Page 31 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

Toby

“Fuck off,” I snap, swatting at Owen wildly without opening my eyes.

To my utter shock, my hand contacts a much smaller arm, and a woman’s yelp pops my eyes open. I stare in horror at a pair of bemused and vaguely disturbed green irises behind a pair of glasses.

Stunned and apologetic, I sit upright in my bed and fumble for my beer, but it’s not in arm’s reach.

“Are you looking for your beer?” she asks.

Humiliated, I nod slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Yeah. Did you drink it?”

She guffaws and shakes her head. “I think your brother took it.” Emerson backs toward the door as I stare at her, trying to get my bearings. “Something about how you need to be clear-headed for your meeting today?”

“Oh fuck, right. Why areyouhere?” I demand, throwing the comforter aside to stand.

Her gaze drops toward my morning wood, and I grin lazily.

She abruptly turns away. “Brock told me to come and get you for the town council meeting.”

“Right.”

I stretch, and again, I see her eying me through the full-length mirror, catching the ripple of my abs as my back cracks. “How much time do we have?”

“About an hour,” she says. “I’ll wait outside.”

“No,” I tell her quickly. “Put on some coffee. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Nodding without turning, she hurries out of my bedroom and leaves me to shower. The hot water cascades down, warming my tight muscles, and I can’t help but stroke myself a bit at the thought of her as I lather up my body with soap. But I don’t go too far.

Fuck, she’s sexy in that librarian kind of way. I bet she’s a demon in bed, beneath that cool façade.

The smell of coffee lures me into the kitchen, and I find Emerson poring over her phone at the kitchen island, pretending not to notice as I enter. A steaming mug sits in front of her.

“All set?” she asks, standing as if she’s ready to go. Her voice reminds me of someone, and I find myself staring at her for a minute, tilting my head.

“Let me get caffeinated first, darlin’,” I reply, pivoting toward the coffee maker. “You want me to make a good presentation, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Or is Brock making you present my idea to the town council?” I ask sarcastically.

Her brow furrows, and she adjusts her glasses, setting her phone down on the counter to look at me. “Why would I make the presentation? I don’t even know what this is about exactly,” she replies. “And this is my third day. How could I possibly present anything?”

I snort and pull open the fridge to yank out the creamer, dumping it in a slosh before slamming the stainless steel door. The condiments rattle.

“Yet you’re still tagging along, aren’t you?” I tease, trying to keep my voice light and moderately flirty.

Truth is, I’m irritated about being supervised, despite my obvious attraction to her.

At the same time, I can’t do a damn thing about how my body reacts to her, because Brock is right about scaring her off. We need her here. The whole situation is irritating.

I join her at the counter and flop onto the stool unceremoniously, taking a long sip of coffee. The bitterness scorches my throat, but it does wonders for my clarity.

Her frown deepens. “I’m trying to learn about everything on the ranch, Toby,” she reminds me gently. “I don’t think of it as tagging along per se. I think of it as you teaching me about what you do here.”

The response disarms me, and I grin, leaning in on my forearm. “Oh, I can teach you a thing or two.”

The side door opens, and Owen ambles through. Clearing my throat, I sit upright as my brother gives me a look that tells me to watch myself

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