The Christmas Triplets
Tanya Michaels
AN UNEXPECTED GIFTAs the single mom of triplets, Megan Rivers has no time to spare, especially for her playboy neighbour, Will Trent—she’s been burned by his kind before. But when the flirty firefighter pleads for her help with an adorable baby boy suddenly left in his care, Megan can’t say no…for the baby’s sake, of course.After his fiancée ditched him, Will had been enjoying the single life. Now he’s taking the kids to see Santa and picking out Christmas trees with Megan, and he realises he likes being a family man. Will’s ready to give love another chance, but can he convince Megan to do the same?
AN UNEXPECTED GIFT
As the single mom of triplets, Megan Rivers has no time to spare, especially for her playboy neighbor, Will Trent—she’s been burned by his kind before. But when the flirty firefighter pleads for her help with an adorable baby boy suddenly left in his care, Megan can’t say no…for the baby’s sake, of course.
After his fiancée ditched him, Will had been enjoying the single life. Now he’s taking the kids to see Santa and picking out Christmas trees with Megan, and he realizes he likes being a family man. Will’s ready to give love another chance, but can he convince Megan to do the same?
“You didn’t like me because of ‘a vibe’?” Will repeated.
“Sorry,” Megan said in a small voice.
He sighed. “I guess I didn’t help matters. Every time I saw you, I was determined to get a more positive response. A smile, a laugh, something. I just compounded the problem, didn’t I?”
“That’s all behind us.” She gave him an earnest look, laying her hand on his forearm as she added in an oh-so-sincere tone, “I find you downright tolerable now!”
“Smart-ass.”
“Language, William!” Megan jokingly chided.
“Okay, smartbutt.”
“Hey!” the bearded cashier interrupted, beaming at them and pointing toward the ceiling. “You two are under the mistletoe.”
Megan’s pulse stuttered and she raised her gaze slowly, as if afraid of what she’d find. Yep. A sprig of mistletoe with a red velvet bow tied around it. Her eyes slid to Will’s face. He was looking straight at her, his expression hungry. A hot shiver went through her. Is he going to kiss me?
The Christmas Triplets
Tanya Michaels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle-school algebra class (which probably explains her maths grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.
For Melissa Silva, one of the best friends
anyone could ask for, who moved away
while I was working on this book.
I miss you every day—hope you have
that new guest room ready for visitors!
Contents
Cover (#u85fc2180-eea2-57b6-aa6a-e7eab36c1d67)
Back Cover Text (#u9bf727cd-c9f9-5a4a-9f15-d0dd1bd109b0)
Introduction (#ub2f83138-2104-5685-8bdf-5ce33ee2aa78)
Title Page (#uab26565e-1bae-538a-b5e9-82f2b008952b)
About the Author (#u2443942a-a669-55ae-9937-ab31df45ef1e)
Dedication (#u33a8881c-9bcf-5a38-a497-09cc7a711c4a)
Chapter One (#uc54f0eee-41db-569b-8ba5-9c168d0ee463)
Chapter Two (#u79c4fcf7-388e-51a9-8ab0-e5169ebbe9b2)
Chapter Three (#u719eddac-9655-59cf-8db8-ec2b29a314ee)
Chapter Four (#u8fad06a9-b9e3-522c-8574-55cb39947a8d)
Chapter Five (#u36c05a68-ded0-5dbb-ad42-9761637899c8)
Chapter Six (#u7b91ef68-9659-58b4-bd66-549e066a8294)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
Ever since Thanksgiving, the flower shop had been selling a lot of poinsettias and wreaths, but the cowboy frowning intently at the chart on the counter was obviously looking for something else. Watching him try to make a selection, Megan Rivers thought suddenly of her ex-husband—of the colorful gerbera daisies he’d brought her when the fertility treatments finally worked and, months later, the overpriced guilt bouquets when he cheated on her during her complicated pregnancy. Was the handsome cowboy who’d wandered in seeking a way to ease his own guilt?
Where’s your holiday spirit, Meg? This was supposed to be the “most wonderful time of the year,” not the most cynical.
