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Time To Add Another Branch?
Former rodeo rider Logan Grainger had finally set down roots to care for his orphaned twin nephews. He’d allowed himself to consider a future with the boys’ pretty caretaker, Clementine Hurley. Then he’d discovered he was not truly a Grainger. His life in turmoil, Logan decided to break all ties with her before someone got hurt.
Clementine was not about to let Logan keep avoiding her. His nephews are in her Christmas pageant; she has plans to foster a girl who might well be Logan’s stepsister. He’s been hiding from their attraction for too long. The feisty waitress is gonna show that stubborn cowboy just how much room he has to add on to his family tree...starting with her!
“Thank you,” he said. “Being in the Christmas show means a lot to the boys.”
They mean a lot to me, she wanted to say. I miss them. I miss you. I miss what we had, what we started to have.
“Rehearsals start tomorrow,” she told him, forcing herself to be all business. “Three thirty to five thirty. Monday, Wednesday and Friday will be the regular schedule. I’m putting out the call for volunteers tomorrow, so the twins and other little ones will be in good hands.”
He nodded. “I’m sure they will be. I’ll make sure they’re there.” He was looking everywhere but at her. “Boys,” he called, “let’s get home for that ice cream I promised you.”
As they walked out, each holding one of Logan’s hands, that empty feeling came crawling back. What she would give to be with Logan and the boys in his living room, laughing over something silly and eating ice cream.
How was she going to handle seeing Logan Grainger six times a week for five seconds at a time?
* * *
Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen:
There’s nothing more delicious
than falling in love…
The Cowboy’s Big Family Tree
Meg Maxwell
MEG MAXWELL lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son, their beagle and their black-and-white cat. When she’s not writing, Meg is either reading, at the movies or thinking up new story ideas on her favorite little beach (even in winter) just minutes from her house. Interesting fact: Meg Maxwell is a pseudonym for author Melissa Senate, whose women’s fiction titles have been published in over twenty-five countries.
For my beloved Max
Contents
I don’t know if you were ever informed or not, Logan, but your biological father was not Haywood Grainger. I know this because I am your biological father. I cannot bear to leave this world without making sure you know the truth...
As much as Logan Grainger had tried to put the stranger’s letter out of his mind since receiving it three months ago, the deathbed confession crept into his head all the time. During early morning chores in the barn as he cleaned horse stalls and laid out fresh hay. When he woke up his three-year-old nephews for breakfast, their uncle Logan all they had in the world. As he rode acres of fence, wondering how much longer he could ignore the truth. The supposed truth. After all, Logan hadn’t tried to verify the man’s claims.
Because he couldn’t deal with it. And because everything pointed to it being true. Logan was six foot two. His father was five foot eight, his mother a petite four eleven. His parents were both blond. Logan’s hair was dark. At least he knew where his blue eye color came from: his mother, even if neither of his parents shared his Clint Eastwood squint.
When people used to marvel at how Logan looked so little like his parents or his younger brother, his mother would quickly say, Oh, he’s a Grainger through and through.
Except according to a letter from one Clyde T. Parsons, Logan was the result of a brief romance between him and Logan’s mother, before his mother married his dad. Clyde had gotten her in the family way, then freaked out and walked out on her, leaving her alone and pregnant in a small town. Had Haywood Grainger known his mother was pregnant when he married her? Had he known their firstborn son wasn’t his?
If he had, his father hadn’t shown it.
I am your father. I am your father. I am your father.
Those damned words from Parsons’s letter circled around his head all the time. He’d feel it hard in his gut about himself—who am I? Who the heck is Clyde Parsons? And then he’d look at his boys, the sweet, innocent orphaned nephews he was raising, and he’d feel it harder about them and what it meant.
Was he even their uncle? If Parsons was telling the truth and Logan wasn’t a Grainger, were Harry and Henry even really his? No matter what, you’re still your mother’s son, he reminded himself for the millionth time since getting that letter. So if Parsons is your biological father, you’re your brother’s half sibling. Which makes you the twins’ half uncle.