Redeeming Rafe Read Online Free

to say?
    “Does Gabe know about this?” Neyland asked.
    “Not unless you’ve already called and told him,” Rafe said.
    “What could I have told him?” Neyland snapped. “You haven’t told us anything.”
    Again, they were all stunned to silence.
    “Look.” Gwen passed the Bella/Alice she was holding to Dirk and stepped in front of Emory and held her arms out to the other one. “Clearly Rafe, Jackson, and Emory need to have a private conversation, and these babies need to be bathed and fed. Dirk and I will take them down to our house and take care of that.”
    “I’ll help you,” Neyland said.
    “Wait.” Relief settled over Rafe as he moved to the rear of his truck and opened the cap. Someone who knew how to run a baby was going to take over. And with any luck, after they had their “private conversation,” Emory would take on the job full time and he could get back to bull riding. “Here’s their equipment.” He pulled out a box and a couple of bags, though he was unsure what was in them.
    Gwen and Emory looked at each other.
    “Equipment?” Gwen asked.
    “You know. Clothes. Shoes. But don’t get them mixed up. Maybe write their names on the bottoms of their feet when you take their shoes off.”
    Neyland closed her eyes and shook her head.
    “Maybe we could call in a tattoo artist,” Dirk said.
    “Isn’t there some kind of law about that?” Rafe asked. “Otherwise—”
    Gwen put a hand up. “Rafe, you need to stop talking. Every time you open your mouth, it’s getting a little harder for me to remember that you’re the sweet, lovable twin.”
    That again. “Yeah? Well, see, here’s the thing, Gwen. I’ve never claimed to be sweet or lovable, and I am definitely not feeling it right now. I’ve had a bad night.”
    And a bad few days.
    Emory took his arm. “Let’s go in the house. I’ll cook you something.”
    Not that on top of everything else. Emory’s cooking never did anyone any favors. But he let her lead him through the back door to Beauford Bend’s commercial kitchen, with Jackson bringing up the rear.
    “Sit. Both of you.” Emory pointed to the round, oak table that had been in the kitchen since even before Jackson had made enough money to have the house renovated. “We’re not talking about this until Rafe’s had coffee and something to eat.”
    “I’ll make the coffee,” Jackson said.
    “So, how has everything been at Beauford Bend?” Rafe asked as he let himself down in the chair.
    Jackson and Emory looked at each other and then began to laugh in spite of themselves.
    “Frankly, right now I don’t remember,” Jackson said. “I’ve been blindsided.”
    “You?” Jackson didn’t know blindsided.
    “I told you we weren’t talking about this yet.” Emory cracked eggs into a bowl.
    “Why didn’t you call?” Jackson didn’t often ignore Emory’s wishes.
    “I don’t know.” And he really didn’t.
    Jackson brought two mugs of coffee to the table, handed one to Rafe, and sipped from the other as he sat down.
    “What about your wife?” Rafe asked.
    “What about her?” Jackson glanced at Emory.
    “Doesn’t she get coffee?”
    “No. She doesn’t want any.”
    “No, she doesn’t.” Before taking a seat beside Jackson, Emory set plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of both men. The eggs were only a little burned, and the toast looked fine.
    “Aren’t you having any?” Rafe asked.
    “No,” Emory said. “Maybe later.”
    Rafe took a bite of the eggs. Not too bad, and that was a good thing because he had to eat it regardless.
    “So,” Jackson said.
    “Here we go.” Rafe took a gulp of coffee.
    “So the girls’ mother died?”
    “Motorcycle accident,” Rafe said. “Last week.”
    Emory and Jackson exchanged looks and grimaced.
    “Are you all right?” Emory asked. “That is … did you love her?”
    Questions only a romantic would ask.
    No, I’m not all right, and no I didn’t love her.
    “I’m fine,” Rafe said. “See,