“Play with me. It’ll be fun.”

Taking Josie’s hands, he placed them around his neck. His hands low on her hips, he swayed her in time to the music.

“Dallas…”

“You look awfully cute in that robe.” He especially liked her messy pile of crazy-corkscrew hair. How the deep V at her throat guided his eyes to naughty places.

“I’m thirty-three. Hardly in the right age bracket for cute.”

“Says who?” Cinching her close enough that even air couldn’t squeeze between them, he nuzzled her neck.

She made a halfhearted effort to push him away, but then he slipped his hand beneath her chin, drawing her lips to his. Their kiss was awkward and tender and the most exciting thing to happen to him in years.

Dear Reader,

Last we “talked” my kiddos were graduating from high school. Now, they’re setting off for college. Where did the time go? Aside from my achy “rain” knee, I don’t feel any older. Lord knows, most days our kids don’t act older! LOL! So why are we now packing up their bedrooms to launch them into the world?

In Dallas and Josie’s story, Dallas is a single father to naughty twins, which gave me plenty of time to reflect over our own twin mischief. Our daughter refused to cook in her play kitchen with fake food, so I was constantly finding the milk, eggs and cheese in her room! Our son could take his room from neat-as-a-pin to ransacked in under thirty minutes. Finally, I gave up on sorting Legos, Lincoln Logs, army guys and dinosaurs into their own neat bins. Giant tubs were much easier to shovel the mess into!

At each stage of raising our children, Hubby and I were convinced that that was the toughest we’d have it. Just as Dallas feels kindergarten is hard, fourth grade science fair projects kicked our behinds. Now that our kids will soon be leaving the nest, we’re thinking the hardest parenting task of all is saying goodbye.

Lucky for Dallas, he’s got a few more years before that happens. What he doesn’t have is the willpower to steer clear of Josie, the girls’ pretty teacher!

Happy reading!

Laura Marie

The Rancher’s Twin Troubles
Laura Marie Altom

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura teaches art at a local middle school. In her free time, she beats her kids at video games, tackles Mount Laundry and of course reads romance!

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or email BaliPalm@aol.com.

Love winning fun stuff? Check out

www.lauramariealtom.com!

This story is dedicated to all of the friends

who’ve helped raise our kids.

We couldn’t have done it without you!

Special thanks to Tom and Karen Gilbert, Lynne and

Tony Beeson, Susie Thornbrugh, Kim Blackketter,

Jennifer Crutchfield, Jackie and John Butts, Karen

and Jack Lairmore, and Melinda and Scott Taylor.

This list is woefully incomplete, but to fill it,

I’d need a dedication book, rather than page!

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

“Are we talking about the same kids?” Dallas Buckhorn shifted on the pint-size chair in his twin daughters’ kindergarten classroom. Across a sea of tiny tables, his angels made dinner in a play kitchen. “Because my Betsy and Bonnie wouldn’t pull a stunt like that.”

Uptight Miss Griffin folded her hands atop her desk, full lips pressed into a frown. Her mess of red curls had escaped the clip at the back of her neck, making her look more like a pretty teen ditching school than a full-grown woman teaching it. “While the girls are lucky to have such wonderful support in their corner, the fact remains that our classroom fish tank had an entire package of Kool-Aid spilled in.”

“Yes, well—” the tank’s purple-tinged water forced Dallas to hide a chuckle “—the goldfish don’t seem to mind.”

“Since you seem to find this amusing, Mr. Buckhorn, you should know that at the time of the incident, your girls were the only children near the tank.”

“Yeah, but did you see them do it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “No, but—”

Dallas stood. “Ever heard the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

“Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t the first time I’ve had trouble with the girls. They’ve put popcorn in the plants to see if it would grow. Sneaked cafeteria food into our play kitchen and served it to other students. The last time it rained, they—”

“Whoa.” Slapping on his Stetson, Dallas said, “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but if Bonnie and Betsy did all of that, sounds to me like my babies aren’t getting adequate supervision. Maybe you’re the one who needs looking after?”

On her feet, hand on her hips, she said, “I’ve been teaching for ten years, and trust me, I understand it must be hard hearing your children are, well…out of control, but—”

Dallas whistled for his girls and they came running. “Did you two do that to the fish tank?” He pointed at the purple mess.

“No, Daddy,” they said in unison, big blue eyes wholly innocent.

“There you have it.” Hands on their backs, he ushered them to the classroom’s door. The smell of crayons and paste was bringing on a headache. Clearly, the teacher must’ve been sniffing too much of that white school glue. “My girls said they’re not guilty. End of story. Before we go, want help switching out the water?”

“HE DIDN’T?”

“Oh, he did.” Josie put a carrot stick to her mouth and chomped. The teachers’ lounge was blessedly quiet. Josie had a free period while her kiddos were in music class, and she was enjoying every minute with her best friend, Natalie Stump. “Then he and the girls cleaned out the tank. Does that sound like something the father of innocent children would do?”

“No…” Natalie struggled opening a chocolate milk carton. “But it was decent of him. Maybe he has issues with admitting his daughters are anything less than perfect.” As Weed Gulch Elementary School’s counselor, Natalie was always on the hunt for the best in people. Usually it was a trait Josie found endearing, but in this case, already dreading the twins’ next stunt, she wished Dallas Buckhorn would wake up and see the delinquents he was raising.

Josie sighed. “Bonnie and Betsy are adorable and funny and smart, but both have an ornery streak I can’t control.”

Without thinking, Josie took Natalie’s milk carton and had it open in a flash.

“You’re good at that.”

“I’m pretty sure I had a college course on stubborn milk.”

“Nothing on tough-to-handle kids though, huh?”

“More than I can count, but these two beat anything I’ve ever seen. If they continue this trend, by third grade they’ll be robbing ice cream trucks.”

Natalie chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Mark my words. This isn’t the last time I’ll have to confront their father.”

“At least he’s hot.” Natalie poked Josie in the ribs with an elbow. “Makes for interesting parent/teacher conferences.”

Heat crept up Josie’s neck. Hot was hardly the word. The man was more in the realm of drop-dead gorgeous, but that was beside the point. “He’s all right. If you go for that sort.” Tall, spiky dirty-blond hair, faded jeans that hugged his—

“Don’t even try lying to me. That porcelain skin of yours gives everything away. You’re blushing.”

“Am not.” Josie had always hated her pale complexion, and this was just one more reason why.