Besides, when the man tipped back his hat for a better look at an arrangement, she recognized him as a local rancher who’d been really kind to her three-year-old daughters at a town festival a few months ago. After a moment of searching her memory, his name came to her. “It’s Jarrett, right? Can I help you find something?”
“Yes, please.” He gave her a grateful smile. “I’m drawing a blank. Roses for romance, lilies for bereavement. What kind of flower says ‘I know your parents make you crazy, but it’s just a few days and you’re a badass who can handle anything’?”
Megan laughed in spite of herself. She could relate to parental anxiety. Her own mother was...challenging. “Hmm. That’s not a request we get every day. But lavender is known to be soothing. We could make sure there’s some of that included.”
She opened a sample book and flipped through some photos, suggesting changes they could make to personalize each bouquet. A few minutes later, as she was writing Jarrett’s contact information on an order form, the bell above the door rang, signaling the arrival of Gayle Trent, the local sheriff’s mother.
Megan waved. “Good morning. Here on wedding-related business?” The sheriff was getting married in a couple of weeks, and Megan was responsible for all the arrangements, boutonnieres and pew bows. The bride-to-be had placed the pertinent orders weeks ago, but she wouldn’t be the first bride to second-guess details as the big day approached.
Gayle shook her head. “Just picking up the wreath for the quilting club’s annual holiday luncheon.”
Jarrett turned to enlist her help. “As long as you’re here, Mrs. Trent, can I get your opinion on these flowers I’m ordering for Sierra?”
After both Megan and Gayle had assured him his girlfriend would love the arrangement, he bade them a cheerful farewell.
Watching him walk down Main Street through the store window, Gayle snickered. “He is so smitten. And who can blame him? Sierra Bailey is gorgeous—and just feisty enough to keep him in line. Watching him dote on her, it’s hard to believe he was the town’s most notorious heartbreaker.”
Avoiding the older woman’s gaze, Megan busied herself with ringing up the wreath. She barely knew Jarrett Ross, but as far as she could tell, the biggest heartbreaker in town was her own next-door neighbor—and Gayle’s son—Will Trent. Unlike his soon-to-be-married older brother, Will went out with a new woman every week. Megan could admit that the dark-haired firefighter was appealing in a superficial, blue-eyed and flirtatious way, but judging from his romantic habits, he had a shorter attention span than the average preschooler. Was Gayle oblivious to her son’s busy dating schedule?
Unlikely. Megan had been here less than a year, but she’d quickly discovered that the town of Cupid’s Bow thrived on gossip. Maybe Gayle was choosing willful ignorance.
“That will be thirty-nine dollars,” Megan said, hoping the subject of local heartbreakers was officially closed.
But Gayle was still chuckling as she pulled her wallet from her purse. “Good thing Jarrett met Sierra when he did. Eventually, he would have run out of eligible ladies here in town. Although you never dated him, did you, dear?”
“No, ma’am.” Megan hadn’t dated anyone since moving here after her divorce. When would she find the time? There were hardly enough hours in the day to balance her job as a florist with raising triplets. And she wouldn’t have gone out with Jarrett Ross anyway, given his reputation. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, married to an incurable flirt who’d had two affairs she’d confirmed and others she’d suspected.
“Well, if you’re not seeing anyone,” Gayle teased, “maybe we can introduce you to some nice single men at the wedding.”
Megan managed not to shudder. “That’s sweet, but I have triplets. I barely have the energy to drive to work in the morning, much less try to impress a man.” What would she discuss with a bachelor anyway? Her last year had centered on potty training, teaching her kids the alphabet and keeping Daisy—the most adventuresome of her girls—out of trouble.
Parenting wasn’t easy, but even at her most exhausted, Megan was grateful for her girls. There had been discouraging days she’d doubted the fertility treatments would ever work. Now she was blessed with three children!
I have my daughters. I don’t need a man.
* * *
THE PROBLEM WITH playing your brothers at poker, Will Trent decided Thursday night, was that they knew you too well for bluffing to succeed. Earlier in the evening, the cards had been with him, but it seemed his luck had run out.
“That’s it.” He tossed his crappy pair of fours on the table and eyed his brothers. “Get out of my house. I don’t want to see either of you again until Christmas. And I expect you to buy me excellent gifts with the cash you’ve won off me.”
