The Cowboy's Triplets by Tina Leonard Page B

a halt at the top of the driveway. Fanny gave a tiny yap, and gamboled toward the newcomer.
    â€œWow,” Judah said, slamming his truck door, “you look like a dude.”
    Pete bristled. “I do not look like a dude. Why are you carrying flowers?” He glared at the pink roses Judah was waving around like he was some kind of prince. “Why are you here?”
    â€œJackie invited me to dinner.” Judah grinned. “A gentleman always brings flowers. Hope you did, bro.”
    Pete thought about the petals he’d strewn around the living room. After the dude comment about his tux, Judah was really going to give him the business about petals. He was slightly relieved when Darla pulled up in her truck. Maybe he could get the two of them to shove off before Jackie got home from work. He planned on cooking for her—grilled steaks, mashed potatoes and toasted French bread slathered in butter—thenmassaging her feet. Her toes were especially sensitive, foolproof for relaxing her. Relaxation was key for getting into her bed, a place he intended them to be for the rest of their lives—no more selected evenings. Bed was the place he could help her see things his way. Pete was pretty sure he did his best communicating in bed. “Hi, Darla,” Pete said, before realizing she carried some kind of pie.
    Pie was good, but not today, because it might mean Darla was coming to dinner. He glanced at Judah, who was gazing at Darla, apparently too thunderstruck to speak.
    Dork. Pete looked back at Darla, who was, he had to admit, a tall, hot, golden blonde who would have fitted right in someplace warmer than Diablo, someplace she could live full-time in a bikini. “Why are you bringing Jackie a pie?” he asked, hoping he’d missed some really good reason Darla would be showing up here.
    â€œFor dessert, silly,” she said, handing it to him. “Jackie mentioned you Callahans love blackberry pie, and I might just tell you that these blackberries come from Jane Dearborn’s specially frozen stock.”
    He didn’t give a hoot at the moment about Jane Dearborn’s coveted blackberries that she painstakingly froze every May. He was about to ask why the hell are you handing it to me? when three more vehicles pulled up in Jackie’s drive. All his brothers hopped out, along with Judge Julie Jenkins, Fiona and Burke, and all were bearing covered casseroles or some kind of food item. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Sabrina McKinley had also managed to snag an invite.
    Everyone was here but Jackie.
    â€œThat little minx,” he muttered under his breath. She’doutfoxed him. She was intent upon keeping every wall between them she could construct.
    â€œHey, Pete,” people said as they filed past him carrying crockery and pot holders and other contraptions used for potluck meals. “Nice monkey suit. You the waiter tonight?” was asked by more than one person. With one last glance toward the road, he went inside to find Darla. “Where’s Jackie?”
    â€œClosing up the shop. She said she’d be here soon.” Darla glanced at the rose petals strewn everywhere. “How nice of you to have a celebration for our new store, Pete.”
    â€œCelebr—” He forced a smile. “Happy to do it.”
    â€œThe rose petals are a great touch.”
    He glanced to see if she was ribbing him. She appeared to be paying him the first sincere compliment he’d gotten beyond the monkey suit and dude comments. “Thanks.” He couldn’t be rude now that he was apparently hosting a reception. “I’d probably better go check the kitchen and make sure my apelike brothers aren’t ransacking it.”
    Darla smiled, waving a wineglass at him. “Bye.”
    He headed into the kitchen where it looked like Aunt Fiona and Burke were managing KP, plugging in casseroles and sorting paper plates someone had thoughtfully