The Cowboy's Twins (9 page)

He crouched by the horse's head and stroked its neck. Fuego thrashed and made another terrifying, heart-rending squeal. Jax adjusted his position so he wouldn't get kicked but left his hand on the stallion's shoulder.

“Easy there, boy,” he coaxed. “You've got yourself into a real pickle this time, haven't you? Serves you right for trying to charge a pretty woman. You should know better. Just be your handsome self and the women will come to you.”

The horse slowly stilled under the sound of Jax's voice. “Let's have a look at those legs, shall we?”

Violet made a mewling sound that caught Faith's attention. She guessed the baby had been woken by Fuego's disturbance. She unbuckled the infant's car seat and sheltered the infant in her arms.

The act of soothing the child had the additional benefit of calming her, as well.

“Your daddy came to the rescue,” she informed little Violet in a whisper. “He'll be able to help Fuego. I know he will.”

She stared down at the wide-eyed infant, and her heart welled with compassion for the little one. “I know your life hasn't always been ideal, but you've got your daddy now. He'll do right by you, you know. And you've got—” She stopped herself before she could say the words hovering on her lips.
You've got me.

No.

These two little girls were coming to mean so much to her—too much. But she could not let herself get involved, not without risking her whole world imploding.

Hadn't she learned anything from last time?

With effort she willed her emotions back, folding them up and tucking them deep inside her heart. She would not come to care meaningfully for these children. She could not. They would be a neighbor's children and that was all. She had no place in their lives and they had no place in hers. And neither did their father.

She'd called upon Jax because he was an expert with horses and because he was still one of only a few townspeople she'd met so far. In an emergency—and this definitely qualified as one—she hadn't known whom else to call.

It had nothing to do with the spark of attraction that surfaced between them every time their eyes met. It wasn't because the reflection in his gaze suggested that the chemistry she felt might be reciprocated. It wasn't because of his tenderness or thoughtfulness, nor even that he'd offered his time and talents even when she'd assured him it wasn't necessary for him to do so.

And it had nothing to do with the way he'd dropped everything to come to her rescue.

What sent a jolt of dread skittering from nerve to nerve until her whole frame was quivering was the way she couldn't stop her chest from expanding when she gazed down at Jax's two precious infants.

She didn't dare make a connection, come to care for these tiny pieces of humanity. These soft, sweet, innocent twins.

She wiped a hand across her suddenly wet eyes.

No. She couldn't do this, couldn't become involved.

She had her reasons—good ones—and one of them was Jax himself, embroiled in a bizarre and complicated relationship with his ex-wife.

And then she had her own issues. She knew her limits. Caring too much was her Achilles' heel. It invariably got her in trouble.

She invested her heart in the wrong places—in the wrong
people
. It had taken an utter heartbreak for her to learn that hard truth, and it was the reason she had chosen to go it alone with her wild-horse rescue.

Except she wasn't going it alone.

Jax was here.

He'd turned his attention from the stallion to the piles of timber surrounding him, hemming him in. Still speaking in low murmurs, he moved beam after beam, tossing them to the side to give Fuego more room to move.

Why hadn't she thought to do that?

He'd nearly cleared a path for the stallion when suddenly the horse neighed loudly and rolled, unaided and snorting, to his feet. He shook his mane and bucked twice.

Faith breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly Fuego's legs weren't broken. All was well.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the stallion put down his head and charged. Faith's adrenaline roared to life, and yet events seemed to unfold in slow motion.

“Jax!” she screamed.

Jax had his back to the horse. He didn't even see it coming. He dropped the beam he was holding and half turned toward her—and away from the horse. She'd unwittingly made his situation worse.

Fuego hit Jax with a momentum that would have sent most men sprawling in the dirt. It was almost as if Jax sensed the thousand-pound collision just moments before it happened. He ducked and dodged to the side.

The horse hit his left shoulder. Jax staggered and his hat hit the dirt, but he kept on his feet in the shuffle, running several steps to regain his balance.

Faith's heart was beating frantically in her ears.

Oh, Jax.

He could very easily have been trampled under the powerful stallion's hooves, and all because she'd messed up. She was the one who had placed the lumber where the horses could potentially hurt themselves. Jax wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.

Another epic failure in a long stream of them, it seemed, one of many in the weeks since she'd arrived in Serendipity. Compared with her much smaller list of accomplishments, she was feeling rather low and pathetic. And she needed to apologize to Jax once again.

