Her Cowboy's Triplets

  A PLACE TO CALL HOME

  Recovering from a toxic first marriage, single mom India Boone wants nothing more than a fresh start for her and her five-year-old son. Coming home to Ft. Kyle, Texas, was only supposed to be a stepping-stone along the way. But then India runs into the man who’s always been her rock, childhood pal Brody Wallace, and suddenly she’s not so eager to leave.

  Having carried a torch for India since grade school, Brody’s thrilled the attraction finally seems mutual—except India’s still got one foot out the door. As much as it kills him, with precocious triplet daughters to worry about, he needs more than a no-strings fling. But how can he make India see that the home she’s looking for is right under her nose?

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you.”

  Brody stood. “I’d prefer a hug. A hug is the better choice.”

  India laughed, hugging him before she had time to think it through. “Thank you, Brody. You have no idea how frustrated I’ve been with that modem.”

  His arms were strong and secure around her. “Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff.”

  She nodded, far too content to stay in his arms. “You were right,” she whispered, trying not to burrow closer. It was hard.

  “About not sweating the small stuff?” he asked. “Can’t take the credit. It’s one of those inspirational quote-of-the-day things.”

  “Not that.” She laughed again. “About the hug.”

  “Oh.” His arms tightened. “That. Yeah, I’m enjoying it. You always gave good hugs.”

  She gave up the fight and hugged him tighter. “I was going to say the same thing.” The problem was she didn’t want to let go.

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome back to rugged Ft. Kyle for India and Brody’s romance. These two don’t stand a chance. Their fathers are rivals, India’s determined to get out of Ft. Kyle and Brody is still working out balancing his triplets, his jobs and running for mayor of the small town he calls home.

  But Brody Wallace is a go-getter. And he’s been in love with India Boone since kindergarten. He’s always been the best friend and the confidant. India’s been sad since she’s returned to town and he’s determined to find out why. And, hopefully, make it better.

  India’s working long hours and every odd job she can get to save up the money she needs to leave. Living under her father’s roof means dealing with his temper, but she and her son, Cal, have nowhere else to go. But Brody and his adorable daughters change everything, including her determination to leave Ft. Kyle.

  I hope you enjoy your visit to Ft. Kyle and the rugged beauty of West Texas. The final book in the Boones of Texas series will be out in 2018 and I can’t wait to share it with you!

  Happy reading!

  Sasha Summers

  HER COWBOY’S TRIPLETS

  Sasha Summers

  Sasha Summers grew up surrounded by books. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance and travel—passions she’s used to write more than twenty romance novels and novellas. Now a bestselling and award-winning author, Sasha continues to fall a little in love with each hero she writes, from easy-on-the-eyes cowboys and sexy alpha-male werewolves to heroes of truly mythic proportions. She believes that everyone should have their happily-ever-after—in fiction and real life.

  Sasha lives in the suburbs of Texas Hill Country with her amazing family and her beloved grumpy cat, Gerard, The Feline Overlord. She looks forward to hearing from fans and hopes you’ll visit her online: on Facebook at Sasha Summers Author, on Twitter, @sashawrites, or email her at sashasummersauthor@gmail.com

  Books by Sasha Summers

  Harlequin Western Romance

  The Boones of Texas

  A Cowboy’s Christmas Reunion

  Twins for the Rebel Cowboy

  Courted by the Cowboy

  A Cowboy to Call Daddy

  A Son for the Cowboy

  Cowboy Lullaby

  Harlequin Blaze

  Seducing the Best Man

  Christmas in His Bed

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

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  For Suellen Foxhall.

  Your love of life and joyful spirit were gifts to all who knew you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Excerpt from The Bull Rider’s Baby Bombshell by Amanda Renee

  Chapter One

  India Boone pushed her glasses into place and shoved another pencil into the top-knot of curls atop her head. “Work. Please work.” She typed in the code again, pressed Enter and held her breath. The same error box popped up on the computer screen. India covered her face with her hands and bit back a string of curses.

  “Mom?” her five-year-old son, Cal, and his dog, Tanner, peered over the edge of the desk. “How many years before the Indians got here did the dinosaurs go extinct? Was it fifty-five or sixty-five millions years?”

  She grinned at them, her frustration momentarily forgotten. How could she stay frustrated in the face of such adorableness? Most five-year-olds wouldn’t think about these things, but Cal was anything but normal. He was gifted and talented—something his old private school in Dallas was thrilled about. According to them, he was very gifted. Not that she’d needed anyone to tell her that.

  “I’m not sure Cal. A long, long time. But if you want a firm answer we can go to the fort later on and ask Ada.” If the internet was working, she could answer the question in no time. But that was the problem. Her computer skills were solid—once internet service was set up. She skimmed the software manual again, hoping she’d missed something.

  “Ada knows everything about Fort Kyle, doesn’t she?” Cal asked.

