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sludge. Who wants some?”
    There were several raised hands, along with a rueful shake of the head from Kayla, who was holding her four-month-old daughter. Kayla was forgoing coffee until she was no longer nursing—she’d discovered that even decaf gave the baby colic. Josh knew how hard that must be for her; she’d once lived in Seattle, which was a mecca for coffee lovers, and deeply missed the brew.
    When he returned with a tray of steaming cups, Lauren and her sister had left. His mother was still talking about them, though, and he was convinced she had matchmaking in mind.
    He would have to be careful. The past few months had been hard on the family, especially for his mom. She’d lost her mother and watched her father go from being an active, vital rancher to a querulous old man with disabilities. The arrival of Kayla’s baby had helped, along with having his sister, Alaina, pregnant along with Emily. Still, he didn’t want to raise her hopes that he’d get married anytime soon.
    Right now he was solely interested in the ranch he’d dreamed of building. Grandpa was providing enough roadblocks; he didn’t need any more.
    * * *
    L AUREN PRESSED HER fingers to her stomach as she walked with Tara toward the emergency room exit. She wished negative emotions didn’t bother her so much. Heck, half the time she was wrong, misinterpreting a frown or shrug and losing sleep over what it might mean or questioning what she should do about it...even as she knew she was being ridiculous.
    Josh McGregor was a prime example. The way he’d stomped out of the waiting room had seemed ominous, but it could be her imagination. And even if it wasn’t, it didn’t necessarily mean anything except that he was having a bad day.
    If only that sort of thing didn’t make her feel as if she was shriveling up inside.
    It would be wonderful to be more like Tara. Karen—the receptionist at the clinic—had gleefully recounted how Tara had “stuck it to Josh” when he’d roared into the waiting room earlier in the week. Obviously Karen felt their patient had deserved a dose of comeuppance.
    Maybe so, but Lauren was glad someone else had dispensed the prescription.
    She hadn’t talked enough with Tara to know if her twin was interested in settling down and getting married, but it would be wonderful if she stayed in Montana. There were plenty of nice guys in town. Almost as if summoned by the thought, Lauren saw two men in uniform coming through the double doors to the emergency room. The taller man grinned when he saw her.
    â€œHey, Lauren,” Carl said. “I heard about Alaina, so we stopped to say hello to the family and wish them well.”
    Lauren nodded as other kinds of flutters started. “That’s nice of you.”
    Carl was the local sheriff and the man with him was a new deputy. After living in Los Angeles with its frantic pace, she loved the small-town atmosphere in Schuyler. She couldn’t imagine a big-city policeman dropping in like this at the UCLA Medical Center.
    Carl had attended the Trent Hawkins–Emily George wedding, and he and Lauren had sat next to each other at the reception. Lauren had enjoyed talking to him, and after she’d moved to Schuyler last October, they’d gone out several times.
    â€œHoly cow,” Carl said, staring at Tara. “You said you had a twin, but it didn’t hit me until just now what that meant.”
    â€œSometimes I feel the same way. Tara, this is Carl Stanfield. And the deputy next to him is Noah Mercer.”
    â€œIt’s nice to meet you,” Tara said.
    â€œSame here.” Carl cocked his head. “You almost have an accent, but I can’t place it.”
    â€œI’ve lived in five different countries over the past ten years. There’s no telling how much has rubbed off.”
    â€œThat explains it. Noah is the same—he spent most of his childhood in New