It was becoming a habit she would rather break.

Jax stooped to retrieve his hat, and Faith realized that Rose had woken. Both babies were howling in protest, playing off each other to see who could cry the loudest. Her attention had been so rapt on the interplay between Jax and Fuego that she hadn't even heard the poor darlings.

It was no surprise that they were bawling. In pure terror, Faith had just screamed their father's name loud enough to wake the entire town, and these poor little babies were well within hearing distance.

No infant should have to wake up to that.

“It's okay, my sweethearts,” she cooed. She considered trying to remove Rose from her car seat, but she was already holding Violet, and it would be difficult to unlatch the buckle with one hand. Plus she'd have to juggle two babies at once, which she wasn't certain she could do.

She could only imagine Jax's learning curve with his twins. How did he manage caring for two babies at once?

For the first time since she'd arrived in Serendipity, she regretted that her house was a certified wreck. It wasn't fit for adult visitors, much less a couple of newborn babies. She couldn't invite them in and let the little ones down on the floor anytime soon.

Jax flashed a smile at Faith as he reached the barn and effortlessly scooped Rose into his arms. Rose immediately quieted, even before he spoke to her.

“It's okay, little darlin',” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss over her downy forehead. “Daddy's fine. Fuego is fine. Everything is okay now.”

Faith breathed a silent prayer of gratitude.

Jax turned to plant a kiss on Violet's forehead, and Faith's gaze narrowed on the sleeve of his navy blue T-shirt. Fabric hung in tatters over the shoulder and a copper-red stain was spreading in uneven patterns across the surface.

Faith gasped and reached for his elbow to still him. “Jax! You're not fine. You're bleeding.”

Chapter Five

J
ax glanced at his left arm and shrugged. “Don't worry about it. It's nothing.”

The expression on Faith's face was priceless—going from startled to confused to angry in a matter of seconds. Her face flushed from peach to cherry red. Her expressions were so distinct from each other that they reminded Jax of one of those old flip comic books that demonstrated basic animation.

When she gathered her brows over her eyes and her expression slammed to a halt on
determined
with a dash of
stubborn
, he knew he was in trouble.

He'd seen that look before, and it didn't bode well for him. He didn't see why she was making such a big deal out of the gash, anyway. It was just a little blood. He'd had worse.

Much worse.

“I'd better be going,” he said, rather than allowing his mind to dwell upon the
worse
. “The babies need to be fed. I think Fuego is out of the woods now, but keep an eye on him and call the vet for a follow-up appointment just to be on the safe side. Watch for any signs of lameness.”

“If the babies need to be fed, we'll feed them here, together, but there is no way I'm letting you drive off this property in that condition.”

She seemed determined to bandage him up, and he couldn't restrain the shudder that went through him at the prospect. This wasn't about the gash or the blood or even the pain. This was about him leaving before she got a good look at his upper arm.

Her grip on his elbow tightened. “Come inside. My house is not pretty but it's functional. You can feed the twins while I gather some bandages and antibacterial ointment.” She frowned. “I think I know where my first-aid kit is. I've had to use it often in the past few weeks on my own splinters and blisters.”

She was rambling, more to herself than to him, and for some reason he found her little quirk amusing, like a mama bird chirping over her chicks. He just wished he wasn't the injured chick. She was about to see more than she bargained for.

“Sit down,” she encouraged him, nodding toward a burnt-orange armchair that had clearly seen better days. It was probably older than Jax was, but he found it surprisingly comfortable when he sank back into the cushion and crossed his left ankle over his right knee. Having had much practice recently in the art and craft of child-propping, he deftly supported Rose within the triangle of his legs.

“Here we go, then,” he told Rose, wishing he felt as confident as his tone. He was surprised his voice wasn't shaky. “Apparently your auntie Faith is going to patch up Daddy's owie.”

One of them, at least.

His entire life had changed for the worse because of the accident, because of these ugly scars he carried on his body and in his heart. Some were visible to the eye. Others were known only by him. His family might suspect that the damage ran deeper than what he'd admitted aloud, but he tried to keep the bulk of his pain and shame to himself.

He didn't care to share either his inward or outward disfigurement with anyone. That Faith was about to discover a hidden wound somehow made it all that much worse. They were friends, he thought, and it was only recently that he'd realized he had far too few of those. It was his own fault. He'd alienated those who'd reached out to him after his accident. He didn't want to ruin his newfound friendship with Faith.

