Page 13 of The Cowboy's Secret Babies

Like he was somewhere up in the air, waiting to see how he was going to land.

Only this was a lot worse than getting thrown.

He didn’t know what to think. How to breathe. What todo.

Except follow her gaze down to those boys. Both of them were staring up at him, eyes wide with curiosity. Two little boys with dark blond hair and dark eyes, like red-cheeked memories in parkas and tiny snow boots.

Ryder didn’t need any DNA tests to know whose kids these were. Heknew themas if he could feel them in his own bones. He recognized them instantly. He’d spent his entire life looking at a face that had started out exactly like theirs, then turned into his. These boys looked so much like Wilder and Ryder as kids that it was uncanny. And in case he was tempted to question that, there were also old pictures of the two of them all over the ranch house.

He had been looking at a whole set of them last night, because he’d walked down that long hall with all the family photos on display on his way out.

There was no doubt about it. The two boys looking up at him could be Ryder and Wilder reincarnated.

Except he wasn’t one of them. So that could only mean one thing.

He was a father. He wastheir father.

Everything had changed, right here on this hill that looked back down into the valley that was Cowboy Point. He could tell that his life whole life would forever hinge on his decision to swing by this house today. Everything would now be filed asbeforeandafterthis moment.

This shocking understanding that he and Rosie had made babies that night.

And his pulse didn’t slow down any, but he’d landed. Gotten his feet under him.

Ryder blew out a breath, aware of Rosie’s pleading gaze on his. He squatted down, getting face-to-face with these twins—his twins—who made him feel like time travel had to be real.

He felt an overwhelming urge to simply… pick them up. To put his hands on them. To assure himself they were real. To take them away from here, from her, so he could learn every single thing there was to know about both of them. So he could catch up—

Another breath was necessary to keep himself even. Notcalm, exactly, but in control.

“Gentlemen,” he said, formally, looking from one pair of dark eyes just like his to the other. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

He tipped his hat, then held out his hand, like his own father had taught him when he was about their age.

They stared at him. Then lookeddelighted.

“Boys, this is…” Rosie faltered. Cleared her throat. Ryder couldn’t look at her. “Introduce yourselves.”

“Eli,” said the quieter of the two, the one who had seemed shy. He wasn’t at all shy about sticking out his hand, and he looked nothing short ofdelightedwhen Ryder shook it.

Ryder found he felt the same way. Like there had been ice around his heart his whole life and he’d never known it until now, as it cracked wide open.

“I’m Levi,” said the other little boy, shoving in to get his hand in Ryder’s in place of his brother’s. Then he looked up at his mother. “That’s Mommy.”

Ryder took his time shaking Levi’s hand. Then Eli stuck his hand back in too so he was shaking both of their little hands, and they were both giggling so hard he couldn’t help but smile. Then the two of them started speaking in what sounded like nonsense, but he figured it was their own, private language, a lot like the one Wilder and he had made up when they were little, too.

He didn’t think about anything but the simple joy of it. The two of them so unaware of the way they’d changed the entire course of his life, as was only right and proper. The two of them so completely themselves, two happy little boys in snow clothes on a winter afternoon.

Two adorable twin boys and a brand-new father, shaking hands like men.

“Look,” Levi shouted, turning away from the handshaking. “Uncle Wyatt!”

Ryder held onto Eli’s little hand until he pulled away too, running after his brother. Only then did Ryder take his time rising back up to his feet.

He didn’t look at Rosie. He couldn’t. It all felt too raw.

But the sight greeting him on the road wasn’t any better. Wyatt Stark had been a friend of his for as long as he could remember. The same went for the other two Stark boys—who, like the so-called Carey boys, were all fully grown men now but rarely referred to that way—who piled out of the same truck at the edge of the yard.

He heard Rosie take a quick breath behind him, and glanced back despite himself to see that she looked nothing short of stricken.

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