Twins for Christmas

  ALL HE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS…

  From the moment they were born, Hannah Tanner fell completely in love with her best friend’s twin girls. Then a terrible car crash leaves her their sole guardian. And before she can even get the twins settled, their biological father shows up at Hannah’s door…determined to take her girls away.

  Noah Knight isn’t leaving Ramblewood, Texas, without his daughters, and Hannah isn’t giving them up without a fight. Worse still, Noah can’t deny her fierce love for the girls—or his own growing feelings for her. It’ll take more than a Christmas miracle to keep his new family together—he’ll need to win Hannah’s heart!

  She couldn’t help but wonder if including Noah in their lives had happened too fast…

  “I kind of wanted to cut down a tree for you and the girls the way your dad did,” Noah said.

  No, no, no. Don’t say something romantic!

  “I didn’t grow up with that experience,” he continued. “We had a fake tree and store-bought decorations.”

  “Okay, let’s find ourselves a tree.” Hannah pushed the stroller past him until his hand covered hers, strong and firm. Breathe, Hannah, breathe. She did…and inhaled his fresh, woodsy scent. Almost pine, but not quite. Whatever it was, it was raw and intoxicating.

  “Allow me.” His lips were so close, her hair moved as he spoke.

  She gripped the stroller tighter for fear if she let go she’d melt into a puddle. This can’t be happening.

  She wasn’t permitted to think of Noah as anyone other than Charlotte and Cheyenne’s father. She was in trouble. Being around him heightened her senses and left her feeling very protected at the same time. She didn’t need to feel protected. She could take care of herself. She could take care of the girls herself, the same way Lauren had.

  But she didn’t want to. God help her, she didn’t want to do it without Noah…

  Dear Reader,

  I had a very clear image of Clay Tanner’s sister, Hannah, when I wrote A Texan for Hire last year. Even though she had a very small part in that book, every time I closed my eyes, the opening scenes from Twins for Christmas played out before me. Whenever I drove past an old farmhouse, I envisioned her and Noah standing on the front porch with two little faces peering through the screen door behind them. Finally, one afternoon I sat down and wrote the entire synopsis in under three hours. While it was the easiest proposal I’ve written, the same couldn’t be said about the book. It was the hardest to date. The emotional backdrop of this story broke my heart. I wanted to reach through my computer and wrap my arms around Charlotte and Cheyenne—the eighteen-month-old twins featured in this story. A huge part of me fell in love with this family, and someday I’ll revisit the girls as they grow older.

  Twins for Christmas is the ninth book in the Welcome to Ramblewood series…where the door is always open.

  Feel free to stop in and visit me at amandarenee.com. I’d love to hear from you. Happy reading!

  Amanda Renee

  TWINS FOR

  CHRISTMAS

  Amanda Renee

  Amanda Renee was raised in the Northeast and now wriggles her toes in the warm coastal Carolina sands. Her career began when she was discovered through Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest. When not creating stories about love and laughter, she enjoys the company of her schnoodle, Duffy, camping, playing guitar and piano, photography, and anything involving horses. You can visit her at amandarenee.com.

  Books by Amanda Renee

  Harlequin American Romance

  Welcome to Ramblewood

  Betting on Texas

  Home to the Cowboy

  Blame It on the Rodeo

  A Texan for Hire

  Back to Texas

  Mistletoe Rodeo

  The Trouble with Cowgirls

  A Bull Rider’s Pride

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

  Anna

  For all the laughter, wails

  and puppy dog tales.

  Thank you for being my friend,

  proofreader and sanity keeper.

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Cowboy SEAL’s Jingle Bell Baby by Laura Marie Altom

  Chapter One

  Noah Knight’s wet jeans clung uncomfortably to his thighs. Drenched, he took refuge from the rain in a dimly lit bar. Finnegan’s Pub in College Station, Texas, catered to an older crowd. At thirty-two he wasn’t exactly middle-aged, but he was too old to find common ground with the majority of the local college students.

  Once, sometimes twice, a year he conducted helicopter-logging recruitment seminars in town. Now he had four hours until his flight home to Aurora, Oregon. It gave him enough time to grab a bite and a beer or two before catching a cab to the airport. Noah wanted a booth to himself, but they were all taken, so he sat at the bar. He wasn’t in the mood for company after being awake for the last thirty hours.

  He placed his order and reviewed the preliminary applications he’d collected during the seminar. One out of the twelve had potential, while the rest had been drawn to the danger of the job rather than the job itself.

  “Enough work for today,” Noah muttered. He flipped his portfolio closed and jammed it into his bag, then picked up the folded newspaper someone had left behind on the stool next to him.

  “That poor girl.” The bartender nodded to the paper as he set a pint of beer on a coaster in front of Noah. “She used to come in here and study right over there in that booth.” He nodded toward the corner of the pub. “Said it was quieter than the sorority house. Lived on coffee and fries.”

  Noah read the obituary.