The late September day was warm and she dumped her last two baby carrots in the trash, preferring to stand in front of the window air-conditioning unit, letting the cool wash away her crabby mood.

“Let’s hope,” Natalie said, thankfully off the subject of the all-too-handsome cowboy, “this conference will serve as a wake-up call for the girls. I bet you don’t have a lick of trouble from now to the end of the year.”

“BETSY! BONNIE! GET DOWN from there before you break every bone in your little bodies!” Beneath the mammoth arms of an oak that’d no doubt been on the playground since before Oklahoma had even been a state, Josie stared up at the Buckhorn twins. How had they scrambled so high? Especially so fast? The first branch was a good five feet from the ground. She’d cautioned the three teachers on playground duty to keep a close watch on the twins, but they reported that the girls had been too quick for anyone to stop them.

“Look at me!” Bonnie shouted, hanging upside down monkey-style at least fifteen feet in the sweltering air.

“I can do it, too!” Betsy shouted, much to Josie’s horror, mimicking her sister’s stunt. It’d only been a week since Josie’s meeting with their dad and already they were finding mischief.

Winded, Natalie approached. “I called their father and he’s on his way. Luckily, I caught him on his cell and he’s already in town.”

“Thanks,” Josie said. “Obviously, the girls aren’t listening to any of us. Maybe he can talk them down.”

“I’m flying!” Bonnie shouted, holding out her arms Wonder Woman-style.

“I wanna try,” said pigtailed Megan Brown who gazed at her classmate with wide-eyed awe.

“Me, too!” All of a sudden at least twenty of the thirty-eight kindergarteners outside stormed the tree base. Jumping up and down, they looked more like a riotous mosh pit than normally well-behaved children at recess.

“Bonnie, please,” Josie reasoned, hand to her forehead shading her eyes from the sun. “Halloween’s almost here and you wouldn’t want to ruin your costume with a big cast, would you?”

“Casts are cool!” Jimmy Heath declared. “I broke my leg sledding and Dad painted it camo.”

“Ooh…” was the crowd consensus.

Josie prayed for calm.

What she got was a black truck hopping the parking lot curb to drive right up onto the playground. At the wheel? Dallas Buckhorn. Lord, how she was well on her way to despising the man. If only he’d taken her seriously during their conference, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

“Come on, kids,” Natalie and the other teachers on duty called, gathering the children a safe distance away.

Dallas positioned the truck bed beneath the girls before killing the engine.

Exhaust stung Josie’s nose, causing her to sneeze.

“Bless you,” he said with a grin and a tip of his hat.

“Daddy!” Betsy cried, waving and swinging. “Look what I can do!”

“I see you, squirrel.” He didn’t look the least bit disturbed. “Now, before you give your teacher a heart attack, how about you two scramble down from there and into the truck bed.”

“Do we have to?” Bonnie asked. “I thought you said it was good for us to climb trees?”

“It is, but that’s at home. My guess is that around here, shimmying up things taller than you breaks more than a few rules.” Wearing faded jeans, weathered boots, a red plaid Western shirt and his trademark hat, the man looked nothing like a father. More like a cowboy straight off the range.

Natalie leaned over and whispered, “He’s so handsome it hurts to look at him.”

“Hush,” Josie snapped. “This is a serious situa—”

Before she could finish, the girls had scurried down the tree and into the truck bed. Legs rubbery with relief, Josie finally dared to breathe.

“See?” Hat in hand, Dallas sauntered over. His walk was slow and sexy. “My girls are expert climbers. I don’t even know why you called.”

Stunned by his cavalier attitude, she wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you realize that if either of your girls had fallen from that height, they could’ve been seriously injured?” Focusing on maintaining a professional demeanor, Josie folded her arms and adopted her best stern-teacher expression.

“Do you realize my angels have been climbing trees practically since they could walk? I’ve taught them to look out for weak branches and to always plan a safe path down.” Checking his truck to find the girls surrounded by their friends, he added, “I’ve done some of my best thinking in an old oak—at least back when I was a teen.”

Shaking her head, she struggled for the right words. “You have to understand that at school, there has to be a certain order to our days. There are procedures and rules to follow—not just for safety, but for learning. By condoning your daughters’ actions, you’ve essentially told every student out here that disobeying my rules and those of the other teachers is not only perfectly okay, but heroic.”

“Aren’t you exaggerating just a tad?” When he held his thumb and forefingers together, he winked. Despite the fact that he was handsome enough to make her swoon, she held her ground. The man was impossible and he brought out the worst in her. She was never this much of a shrew. But she’d also never encountered someone quite so blind. As young as the twins were, now was the time to temper them. Not in their teens when they were already lost.

“No, sir,” she said, standing her ground. “I don’t believe I am.”

“Then where does that leave us?”

Us? She rationally knew he meant their parent/ teacher relationship, but the way he’d slapped his hat back on his head, hooking his thumbs into his back pockets had her distracted. What was wrong with her? Why was it that whenever she came within five feet of him her mind turned to mush and her body fairly hummed? She was finished with men, so why wouldn’t her body obey?

“Um…” Josie cleared her throat. “Perhaps you might want to spend time in the classroom with the girls. You’d be able to see what’s expected of them, and then pass along the message.”

Blanching, he said, “Me? Back in school? No, thanks. Tell you what I will do, though. The girls and I will have a nice, long talk about no more recess tree climbing.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Josie said, unsure what to do with her hands.

Thankfully, seeing how most of her class had joined the twins in the bed of Dallas’s truck, she had more pressing matters than the study of how his hat brim’s shadow darkened his eyes.

“MOM,” DALLAS SAID THAT NIGHT, chopping an onion for her famous spaghetti sauce, “I swear that woman’s going to drive me off the deep end.”

Georgina Buckhorn sighed. “How can you be intimidated by a scrap of a kindergarten teacher?”

“Who said I was intimidated?” Dallas brought the knife down especially hard on the onion. The clap of metal hitting the wooden cutting board echoed in the big country kitchen. “She annoys me, that’s all.”

“Because she speaks the truth and you don’t want to hear it?” Her back to him, she took pasta from an upper shelf. She was a tall woman made all the more imposing by the top knot she’d formed with her long silver hair. Once upon a time, before Dallas lost Bobbie Jo, his mother’s words had been gold. Now, Dallas resented her for getting into his parenting business. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along, but where the girls were concerned, they no longer shared the same values.