His younger brother, Jace, snorted. “I plan to blow my winnings on liquor and women. Life is a nonstop party.”
Will rolled his eyes. His brother’s outrageous comments came from a habit of trying to rile their opinionated parents, who disapproved of Jace not finishing college and becoming a bartender. “You’ve had one and a half beers in the last four hours, and you spend half of your nights off with us. Lame.”
“About not seeing us again until Christmas,” Cole interrupted, “you do realize you’re supposed to be my best man in two weeks?”
“Oh, your wedding is this month? I completely forgot.”
“I know you’re kidding,” Cole said, “but make any jokes like that in front of my future wife, and I’ll find a reason to lock you in the town jail. Kate’s a bundle of nerves, worried something will go wrong.” As he finished the sentence, his expression turned sheepish, as if he suddenly remembered how wrong Will’s own wedding had gone.
Although to say it had gone wrong implied it had actually happened.
Will’s fiancée had broken off their engagement the night before they were supposed to get married. He suppressed the humiliating memory, confident Kate and Cole’s big day would be perfect. They adored each other; they even loved each other’s kids, from Kate’s handful of a fourteen-year-old to Cole’s twin girls.
“I would never do anything to cause Kate stress,” Will solemnly promised. As far as he was concerned, she and her son were already family.
“I know she’s excited about the wedding,” Cole said, “but it’s also bringing up a lot of memories of her late husband. And she’s anxious about our trip to Houston this weekend.” They were going to the city so Cole could meet some of her friends and former teaching colleagues—people who’d been part of her life before her police officer husband was killed in the line of duty. “Even though everyone’s been supportive, congratulating her on the engagement, she’s nervous about people meeting husband number two. She debated for hours about inviting her former parents-in-law to the wedding. They sent a gift, but I think she was secretly relieved when they said they couldn’t make it.”
“All this stress over who to invite and where to seat them and what to register for?” Jace shook his head. “If I ever marry, I’m eloping.”
“I don’t know which is less likely,” Will commented, “you getting a woman to agree to spend her life with you or our mother letting you live if you cheat her out of the wedding.”
“Speaking of our mother.” Cole stood. “I promised her I’d be back before the twins’ bedtime. So I guess I’ll take my money and run.”
Once the door had closed behind Cole, Jace straightened in his chair, looking more serious and alert than he’d been all night. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you, but not in front of our brother, the long arm of the law.”
Will frowned. “You planning on committing a crime?”
“It’s about Amy.”
Oh, hell. Will’s stomach sank. He’d befriended twenty-one-year-old Amy Reynolds after her apartment caught fire. She was a sweet kid, juggling three jobs while trying to raise a baby, but her on-again, off-again older boyfriend was bad news. Although local law enforcement had never compiled enough evidence to arrest him, there was talk of the man dealing illegal prescription drugs.
“They suspended Amy at work,” Jace said. “She was strung out the last two nights she waitressed. She claims she’s just jittery after a few sleepless nights with the baby and too much caffeine, but it was obviously more than that. I know the owners don’t want to fire her, but she’s been breaking glasses and screwing up orders. She misplaced a customer’s credit card and spilled a pitcher of margaritas on the mayor’s wife during Ladies’ Night. Do you think she’d listen if you try to talk to her?”
Will shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” The last time he’d tried to talk to her about the baby’s father and her own well-being, she immediately became defensive. He could only imagine how hard it was for a barely adult woman to raise a baby alone. It was natural that she would turn to the baby’s father for help—but when he broke laws and risked her health? “For her sake, I’ll try.”
“Be persuasive,” Jace advised as he stood. “Use your famous Will Trent charm. It’s practically a superpower. No woman can say no to you.”
Will didn’t bring up the ex-fiancée who’d very effectively said no less than twenty-four hours before their scheduled walk down the aisle, or the cranky neighbor woman who seemed to inexplicably dislike him even though he’d done his best to be likable whenever he saw her. “You sure you shouldn’t talk to Amy? The two of you are closer in age.”
“I don’t know. She had a case of hero worship for you after you helped put out that fire at her apartment complex. If you can’t get through to her...” Despite Jace’s reputation for being glib and irreverent, there was real concern in his voice.