  Lauren Marie Elgrove, 24, Boston, Massachusetts, formerly of Ramblewood, Texas, was killed Friday, November 18, 2016, in a car accident. Born on October 30, 1992, to James and Elizabeth Elgrove (both deceased) of San Angelo, Texas. She is survived by her twin twenty-one-month-old daughters, Charlotte and Cheyenne. Graveside services will be held at 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday at the Memorial Garden Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, contributions to the Charlotte and Cheyenne Education Fund are being accepted through Hannah Tanner of Ramblewood.

  Noah felt a touch of sadness. A single cold paragraph seemed inappropriate when someone’s life had been cut so short. He unfolded the newspaper and the woman in the photograph above the obituary almost knocked him off his stool. Carefully he read the caption: “Lauren Elgrove with her daughters, Charlotte and Cheyenne.”

  Lauren. His shoulders sagged. They’d met a few years ago in this very bar. She had graduated earlier that day and had been celebrating with a friend. The memory made him smile. He had found her fascinating as she spoke of biochemistry and physics. He could still hear her infectious laugh. They’d spent the night together tangled between the sheets, but he woke up the following morning alone.

  Last names and phone numbers had been an afterthought and he’d never seen her again, which was a shame because he had wanted a chance to get to know her better. She’d popped into his head a few times since then, probably more than he cared to admit.

  He calculated the dates quickly in his h
ead—they’d slept together around two and a half years ago. Staring at the photograph, he saw his own eyes reflected back in the twins’ faces. Noah’s chest tightened and he swore he stopped breathing. Was it possible? Were Charlotte and Cheyenne his daughters? His gut told him he already knew the answer, but he needed confirmation.

  His mind raced. “Excuse me.” Noah fought to steady his voice and waved for the bartender. “You—” He cleared his throat as the man approached. “You said you knew this woman—Lauren Elgrove?”

  The bartender’s head slowly bobbed up and down. “She had a bright future ahead of her.”

  “There’s no mention of the children’s father. Do they have one?” Noah winced at his own question. Nervousness trumped diplomacy and tact. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was the father.

  “I haven’t seen Lauren in at least two years.” The bartender shrugged. “I didn’t even know she had kids until I saw her obituary. Your order will be right up.”

  Noah attempted to wrap his mind around the possibility he’d fathered twins without knowing it. What were the chances? If she had spent the night with him, maybe she had done the same thing with other men. That didn’t seem like Lauren. Not that he knew who Lauren had really been. One night certainly hadn’t made him an expert. Despite the passion they’d shared, there had been a shyness about her and he doubted she’d slept around.

  He raked his fingers down his face and exhaled. How could it be possible? They had used protection. Picking up the paper again, he braved another glance at the photo. His hands shook as he scanned the grainy print. Speculating wouldn’t do him any good. He needed to physically lay eyes on them and see for himself.

  Noah smacked the top of the bar. “Change of plans. Make mine to go and can you call me a taxi?” Home would have to wait. Instead, he intended to rent a car and drive to the town mentioned in the newspaper. Ramblewood, wherever that was. He wasn’t leaving the state until he found out if those girls were his. His head began to spin. What if they were his daughters? Did he want to be their father?

  * * *

  FOR THE SECOND night in a row, Hannah Tanner paced the floor of the twins’ bedroom. She cradled one girl in each arm in an attempt to soothe them. It had been less than a week since Lauren’s death. She hadn’t yet processed that she’d never see her best friend again, let alone that she was the legal guardian of twins.

  “Mommy!” Cheyenne shrieked at the top of her lungs. The girls had been restless last night, but tonight was much worse. She’d been adamantly against letting them attend Lauren’s funeral earlier in the day, but her family had convinced her the children needed some semblance of closure and a chance to say goodbye. She didn’t feel they needed to see the coffin or know Mommy was going in the ground. She shivered at the thought. She understood death, but it was Lauren. How could she be gone?

  The twins were having a hard time adjusting to the drastic changes in their lives and she couldn’t blame them. It had been bad enough when Lauren accepted a job so far away, moving her small family to Boston. Now the children were uprooted once again. Hannah couldn’t remember anything that had occurred in her life at twenty-one months old and she hoped the girls would forget both the upheaval and the funeral this morning. But doing so would mean they’d forget their mother, and Hannah couldn’t bear the thought.

  “What’s a matter, baby girl?” Her sister-in-law, Abby, entered the room and lifted Cheyenne out of her arms. “Hannah, why don’t you take a shower and unwind for a little bit. I’m not going anywhere. You need a break.”

  The strength to protest escaped her, which would have been fine if her heart didn’t fill with guilt every time the girls were out of sight. They were perceptive and they knew something was wrong. Her mother said they were grieving. How was that possible if they didn’t understand the concept of never seeing their mother again? No, they were confused. They’d been in a horrific car accident and now Mommy wasn’t around.

  Hannah padded down the hallway into the bathroom, closing the door and shutting herself off from the rest of the world. She could still hear the officer explaining what had happened. Lauren had been thrown from the car and had died on impact. Thankfully, the twins had been relatively unharmed. Hannah had caught a flight to Boston the following morning to pick up the girls, her mother by her side. Monday morning, the four of them had flown home to Ramblewood. The funeral home had arranged for Lauren to be flown back with them.

