His Brother's Bride

Clint joined them at the table, and Scott soon found that everything he’d heard about Clint’s griddle cakes was true. He was afforded the opportunity to enjoy them without interruption as the twins kept up a steady dialogue. Amused himself, Scott noticed how entranced Laurel seemed to be with the pair.

“Mommy’s goin’ to let us run in the hose!” announced Robin.

“Just as soon as breakfast is done!” chimed in Randi.

Laurel’s eyes danced as she gazed from one twin to the next. “And who’s going to count to ten before you start?” she asked, as though she was aware of their routine.

“We are!” both girls shouted.

“But I betcha can’t count to twenty,” she challenged, taking a bite of melon. The rest of them didn’t need to be in the room for all the attention she wa

s paying them.

“Yes we can!” the girls cried. “One, two, three, four...” They made it all the way to twenty.

Their mother and uncle grinned with pride from either end of the table.

“You gotta admit, they are pretty smart,” Keegan leaned over to whisper. He’d filled his plate with everything from the buffet—his father’s griddle cakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, a croissant and hash browns.

“That they are,” Scott whispered back.

“Girls, eat your eggs,” Maureen said. She was apparently just having an English muffin for breakfast.

The girls each took a bite, though it took one of them—Scott had lost track of who was who—a few tries to get the scrambled eggs to her mouth. They kept falling off her spoon. He almost laughed out loud when she finally just picked up the glob of eggs with her fingers and shoved it in.

“We can count to forty, too!” one of the girls told Laurel.

“Show me.”

Laurel was great with the twins, Scott realized. And had she married his brother on the day intended, she would very probably be teaching her own son or daughter to count rather than coaxing numbers out of virtual strangers.

The thought saddened him enough to curb his appetite.

CHAPTER SIX

“YOU LOOK NICE TODAY.”

“Thanks.” Climbing into Scott’s Blazer as he held the door for her, Laurel felt a rush of purely feminine pleasure. There was absolutely nothing spectacular about the white stretch denim slacks she was wearing, or the short-sleeved cotton top, but he made her feel as though there was.

On vacation now, he was out of uniform and dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She’d never before been moved by a man with rolled up sleeves. It must be his resemblance to Paul that was affecting her now.

“I had a friend of mine from crisis training make a visit to William’s neighborhood in Connecticut,” he told her.

Her heart leapt. “And?”

“Nothing. Apparently he comes and goes a lot, so being away for an extended time is nothing out of the ordinary.”

Laurel had a feeling she’d better prepare herself for a slew of disappointments over the next day or two.

As previously arranged, they met Bonnie Cooper at her home—a former cottage she owned in town.

With her maple-brown eyes and milk-chocolate hair, Bonnie was just as Laurel remembered her. A little taller, maybe, but still wearing her infectious smile and offering the small-town welcome that seemed to be part of everyone who’d ever lived in Cooper’s Corner.

“It’s so good to see you!” Bonnie said, giving Laurel a strong hug.

“You, too,” Laurel replied, grinning for a moment in spite of the serious reason for their visit. Dressed in denim overalls and a ribbed T-shirt, Bonnie looked young and cute.

Fun-loving. Just as Laurel remembered her.