Free Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page A

knowing look from Rose. He sent her one right back. “This is only round one,” he whispered in her ear as he carried the pies, waiter-style, to the oven to be baked.
    Dinner went well, but the kids were drooping with fatigue by the time they finished eating. Rose took them up to get them bathed and put to bed while he did dishes. She returned short minutes later, looking deliciously disheveled and smelling of baby shampoo and soap. “Can you believe they’re already asleep?”
    He took her by the hand and led her into the family room. Together they settled on the big, comfy sofa. “From the sound of it, they had a long day.”
    Rose tugged off her sneakers and propped her feet on the coffee table. “A lot of long days, actually.”
    “Any particular reason why?” he asked, watching her wriggling her toes beneath her socks.
    “Part of it is the number of crops coming in now.”
    Figuring what the heck, he might as well get comfortable, he took off his boots and put his legs up, too. “I’m guessing winter can be a little slower?”
    “Not as slow as you might think. The Texas pecan crop harvests in the fall, and we get greens and cabbage and broccoli and a lot of root vegetables year-round. Plus, last year I started selling Christmas trees and greenery for my brother-in-law.”
    “So you really don’t get a break.”
    “Not much of one. Which is why I put the kids in the Montessori preschool for half days last year. This year I stepped it up to the full-day program so I can get most of my work done while they are gone.” Rose raked her teeth across her soft and delicate lower lip. “The new schedule has worked well overall. The kids have a lot of friends at school, and while mornings are academically oriented, the afternoons are all fun activities and field trips.”
    Clint nodded. “They seem happy.”
    Rose got up and headed for the kitchen, returning with a box of chocolates. “They are. The only problem is that sometimes they can get overtired and hence be really difficult to deal with. And now, as you heard earlier,” she said, working off the box top and offering him dibs, “Stephen is beginning to resent living in an estrogen-powered household.”
    Clint selected a dark chocolate square with an almond on the top. “It can be rough being the only male sibling.”
    “That’s right. You have four sisters and no brothers.” Rose plucked up a round milk chocolate treat with a fancy curl on the top. She took a small bite, savoring the cherry nougat filling. “I forgot about that,” she murmured, still sitting sideways on the sofa, facing him, her bent knee a millimeter away from nudging his thigh. “How did you survive?”
    Trying not to think about what he would really like to do, which was shove the darn box of candy aside, lift her onto his lap and find pleasure in a whole
other
way, Clint tamped down his desire with effort. He admitted, “I went outside and worked on the ranch, and I rode my horse a lot.”
    She swallowed another small bite of her candy. “That bad, hmm?”
    “At that age? Oh, yeah.”
    Throat dry, he watched her polish off the last of her candy. If she made love with the same dedication to pleasure she gave eating her dessert, they would have one heck of a time together. To distract himself, he took another piece of candy from the box.
    “So what was the worst thing about having so many females around?” Rose asked, helping herself to another piece of candy, too.
    Clint shrugged. With the last of the chocolate and caramel melting on his tongue, he forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. “It wasn’t so much the fights over the bathroom or boys, or clothes, or the phone, or the car we all had to share as teenagers. It was the constant lobbying and negotiating that drove me around the bend. Or, as my mom used to say, everyone in the family wanted to give orders. No one wanted to take orders. And you can’t have a tribe that’s all chiefs and have