  Everything had happened so fast. Thanksgiving was in two days. The twins’ second Thanksgiving and the first without their mother. And then there was Christmas. How would they ever get through Christmas? How would they get through today?

  After her shower, she peeked in the room at Charlotte and Cheyenne. Both twins were curled up together in one crib while Abby read them a bedtime story. She tiptoed down the stairs, praying the worn boards wouldn’t creak and shift the twins’ focus from Abby onto her. Her belly growled. It had been days since she’d last eaten a decent meal.

  Trays of food covered the butcher-block kitchen countertop. She had intended to sand and oil the counter this week as part of her never-ending house renovations. It’d have to wait along with the rest of her plans. She grabbed a plate from the cupboard and lifted the foil lids of various dishes.

  “Honey, I didn’t hear you come down.” Her mother appeared in the doorway. “I’ve devised a system. Desserts not needing refrigeration are on this counter.” Fern waved her arm dramatically as if she were Vanna White turning a letter. “The other nonperishables, like breads and crackers, are over here. And I managed to freeze most of the casseroles, but I left the sandwiches and salads in the refrigerator for you to nibble on. What wouldn’t fit in your freezer, your father took home to ours. Let us know when you need something and we’ll send it over.”

  “I think we have enough food to last a year.” Hannah chose a turkey sandwich, poured herself a glass of water and sat at the table. “Mom, how am I going to afford this? Most of my money goes into the ranch. I still have upcoming competitions I’d be crazy to back out of. We need the prize money. It helps that I board and train horses, but it’s still not enough for the three of us to live off. I can’t compete in Vegas in a few weeks with all this going on. I’d pick up some extra hours teaching at the rodeo school if I had any extra hours to give.” She shook her head. “That would mean spending less time with the girls, and I won’t do that to them. I still can’t believe Lauren didn’t have life insurance.”

  Fern sat across from her at the table, clasping Hannah’s hands between her own. “You have a huge support system in place. Everybody loved Lauren and the girls. Donations are already coming in. And your father and I will help you in whatever way we can.”

  Hannah cringed. She hated feeling like a charity case, but as much as it pained her to admit it, she needed the charity. When Lauren had discovered she was pregnant, Hannah promised she’d help raise the babies. Lauren’s parents had died years earlier and she’d had no one.

  “This house isn’t ready for children,” Hannah said. Her father and brother had begun working on the turn-of-the-century farmhouse as soon as Hannah and her mother had left for Boston. She wasn’t complaining, but the expenses had already gotten out of hand, charity or not. The ranch was supposed to be a long-term endeavor, and now she had to rush to finish the projects she’d started after Lauren moved out. “None of this feels real. I keep waiting for her to call or pop in and yell surprise any minute.”

  Hannah pushed the sandwich away. She had the annual Christmas Dash-4-Cash barrel race on Saturday and she needed to take home first prize. She couldn’t even begin to think how she’d maintain her rodeo schedule next year with the twins in tow. But giving it up was out of the question if she expected to keep a roof over their heads.

  She had already spread herself too thin. Between her part-time job teaching at the rodeo school and training
barrel race horses on her ranch, she hardly found time to practice her own sport. As much as she loved racing, she didn’t want to be doing it when she was fifty.

  She had a strong five-year plan. At least she’d thought so a week ago. She’d bought the ranch with organic farming in mind, but the large stables and round pen areas had given her the opportunity to board horses in addition to training them. Every waking hour of her day had been chock-full before the twins had become her full-time responsibility. None of her careful planning mattered anymore. Her first priority had to be Charlotte and Cheyenne, and she didn’t even know where to begin.

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock in the evening when Noah rolled down Main Street. Ramblewood was located in the heart of Hill Country, almost two hundred miles southwest of College Station. The town was quiet except for a local honky-tonk. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he drove into town. He’d had an inexplicable need to get to Ramblewood, uncertain of what he’d find or even wanted to find. He’d asked himself the same question repeatedly during the three-and-a-half-hour drive. What will I do if the girls are mine? Somewhere south of Austin he’d concluded he wasn’t ready to be a dad. It might be a little too late for that, though.

  He had passed a hotel on the way into town and decided to double back and check in for the night. After he spoke to his boss and let him know he wouldn’t be coming into work until sometime after Thanksgiving, he phoned his mother. Her disappointment that he wouldn’t be home for the holiday coupled with her curiosity about the business that would keep him away left him antsier than before. He loved his mom, but he felt the need to leave out the majority of the details. She’d be on the next plane to Texas complicating matters further if she knew the whole story. Once he had the paternity results, then he would tell her—if there was anything to tell.

  He walked down the hotel hallway to grab a soda from the vending machine. How do you let your mom know you’re the father of almost-two-year-old twins? Hell, he couldn’t even fathom the fact he may have created another life, let alone two lives. His knees buckled. He reached out for the wall to steady himself, almost knocking a fire extinguisher to the floor.