“I’ll talk to her,” Will promised. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d succeed when his last attempt had failed, but it was the right season for Christmas miracles.
“Good, then I guess I’ll be headed out, too. Unless you want some help planning a bachelor party.”
“There’s not going to be a bachelor party. Cole has been very adamant.” He’d cited reasons from upholding the office of local sheriff—hard to keep order if people were whispering about you dancing with a lampshade on your head—to not wanting gossip about strippers to reach the ears of his teenage stepson. Then there was the obvious—Cole was so crazy about Kate that he’d rather spend a free evening with her than scantily clad exotic dancers.
“We could plan one anyway, as a surprise. It doesn’t have to be in Cupid’s Bow. There’s a club in the next county that—”
“Now you’re just being sad. There are ways of seeing women naked without slipping ones and fives into their G-strings.”
“You would know, Romeo.” Jace’s tone was a blend of sarcasm and admiration that only a sibling could achieve.
It was true Will had been dating a lot lately. For weeks after being dumped, he’d kept to himself. Then his dad had gently suggested that Will should look at the broken engagement as an opportunity.
You and Tasha got together when you were freshmen in high school. I know you loved her, but you were following through on a future you planned as a kid. Sow some oats. Find out what Will the man wants out of life. Mark my words, son, this may be a blessing in disguise.
Why not? After all, he was single for the first time in his adult life. He owed it to himself to enjoy it as much as possible.
“I’ll walk you out,” he told his brother. Tomorrow was trash day, and he had bins to roll to the curb. As soon as they stepped onto the porch, Will wished he’d thrown a jacket on over his Cupid’s Bow Fire Department T-shirt. “Temperature’s dropped.”
“Hope it stays cold for the tree lighting this weekend. It never feels as festive when it’s eighty-five degrees outside.”
Will laughed. “That was an unseasonably warm fluke almost ten years ago. You’re just mad Mom made you wear your Christmas sweater anyway.” It sure as hell wasn’t eighty-five degrees now. He hustled down the steps, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
Jace’s car sat parked in Will’s half of the extra-wide driveway. The driveway he shared with next-door neighbor Megan Rivers began at the street between their mailboxes and eventually split in opposite directions, curving into sidewalks that led to each house. As Jace started his car, Will rounded the house to the wooden enclosure where he kept the trash cans to discourage raccoons and other critters from trying to get past the lids. Arms crossed and head ducked against the wind, he was making the return trip from the curb when he heard wheels bumping over pavement at a rapid clip. He glanced up to find Megan coming toward him. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d remembered that garbage and recycling needed to be put out before morning.
He raised his hand in an automatic wave just as a frigid gust sliced across his yard and caught the lid on Megan’s recycling bin, flinging it open. Crumpled plastic bottles and milk jugs scattered on the pavement.
He was already moving toward her as he offered, “Want some help?”
“No. Thank you,” she said tightly.
He scowled. Why on earth wouldn’t she welcome assistance to speed up the process? It was dark out, but he could see she wasn’t wearing much more than a robe over pajamas. Didn’t she want to get back inside where it was warm? “It’s no trouble.” Actually, it was. He wanted to get back inside where it was warm. Valiantly ignoring his own discomfort, he joked, “I’m trying to save my brother the sheriff a trip out here. We have to make sure no one turns you in for littering.”
She smashed a handful of debris back into the bin. “I’ll take my chances.”
Okay. Message received. The stubborn woman could collect her own empty shampoo bottles and juice boxes. As he headed back toward his front door, he found himself glad Jace hadn’t been here to witness that exchange. His brother would have laughed that maybe he’d been wrong about the Famous Will Trent Charm.
Was Megan’s disdain evidence that Will was losing his touch? That would put a damper on his plans for making the most of bachelorhood. Then again, his last dozen dates had found him plenty appealing.
People like me. Megan Rivers was just the inexplicable exception that proved the rule.
Chapter Two (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
By Friday night, Will’s body ached and the lingering smell of smoke permeated his hair and skin as he drove up to his house. Today had been a live burn training day. An abandoned house near the outskirts of Cupid’s Bow needed to be demolished to expand the road to two full lanes, and the town council had given permission for the fire department to burn the building down as an instructional exercise in fighting fires. Will had been one of the supervisors on-site, making sure the fire didn’t spread while giving orders to multiple crews throughout the afternoon.