She always nagged him about the twins needing more discipline, but to his way of thinking, wasn’t losing their mother enough? Bobbie Jo had died giving them life. Her last whispered words had been for him to put his love for her into their babies. By God, every day since, that was exactly what he’d done.

Bonnie and Betsy were his world and no one—not his mom and certainly not their teacher—was going to tell him he was a bad parent when his life was dedicated to their happiness.

“Dallas,” his mother said, dropping pasta into a pot of already boiling water on the industrial-size stove, “this house is big enough that we can generally keep to our own business, but this is one matter on which I refuse to bend. Sunday night, I caught Betsy drawing all over her bathroom mirror with lipstick. My brand-new Chanel lipstick I bought last time we were in Tulsa. When I asked her to help clean the mess, she crossed her arms, raised her chin and flat out told me, ‘no.’ Now, does that sound reasonable to you?”

After dumping diced onions into a pan filled with Italian sausage, he took the cutting board and knife to the sink, running them both under water.

“Ignore me all you want, but deep down, you know I’m right.” Behind him, her hand on his shoulder, she added, “A large part of being a good parent is sometimes being the bad guy. You have to set boundaries. Just like your father and I did with you and your brothers.”

“That’s different. We were all hell on horseback.”

She snorted. “Like your girls are any different because they’re only riding the ponies you gave them for Christmas?”

“They love those cuties.” He bristled. “Ponies topped the twins’ Santa lists.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” She stirred the meat and onions that’d started to sizzle above a gas flame. “Clint Eastwood topped my wish list, but you don’t see me out gallivanting, do you?”

“You’re impossible.” His back turned, he took his work coat from the peg mounted alongside the back door. “I’m going to check the cattle.”

“Mark my words, Dallas Buckhorn, you might temporarily hide from this situation, but sooner or later you have to deal with your rambunctious girls.”

“GOT IT! AND IT ONLY TOOK ten strokes.” Friday evening, on hole seven of Potter’s Putt-Putt, Natalie performed a little dance that revealed she may have had one too many beers. It was the monthly ladies’ night and judging by the slew of high scores, none of the foursome would give the LPGA a run for their money any time soon.

First grade teacher, Shelby Foster, pushed the counselor aside. “Let me show you how a professional does it…”

“Professional what?” Cami Vettle, the school secretary teased in a raunchy tone.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Josie truly laughed and it felt not only good, but long overdue. Until just now, she hadn’t realized how much stress she’d been under. She’d always loved her job. As a general rule, kindergarteners were a lovable, trouble-free bunch. Oh, sure, she’d dealt with plenty of mischief, but nothing as regular and confounding as the stunts of Betsy and Bonnie Buckhorn.

“You all right?” Natalie asked while waiting for the other women to take their turns.

“Sure,” Josie said, swirling her plastic cup of beer. “Why wouldn’t I be?” White lights decorated the course’s trees. With temperatures in the seventies, it felt as if fall had finally arrived. Shrieks of laughter mingled with top-forty music blaring from loudspeakers. The mouthwatering scent of the snack bar’s trademark barbecue normally would have her stomach growling. Lately, though, she’d been so consumed with dreaming up a delicate way to manage the twins that she forgot to eat.

“You seem awfully quiet. Man trouble?” Tipsy, Natalie leaned on Josie’s shoulder. Beer mingled with her pretty floral perfume, again causing Josie’s lips to curve into a smile.

“Oh, sure. As you full well know, I haven’t been with a man since Lyle, and he was a disaster.”

“Only because you didn’t put an ounce of effort into the relationship. It’s been four years since Hugh died. He wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

Then why had he left her?

“Who said I am?” Josie swigged her beer. “And who are you to talk? When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“Two weeks ago, thank you very much.”

“Your turn,” Cami said to Josie, writing down her score. “What are you two gossiping about?”

“Nat, here, says she had a date.” Josie centered the ball on the putting mat before giving it a swat. It landed between a giant plaster frog and a rubber lily pad. “You believe her?”

“Absolutely. It was with the UPS man. I witnessed him asking her in the front office.”

“Impressive…” Josie’s shot landed her ball ten feet from the moat’s dragon. Sighing, she stepped over a second lily pad to set up for stroke three.

“Kind of like Betsy and Bonnie’s dad. Whew.” Cheeks flushed, Cami fanned herself with the scorecard. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Don’t look now, but he’s also headed this way…” Natalie downed the rest of her beer.

Upon meeting Dallas’s penetrating stare, Josie hit her ball all the way to Hansel and Gretel’s cottage on hole fourteen!

Chapter Two

“Ladies…” Dallas tipped his hat to Bonnie and Betsy’s teacher and three other women he’d seen around the girls’ school. “Nice night to be on the links.”

The tall brunette laughed at his joke.

“Miss Griffin?” He was intrigued by the notion that she found it necessary to hide behind a pine.

“Please,” she mumbled, ducking out from behind a particularly full bough to extend her hand, “outside of school you can call me Josie.”

When their fingers touched, he was unprepared for the breeze of awareness whispering through him. It’d been so long since he’d noticed any woman beyond casual conversation that he abruptly released her. Just as hastily broke their stare. Had she felt that shift from the ordinary, too?

“Hi, Miss Griffin!” The twins and three of their more giggly friends danced around him.

“H-hi, girls,” their teacher said. Had she always been so hot? Maybe it was the course’s dim lighting, but her complexion glowed as pretty as his mama’s Sunday pearls. Her hair hung long and wild, and she wore the hell out of a pair of faded jeans and a University of Oklahoma sweatshirt. Red cowboy boots peeked out from beneath her hems. “You all having a party?”

Bonnie nodded. “Daddy’s letting us have a sleepover for doing good on our chores all week.”

“Congratulations,” their teacher said, patting Bonnie’s back. “I’m proud of you.”

His daughter beamed.

Feeling damned proud for having raised such a conscientious sweetheart, Dallas couldn’t help but grin.

“Come on, Daddy.” Betsy yanked his arm. “Let’s play.”

“Well…” Oddly reluctant to end the conversation, Dallas said, “Guess I’d better get going. My bosses are calling.”

The look Josie Griffin shot him was painful. As if she disapproved of his play on words. The notion annoyed him and brought him back to the reality of who she was in the grand scheme of things. A teacher he’d never see again after his girls’ kindergarten graduation. As for his musings on her good looks? A waste of time he wouldn’t be repeating.

