LITMIR.BIZ

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the wedding, she’d complained the rooms were too small and she felt cramped without adequate storage space. Without discussing it with him first, she’d talked to her father. Philip not only had an architect draw up a new blueprint, but then generously offered to pay the expenses so they could build something more suited to their style.

      What Marie didn’t understand was that the ranch was Jesse’s style.

      And he thought it had been hers.

      Memories lapped against the walls Jesse had shored up around his heart.

      The truth was, both of them had assumed a lot about each other.

      They’d met at a rodeo, when Marie had come to town on what she described as a “girls’ getaway” weekend. She sat down next to Jesse on the makeshift bleachers, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she told him that her friends had dared her to kiss a cowboy.

      Unable to resist her charming smile, Jesse planted his favorite Stetson on Marie’s head and kissed her on the cheek instead, surprised at his own boldness.

      They had dinner that evening. And the next.

      Marie extended her weekend stay to an entire week. When she finally left, she took Jesse’s heart with her. After more than ten years of pouring his heart and soul into making the ranch a success, he’d been ready for someone to share it with.

      Jesse had always been the levelheaded one when it came to life and relationships, but in spite of Maya’s reservations, he proposed to Marie on Valentine’s Day and they married less than six months later.

      Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for Jesse to realize that Marie had a romanticized, Hollywood view about life on a ranch. Emergencies ignited like brush fires, and as the owner of the Circle L, it was Jesse’s responsibility to put them out. Night or day. Marie started to resent the hours he spent apart from her. She resisted Maya’s attempts to befriend her, and refused to become part of the tight-knit community, but still complained that she was bored.

      Bitterness scoured the lining of Jesse’s stomach. He’d opened his heart and taken a risk. And in the end he’d lost.

      He didn’t blame Marie, he blamed himself. He’d written a fairy tale of his own—one in which he and his wife would work side by side during the day and sit together on the porch swing in the evening, waiting for the first star to appear in the sky. They’d laugh together. Raise a family together. The way his parents had.

      But the reality? More arguments than laughter. And too many nights when Jesse had sat on the porch swing alone while Marie sat inside watching television or talking on the phone.

      He didn’t feel blessed.

      “Mr. Logan? Jesse?” Lori Martin stood beside him, concern reflected in the depths of her amber eyes. “Is something wrong?”

      Jesse’s lips twisted.

      Maybe she was worried that she’d agreed to work for someone who was losing his mind. Not that Jesse blamed her. A few times over the past few months, he’d wondered about that himself.

      He frowned as his gaze dropped to the constellation of pale cinnamon freckles dotting the bridge of Lori’s nose.

      Funny, he hadn’t noticed them until now.

      With a jolt, Jesse realized he hadn’t noticed how young she was, either. Probably in her mid-twenties. Her smile seemed to appear without warning or reason, and the lively sparkle in her eyes was evidence of a life that hadn’t been touched by disappointment.

      Lucky her.

      Lori’s response to his bluff the night before, when he offered and she accepted the nanny position, had left him stunned. It wasn’t until Jesse watched her car glide up the driveway that he let himself believe she’d really accepted the position. And even then, he half expected to see her do a U-turn and hightail it back to town.

      He’d stopped asking God for help a long time ago, but if Jesse didn’t know better, he’d be tempted to think He was still looking out for him anyway.

      Lori felt her face grow warm and she shifted uncomfortably under Jesse’s intense perusal. Had her mascara smeared? Did she have a smudge of grape jelly on her nose?

      An unhappy squawk on the other side of the door saved her from having to ask.

      She and Jesse instinctively turned toward the sound.

      “Brooke.” They said the name at exactly the same moment.

      Lori grinned at the expression on Jesse’s face and she shrugged. “She’s always the first one awake and ready to eat in the morning.”

      A shadow darkened Jesse’s eyes. “I keep forgetting that you…know them.”

      Know them. Love them. Had even held them in her arms before Jesse….

      Lori decided those thoughts were best kept to herself as she stepped into the nursery to say good morning to the girls.

      She blinked, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the shock.

      Someone had painted the room…pink. But not a delicate, seashell-pink. A bright, vibrant, sensory-overload shade of Post-it Note pink.

      But aside from the color of the walls and the identical white cribs lined up against the wall, it didn’t look like a nursery.

      No pictures on the walls. No mobiles over the cribs. The windows lacked curtains and, other than the beds, there wasn’t a stick of furniture. Not even a rocking chair.

      Lori’s gaze moved to an enormous cardboard box positioned under the window. She decided it didn’t count.

      A sudden noisy chorus rose from the direction of the three cribs, and Lori no longer had time to dwell on the décor. Or lack thereof.

      “When one wakes up, they all wake up.” Jesse shook his head. “I stopped setting my alarm a few months ago—it seemed a little unnecessary.”

      Lori went to Sasha first, even though the baby wasn’t exercising her lungs the way Brooke was. She’d captured her toes and was studying them with the same serious, intense expression Lori had seen on Jesse’s face. She reached into the crib and Sasha’s dimpled hand closed around her finger.

      “Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” She glanced at Jesse. “Do you have a changing table somewhere?”

      “It’s in the box,” Jesse muttered.

      The box under the window.

      Madison rolled over to watch the show, her thumb tucked firmly in her mouth. Lori blew her a noisy kiss. “Patience, sweet pea. I’ll get to you in a minute.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, Lori saw Jesse’s scowl.

      It occurred to her that, if he’d fired someone for the songs she’d sung to the girls, maybe kisses were against the rules, too.

      Not on her shift.

      She’d spent hours caring for babies, and she knew that the more stimulation they received—the more people who touched and spoke to them—the more they thrived.

      “If you have work to do, I can take it from here.” And she’d be much less nervous if Jesse wasn’t watching her.

      Jesse hesitated.

      “Really. We’ll be fine.” With Sasha in her arms, Lori breezed over to the changing table…box…and with one hand, flicked open a blanket before laying the baby down. She kept one hand on Sasha’s tummy while reaching for a clean diaper from the stack on the floor.

      Jesse hadn’t taken the hint, and Lori felt the weight of his gaze as she deftly changed Sasha’s diaper. It wasn’t until all the babies had on fresh diapers that he finally retreated.

      Lori sighed with relief.

      “I must have made it through round one,” she whispered to Madison.

      The

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