Cowboy Sam's Quadruplets
Author
Tina Leonard
Reads
16.9K
Chapters
19
Harlequin
HarlequinChapter One
“Sam came later.” —Jonas Callahan, remembering the arrival of a baby brother after their parents had “gone to heaven.”
“I have a proposition for you,” Sam Callahan said as he sat down in Seton McKinley’s office in the Diablo, New Mexico, courthouse. “A proposal, actually.”
Seton looked at Sam as he lounged in the brand-new leather chair she had situated in front of her brand-new pine desk. It hadn’t been an easy decision to return to Diablo and hang out her shingle. Private investigator work in Washington, D.C., had been lucrative.
She didn’t expect to make a whole lot of money in Diablo, but that wasn’t the primary reason she’d returned. The primary reason was across from her, hunky and completely unaware of how he made her heart race.
At the word proposition, Seton’s senses had gone on full alert. “Are you aware that the Callahans have quite the reputation for your propositions, proposals and plots? And I wouldn’t necessarily call it a good one.”
The handsome cowboy smiled at her, unperturbed. Their relationship over the past couple of years had been what Seton thought of as “friendly adversarial,” with a touch of romantic longing on her side, though she hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about her crush on the cowboy.
“Reputation isn’t something that concerns me,” Sam said, his tone easy.
Seton wasn’t surprised. “Before you share your proposal, be warned that I won’t do any work for you that involves Bode Jenkins. Or the Jenkins family in general.”
Sam’s grin widened the deep clefts around his mouth. “I’m not worried about Jenkins these days. He’s been pretty quiet since my brother married his daughter, Julie.”
“I spend quite a bit of time with Mr. Jenkins. I’m fond of him,” Seton said, just to let Sam know she felt his comment bordered on disrespectful to the Jenkins family.
He shrugged. “Your problem, not mine, beautiful.”
She frowned, studying the cowboy, from his dark, wavy hair to his slanted cheekbones. He looked like a Native American in a chalk portrait she’d seen in an art gallery. Lawyers shouldn’t be so handsome, she thought. It masks the devil in them, fools the eye like a mirage.
If there was one thing she’d learned from spending time at Rancho Diablo, it was that the Callahans played for their own team, and everyone else could get bent.
“I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes,” Seton said. “Why are you here, Sam?”
He gazed at her in silence for a moment, during which Seton felt as if he was trying to decide if he could trust her. Or thinking how he might manipulate her into doing whatever it was he had on his mind. She waited, tapping a pencil on the notepad in front of her with some impatience.
“I don’t really know who I am,” Sam said, his voice soft and husky.
Seton blinked. “Most people feel that way sometimes, don’t you think?”
He shook his head. “No, I really don’t know who I am.”
She put the pencil down and leaned back. Potential clients sat in the leather chairs, the only expensive elements in her new office. She had a wooden swivel chair, which was hard and kept her uncomfortable enough to focus. She looked into Sam’s navy blue eyes and saw that he was serious.
Very strange for him, because he had a tendency to be the footloose charmer of the family. “You’re Sam Callahan. Last of six brothers. Family lawyer and head of the legal team hired to defend Rancho Diablo from a takeover by the state of New Mexico.”
“By Bode Jenkins,” Sam said.
“It’s New Mexico v. Callahan,” Seton reminded him. “You have four married brothers, and one older brother who calls my sister, Sabrina, occasionally. I’m not sure why. She’s not, either. Jonas seems to be quite the chatterer since she moved to D.C.”
“Jonas likes to keep tabs on everyone. He’s weird that way.”
“Anyway, that’s who you are.” Seton folded her hands on the desk. “Your aunt Fiona and uncle Burke moved back to Ireland last year. You have one of the largest ranches in all New Mexico. You rarely date, although the ladies in town would love to show you a good time. And you claim to be lazy.”
“I am.” Sam brightened. “That’s my favorite trait. I would describe myself as having a laid-back personality. It’s very important for a man to be relaxed when he’s only twenty-eight. I was twenty-six when the whole lawsuit thing started.”
Seton sighed. “I don’t have a couch for you to lie on if you’re looking for a therapy session, Sam. And I’m not really interested in learning more of your history than I already know.” She cast an eye over him, realizing he probably wasn’t completely aware of his physical attributes. A dark brown cowboy hat had been thrown on the chair next to the one he occupied. His jeans weren’t dress, but standard Wranglers. Under a black leather jacket, a black T-shirt stretched across his chest—a T-shirt that appeared to be inside out. If he took off his jacket, she’d be able to tell.
“So?” she pressed.