“I KNOW, KITTY, THE MAN’S infuriating, isn’t he?” While Josie’s calico performed figure eights between her legs, she spooned gourmet cat food onto a china saucer. Her friends thought she was nutty for lavishing so much attention on her pet, but Kitty had been a wedding gift from Hugh. When she one day lost her furry friend, she didn’t know what she’d do. In some ways, it would be like losing her husband all over again.

Another thing her friends nagged her about was worrying over events that hadn’t happened. But surviving the kinds of things Josie had taught her to never underestimate any signs—no matter how seemingly insignificant.

“Kitty,” she said, setting the saucer on the wide planked walnut floor, “do you think when it comes to the Trouble Twins I’m looking for problems where there are none?”

Chowing down on his Albacore Tuna Delight, Kitty couldn’t have cared less.

Josie took a banana from the bowl she kept filled with seasonal fruit. Usually in her honey-gold kitchen with its granite counters, colorful rag rugs and green floral curtains, she felt warm and cozy. Content with her lot in life. Yes, she’d faced unspeakable tragedy early on, but as years passed, she’d grown accustomed to living on her own. She shopped Saturday morning yard sales for quilting fabric and took ballet every Thursday night. Even after three years, she was the worst in her class, but the motions and music were soothing—unlike her impromptu meeting with Dallas Buckhorn.

Her hand meeting his had produced the queerest sensation. Lightning in a bottle. Had it been her imagination? A by-product of beer mixed with moonlight? Or just Nat’s gushing praise of the man’s sinfully good looks catching like a virus?

ON MONDAY MORNING, as calmly as possible, Josie fished for the green snake one of her darlings had thoughtfully placed in her desk drawer. Finally grabbing hold of him—or her—she held it up for her class’s squealing perusal. “Don’t suppose any of you lost this?”

Bonnie Buckhorn raised her hand. “Sorry. He got out of my lunch bag.”

“Yes, well, come and get him and—” Josie dumped yarn from a nearby plastic tub, and then set the writhing snake inside. “Everyone line up. We’re taking a field trip.”

“Where? Where?” sang a chorus of hyper five-yearolds.

Bonnie took the tub.

“We’re going to take Bonnie’s friend outside—where he belongs.”

“You’re not letting him go!” Bonnie hugged the yellow tub, vigorously shaking her head.

“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now, I need this week’s light buddies to do their job, please.”

Sarah Boyden and Thomas Quinn scampered out of line to switch off the front and back fluorescent lights.

“Please, ma’am,” Betsy said while her twin stood beneath the American and Oklahoman flags crying, “Bonnie didn’t mean to put Green Bean in your desk.”

“Then how did he get there?” Josie asked as Sarah and Thomas rejoined the line.

“Um…” She gnawed her bottom lip. “He wanted to go for a walk, but then he got lost.”

“Uh-huh.” Hands on her hips, miles behind on the morning’s lesson, Josie said, “Get in line. Bonnie, you, too.”

Bonnie tilted her head back and screamed.

Not just your garden-variety kindergarten outrage, but a full-blown tantrum generally reserved for toy store emergencies. A whole minute later she was still screaming so loud that her classmates put their hands over their ears.

Josie tried reasoning with her, but Bonnie wouldn’t hush longer than the few seconds it took to drag in a fresh batch of air. Not sure what else to do, Josie resorted to pressing the intercom’s call button.

“Office.”

“Cami!” Josie shouted over Bonnie, “I need Nat down here right away.”

The door burst open and Shelby ran in. “What’s wrong? Sounds like someone’s dying.”

Nat followed, out of breath and barely able to speak. “C-Cami said it sounds like someone’s dying.”

Both women eyed the squirming student lineup and then Bonnie. Betsy stood alongside her, whispering something only her twin could hear—that is, if she’d quieted enough to listen.

“Sweetie,” Josie tried reasoning with the girl, “if Green Bean is your pet, I won’t let him go, but we’ll have to call your father to come get him. You know it’s against our rules to bring pets to school when it’s not for show-and-tell.”

For Josie’s ears only, Natalie said, “Hang tight, I’ll get hold of her dad.”

“LOOK,” DALLAS SAID AN HOUR later. When he’d gotten the counselor’s call, he’d been out on the back forty, vaccinating late summer calves. It was a wonder he’d even heard his cell ring. “If my girl said the snake got in her teacher’s desk by accident, then that’s what happened. Nobody saw her do it. Even if it did purposely end up there, how many boys are in her class? Could one of them have done it?” In the principal’s office, Bonnie sat on one of his knees, Betsy on the other. Stroking their hair, he added, “I’m a busy man. I don’t appreciate having to come all the way down here for something so minor.”

Principal Moody sighed. With gray hair, gray suit and black pearls, she looked more like a prison guard than someone who dealt with children. “Mr. Buckhorn, in many ways schools are communities. Much like the town of Weed Gulch, our elementary maintains easy to understand laws by which all of our citizens must abide. I’ve been at this job for over thirty-five years and not once have I seen a snake accidentally find its way into a teacher’s desk. I have, however, encountered fourteen cases of students placing their reptiles in various inappropriate locations.”

Hardening his jaw, Dallas asked, “You calling my girl a liar? Look how upset she still is…”

Bonnie hiccupped and sniffled.

The woman rambled on. “All I’m suggesting is that Bonnie may need additional lessons on appropriate classroom behavior. Perhaps you and your girls should schedule a conference with Miss Griffin?”

Imagining the girls’ scowling teacher, Dallas wondered what kind of crazy dust he’d snorted to have found her the least bit attractive. “As I’m sure you know, I went to this school, as did all of my brothers. My parents never had to deal with this kind of accusatory attitude.”

“You’re right,” the principal said. “When y’all attended Weed Gulch Elementary, a simple paddling resolved most issues.”

After ten more minutes of way-too-polite conversation that got him nowhere, Dallas hefted himself and his girls to their feet and said, “These two will be leaving now with me. Is there something I need to sign?”

The principal rose from her regal leather chair. “Miss Cami in the front office will be happy to show you the appropriate forms.”

WITH EVERYONE BACK AT THEIR tables, chubby fingers struggling with the letter F, Josie sat at her desk multitasking. On a good day, she managed putting happy stickers on papers, entering completion grades on her computer and eating a tuna sandwich. On this day, she had accomplished only one out of three.