  “Pretty much.” India nodded. “Too bad she doesn’t know everything about installing software.”

  “Take a break? Maybe it’ll come to you after?” Cal suggested.

  She smiled at him, rubbed behind Tanner’s soft ear and took off her glasses, tucking them into their case. “A break, huh?” she asked, tugging the pencils free from her hair and rubbing the back of her head.

  “Sara said the Soda Shop is almost out of peach ice cream for the year,” Cal said, grinning. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

  “You know it is.” And it sounded delicious.

  He stood, tucking his favorite plesiosaur dinosaur into his pocket. “Let’s go get some. Come on, Mom, you deserve it.”

  “You’re allergic to peaches. What about you?” she asked, knowing exactly what he wanted. Something chocolate. Cal was all about the chocolate.

  “Yeah, but...” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, rocking on his boots. “I’m not allergic to chocolate. Or ice cream. Or brownies.”

  Tanner stood, tail wagging, his golden gaze bouncing between them. The Belgian Malinois came around, pushing his broad head under her hand and leaning into her until she
scratched behind his floppy, dark ear.

  “See, even Tanner needs a break,” he tacked on.

  She giggled, loving the smile on her son’s face. “You’re willing to suffer through a brownie sundae for me?”

  “Sure.” He laughed. “You did work at the school lots this week. Now you’re helping Gramma and Papa.”

  That was her—a jack-of-all-trades. Finding steady, good-paying work in a town the size of Fort Kyle was near impossible. Instead, she took what she could. Including installing internet and new inventory and accounting software for her parents’ antiques shop, along with substitute teaching and filling in at her parents’ dude ranch when they were shorthanded.

  “It’s the weekend, Mom,” Cal added.

  She’d come into the shop on her Sunday afternoon because it was closed. Meaning her father wasn’t around to stop her from dragging their business into the twenty-first century. His insistence on using paper ledgers and calculators took twice as long, and other than being inefficient and exhausting, the system was prone to errors. Her father would use the computer’s noncooperation as proof that relying on a “box full of wires” was “the stupidest idea” she’d ever had.

  “A break it is.” She pushed out of the wobbly office chair and flipped off the office lamp. If nothing else, Cal’s patience deserved ice cream.

  Cal led her to the front door of the antiques shop, Tanner trailing after them. “Did you know Gramma brought over another box of stuff from the big house?” He held the door open for her.

  “She did?” She pulled the shop door shut and locked it. “I haven’t seen it or inventoried anything new.”

  “And Papa snuck in two more when Gramma was talking to that loud lady from Nebraska.” He grinned up at her. “Hope Gramma doesn’t notice anything missing this time.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  There was no denying her parents had too many things. Her mother’s penchant for collecting bordered on hoarding. The ranch house attic was packed tight, the closets were overflowing and their storage shed was a virtual museum of unique and fascinating items. Items her mother treasured. Items her father was determined to sell and make a tidy profit from.

  When he’d tried to sneak things from the house into the shop, he’d gotten caught. Her mother hadn’t talked to her father for two days, which was torture for him. Woodrow Boone had one weakness: his wife. Apologies, flowers and chocolates, whatever made her happy, he did it.

  But Woodrow Boone also never gave up—the man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Within a few weeks, he’d managed the feat again, but this time he was smart enough to pick things from buried trunks and the back of closets. So far her mother had yet to miss any of it.

  Her parents’ relationship was a mystery to her, but it had lasted for thirty-six years. Her marriage had barely lasted three years. Her divorce had left wounds so deep there was still some healing to do.

  “Sky is pink.” Cal pointed at the horizon. A pink sunset and wafer-thin clouds greeted the eye. The West Texas breeze held the promise of fall. She leaned against the wood railing, letting the familiar sights and sounds of the small town ease the stress from her shoulders. The town was proof positive that the Old West wasn’t just the stuff of John Wayne movies. She and Cal were living it.

  For a few more months.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It is.” She lingered, appreciating the rugged beauty of the place where she’d grown up. When she’d been in Dallas, she’d missed Fort Kyle. Missed her sweet sister, Scarlett, and her mother’s smile. But now that she was here, she was reminded of the reason she left every time she looked at her father. He wore his disappointment for everyone to see. Failed marriage, flunked out of school and a son who was more interested in books than ranching—she was an all-around embarrassment to the Boone name. She’d come home because she wouldn’t let her pride keep Cal hungry. She shoved thoughts of her past and her father aside and opened the door of the Soda Shop for her son. “Ready for the Monarch Festival? And the cattle drive?”

  Cal nodded. “Think Papa will let me ride a real horse? On my own?”

  India wrinkled her nose. “We’ll see, Cal.” But she knew the answer. Her father wouldn’t spend the time teaching his grandson how to ride, even though it was tradition for Boone men. Cal hadn’t grown up on the ranch. He’d grown up in Dallas, a city boy with little time in the saddle. Like her ex-husband.

