Page 56 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

Although I do wish Emerson were here to help me with the pitch. I have more confidence with her at my side.

“We have to go,” Owen tells me.

The urgency in his tone turns me around, and I stare at him, reading the drawn expression on his face. My eyes dart toward the entrance where our oldest brother stands, his stormy eyes brewing with a tornado.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, setting my glass down. “Something going on at the ranch? Is it Emmy?”

Panic seizes me, but he doesn’t answer as he stalks toward Brock. I excuse myself from the group to follow.

I glance at my phone, but there are no missed calls or texts from Emerson or anyone else at the ranch. Still, I don’t need to be a triplet to understand the underlying tension among them. Something bad is happening.

I have to run to catch up with my brothers at the truck. Brock barely waits for me to close the door before he pulls away.

“What happened?” I ask again, sitting forward. “Is it the baby?”

Brock’s jaw twitches, and the car lurches forward as he lays heavier on the gas, sending me forward slightly.

“I don’t know what’s going on exactly,” Brock finally admits as we wind away from the mayor’s house toward the ranch. “But I caught Emerson snooping through my room when I got back.”

I sit back, folding my arms over my chest. “Snooping?” I echo skeptically. “We told her she could stay at the house.”

Owen glances at me from the driver’s seat, and I read the familiar reprimand in his eyes.

My scowl deepens.

“Did you tell her she could take your toothbrush too?” Brock retorts, steering the car along the road.

“What?” I laugh. “Okay, so that’s a little strange, but I’ve had women do weirder things.”

“She took all three of our toothbrushes, Toby,” Owen cuts me off quietly. “She was collecting our DNA.”

My mouth parts, but no sound emits. “What?” I finally managed to say. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Brock growls. “She took off before she would give me any answers.”

“Took off?” I demand. “Took off where?”

“She was at the coach house last I saw. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gone.”

I frown, trying to make sense of her actions. “That doesn’t make any sense. She doesn’t even know us very well.”

“Could she be working for someone?” Brock suggests.

“Like the CIA?” I mock him.

Through the rearview mirror, he glowers at me. “No, you idiot,” he fires back. “Like maybe she’s working for a distant relative trying to stake a claim on the ranch. Grandpa used to worry about this shit, you know.”

I grunt and sit forward. “How the fuck would you remember that? We were kids when he died.”

“I remember! He always warned us about outsiders. To always consider that not everybody has good intentions.”

I can’t believe that about Emerson. No, Brock’s out of his mind. Whatever he thought he saw has to have a reasonable explanation.

I’m getting angry now that he’s upset Emerson.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Owen says sensibly. “She would have had a better backstory to apply for the job. She came to us without any ranching experience.”

“Yeah!” I agree, nodding vehemently. “You’re wrong.”

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