What sort of excuse would the twins’ father make this time? He and the girls had been in the principal’s office for nearly an hour.

“Missus Gwiffin?” She glanced up to find Charlie Elton sporting a broken crayon. He also had several missing teeth. “I bwoke it. Sworry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Taking the red oversize crayon, she peeled off the paper from the two halves. “See? Now it works again.”

“Thwanks!” All smiles, he dashed back to his table. Toothless grins were what led her to teaching. Feeling that every day she made a positive difference in her students’ lives was what kept her in the career. Which was why the tension mounting between herself and the Buckhorn twins was so troubling. Not only was her job usually satisfying, but school was her haven.

This weekend, she’d head into Tulsa. There were some school specialty stores that might have classroom management books to help with this sort of thing.

The door opened and in shuffled the sources of her seemingly constant consternation.

“Hi,” Josie said, wiping damp palms on her navy corduroy skirt. “Everything all right?”

“Daddy brought Green Bean’s jar,” Bonnie said with enough venom to take down a pit viper.

“He’s got Green Bean and said we need to get our stuff and go home.” Betsy looked less certain about their mission.

“Sure that’s what you want to do?” Josie asked, kneeling in front of the pair. “We’re learning about the letter F.”

“Let’s stay,” Betsy said in a loud whisper. “I love to color new letters.”

Bonnie shook her head.

At the door, their father poked his head in. “Get a move on, ladies. I’ve still got work to do.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Hand in hand, the girls dashed to their cubbies.

“Mr. Buckhorn…” Josie rose, approaching him slowly in hope of attracting as few little onlookers as possible. Today, the stern set of his features made him imposing. Miles taller than he usually seemed. Yet something about the way he cradled Bonnie’s pet in the crook of his arm gave him away as a closet teddy bear when it came to his girls. Trouble was, as a parent—or even a teacher—you couldn’t be nice all the time. “While the twins gather their things, could we talk?”

He gestured for her to lead the way to the hall.

With the classroom door open, allowing her a full view of her diligently working students, Josie said, “I’m sorry this incident inconvenienced you. Pets are only allowed on certain days of the year.”

“So I’ve heard.” Cold didn’t come close to describing the chill of his demeanor.

“Yes, you see, the snake itself is the least of our problems.”

“Our problems?” He cocked his right eyebrow.

“Bonnie and Betsy—well, in this case mainly Bonnie, but—”

“Hold it right there.” In her face, he whispered, “I’m sick and tired of accusations being made against my kids when their class is no doubt full of hooligans.”

“Hooligans?” Maybe it was the old-fashioned word itself, or the sight of harmless Thomas Quinn wiping his perpetually runny nose on his sleeve—whatever had brought on a grin, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Think this is funny? We’re talking about my daughters’ education.”

“I know,” she said, sobering, trying not to notice how his warm breath smelled strangely inviting. Like oatmeal and cinnamon. “Mr. Buckhorn, I’m sorry. Really I am. I’m not sure how we’ve launched such a contentious relationship, but you have to know I only have the twins’ best interests in mind. Kindergarten is the time for social adjustments. Nipping problem behaviors before they interfere with the real nuts and bolts of crucial reading and math skills.”

“Why do you keep doing that? Implying my girls are difficult? Look at them,” he said, glancing into the room where Bonnie and Betsy had gravitated to their assigned seats and sat quietly coloring with the rest of the class. “Tell me, have you ever seen a more heartwarming sight?”

Nope. Nor a more uncharacteristic one!

Typically by this time of day, Bonnie had carried out her second or third dastardly plan. Whether freeing the inhabitants of their ant farm or counting how many pencils fit in the water fountain’s drain, the girl was always up to something. Betsy either provided cover or assisted in a speedy getaway.

“They’re even self-starters,” he boasted. “Their mother opened her own horse grooming shop. Looks to me like I have a couple of entrepreneurs on my hands.”

“I agree,” Josie was honestly able to say. The girls were already experts when it came to launching funny business. “But with all due respect, the twins are currently on their best behavior. With you here, I doubt they’ll find trouble.”

“Right. Because it’s not them causing it in the first place.”

Josie might as well have been talking to a rock wall. “My job is to make sure Bonnie and Betsy are prepared to do their best in first grade, right?”

He snorted. “Only correct thing you’ve said since I’ve been standing here.”

“All right, then—” she propped her hands on her hips and glared “—what do I have to gain by making up outrageous stories about your girls?”

The question stumped him.

“That’s right,” she continued. “A big, fat nothing. No one wants the twins to be perfect more than me. Their future behavior is a reflection of not only your parenting, but my teaching.”

“Why are you bringing me into this?” He switched Green Bean to the crook of his other arm.

Just when she thought she’d broken through the wall….

“I mentioned this to you before, but I really think it would help the situation,” she said, recalling a child development class she’d had where parents sat behind two-way mirrors, watching the differences in their children’s behavior once they’d left the room. “How about if starting tomorrow, you attend class with Bonnie and Betsy? Just for a few days.”

It wouldn’t be as idyllic as a blind study, but at least it would give her a stress-free week, plus maybe in some small way show the girls their father cared about their actions at school.

“Seriously?” He scratched his head. “What good is that going to do?”

In a perfect world, open your eyes to the scam your angels have been pulling.

AFTER DINNER, DALLAS MADE a beeline for the barn to muck stalls. He told himself it was because the horses deserved a perfectly clean environment, but the truth of the matter was that he needed time alone to think. As if listening to his mother lecture had been the price for heaping portions of her famous tuna casserole and peas, she’d yammered on and on about what pistols he and his brothers had been at school. And how she wasn’t surprised to now find his proverbial apples not falling far from the tree.

Usually the scent of straw mingled with saddle leather and horseflesh soothed his darkest moods, but this one he found hard to shake. The principal’s accusatory glare hadn’t sat well. Yes, education was important, but it wasn’t everything. After high school, some of Dallas’s friends had gone on to college, but all he and Bobbie Jo had wanted was to get married and start their family. It didn’t take a degree to learn ranching, but plenty of days spent working in brutal sun, cold and every sort of weather in between.

Lord, he missed his wife. She’d know what to do.

“Gonna be out here brooding all night?” His brother Wyatt broke the barn’s peace. Wasn’t there anywhere a man could go to be alone?

“I’m not brooding.”