  Cal’s father always said Fort Kyle was too remote and too backwater for a man like him. But India knew the truth. He’d never been welcome in her hometown. She’d met Jim Thomas Cleburne—JT to his friends—while away at college and had gotten so swept up in their relationship, she’d eventually dropped out of school. Marrying into the wealthy Boone family had suited JT just fine, but not her father. Woodrow Boone pegged JT as bad news from the first time she’d brought him home to the ranch on a school holiday, and he’d done his best to drive the man away while they were dating. India had been too outraged by her father’s meddling and harsh treatment of JT to consider he might be right.

  As a self-described man of high ideals, JT liked the idea of success—but not the work. A pattern developed. JT chased after the latest get-rich scheme to wealth only to take his disappointment out on her when it all fell apart—and she had the scars to prove it. When he’d finally left, she’d been physically bruised and emotionally damaged, with a pile of debt and a vague assurance that he’d found a sure thing.

  That was three years ago. Three years with no letters, phone calls or birthday or Christmas cards, which suited India just fine.

  India and her son each took a seat on the bar stools lining the service counter.

  “Hey, Cal. Hey, Miss India. What’ll it be?” Sara asked from her spot behind the counter.

  Cal grinned at the teenager, the shop’s namesake. “You don’t know?”

  She tapped her chin with a finger. “Let me think. Hmm, a hot-fudge brownie sundae?” she asked, smiling. “And some water for Tanner?”

  Tanner’s ear perked up at his name, but he stayed seated at India’s feet—on his best behavior.

  Cal nodded, tipping his straw cowboy hat back. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Hats off inside, Cal,” India whispered, pleased when he did as she said.

  “What would you like, Miss India?” Sara asked.

  “A single scoop of peach ice cream in a sugar cone.” Brody Wallace’s voice rang out, the slight gravel a pleasant surprise. He was the last person she’d expected to find sitting on the bar stool beside Cal. But there he was, all tawny eyes and red-gold hair, broad shoulders—broader and bigger than she remembered. But then, it had been years since she’d seen him last. “If I remember correctly?” He grinned, his brows rising in question.

  India stared at him, stunned. By his transformation. And his presence. It was so good to see him. “Brody?” She hopped off her stool, hesitating seconds before wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long. When did you get back in town? You visiting? Is your dad okay?”

  He pulled back, his eyes crinkling from his grin. “Hold on, now. I’ll pick one. My dad’s fine. Ornery as ever, but fine.” His gaze explored her face, his smile never wavering. “You look good, Goldilocks.”

  His nickname for her made her hug him again. Brody Wallace had been her very best friend in the world. Having the comfort of his arms around her now reminded her just how much she’d missed him. He’d been her shoulder through thick and thin, her confidant and her adviser. The last few years, when things had been so damn hard, she’d thought about reaching out to him. But calling him after all this time had seemed wrong—selfish.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded, forcing herself to step back. “It’s just so good to see you.”

  His eyes narrowed just a hint, stared a little too hard. “You, too.”<
br />
  “Mom?” India felt Cal’s tug on her arm. “Goldilocks?”

  She stepped back then, sliding an arm around her son. “Cal, this is Brody. He was my best friend growing up here.” She squeezed her son’s shoulder. “Brody, this is my son, Cal.”

  Brody held his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Cal. And who’s this?” he asked, nodding at Tanner.

  “That’s Tanner.” Cal shook his hand. “You got Mom’s order right.”

  Brody nodded. “Thought so. Her love for peach ice cream was unrivaled by just about anything.”

  Cal smiled.

  “You want something?” Sara asked him.

  Brody sighed, staring at the old-fashioned chalk menu.

  “A root beer float,” India said. “With chocolate ice cream.”

  Brody chuckled. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

  “Chocolate ice cream?” Cal asked. “Is it good?”

  Brody nodded. “Last time I checked, you can’t really go wrong with chocolate.”

  Cal nodded slowly. “Can’t argue with that.”

  India glanced at Brody. He winked, the slight shake of his head so familiar. He’d always had a ready smile and a big, contagious laugh, and a kind word for everyone—and she’d admired him for it. He’d been a refreshing change from the other guys in her life. She and her father had tended to butt heads over every little thing. And the other boys in school were either too full of themselves or too eager to get into her pants to take the time to get to know her.

  Of course, things were different now. But she hoped Brody, the man, hadn’t outgrown the generous spirit and easy nature she’d held so dear through school.

  His gaze was just as thoughtful, just as warm. Which was nice.

  Most of the men in her life stirred up other reactions. More like doubt. Insignificance. Defeat. Not that her father meant to undermine and belittle her. But he was a concrete sort of man. It didn’t matter if you tried, only if you succeeded.

  Unlike JT. If JT was upset or disappointed, his words didn’t hurt half as much as his fists. JT had instilled all sorts of cold, hard feelings—fear being right at the top. She hadn’t missed him much the last three years.