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

“I’m sure.” Cal nodded, dressed in his parade finery, complete with chaps and a new hat.

“You sure look like a cowboy.” She tapped the rim of his hat.

“I can ride like one, too.” He grinned up at her.

“All right,” she said, leading him out to the corrals. She caught sight of her father on the far side of the holding pen. Men of all ages milled about, laughing and joking in the cool morning air.

Click waved Cal over, Tommy already saddled and ready for the short ride through town.

“Gotta go, Mom,” he said, running toward Click.

And Brody. Her heart turned over at the wink he sent her way. The last few weeks had been different. He didn’t hide the way he felt about her anymore—instead he went out of his way to show her just how special she was to him.

Stolen kisses. Holding hands. Flowers. Notes and texts.

But he hadn’t visited her bed.

He wanted to. She could tell when their kisses lasted too long or his hold grew a little too impatient. Every time he’d back off. And it was driving her out of her mind. She ached for him. Missed him.

And loved him.

If he said it again, she might just come clean. She was tempted—more than tempted. But loving him didn’t change the way their families felt about each other. Or the drama their children would have to endure if they did try for something more.

Cal’s wave drew her back to the present. He sat atop Tommy, smiling for all the world to see. Her father included.

She held her breath as her father nudged his horse across the corral to Cal, Brody and Click. It was too far away to hear what was being said, but none of them looked tense or upset. Nope, there were smiles all around.

Her father was proud.

Cal was prouder.

“You ready to go?” Scarlett asked. “Looks like the menfolk have things under control here.” She laughed.

They drove into town to set up the booths for the festival. Once the cattle crossed Main Street, the festival officially began. There’d be funnel cake and lemonade, bobbing for apples, Old West reenactments, face painting and butterfly-themed arts and crafts galore.

She set up the Butterfly Kissing Booth. Her two hours were early, so that should cut down on any too-drunk festivalgoers hoping for a real kiss, but still... She didn’t like the idea of kissing unless it included Brody.

As the committee members finished their work, hundreds of thousands of monarch butterflies flew overhead. India stopped to stare up at them.

“Wow,” she said.

“India.” Amberleigh’s voice reached her seconds before the little girl was at her side. “Look,” she said, pointing up at the cloud of butterflies.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” India asked, kneeling beside her.

“Pretty,” Suellen said, her eyes wide and her little hands clasped together.

“Lots and lots,” Marilyn added, spinning.

“You need butterfly crowns,” India said. “All fairy princesses at the butterfly festival need crowns.”

“They sure do,” Ramona Wallace said, slightly out of breath from running after the girls. “Nice to see you, India.”

“You, too,” she said. “Come to help make crowns?”

“Of course.” The woman nodded. “What colors?”

India didn’t mind the glue or glitter coating her fingertips and hands when it was all said and done. The girls were laughing, winding pipe cleaners with feathers, paper butterflies and leaves, and adding ribbons and streamers.