“Uh-huh.” Tugging on leather gloves, Wyatt split a fresh hay bale in Thunder’s stall.

The black quarter horse snorted his thanks.

“Just saw Mom. She told me to tell you the girls are waiting on you to read them a story and tuck them in.”

“I know…” Wind whistled through the rafters, making the old building shudder.

“Then why aren’t you with them?”

Dallas stabbed his pitchfork in the meager pile of dung he’d collected in the wheelbarrow. “Beats me.”

“You gonna do it? Take the girls’ teacher up on her offer?”

Glancing at his younger brother over his shoulder, Dallas asked, “Think I should?”

Wyatt hefted another bale, carrying it to the next stall. “I asked around and Josie Griffin is an excellent educator, not prone to spinning yarns. She’s tough, yet compassionate. From what I’ve heard, always acting with her students’ best interests at heart.”

“Okay…so Miss Griffin’s a saint. That doesn’t mean she’s justified in calling my girls trouble.” Nor did it make him feel better about his wicked thoughts at the minigolf course.

“If that’s truly the way you feel, then take her up on her offer. Henry and I will handle things around here.” Henry was the ranch foreman and had been practically family since Dallas had been born.

“Not that simple,” Dallas said, putting extra effort into cleaning Buttercup’s stall. The palomino had been Bobbie Jo’s. His wife had spent hours prepping to show the horse. Brushing her coat until Dallas could’ve sworn the mare purred. “What would you say if I told you there’s a reason I don’t want to be at that school?”

“What’s more important than taking an active part in the twins’ education?”

Dallas winced. Wyatt had always had a knack for zeroing in on the heart of any matter. “That’s just it. The other night, when Bonnie and Betsy had that gaggle of girls over for a sleepover, we ran into Miss Griffin.” Sighing, he admitted, “The sight of her rear end in faded jeans just about fried my brain. Not good, seeing how the last thing I need is to be hot for teacher.”

Chapter Three

Why wasn’t Josie surprised Dallas had chosen to make a mockery of her suggestion?

Tuesday morning, on Weed Gulch Elementary’s sun-drenched front lawn stood not one pony, but two. The docile pets put up with dozens of stroking little hands. For the students who weren’t enraptured by cute creatures, there were cupcakes—dozens! Box after box of whimsically frosted treats, each sporting either plastic cowboy or cowgirl rings. In the center of the mayhem stood Dallas Buckhorn wearing jeans and a blue plaid Western shirt, accompanied by leather chaps, a Stetson hat and boots. Oh—the mere sight of him made her heart flutter, she’d give him that, but from a teaching standpoint, he’d ruined her whole day.

How was making construction paper analog clocks and then learning to read them going to top this?

“Miss Griffin!” Bonnie and Betsy ran up to her, hugging so hard around her waist that Josie nearly toppled over.

“Did you see what our daddy brought?”

“I sure did…” And we’re going to have a nice, long talk about it. “Are those your ponies?”

“Uh-huh,” Betsy said with a vigorous nod. “Mine is named Cookie because she has chocolate chip spots.”

“Mine’s Cinderella,” Bonnie noted. “Just like the princess because she has long, blond hairs.”

“Those are wonderful names.” Josie was glad she’d worn capris and sneakers as the lawn she marched across was still dew-soaked. “You two were clever to match them so well to each pony.”

“Thanks!” both girls said, skipping alongside her.

Before dashing ahead, Betsy shouted to her sister, “Come on, Cinderella pooped!”

Giggles abounded.

Thank goodness the older kids were already in class or off-color bathroom jokes would already be spreading. When it came to potty humor, fifth and sixth graders were experts.

“I’ve got a man here to clean all of this.” Josie had been so focused on what she’d say to Dallas that she hadn’t noticed he’d come up beside her.

Hand to her chest, she said, “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Nodding toward the shrieking kids, he added, “I knew the ponies would be a hit, but I didn’t expect a riot.”

“When it comes to kindergarteners, it doesn’t take much.”

“I’m seeing.” His smile rocketed through her. Despite his many faults, he was undeniably handsome. Never more so than now. It was clear he belonged outside. The sun lightening his Buckhorn-blue eyes. Glancing over his shoulder, he signaled to an older man who knelt alongside Bonnie, helping her with her pet.

“Yeah, boss?” The man’s easy smile, laugh lines at the corners of brown eyes and weathered skin had Josie guessing him to be in his mid-fifties. His playful spirit around the kids made him seem much younger. Like Dallas, he wore Western wear complete with a cowboy hat.

“Josie Griffin, meet Henry Pohl. He’s worked our ranch longer than I’ve been alive.”

Shaking Josie’s hand, the man winked. “I wouldn’t say it was that long. You are getting a tad long in the tooth.”

In under twenty minutes, Dallas was true to his word and had begun loading the ponies into a custom, miniaturized horse trailer attached to a shiny black pick-up. The Buckhorn Ranch emblem of two battling rams had been stenciled on both doors.

While settling the children into their daily routine of standing for the Pledge of Allegiance, stilling for a moment of silence and then getting out their printing paper to practice writing their new letter and number, she watched Dallas through the wall of windows overlooking the school’s front lawn.

Firmly, yet gently, he corralled the suddenly stubborn animals into their temporary home. With Henry’s help, Dallas soon had all of the cupcake liners and white bakery boxes in the trash, leaving the area looking untouched save for sneaker tracks trailing through silvery dew.

Josie’s students fidgeted and fussed. Too hyper from cupcakes and fun to want to settle into their routine. The childlike part of her she didn’t often let escape sympathized with them. Outside, it was shaping up to be a beautiful fall day. She had dreaded Dallas’s visit, but was now surprised to be anticipating his return to the room.

“YOU DO KNOW YOUR CIRCUS broke about sixteen school rules?”

Dallas took another bite of his ham and swiss sandwich and shrugged. “Way I see it, my girls need to know I’m not here to punish them. I want them and their friends to be happy I’m in for a visit.”

Josie Griffin pressed her full lips together like there was a whole lot she wanted to say, but was holding back.

“Out with it,” he coaxed, biting into a pear. It was the first one he’d had in a while. Firm, yet juicy and sweet. Kind of like he’d imagine kissing Josie would be—that is, if she’d ever erase her pucker. Not that he’d done a whole lot of thinking about kissing the teacher, but cute as she was, he wouldn’t have been normal if the notion hadn’t at least crossed his mind.

