Cowboy Sam's Quadruplets Read online

  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.

  Chapter Two

  A week later, Sam decided Seton was the slowest woman ever when it came to accepting a marriage proposal. So he invited himself into her office and gave her his most winning grin, the one he reserved for sticky judges.

  She glared at him. “No.”

  Her reluctance surprised him. “Did you even consider it?”

  Seton shook her head. Today her blond hair was twisted up on her head in a businesslike braid thing, and while he thought it looked good on her, he liked her hair best loose and straight. She wore a blue suit and a continual frown, so he relaxed in the chair and pondered his next angle.

  “I didn’t consider your proposal,” Seton said. “I figured you’d be over it once the crazy wore off.”

  “I never have crazy moments.” Sam crossed a boot over his knee and pressed his fingertips together. “My offer was based entirely on careful planning and sound logic. You need me and I need you.”

  Her light brown brows winged together. “How do I need you?”

  “Don’t you want to get married?” Sam couldn’t help doubting her happy-spinster stance.

  “I’ve been married.” Seton got up and shoved some manila folders into a nearby filing cabinet. He admired her long legs and delicate feet, tucked into navy blue pumps, and the curve of her fanny under the knee-length skirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his attention completely shot as he tore his gaze from Seton’s delectable rear view. “Did you say you’d been married?”

  “Mmm.” She sat back down and stared at him, her eyes clear and matter-of-fact. “It’s not an experience I’m pining to repeat, to be honest.” She picked up a lone file folder on her desk, consulted it for a moment, then tapped for a few moments on the keys of her open laptop. “But after your business offer—”

  “Proposal.”

  She looked at him again. “One can’t really call that a proposal, Sam. It was all about business. Your business. The only thing you forgot was something for the other party. Negotiations tend to be short-lived when one party wants something and the other wants nothing.”

  “I mentioned there would be financial compensation, Seton,” Sam said.

  “Which sounds unethical.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I see where you’re coming from.”

  “I doubt it.” Her tone was cool as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. “But in the spirit of friendship, and I suppose we’ll have to have some kind of friendship since we’re both living in Diablo, I did a little searching for you.”

  “I don’t need you to search out a wife for me,” Sam said, feeling crusty. “I’m not going to make my offer to just any woman. Thanks.”

  “About your parents,” Seton said, shooting him a glare. “Forget about the marriage bit—that horse isn’t going to run. Let’s focus on the real problem you have, which is that you said you didn’t know who you are.”

  He raised a hand. “I’m not in a hurry to find out.”

  “It seemed like that was your big hang-up when you were in here the other day. Your real reason for wanting a wife. An anchor, if you will.”

  Sam shrugged. “Wrong theory, Miss Marple. Anyway, you’re going out of order. I came here to talk about marriage. Not myself.”

  “I’m not accepting your proposal.”

  Well, wasn’t she just the most stubborn little thing? It was almost cute. There was something between them, even if she didn’t care to notice it. Sam supposed a woman didn’t decide to become a detective without some good ol’ ornery in her makeup. Seton was so no-nonsense she probably scared most men.

  Sam liked a challenge, and the more pretzel-like the chase, the better. He figured he’d be a pretty poor lawyer if he didn’t crave a good knuckle-cracking challenge. He leaned his chin on his fingertips and tried to think where he was going wrong here. It was really important that Seton say yes. Marriage would solve everything for him. He wouldn’t be the last one on the range. What man wanted to cross the finish line last? He sure as hell didn’t. Jonas would be much better at being the family wallflower. Frankly, things were awkward now at family gatherings. There were all his brothers, their wives, their children—and him and Jonas. Like a date, or an old pair of doting uncles who couldn’t measure up to what a woman needed in life. He hated being Sam the Single Callahan.

  Besides, he had a yen for Seton.

  He sighed. “So what did you find, Snoopy?”

  “Snoopy?”

  “Did I ask you to snoop around in my life? I asked you to marry me, not go on a hunt for clues.” Sam couldn’t help the grieved tone in his voice. “I guess that would come with the territory, though.”

  “What territory?” Seton shot him an annoyed glance of her own.

  “Marrying a private investigator. You’d always be digging around, looking for stuff. Frankly, I don’t have that many fossils to unearth.” He spread his hands wide. “I’m a pretty simple guy, actually. I just want a companion. I want to get married so Fiona won’t fix me up.”

  “She’s in Ireland.”

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that matters,” Sam said darkly. “Fiona would send over a mail-order bride if she could find one who could finesse me to the altar.”

  “Maybe she should,” Seton said sweetly. “Since all you want is a name on a piece of paper.”

  He looked at her. “All right. I get that you’re not impressed. But what would you do in my place? Just think about it for a moment.”

  Seton shook her head. “Maybe this will help you. There are no records of your parents in Diablo. Not their births, obviously. But there are no records of their deaths.”

  “Did I ask?” Sam snapped.

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “If you don’t want to know what I found, I certainly won’t reveal it, Sam.”

  “I’m not paying for it.” He leaned back again, noting that his gut was all churned up.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

  This was true. He chafed at the reminder that only he seemed to want something. He admired her independence, even while it annoyed him. “I don’t appreciate you being nosy,” he said.

  She turned off her computer. “I apologize.”

  “You were trying to help me find myself,” Sam said, “but see, I don’t want to be found.”

  She looked at
him. Confronted with knowing that his past was a very empty one made him irritable. If there were no death records in this county, then his parents had died somewhere else. Fiona had never been clear on that. They’d always known they should have asked her, but Sam more than anyone didn’t want to know. Because once he asked, he was going to find out that his parents weren’t the same as his brothers’. There was no other reason for Jonas to remember that Sam had come “later”—after their parents had died.

  He stood. “You’re right. We wouldn’t suit. I’m looking for a simplifier in my life. You wouldn’t be simple.”