Even though he’d done a quick cleanup at the station house before sharing a pizza dinner with other firefighters and EMTs, he planned on taking a long shower once he got inside. He parked on his side of the driveway and unplugged his phone from the dashboard charger. He’d been thinking about Jace’s words last night and how to best approach talking to Amy. After his shower, he would give her a call and invite her to brunch tomorrow. If they were going to have a sensitive conversation about her life choices, he’d rather meet in person, so she couldn’t just hang up if she didn’t like what he had to say.
He climbed out of the car, taking an appreciative breath of fresh air, and punched the electric lock on his key ring; a chirp came from the car as the alarm set. In a small town like Cupid’s Bow, plenty of people left their vehicles unlocked, but when your brother was the sheriff, you were hyperaware of crime. Jace liked to good-naturedly complain that it was impossible to live up to siblings who were a sheriff and firefighter. “With heroes for brothers, there’s no way for me to impress our parents unless I become a doctor—and we all know I don’t have the brains for medical school.”
Frankly, Will thought his younger brother was smarter than he let on. Someday, Jace would find something he was passionate about, and then he was going to surprise a lot of people. In the meantime, he was the town’s best bartender and a volunteer fireman. He’d even shown up for an hour of the exercises today. Not long enough to be plagued with sore muscles afterward, Will thought, rubbing the small of his back. He thought wistfully of a woman he’d gone out with a few times who gave excellent massages. But he’d stopped seeing her when she began hinting she’d like a more serious relationship. Why lead her on? After being with the same girl for almost half his life, he was exploring his freedom.
Almost as if the universe was applauding this decision, a text lit up his phone from Leanne Lanier, a gorgeous blonde waitress at the Smoky Pig.
On my way in for dinner to close shift, thinking of you. Stop by and see me if you get hungry.
He considered asking if she wanted to come over after work, but that would be past midnight. So he responded with Can’t wait to see you Tuesday.
A date with the beautiful Leanne for the movies next week, tentative plans with longtime friend Anita Drake for dinner this weekend and the independence to make spontaneous decisions without seeking anyone else’s approval first. He unlocked his door, whistling. Yeah, freedom had its perks.
* * *
MEGAN SLUMPED AGAINST the kitchen counter, enjoying the first moment of true peace and quiet she’d had in over twenty-four hours. As she waited for the water to boil so she could fix her usual cup of soothing chamomile tea, she had a fleeting urge for something stronger to drink. Oh, please—you’re so exhausted that half a glass of wine would knock you into a coma. And no matter how drained she was, she couldn’t afford to go to sleep yet. Quite a few of Megan’s work hours were spent at home in her favorite yoga pants.
When she first moved to Cupid’s Bow to work for her semiretired distant relative Dagmar Jansen, Megan hadn’t been sure how she’d balance her career with child care. The girls were in a preschool program at a local church that only kept them busy until two in the afternoon. Luckily, for reasons ranging from allergies to wanting lasting keepsakes, a number of Megan’s clients wanted silk arrangements and wedding bouquets. She worked on those and on her side business of seasonal gift baskets with supplies she kept in a spare bedroom.
Tonight, she was behind schedule because all of her planned productivity yesterday evening had been shot to hell by Iris’s stomach bug. It had been a grueling night.
During one of the lulls between Iris’s bouts of vomiting, Megan had been about to take a much-needed shower when she suddenly remembered the trash. Not wanting to go out in the cold afterward with wet hair—the last thing they needed was for her to get sick, too—she’d grabbed a pair of pajamas off the top of her clothes hamper, cinched a robe around herself and hauled ass to get the cans to the curb, hoping none of her neighbors were out and about this late.
So, naturally, she’d been doomed to run into Cupid Bow’s Casanova.
She shouldn’t care what Will Trent thought of her—it wasn’t as if she had such a high opinion of him. But it was galling to encounter a man who was usually seen with the prettiest women in town while she herself was a half-dressed mess who quite possibly smelled like puke. Maybe turning down his help and chasing him off hadn’t been her most courteous moment, but her nerves had been shot after hours of trying to calm Iris’s stomach and reduce her fever.