She wasn't a superficial woman. She seemed to be able to see beyond the puckered scar on his face and glimpse the man within. But maybe it was only that she was too wrapped up in her own problems to look—really
look
—at him.

And that was about to change.

He knew how irrational his emotions were. The physical scars were inconsequential. They shouldn't matter, but the pain of Susie's revulsion was still too fresh in his mind. He remembered in vivid detail the day—

“I found it,” Faith said, sounding out of breath as she burst into the living room with Violet in one arm and a white tackle box–looking thing in the other. “This has a little bit of everything. I bought it at Emerson's Hardware the first day I was in town. I was stocking up on supplies and wasn't sure what I needed. That Eddie Emerson is such a sweet guy. He walked me through the store and made lots of suggestions.”

Sweet guy.

Jax didn't know why he bristled at the words. He had no claim on Faith, nor did he want to.

Eddie was, in fact, a good guy, at least as far as Jax could discern. He worked hard at his family's store, he attended church every Sunday, and he was popular with the ladies. If Faith was interested in him, she could do worse.

Jax's gaze swept over Faith and abruptly changed his mind. Eddie was too young for her. He was still figuring out who he was. Faith had lived with the harsh realities of real life. She hadn't spoken of them, but he could see it in the way her eyes glazed over sometimes as memories overtook her and in the sad shadows that sometimes accompanied those moments.

Faith placed Violet in her car seat and then rummaged through the diaper bag and withdrew two empty bottles and a can of formula.

“That's the difference between a small town and a big city,” she informed him.

He wondered if she realized she was carrying the whole conversation on her own. Jax was afraid anything he said right now would come out sounding bitter, so he remained silent.

“Back in Connecticut, where I was born and raised, shopping experiences are on the opposite side of the spectrum. Most often you can't find a store employee to help you even if you're looking for one, and if you do somehow manage to flag one down, they drag their feet and don't give any more assistance than absolutely necessary.” She paused and gave this cute little feminine snort. “And don't even get me started on trying to find someone to help you carry out a large load of material. It would be better if we didn't even talk about the headaches you'll find there.”

Okay.

He grinned. He wasn't
talking
about anything. She wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.

She disappeared into what he assumed was the kitchen and reappeared moments later with two warm bottles of formula.

“I tested the temperature on the inside of my wrist. That's right, isn't it?”

He chuckled and nodded.

She already knew the answer to her question—she was just giving him the opportunity to show off his new daddy knowledge. “Okay, good. Anyway, back to Emerson's.” She picked up the conversation right where she'd left off. Jax wondered how rude it would sound to tell her he didn't want to talk about Eddie Emerson anymore.

“I couldn't believe it when I walked in the door. Eddie came right around the counter with a welcoming smile on his face and didn't leave my side until he was satisfied I'd found everything I needed.”

Jax had been born and raised in Serendipity and had worked the family ranch all his life. He visited San Antonio for supplies when he absolutely had to, but mostly he kept to himself and shopped in Serendipity.

He liked the country. He'd never once considered leaving the town, but he had to admit he'd never taken the time to see it through a newcomer's eyes. Faith was beaming, and in the oddest way, it made Jax proud to call Serendipity home.

“That looks terrible,” Faith said, moving to his side to examine his bloody sleeve. “Do you think you can mind both babies while I tend to your injury?”

He chuckled. He'd learned to do a lot of things in pairs since his daughters had come into his life.

“Observe,” he said mildly.

Faith set Violet into the curve of his right arm and he propped her bottle with his left hand, then gestured for Faith to hand him the other bottle in his right. Exhibiting yet another circus-worthy feat, he aimed carefully and managed to connect the tip of the bottle with Rose's smacking lips.

He grinned in triumph.

“I am duly impressed.” Faith laughed and applauded. “Well done, Daddy.”

She perched on the corner of the coffee table and rummaged through the first-aid kit, removing gauze, alcohol swabs, tape and antibacterial ointment.

“Let's see what we've got here,” she said, reaching for the sleeve on his T-shirt.

A monster.

He strove to hold himself steady as she rolled up the sleeve, bit by excruciating bit, apologizing profusely when he sucked in a ragged breath. The stupid scar tissue was ultrasensitive, and despite what he'd told Faith, the gash he'd gotten today was fairly substantial and it hurt like the dickens.