For the twenty minutes while the kids were at recess, Josie had suggested they hang out in the teachers’ lounge. The room was unremarkable save for a pleasantly efficient window air-conditioning unit and grown-up chairs. Dallas hadn’t realized how many muscles in his back could possibly ache until he’d spent his morning pretzelled into munchkin chairs.

“Since you asked…” Her eyes narrowed. Was she fixing to yell at him again? “I didn’t invite you here to throw a party, but observe your daughters in their daily setting. My hope is that they’ll soon grow comfortable enough with you being in their surroundings to revert back to their usual naughty behavior.”

“Whoa. What you’re essentially saying is that you’ve set a trap you hope they spring?”

She at least had the good graces to flush. “I would hardly call a long acknowledged child psychiatry technique a trap. More like a tool. I can sit here telling you about the girls’ sins until I run out of breath, but that still won’t make you a believer. I want you to catch them in action. Only then will you understand how disruptive their pranks are to my class.”

“And if they turn out to be the good kids I expect them to be?”

She damn near choked on a carrot stick. “Not that I’m a betting woman, but if I were, I’d put down a hundred on Bonnie and Betsy finding some form of trouble by the end of the day.”

“You say that with such glee,” he noted, wadding up his trash. “Like you want my daughters in hot water.”

“Far from it. They need to understand that school is for learning, not horseplay. But wait—with this morning’s stunt, you’ve pretty much blown that lesson out of the water.”

“For the record—” he eased his legs out in front of him to cross at the ankles “—Cookie and Cinderella aren’t horses, but ponies.”

JOSIE WAS BEYOND MORTIFIED when Thursday morning had come and gone and still the twins hadn’t so much as dropped a pencil shaving. Had she been wrong about them? Overexaggerated their penchant for mischief?

“Hungry?” Dallas asked as twenty-one squirming bodies raced for the door.

“I am,” she said, motioning for the line leaders to guide them to the hand-washing station. “It’s fried chicken day. Want to brave the cafeteria?”

“Is it safe?”

She laughed. “On turkey tetrazzini day,” she wrinkled her nose, “not so much, but you’re actually in for a treat. Mashed potatoes and white gravy with big yeast rolls. If we’re really lucky, chocolate cake for dessert.”

“I’m in.” His white-toothed grin was made brighter by faint golden stubble. Not enough time to shave before beating the first bell?

After getting everyone through the line, Josie turned to Paula the lunch lady and said, “Please give Mr. Buckhorn a double serving and put it on my tab.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Heaping on gravy, the bosom-heavy brunette asked, “How’s your cat? Heard he had a sick spell.”

“Better, thanks.” Josie loved how everyone in the school was an extended family. What she lacked for company at home, she more than made up for at work. “How’s Teddy’s job hunt?”

“Great.” Her sixteen-year-old had been saving for a car. “He starts at the drive-in on Friday.”

“Wonder—”

“I hate you, Thomas! Take your stupid cake!”

Josie peered through the serving-line door just in time to see Bonnie fling a chocolate square at poor little Thomas Quinn. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she then smashed it into his hair.

“I hate you, too!” Betsy hollered. “Bonnie’s a princess and you should’ve just given her the stupid cake.”

“Girls, knock it off!” Dallas said, surging into the melee.

Thomas started to wail and showed no signs of letting up. “Sh-she g-got cake on my new g-glasses!”

“Let me clean those for you, bud.” Dallas set his lunch tray on the table and then took the boy’s gold-rimmed frames. To Josie, he said, “Be right back.”

“Th-there’s c-cake on my shirt, t-too. Mommy’s gonna yell.”

“No she won’t, sweetie,” Josie assured the boy. To the twins, she demanded, “What were you thinking?”

Hands on her hips, Bonnie said, “He should’ve just gave me that cake.”

“Yeah,” Betsy said, adopting the same pose.

“I’m Bonnie Buckhorn.” Wearing a satisfied grin, Bonnie added, “Daddy says I’m one half of a perfect bunch and that I can do whatever I want.”

After handing Thomas his freshly cleaned glasses, Dallas grabbed the collars of his daughters’ matching pink T-shirts. “Ladies, we need to talk.”

IF DALLAS HADN’T SEEN the whole incident with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed it. Steering the girls into their quiet, dark classroom, he said, “Put your behinds in your chairs.”

“But, Daddy,” Bonnie whined, “why are we in trouble when Thomas was the one being mean?”

“We gave him cupcakes,” Betsy thoughtfully pointed out.

Dallas rubbed his throbbing forehead. “You can’t just take your friend’s dessert. It’s wrong. And—”

“You tell us we can do whatever we want.” His eldest by a minute held his stare.

“Yes, but, hon, that doesn’t give you the right to do bad things.” Was everything else his girls had been accused of true?

“We aren’t bad, Daddy.” Betsy left her chair to crawl onto his lap. Bonnie soon followed.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Bonnie wrapped her chubby arms around his neck.

“Both of you need to get it through your pretty heads that just because you’re Daddy’s princesses, that doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want. At school, you have to follow the rules.”

Bonnie chimed in with, “Miss Griffin never said we couldn’t put cake in Thomas’s hair.”

The statement was so ridiculous, Dallas had to chuckle. “Honey, I can think of very few situations where you should put cake in anyone’s hair.”

“Do you still love us?” Betsy asked.

Hunching over, he made growling, tickle monster noises, attacking their rib cages to the accompaniment of shrieking laughs.

Now that both girls had been scolded, it felt good to return to their usual Buckhorn family fun.

“WHO WANTS COFFEE AND DONUTS?” Friday morning, Josie halted her walk around the classroom to see Dallas and his girls wielding snacks.

“Me, me!” The majority of the class didn’t even bother raising their hands before running over to claim their share.

Betsy and Bonnie beamed.

Thomas sank down in his chair.

“Stop!” Josie hated always being the bad guy, but this was ridiculous. “The school has a healthy snack policy and last I checked, coffee and donuts aren’t on the list.”

“But it’s Friday,” Dallas complained, sounding suspiciously like his daughters. “Plus,” he nodded across the room, “as an apology, my girls wanted to give a special offering to that little fella.”

If Thomas scooted much lower, he’d have dissolved into a puddle on the floor.

“I don’t care if it’s Christmas,” Josie argued, “you’re not caffeinating my kindergarteners.”