Luckily, Iris seemed to be feeling better today—worn-out but fever free. Megan had watched her other daughters intently to see if anyone else showed symptoms of illness. So far, so good. Maybe her manic disinfecting measures had been effective.
And now, thank God, all three girls were asleep. As tired as Megan was, she’d managed to feed and bathe them and survive the bedtime ordeal, which had included reading stories, saying prayers, checking for monsters, procuring glasses of water and chaperoning four separate potty trips—by the time her two sisters had gone, Lily swore she needed to try again. Finally, Megan’s time was her own.
In a perfect world, she could curl up with a good book or watch something on her television that didn’t involve singing cartoon characters. But at least she enjoyed her work. As much as she needed to accomplish, maybe she should skip the chamomile and pick a caffeinated tea.
She was pouring water over a bag of green tea when headlights approached on the street outside.
But then they cut off while the car was still in motion, making her frown. A person cruising around with no lights on after dark was suspicious. Was a thief casing the neighborhood? She watched as the vehicle slowly rolled up to the curb in front of her neighbor’s house and a figure climbed out. The streetlight several houses down gave off enough illumination for Megan to see that the person creeping toward Will’s house was a curvy woman.
Of course. A woman going to Will’s was no surprise—honestly, the man should just install a revolving door—but the cloak-and-dagger secrecy was bizarre. Was this woman involved with someone else and therefore didn’t want to risk being seen with Will? Even after her being divorced more than two years, the thought of infidelity made Megan grind her teeth.
She turned away from the window, reminding herself that this was her tranquil time. Memories of being cheated on were not conducive to tranquillity. Besides, she had no interest in her neighbor’s sordid affairs.
But just as she exited her kitchen, the pulsating blare of a car alarm cut through the night. She whirled around to see the woman straightening from Will Trent’s car, a package in her hand. The woman stood momentarily frozen, as if unsure how to proceed, but when the alarm continued to sound, she hustled toward her own car and drove away.
Meanwhile, Will’s car continued its assault on every pair of ears in the neighborhood. Megan rubbed her temples, thinking that surely he would silence the alarm, but when she heard Daisy wail, “Mama?” she knew that her fleeting chance at serenity had passed.
* * *
AS SOON AS Will turned off the spray of hot water, he became aware of the discordant blast of a car alarm and pounding on his front door. Had he been the victim of attempted theft? He tied a bath sheet around his waist and strode toward the front of the house with his car keys in hand. When he opened the door, pointing the key ring at his car to stop the alarm, he was startled to find Megan Rivers on his porch.
Her aloof manner sometimes gave him the impression she wouldn’t voluntarily talk to him even if her roof was on fire and he was standing ten feet away with a hose. But she didn’t look aloof now. Her face was contorted in fury, her posture battle-ready and her eyes narrowed. Yet, as soon as she got a good look at him, she recoiled, those pale blue eyes widening.
“You... You’re not wearing any clothes!” Her gaze traveled down his damp abs to the top of his towel, then abruptly back to his face.
“Well, no. I usually don’t while I’m in the shower. Do you do it differently?” he teased, momentarily forgetting that humor bounced off this woman’s invisible force field.
“You were showering. So that’s why you let your car alarm go on so long?”
“Yeah. I didn’t hear it over the water.” Her oddly suspicious tone registered. “Why would you think I was deliberately letting it go off?”
Color stained her cheeks, rosy in the glow of the front porch light. “I, uh, thought perhaps you were choosing to ignore it because you were, um, otherwise occupied.”
It took a moment for her meaning to sink in. “Why, Ms. Rivers. You have a dirty mind.”
“I do not! But everyone in town— Never mind.” She shook her head, regaining her composure. “I apologize for storming over here. I worked hard to get my girls to sleep. Then when that stupid alarm startled them and wouldn’t stop... I’d better get back to them.” She held up the monitor in her hand, and he could hear distant sounds of a cartoon. “I left them with a movie on so that the alarm wouldn’t be so jarring in our quiet house, and now I have to redo an extensive tucking-in routine.”