She rolled the sleeve to his shoulder and gasped. There it was, then, the same reaction Susie had had the first time she'd looked upon her husband's scarred body.

He knew what he'd see when he saw Faith's expression—horror and revulsion. Morbid curiosity followed by disgust.

So he didn't look.

He kept his head low and his gaze averted. How had she managed to talk him into this, anyway? He could clean his own wounds at his own house, secure and isolated.

Alone.

And yet here he was, under Faith's gentle ministrations, hating every moment of it but conversely not so much.

She made an exclamation, but it wasn't shock. It was compassion. “You poor thing.”

“What?” Her response wasn't what he'd expected at all, and it took him a moment to recover. Was it pity he was hearing?

Anger welled in his chest, and he grasped at it, needing it to cover everything else he was feeling. He didn't want her to feel sorry for him. He didn't want her sympathy.

Her reaction was at least as bad, maybe worse, than her turning away in revulsion, because it jabbed at his insides and made him
feel
things. At least he'd learned how to shield himself to those who turned away at his physical scars.

This, he was defenseless against.

With effort, he hardened his heart. His shoulders tightened with strain. He would not give in.

“I know it hurts, but try not to tense up on me,” she gently coaxed. “If you can, try to distract your mind with something.” Squinting, she examined the wound, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

He stared at her full lips so he didn't have to meet her gaze. That was distracting enough for him. He knew by now that biting her lip was a sure sign she was fully concentrating on something, but right now it annoyed him.

She didn't have to be so cute about it. He had plenty to keep his mind on that had nothing to do with the pretty lady tending to his wound—the two babies in his arms, for instance. But no matter how he tried, his babies weren't distracting him, and he didn't like it one bit.

“This has to hurt. How did it happen?”

His fists tightened involuntarily, and he lost his hold on Violet's bottle. He scrambled to readjust, but the bottle rolled from his grasp. Without a word, Faith retrieved it for him, smiling softly as she pressed the container back into his hand. Her gaze shifted from Violet's eyes to his.

She was asking about his scars.

No one
asked about his scars. They stared. Gaped. Whispered.

But no one asked.

Where did he even start? And did he want to get into this with her at all?

“I feel so bad about this. I saw Fuego connect with your shoulder, but I didn't see him bite you.” Her tone sounded as if she was going to go reprimand the stallion for his bad behavior. “There's no doubt about it, though. I can clearly see the bite marks.”

Huh?
His mind fogged. What was she talking about?

He'd been thinking about the hideous scar that covered his upper arm all the way to his collarbone. They'd had to graft his skin, and he'd been in the hospital for a long time. It wasn't pretty to look at.

There was some irony in that. As a teenager and young adult he'd never given a thought to his appearance, except for the cocky, youthful knowledge that he was considered attractive by the girls. Now he was suddenly hypersensitive to Faith's eyes on his ugliness.

“He caught me on his way out,” Jax explained, still wondering why they were talking about the bite and not his scar. “I was mostly able to roll away from him, but he still managed to take a chunk out of my arm.”

“I'll say. I don't think you'll need stitches, but you probably ought to have your doctor take a look at you just to be on the safe side.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “I have every confidence that you can patch me up just fine.”

She tore open a couple of packages of alcohol swabs and laid out some gauze.

“This is going to hurt,” she warned him.

He set his jaw and didn't flinch when she gently dabbed the alcohol on his skin.

“Sorry. I know it's painful. This is the worst of it, though. I just want to make sure I clean the wound well so there's no chance of infection.”

“I can handle it. I'm a big boy.” He was too tough to let a little swab get the best of him, even if it was drenched in liquid fire. He tried to smile but grimaced instead.

She laughed, which somehow put him at ease. “No argument there. They grow men large out here in Texas.” She spread a big glob of antibacterial ointment over the wound, covered it with gauze and then ran the one-inch-wide self-sticking elastic tape around his biceps several more times than Jax thought was necessary. A little more and he'd practically have a cast.

“Are you current on your rabies vaccine?” she teased.

He snorted. “Fuego had better be the one worried about that.”

She laughed as she took Violet from his arms and settled herself on the burnt-orange sofa across from him. She shifted the baby to her shoulder and gently patted her back.

“I'm sorry my horse went after you that way,” she said, her smile faltering. “And after you came over here specifically to help me with him. I can't believe he bit you.”

“I won't press charges.”