“You’re impossible.” Turning his back on her, he said to his crew, “Come on, girls.”

“Where are you going?” Josie asked, following them into the hall.

“Teachers’ lounge. Or will you deny your coworkers a happy start to their weekend, too?”

Beyond furious with the man, she folded her arms and watched them go. Unfortunately, back in the classroom, she was met with much whining and pouty stares.

Nipping that behavior, she refocused her students on their daily writing practice. When Bonnie and Betsy returned with their father, she already had their tablets and pencils ready to go.

“You’re a killjoy,” Dallas noted once she sat at her desk to finish writing next week’s lesson plans.

“And you’re a child disguised in a grown-up’s body.”

“A man’s body,” he said with the slow grin she’d grown to alternately hate and adore. Every time he pulled this stunt, he was usually trying to get himself out of hot water. No wonder his children were such a mess. Look who they had for an example! Worse yet, Dallas wielded that grin like a weapon. Same as his daughters, he knew how to pour on the charm.

“You’re impossible.”

“Thanks.” He had the gall to combine his grin with a wink.

How, she didn’t know, but Josie managed to survive the morning and lunch hour and even afternoon recess without suffering a meltdown. Everywhere she went there was Dallas, being generally helpful and offering to pass out papers. Which only put her that much more on edge.

Friday afternoons, she always introduced an art project that was fun, but also worked on building a sense of community. For this week’s lesson, she’d had the children draw names of a friend. Once paired up, they would then create each other’s portraits with finger paint.

After letting each student pick a cover-up from the pile of men’s and women’s oxford shirts she’d collected at yard sales, she passed out the oversize paper and spent a few minutes going over ground rules.

“Now,” she asked once she’d finished, “raise your hand if you can tell me where the paint goes.”

Megan Brown was first. “On the paper!”

“Right. Excellent.” Over the years, Josie had learned to never underestimate the importance of explaining this point. “Does anyone have questions?”

Thomas raised his hand. “I forgot how to get the lids off the jar thingees.”

“Like this,” Josie said, holding up a plastic container from the nearest table. “Just twist, and then carefully set your lid on the table. Stick your hand in one finger at a time to get your paint. Kind of like your finger is the brush. Make sense?”

He pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“Any other questions? Okay, let’s take the lids off our containers and begin.”

Since the twins were on opposite sides of the room, Dallas spent a few minutes with one before moving on to the other. When he was with Betsy, Josie happened to be alongside him. “My girl’s pretty talented, huh?”

“A future Picasso,” Josie said in all seriousness. Betsy had indeed captured her friend Julia’s essence in a primary colored abstract extravaganza.

“Their mom was pretty talented.”

Looking up at her dad, Betsy asked, “What’d Mommy make?”

A wistful look settled on his usually stoic features. It softened him. Gave him a vulnerability Josie hadn’t before noticed. “She used to set up her easel and watercolors by the duck pond and paint for hours. I teased her that her long hair rode the breeze like weeping willow branches.”

The warmth in his eyes for a woman long gone knotted Josie’s throat.

“Sometimes she’d paint what she saw.” He tweaked his daughter’s nose. “Other times, especially when she was pregnant with you, she’d paint what she imagined. Like one day sharing a picnic with you and your sister.”

“Sounds amazing,” Josie said. “I’ve always wanted to be more artistic.”

Upon hearing her voice, Dallas suffered a barely perceivable lurch—as if until she’d spoken, he’d forgotten anyone but he and Betsy were even in the room.

“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat. Did he even know what she’d said?

“Stop, Bonnie!” Megan began crying. “I don’t wanna get in trouble for you!”

Josie’s stomach sank. So much for her peaceful afternoon.

“What happened?” she asked upon facing a horrible mess of what she presumed was Bonnie’s making. Her entire paper was coated with paint, as well as the table and carpeting underneath.

“Well…” Bonnie planted her paint-covered fists on her shirt. “Since Megan is tall, I ran out of paper. I tried getting you, but you were talking to Daddy. I didn’t have anywhere else to paint, so I painted the floor.”

The girl stated her actions in such a matter-of-fact way that they nearly sounded plausible. Nearly.

Don’t yell. Keep your composure.

“Bonnie,” Josie said after forcing a few nice deep breaths, “just because you ran out of paper, that doesn’t give you the right to complete your project wherever you’d like.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” the girl sassed. “My daddy is, and he—”

Dallas stepped up behind her. “—would like you to follow him to the cleanup closet where you’ll get a bucket and sponge to clean your mess.”

Looking at her father as if he’d spouted bull horns, Bonnie’s mouth gaped. “But—”

“Move it,” Dallas said, not even trying to hide his angry tone.

An hour later, Josie had gotten everyone tidied and on their way home for the weekend. Back in the classroom, Betsy sat cross-legged on a dry patch of carpet. Dallas had found a roll of brown paper towels and sopped the areas where Bonnie had scrubbed.

On her way inside from putting her students on buses, Josie had stopped by the janitor’s office and he’d assured her that his steam cleaner would tackle the job. By Monday morning, no one would ever guess the vandalism had taken place. Josie hated thinking of a small child’s actions in such harsh terms, but Bonnie had known exactly what she’d been doing.

“Almost done?” Josie asked.

“Uh-huh.” Bonnie looked exhausted, but that hardly excused her from the consequences of her actions. According to the classroom discipline chart, this was a major offense. Punishable by missing the next week’s recesses.

“Miss Griffin?” Betsy asked. “If we buy you a present, can you stop hating us?”

“Why would you think I hate you?” Josie asked, hurt by the very notion.

“Because you always look at us with a frowning face.”

The knot returned to Josie’s throat, only this time for a different reason. The Buckhorn family packed quite the emotional punch. “I’m not making a mad expression, sweetie, but sad. When my students break rules on purpose, it makes me feel like I’m not a very good teacher or you would’ve known better.”

“I guess.” Tracing the carpet’s blue checkered pattern, the girl didn’t sound convinced.

Dallas took his wallet from his back pocket. “Clearly, Bonnie and I are not going to be able to make this right without a shop vacuum. If I give you a couple hundred, think that’ll cover the cost of getting someone out here to clean?”

“This isn’t about money,” Josie said, saddened that he’d even asked. “The custodian will handle whatever you can’t get up. But, Bonnie, what lesson have you learned?”

The little girl released a big sigh. “I learned if I paint the floor, I don’t wanna get caught.”

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