How to Break a Cowboy by Daire St. Denis Page B

morning cleaning until I was interrupted by the
doorbell. My heart dropped as I imagined Martin standing on the stoop. But
instead of Martin I found a harried looking Jules standing there with her three
rug rats in tow. The twin boys were pushing and shoving on the front step and
the baby, Lizzy, was crying in her mother’s arms.
    “Thank God you’re home,” she said, walking straight into
the house. “I need you to watch the twins. Lizzy cut her hand and she needs
stitches.”
    “Watch the boys?” I said, eyeing them in panic. “Where’s
Ray? It’s just we’re having a dinner party tonight and I need to clean the
house…”
    “Clean your house?” She looked around with disdain. “Honey,
this place is already spotless.” She sighed. “Ray’s in Chicago. It’ll just be
an hour. Two at most. I promise. I just can’t handle all of them in a waiting
room right now.”
    It was then I noticed the blood-soaked bandage wrapped
around Lizzy’s little hand and I felt like the biggest shithead in the world.
“Of course I’ll watch them. Of course. You go ahead. It’s no problem.”
    “Thanks, doll.” She leaned forward and gave me a quick peck
on the cheek. Then she turned to her five-year-old boys, Dane and Dillon.
“Listen to your Auntie. If I hear you two have been num-nuts while I’m gone
you’re going to be in big trouble, do you understand?”
    The boys nodded and kissed their mother before she ran out
the door.
    Oh God.
    No sooner had the door shut than the boys were off, tearing
through the house, swiping their grimy little hands across the freshly cleaned
glass of the French doors.
    “Okay boys,” I said. “Outside and Dillon, hands off the
glass.”
    “I’m Dillon. That’s Dane,” the other boy said.
    Shit. Would I ever be able to tell them apart?
    “You got a play structure?” Dane asked with a lisp. Right.
Dane had a lisp.
    “No.” I smiled. “But I have a big yard and a…hose.”
    “Water fight!” Dane shouted and tore outside.
    It’d only been a minute and already I was exhausted. The
boys had boundless energy. They were like two overgrown puppies, frolicking one
minute and wrestling and biting the next. I kept waiting for them to collapse
from exhaustion, but it never happened.
    The only one ready to collapse was me, three hours later,
when Jules finally returned. But one look at her and I knew I had the easier
time of it. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was falling out of her rushed
ponytail.
    “How’s Lizzy?” I asked.
    “She’s fine. Seven stitches, the poor little monkey. She’s
sleeping in her car seat now, though.”
    Jules rounded up the boys and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks
so much. I owe you.”
    “It was no problem,” I lied. “Really.”
    By the time she left with the kids, I was a nut case. The
house needed to be re-cleaned and I hadn’t even started dinner. I’m not exactly
a candidate for America’s Top Chef but I found a recipe for Coq au Vin, which
sounded exotic, and thankfully I had all the ingredients in the house because
now I didn’t have time to go to the store. Once I started cooking, I soon
realized the recipe was just chicken stew in a red wine sauce—not so exotic.
    “What is up with you? Why are you so worked up?” John asked
me after he’d returned home from golf. I was dusting the picture frames on our
mantel for the second time.
    I turned an evil eye on him. “I’m not worked up. I’m
cleaning the house. Sheesh!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You could give me a
hand, you know. I’ve been minding children all day.”
    “I know. Jules called me. She said the boys had a riot over
here.” He smiled.
    “Yeah, so give me a hand, would you.”
    “I could…but…you’d redo anything I did anyway, so I think
I’ll just stay out of it.”
    With my hands on my hips, I said, “What a convenient way of
getting out of housework.”
    “Convenient, yet true.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Go open a bottle of wine,