He winced. He’d heard his brother complain about how hard it was to get the twins to bed more than once. Triplets had to be even more difficult. “I am truly sorry the alarm woke them. I don’t know why it went off, but—”
“I believe one of your lady friends was trying to surprise you with a gift and didn’t expect the car to be locked. Please ask her not to do it again—assuming you can figure out which one it was,” she said icily.
Will’s eyebrows shot up. Where did she get off being so judgmental about his private life?
“I’ll send out a group text,” he said, annoyed into uncharacteristic sarcasm. She gave him a look so withering he was half tempted to check beneath his towel and make sure nothing had permanently shriveled. Then she spun on her heel and descended the stairs. As she marched across her own lawn, it occurred to him that the exchange was the longest conversation they’d had since she moved in.
“Nice chatting with you, neighbor,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s do this again real soon.” Like, maybe, the nineteenth of never.
Chapter Three (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
Thank God for chocolate. As Megan taste-tested one of the brownie balls she’d made for the triplets’ day-care teachers, her mood lifted. But then it sank slightly under the weight of guilt as she stared out the kitchen window and recalled her shrewish behavior last night. She’d panicked at having her hard-won peace disturbed, but, after sleeping on it, she could admit that Will hadn’t technically done anything wrong. He wasn’t the one who’d set off the alarm.
His biggest crime seemed to be inspiring insanity in women—first in the locals who threw themselves at him and...for a few minutes last night, in Megan. She’d been flummoxed by the sight of him shirtless and had overcorrected with hostility. If any of her clients heard her use that bitchy tone, the flower shop would be in serious trouble. The Trents were well respected in this town, and several of Will’s family members were paying customers. She should apologize—not that he’d exactly been Prince Charming with his snarky boast about group texts.
But this was the season of goodwill. Perhaps she could take him a few holiday treats as a truce? Nothing so grandiose that he might mistake her for one of the women in town who swooned over sapphire eyes and sculpted biceps, just a token offering that said, “I’m not a complete harpy.”
Sure. She was a big enough person to manage that.
An hour later, after she and the girls had done some significant sampling of today’s holiday baking, she zipped them into their coats and herded them out to the van. She’d pulled aside a few treats for Will but faltered when she saw the strange car on his half of the driveway.
In the place of his usual vehicle sat a beat-up compact with mismatched doors and a dented bumper. Did he have company? Whatever the case, she should deliver this chocolate before she changed her mind.
She buckled the girls into their safety seats. “You three stay put a second. Mommy’s going to take these across the driveway to Mr. Trent.”
“Mr. Trent wif the noisy car?” Daisy screwed up her face, her expression a clear indictment of their neighbor.
“Yes. And then we’ll make our deliveries and visit the library. Okay?”
The triplets chorused their agreement, and she strode toward Will’s porch. A woman much slighter than Will’s alarm-triggering visitor last night sat huddled on the top step. As she got closer, Megan saw that this visitor was crying.
Megan hesitated. Now what? She didn’t want to embarrass the other woman by witnessing her vulnerable moment, but Megan had shed enough tears over a man that she felt a tug of sympathetic kinship.
“Hello?”
The woman raised her head, her freckled face much younger than Megan had been expecting. Even more disturbing than her youth was the baby sleeping in the car seat next to her. Was the girl even twenty? Surely, Will hadn’t...
“Hi,” the teary female said. “I’m Amy.”
“Megan.” She felt a surge of protectiveness toward the young mother. “I live next door.”
“Do you know...” Hiccuping, she brushed a tear away from her cheek. “Do you know when Will is coming back?”
“No. Sorry, I don’t.” Was he even now on a date somewhere while this girl sat here crying over him? “Are you going to be warm enough, waiting out here?”
“The cold is the least of my problems,” she said bleakly. But then she mustered a smile as she glanced toward the sleeping infant. “And he has all his cozy blankets and his little hat.” It was a fuzzy blue knit cap, embroidered with a smiling koala bear. “Baby clothes are so adorable, don’t you think? Adorable, but expensive.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Was she here to ask Will for money? Did he bear financial responsibility for the baby? You shouldn’t rush to conclusions. Still, if it quacked like a womanizing duck and waddled like a womanizing duck...
“Here.” Megan passed the girl the tissue paper bundle that had been tied with festive curling ribbon. “To eat while you’re waiting.”
