15. Piper
Piper
I had lucked out getting the job working for the Blackwood Pack—with each passing day I was starting to enjoy ranch life more and more. I had woken up early and made a batch of coffee as Maisie sat on the counter next to me, stirring a bowl of pancake batter.
Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and eggs, breakfast sandwiches, and more. I may have gone slightly overboard, but I would rather have made too much than too little.
We were halfway through the second batch of pancakes when Clayton entered the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I chirped, determined to remain friendly, even if he acted like a bit of an ass. “You working on the ranch today?”
“I work on the ranch every day,” he replied gruffly.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes you work in the office.”
“We making pancakes!” Maisie declared, showing him the bowl she was stirring.
“They look great,” he said, his voice softer.
“There’s plenty, so take what you want—there’s even some takeout containers if you need to grab food and go,” I said, pointing to the deli containers I had stacked on the edge of the island. I was determined to be prepared for anything this man could throw at me.
He nodded. “Good, I have to rush into town to sort out our feed order.” He turned to Maisie. “Be good for Piper, okay?”
“I will!” she proclaimed enthusiastically.
Clayton kissed her goodbye and grabbed his food before rushing out the door, leaving us alone again.
“So, what do you want to do today? We can bake some cookies!” I suggested with a grin.
Her eyes widened. “Cookies!” she declared excitedly.
I resisted the urge to chuckle.
Cookies were always a winner.
“More chippies?” Maisie asked sweetly as she clutched the bag of chocolate chips.
“I think that’s plenty, otherwise the cookies won’t bake,” I explained gently.
I understood her reasoning. The chocolate chips were the best part of the cookie, but sadly, there was only so much the dough could take before the structural integrity of the cookie would be impacted.
Scooping and mixing were easily her favorite parts of the process. More dough covered the countertops than got on the baking sheet, but that was part of the fun. Maisie was just figuring things out, and mistakes were one of the best ways to learn.
Together, we slowly counted each scoop as we put it on the baking sheet, helping her learn her numbers. She could count to seven pretty well, but after that, it became somewhat jumbled. Even though we were just baking cookies, I made a mental note to work on counting with her in the future.
Waiting for the cookies to cool down was a test of her patience, for sure.
“Why don’t you go ahead and do some of your coloring, and I will get the rest of the cookies out of the oven and cool them down for you?” I suggested. “As soon as they're ready, I will bring you one.”
An adorable little frown marred her face, but she ultimately decided that my proposition was acceptable and toddled off to the adjoining playroom, where I could still see her, but I could also work on cleaning up the mess.
Maisie was down for a nap, and the kitchen was almost entirely clean when the scent of fresh rain caught me off guard.
It had to be one of the twins, but I couldn’t tell which one just yet without him getting a little closer.
Looking at him quickly, I might have been tempted to call, “Hey, Dakota!” on account of the worn T-shirt and distressed jeans.
Upon closer inspection, however, I saw the hair, carefully styled to look like bedhead, rather than Dakota’s constantly wild mop, a well-loved leather belt with a modest brass buckle through the waist of the jeans, and a pair of buckskin moccasin slippers instead of Dakota’s constantly bare feet.
If I had any doubts that the twin in question was the responsible, tidy, resident control freak Montana, the moment he got within an arm’s length of me, I could smell that subtle sweet grass scent under the fresh smell of rain.
Though their scents were incredibly similar, anyone who cared to notice would know Montana had a note of sweet green grass to his scent, while his twin had a cool mineral earth finish.
Yes, they were identical twins, but having lived around them for a few weeks now, I found it pretty easy to identify their differences. They held themselves differently; they had different vibes, different moods, different wardrobe choices.
“Hey there, Montana!” I finally greeted him as he made his way around the kitchen island as if to stand beside me.
He stilled. For a moment, the alpha simply stared at me like he was trying to figure me out. “I’m Dakota,” he said slowly, like he was talking to an idiot.