“My laziness is probably a good place to start.” His dark blue eyes twinkled. “I’d like to hire you in the spirit of laziness.”
She shook her head. “I can already tell I should refuse.”
“You haven’t even heard what I want to hire you for,” Sam said. “There’s no conflict, I swear.”
“There’s a conflict anytime a Callahan is involved.” Seton sat up. “I wouldn’t be comfortable working for you, considering my relationship to the Jenkinses.”
“An unfortunate relationship, considering that Bode is a slimy dog,” Sam said. “But I can overlook some of your flaws.”
Seton stared at him. “I don’t want to work for you.”
He waved a hand, dismissing her objection. “At least hear me out. You might like what I’m offering you.”
“I doubt it.” She sighed, then leaned back. “But go on. Five minutes.”
“Back to not knowing who I am,” Sam continued. “I think it’s important for children to know these things.”
“You want me to look up information on your parents?” Seton asked. “Won’t your aunt Fiona tell you everything you want to know? She was your guardian since you and your brothers were very young, right?”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not so worried about me at the moment,” he said. “I’ll figure myself out one day.”
“Okay,” Seton said. “What do you want me to do then?”
Sam’s expression turned serious, which made him look even more handsome, if possible. It was annoying. “I’d like to hire you to be my wife,” he stated. “Although not in the traditional sense.”
Seton held back a gasp. “I’m sorry. Not that I expected anything about this conversation to be normal or usual—”
“I’m sure you’re aware,” Sam interrupted—just like a Callahan, “that my aunt has the ranch divided among the six of us. We get our portions when we marry.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Fiona’s wild plan to put enough wives and babies on Rancho Diablo to keep it from being taken over.” Seton frowned. “It’s unorthodox.”
“Maybe,” Sam said, “but it’s working.”
She looked at him. “The only thing that’s kept the ranch in your family is your legal expertise.” Seton reconsidered her words. “Some call it your legal maneuvers. I’ve even heard it referenced as shystering and sleight of hand.”
“That Bode,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He’s such a die-hard fan of mine.”
“Anyway,” she said, “was that your proposal? Because I have no intention of being involved in one of the famous Callahan plots.” She glanced at her watch. “My next appointment should be here any moment.”
“We’ll worry about that when your victim arrives,” Sam said. “I’m offering you the chance to marry into one of the greatest families around. We’re all really nice, contrary to what you hear from ol’ Toady Stinkens. But here’s the catch, which may be a problem for you. You won’t have a shot at becoming a mother, which is probably important at your age.” He winked at her. “I don’t want children. I don’t even want the ranch, honestly. I could make that confession to my family, but they wouldn’t believe it, nor accept it, anyway.” Sam shrugged. “I’ve spent years fighting for it, because they asked me to. At one time I even let my brothers talk me into being the fall guy for ownership of the ranch, which I would have then turned over to them. I would have been a puppet owner,” Sam said, sounding pretty happy about being the figurehead winner of Fiona’s race-to-marriage-and-munchkins.
After a deep breath, he continued. “But control isn’t my thing. I’d rather slide away from the responsibility, if you know what I mean. A wife like you would make everyone think I was falling in with the plan. Except I wouldn’t be.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “After a while, when the lawsuit is settled and my brothers are in full lockdown mode at the ranch, you and I will quietly divorce. I plan to take off to Alaska and do some fly-fishing. Then again, I’ve got a yen to see the Amazon rain forest. There’s so much I want to do,” Sam said, his voice thoughtful, “and none of it involves a wife, and definitely not children. As I say, that may be a problem for you, since your biological clock is probably set on high alert.”
Seton debated taking off her black patent high heeled pump and stabbing the crazy cowboy with it, deciding it wasn’t worth ruining the only pair of pretty shoes she had. “I’ll pass. And I think the shameful way you refer to Mr. Jenkins hardly speaks well of your maturity. Toady Stinkens, indeed.”
Sam laughed, clearly amused. “Think about it,” he said, rising. He grinned and put his hat on. “Of course, we would draw up a contract negotiating the assets you’d receive from such a transaction. Our marriage would be, after all, merely a business agreement.”
Seton stared at him, astounded. All the other Callahan brothers had romanced their women like princes of yore. They’d practically thrown themselves at their lady of choice, not content until they’d won her over with great fanfare and a wedding at Rancho Diablo. The brides had all worn the infamous and stunning magic wedding dress, and the wives still glowed, as if marriage to a Callahan was the best thing next to breathing air and drinking water.
“Are you insane? Certifiably insane?” she demanded, reconsidering using her high heel to deliver his just deserts.
