Her Cowboy's Triplets (The Boones of Texas 7)

Cal sat with Brody’s girls, talking animatedly. Ramona Wallace listened as well, looking a little shell-shocked and in need of reinforcements. Small puddles of ice cream covered the tabletop—along with a mountain of napkins and wet wipes.

“He’s wearing a pirate patch over his bad eye, but he’ll be okay,” Cal finished.

She gripped the chair back, doing her best to steady her heart and her breathing. Even now, the look in Brody’s eyes had her weak-kneed.

The girls clapped and laughed.

“I’m so glad,” Mrs. Wallace said. “Suellen said he was quite the hero, knocking you out of the way before the snake struck.”

Cal puffed up with pride. “He was a hero.”

“You’re lucky to have him.” Mrs. Wallace smiled.

“We all were.” Brody’s voice made India jump, clinging to the chair back. “I told India and Cal to have some ice cream with us. Maybe some real food, too.” He took a seat between his girls, his gaze finding hers.

“Mom wants French fries,” Cal said. “Come on, Mom, sit down.”

“Why bite Tanner?” Amberleigh asked.

“Snakes don’t have arms or legs or hands or feet so I guess they have to do something to protect themselves,” Cal said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it explained that way, Cal,” Brody said. “But I’d say that’s about right.”

India wavered. She wasn’t the least bit hungry for food. What she was craving sat four feet away, grinning like a fool—knowing damn well she was struggling.

It was the most awkward meal she’d ever shared. Poor Mrs. Wallace did her best to keep a conversation going, but India was too distracted by Brody. Brody, who seemed perfectly at ease. He laughed and talked with the kids, munched his cheeseburger and listened to all of Cal’s dinosaur facts without batting an eye.

By the time she’d finished half of her French fries, the yearning of her body had spread. With every laugh and smile, every bad joke and eye roll, Brody Wallace made her yearn. Badly.

“Are you okay, India?” Mrs. Wallace asked, her voice low.

India nodded. Except she wasn’t. Not in the least. “I think... I just need a minute? It’s been a...day.” She pushed back her chair and hurried into the bathroom.

The burn of tears took her by surprise. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, frowned at the red-rimmed, wide-eyed woman staring back and hurried into one of the stalls before her sobs found her.

There was no reason to cry.

Cal was safe. As long as she had Cal, everything was fine.

The girls—curious Marilyn, sweet Suellen and fearless Amberleigh—were safe, too. They might be Brody’s, but she cared about them. They’d been in harm’s way today, just like Cal.

And Brody. Everything about Brody. He’d been incredible. So strong, so fast, so damn capable. He’d taken control before she’d realized what had happened. What could have happened.

She pressed her eyes shut and leaned against the stall’s wall.

It was okay. And now that it was over and everything was going to be okay, she didn’t need to fall apart. But she was. Right here, right now, in a bathroom stall of the Soda Shop.

Sobs racked her, loud and pathetic. Every time she felt like she was getting control of her life, something knocked her feet out from under her. And this time it wasn’t a something, it was a someone. Brody. Not that it was his fault. It was her own traitorous heart.

No, not her heart. She couldn’t let him in her heart. Her heart had nothing to do with this. It was about being lonely, that was all. She hiccupped, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

“India?” Mrs. Wallace spoke softly.

She’d been crying too loudly to hear the woman come into the bathroom? Which meant Mrs. Wallace was fully aware of her meltdown.

“Are you all right? Can I help?” The sincere concern in the woman’s voice only made it worse.

“I—I’m fine,” she managed.