girls’ kindergarten graduation. As for his musings on her good looks? A waste of time he wouldn’t be repeating.
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    â€œI KNOW, K ITTY, THE MAN’S infuriating, isn’t he?” While Josie’s calico performed figure eights between her legs, she spooned gourmet cat food onto a china saucer. Her friends thought she was nutty for lavishing so much attention on her pet, but Kitty had been a wedding gift from Hugh. When she one day lost her furry friend, she didn’t know what she’d do. In some ways, it would be like losing her husband all over again.
    Another thing her friends nagged her about was worrying over events that hadn’t happened. But surviving the kinds of things Josie had taught her to never underestimate any signs—no matter how seemingly insignificant.
    â€œKitty,” she said, setting the saucer on the wide planked walnut floor, “do you think when it comes to the Trouble Twins I’m looking for problems where there are none?”
    Chowing down on his Albacore Tuna Delight, Kitty couldn’t have cared less.
    Josie took a banana from the bowl she kept filled with seasonal fruit. Usually in her honey-gold kitchen with its granite counters, colorful rag rugs and green floral curtains, she felt warm and cozy. Content with her lot in life. Yes, she’d faced unspeakable tragedy early on, but as years passed, she’d grown accustomed to living on her own. She shopped Saturday morning yard sales for quilting fabric and took ballet every Thursday night. Even after three years, she was the worst in her class, but the motions and music were soothing—unlike her impromptu meeting with Dallas Buckhorn.
    Her hand meeting his had produced the queerest sensation. Lightning in a bottle. Had it been her imagination? A by-product of beer mixed with moonlight? Or just Nat’s gushing praise of the man’s sinfully good looks catching like a virus?
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    O N M ONDAY MORNING, as calmly as possible, Josie fished for the green snake one of her darlings had thoughtfully placed in her desk drawer. Finallygrabbing hold of him—or her—she held it up for her class’s squealing perusal. “Don’t suppose any of you lost this?”
    Bonnie Buckhorn raised her hand. “Sorry. He got out of my lunch bag.”
    â€œYes, well, come and get him and—” Josie dumped yarn from a nearby plastic tub, and then set the writhing snake inside. “Everyone line up. We’re taking a field trip.”
    â€œWhere? Where?” sang a chorus of hyper five-yearolds.
    Bonnie took the tub.
    â€œWe’re going to take Bonnie’s friend outside—where he belongs.”
    â€œYou’re not letting him go!” Bonnie hugged the yellow tub, vigorously shaking her head.
    â€œYes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now, I need this week’s light buddies to do their job, please.”
    Sarah Boyden and Thomas Quinn scampered out of line to switch off the front and back fluorescent lights.
    â€œPlease, ma’am,” Betsy said while her twin stood beneath the American and Oklahoman flags crying, “Bonnie didn’t mean to put Green Bean in your desk.”
    â€œThen how did he get there?” Josie asked as Sarah and Thomas rejoined the