“No,” Sam said, “just lazy, like I said.” He grinned the famous Callahan smile that made ladies swoon. “Think about it, Nancy Drew. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” Seton said. “You can bet your boots on that, Counselor.”
“It’s a good offer. Probably the best one you’ll ever get.” He winked again.
“Like the offer you made Mr. Jenkins recently? That if he dropped the lawsuit you wouldn’t sue him for his land and every last dime he had?”
“Aw,” Sam said, walking to the door, “I was trying to go easy on the old dog. I’d considered bringing up charges for bribery, misuse of taxpayer funds, et cetera, et cetera. There were about twenty charges I could have brought, none of them frivolous, and some with certain jail time attached. But at the end of the day, I decided to give the old fart a break.” Sam tipped his hat to her. “I have a kind and generous soul.”
He walked out, whistling as he went down the hall. Seton moved to the window, watching him amble across the street to Banger’s Bait and Tackle. Several bachelorettes accosted him, and Sam put his arm around them all. They moved as a group into the restaurant, like an amoeba that grew as it moved.
“The most annoying man on the planet,” Seton muttered. She locked her office door—there was no appointment, of course; she didn’t have any scheduled for the entire week—and took an aspirin. Then she sank into her wooden chair, looked around her bare office and wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake returning to Diablo to see if there was anything between Sam and her.
“Take off to Alaska,” Seton said, disgusted, and closed her eyes. “More like slither off.”
If that was the famous Callahan idea of romance, she wanted no part of it.
“YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND the Callahans,” Corinne Abernathy said two hours later, when Seton had sufficiently gotten over her desire to go after Sam and tell him what he could do with his stupid “proposal.” “Sam especially is an unusual case, because he came last. Youngest children are always different. He didn’t mean to offend you, Seton. In his mind, and with a man’s limited scope, he was being efficient.”
Seton sat ramrod-straight on her aunt’s flowered sofa and tried not to get steamed all over again. “He’s a male chauvinist, and maybe odd.”
Corinne laughed, her blue eyes serene behind her polka-dotted spectacles. “One might say that about all the Callahans. They’re wired differently, I suppose.”
“That’s no excuse.” Seton gratefully accepted a cup of tea from her aunt. “What am I supposed to do with a proposal like that? I was so surprised I couldn’t even throw him out on his ear, as I would have if I’d been thinking more clearly.”
“Well,” Corinne said, sitting on the divan across from her and putting a tray of tiny cookies on the coffee table. “I’d call his bluff.”
Seton stared at her. “You don’t mean accept his lunatic offer?”
She shrugged. “He’s a renegade lawyer, Seton, and coincidentally, a very good man from a very good family. And you’re in love with him. What do you have to lose by playing along?”
“I never said I was in love with Sam. I said—”
Her aunt waved a hand. “Seton, I may not know you as well as I know my own daughter, but I do know what a woman in love looks like. And I knew you loved Sam Callahan when you came back to Diablo. Why else would a woman return to a one-stoplight town to open up a gumshoe office?”
“I don’t know. But I do intend to find out.” She looked at her aunt, who was nibbling at a pink-frosted cookie. “He wasn’t the only reason I came home. I like spending time with you, too.”
“Oh, I know.” Corinne’s eyes sparkled. “It’s just gravy that’s there’s an adorable man here you’ve got your eye on.”
“I should have resisted my curiosity.”
Her aunt sipped her tea. “Have you ever thought that it’s a bit strange he made his offer to you? There are lots of ladies in Diablo who’d jump at the chance to say I do to Sam.”
Seton looked at her. “I simply figured I was the new face in town. Sam strikes me as being somewhat opportunistic.”
Corinne laughed. “He’s testing you, Seton.”
“For what?”
“Your interest level,” her aunt said calmly. “Play it out awhile. See what happens. What have you got to lose? You’ll find out if you’re actually in love with Sam, and he’ll get what he’s hoping for, which is to convince himself he’s not going to fall in love.”
Seton blinked. “Why would he want that?”
“Because he doesn’t think he belongs,” Corinne said. “He said as much to you with the whole ‘I don’t know who I am’ thing. It was sort of a confession—and a glimpse into his tortured soul.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “I just thought he was being dramatic so I’d feel sorry for him.”
Corinne smiled. “He wasn’t asking for your pity, he was asking for a snap wedding.”
“Well, he’s not going to get what he wants.”
Her aunt’s brows rose. “Don’t you want to get married?”
“Yes, but not now. And probably not to him.” Seton thought about children and wondered why Sam Callahan didn’t want any. She did—just as he’d said. “You have to remember I’ve been married before, Aunt Corinne. It fell apart when I had an ectopic pregnancy and lost a fallopian tube. When I have another life partner, I’d like him to be committed to having children. Sam made it plain that he isn’t in father mode. And I still think he might be odd.”