Hands on my hips, I glowered at him. “I wasn't born yesterday. I can tell that it's you, Montana.”
“There's no way you can tell us apart. We’re identical!” He emphasized the last word.
“You are nowhere near as identical as you think.”
“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you say I’m Montana?”
“Well, for starters, your hair is far too well kept to be your brother’s. It’s not sticking up and out every which way after being all sweaty under a hat. It just looks like you tried to make it appear artfully messy,” I began.
Montana’s hand moved absently to his hairline before I continued.
“Second, you’re wearing those ripped-up jeans and a T-shirt like a bad Halloween costume.
You keep shifting and shrugging like you’re uncomfortable, and I’m pretty sure that shiny leather belt is more often worn with suit slacks than with jeans.
” I snickered as Montana self-consciously smoothed a hand over the hem of the T-shirt.
“Not to mention, your scents are different.”
Conflicting emotions flitted across Montana's face. Was the idea that someone could tell the two of them apart that foreign to him?
“Really? You can tell all that?”
“Yeah, it’s not even that hard, honestly,” I laughed, not noticing I was drifting ever so slightly closer to Montana.
“Besides Clay and Zeke, no one has ever been able to tell us apart that easily before.” He watched me carefully, those big blue eyes fixed on mine.
“Well, I don’t know how to say this without sounding mean, but I think that anyone who couldn’t tell you apart just didn’t know you two very well—or they weren’t paying enough attention.” I shrugged.
I could see that Montana was drawing into himself, probably embarrassed and confused. Was he really this insecure about people being able to tell him and Dakota apart? I decided to try to lighten the mood.
“Plus, you may be identical, but Dakota has told me numerous times that he has an inch on you…”
Montana’s cheeks turned red as he stammered out his reply.
“Now I feel like the asshole.” He scrubbed a hand back through his hair and turned his gaze to the floor.
“Truth is, Dakota came into the kitchen smellin’ like you, and I got jealous.
” He wiped a hand over his mouth and looked out the window, not ready to meet my gaze.
“I told him you couldn’t tell us apart, because I was hoping that maybe…
Never mind! God, I sound like such a jerk. ”
His mild panic over the whole situation was actually kind of adorable, so I decided to put him out of his misery. “Montana Flint, if you want to spend some time with a gal, all you have to do is ask .”
The two of us drifted slowly toward each other.
“I still can’t believe you could tell us apart so quickly...”
I shrugged playfully. “Get used to it. You’re not that hard to tell apart for me. Maybe those around you simply aren’t paying enough attention.”
Montana grimaced. “I'm pretty sure Zeke has the attention span of a bumblebee.”
“Oh, I completely agree. He's like a German shepherd who has feet and ears too big for the rest of him, and his brain hasn't quite caught up with him, capacity wise.”
A slow, pleased smile spread across Montana's face. “You've really been paying attention to us, haven't you, sunshine?” he muttered.
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded as our bodies drew closer.
“Piper?” Montana’s voice was soft and raspy as he began to dip his face down toward mine.
“Yes?” My eyelids fluttered as I pressed up onto my tiptoes.
“I would very much like to spend some time with you,” Montana rumbled, his eyelids drooping as our faces drew closer together.
“Pick some time to spend together, Monty, and it’s a date.” I grinned.
“I’ll check my calendar and get right back to you, sunshine, but for now…I was wondering if I might…” Montana trailed off, his eyes darting down to my lips and back again.
“You may have a kiss, Mr. Flint.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, one of his soft hands finding its way to cup my face. “Now I’m worried I may be the one with a limited attention span,” he murmured under his breath as we broke our kiss.
“Don't worry, my focus is on that adorable little girl who's currently on a kick of coloring all the horses in her coloring book bright pink, and she’ll be up from her nap soon,” I teased, taking a few steps back from Montana, all the tension gone out of the moment.
“Well, what other color should a pony be?” He scoffed a laugh.
“True, but just be aware she's probably going to ask to dye one of your real ponies pink one day….”
Montana shuddered.