“They’re all a little different, as I say. But in a good way, Seton, if you have the courage to walk a different path. I’ve known their aunt for many years, ever since she and Burke came to Diablo, and I can honestly say that family is salt of the earth. If you think you might be in love with Sam, you could do worse, honey.”
“I don’t know.” Seton shook her head and stood. “Thanks for letting me stay here until I find a place, Aunt Corinne.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you. You go upstairs and think over your options, dear. I’m sure the just-right solution will come to you.”
Seton went upstairs to call her sister, who had once lived with the Callahans. Sabrina would certainly tell her to stay clear of Sam, which any sane woman would surely do.
Except for the single women in town who’d been hanging all over him as he’d gone into Banger’s today. Seton frowned and picked up the phone.
“YOU’RE AN IDIOT,” Jonas Callahan told his youngest brother. “Seton is never going to go for a dumb proposal like that.” He laughed, throwing his head back, then flipped the burgers on the grill. “When you said you weren’t going to be a sap and fall all over a woman like our brothers did, you went so far the other way it’ll be a miracle if Seton ever speaks to you again. Ha, ha, ha.”
Sam rolled his eyes and sucked on his longneck beer without much interest. “Well, she didn’t exactly run screaming from the idea.” Seton hadn’t looked thrilled, either. Maybe more murderous than anything. “She’s such a professional I figured the professional approach was best.”
“You were protecting your own hide.” Jonas grinned at him. “Your own emotions. That woman is so radioactively hot and major-league intelligent that she doesn’t have to put up with a bozo marriage proposal.” He waved the metal spatula. “Good money says she never speaks to you again.”
Sam nodded and took another swig. “Probably not,” he said cheerfully.
His brother eyed him. “Wait a minute. That’s why you did it, you loser.”
He raised a brow. “Did what?”
“Went the marriage-proposal-for-dummies route. You wanted her to turn you down! Then you could go on wheezing about all the existential loose ends in your life.”
Sam sniffed. “Have another beer, Jonas. One of us isn’t tight enough.”
“I’m serious. You wanted Seton to think you’re an idiot, which you are, but you wanted her good and convinced. So she’d turn down your proposal. And then you’d be off the hook with the only woman you’ve had eyes for in two years!” Jonas crowed. “You big chicken!”
Sam scratched his neck, leaned back against the picnic table and looked up at the evening sky. “It’s a beautiful March night. You shouldn’t keep howling at the moon, Jonas. Only crazy people do that.”
His brother snorted. “I’m not crazy. You are.”
“Yeah, well.” Sam emptied his beer and tossed the bottle in the trash before grabbing another one out of the cooler. “What will you do when it’s your turn to propose to a woman? At least I did it. You, I notice, make calls to a Washington, D.C., number and somehow never get off the mark.”
“I’m just keeping up with Sabrina.” Jonas slapped a burger down in front of Sam. “I told Corinne I’d check on her niece from time to time.”
“You didn’t check on her sister, Seton.”
“Well,” Jonas said, “I was under the misapprehension that you also knew how to dial a phone, bro.”
Sam bit into the burger, noting that it was done, as always, to perfection. “I don’t think we need to hire a cook, Jonas. You cook acceptably. I’m not complaining.” He ladled on some salsa and some avocado and kept eating, happy to needle his brother between bites.
“Back to Seton,” Jonas said, “you might want to sweeten your offer. No woman consents to a hands-off marriage, so you’re going to have to force yourself to be a little romantic, as much as it hurts you. Or she’s going to think you’re plain weird. Which you are, but right now, she’s wondering if you’re weird or just a hard-hearted lawyer. Neither scenario is good for your chances.”
Sam licked his fingers. “Seton’s independent enough to appreciate the clinical, no-strings-attached approach. And it doesn’t matter, because either way, I’d be off the hook with the marriage thing. No harm, no foul, is what I say. We’re not in love, no hearts will be broken, and Seton will get a nice payday. By the looks of her office, she could use a financial lotto.”
“Sure,” Jonas said, “let me know how it works out, bro. And I’ll keep your secret, only because it’s so crazy no one would believe me if I told them what you’ve done.” He sat down to eat his own burger, after shooting his brother one last incredulous glance.
“I expect Seton will give me her answer very soon. And then you’ll be the last one left, Jonas. The last bachelor at Rancho Diablo.”
Sam almost felt sorry for his eldest brother. Jonas wasn’t getting any younger—or smarter.
At least I know what I’m doing.
He had a plan, and he was sticking to it.