Amy frowned in confusion. “You came to give these to me? You don’t even know me.”
“Think of me as your secret Santa,” Megan said with an attempt at holiday cheer. Amy might not have been the intended recipient, but Megan no longer felt as if her neighbor deserved the soul-brightening benefits of chocolate.
Quite the contrary. If her grim suspicions were true, what he deserved was to be run out of town.
* * *
WILL DIDN’T RECOGNIZE the appalling junk heap of a car in his driveway, but as he pulled up to the house, he was pleasantly surprised to see Amy Reynolds sitting on the top porch step. Since she hadn’t responded to either of the voice mails he’d left, he’d worried that she didn’t want to talk. Maybe she’d just been too busy to call back. Three jobs and a baby couldn’t leave her with much downtime. Sliding the gearshift to Park, he considered enlisting his mother’s help. Gayle Trent knew everyone in Cupid’s Bow. If she could help Amy find a better paying position, the poor kid could cut back on some of her hours.
As he walked toward the porch and got a closer look at Amy’s face, some of his relief to see her faded. Had she been crying?
“Hey,” he called, keeping his tone light. “I guess you got my messages?”
She nodded. He couldn’t see her expression as she turned away, gently rocking the car seat next to her, but he heard her sniffle before asking, “Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all. In fact, you’re just in time for supper,” he improvised. This was earlier than he normally ate, but good food eased difficult situations. Plus, if they were in the middle of a meal, there was less risk of Amy bolting as soon as the conversation turned uncomfortable. He wasn’t much of a chef, as the crew at the station house frequently liked to remind him, but luckily his mom had sent him home with half a lasagna earlier in the week. If there was ever a cooking competition that involved reheating leftovers, Will would be a serious contender. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Just some chocolate that friendly Megan from next door gave me.”
Friendly? Megan? He had a memory of her scowling at him in the porch light last night.
Amy’s stomach rumbled, and her cheeks reddened.
“Come in and have dinner. You’ll be doing me a favor—I hate to eat alone.” When she still looked undecided, he added, “You and the little guy will be good company.”
She stood, lifting the car seat, then reached awkwardly for a large duffel bag. It seemed closer in size to a suitcase than a standard-issue diaper bag, but what did he know about how much equipment a baby required? Now that his nieces were in first grade, he enjoyed taking them horseback riding or to see occasional movies, but during their infant years, he’d left the babysitting to his parents.
“Here, let me.” He hefted the bag by the strap. The dang thing was heavy, which was saying something, given that Will had to wear sixty-pound gear in his line of duty. Balancing the weight against his hip, he unlocked the door and led her inside.
“Your place is nice,” she said shyly.
“Thanks.” The front entrance opened into his living room, which was clean, if not fancy. There weren’t many decorative touches, but a comfy sectional sofa faced a respectably sized flat-screen TV.
Pausing just long enough to dump the diaper bag on the coffee table, he strolled into the kitchen beyond.
Amy set the car seat on the table, then slumped into one of the chairs, her posture defeated.
He desperately wanted to help but wasn’t sure where to begin. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just water. Thanks.”
When he brought her the glass, he nodded toward the baby who was still snoozing. “Sound sleeper.”
“Yeah.” Affection lit her gaze, and her lips quirked in an almost smile. “He’s great. But he wakes up cranky.”
“Hardly a character flaw. I’ve been known to roll out of bed grumpy myself.” He crossed the small tiled kitchen to preheat the oven, then pulled the lasagna pan from the fridge. “Jace told me about what happened at work. About your suspension.” When she sucked in a breath, he backpedaled. “But we don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”
“It’s okay. It’s past time I talk to someone.” Her expression was bleak, but her tone was determined. “I need help, Will.”
She looked so lost that he automatically responded, “Anything.” Her willingness to admit she was struggling was a damn good sign. He’d anticipated defensiveness and denial. Instead, she was being smart about this, and he wanted to encourage her. “I can’t work miracles, but I have a halfway decent head on my shoulders. Plus, lots of people in this town owe me favors. If the two of us try, I bet we can come up with some solutions.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “People may owe you—Will Trent, local hero—but no one owes me a thing. I got myself into this mess. I can’t completely regret my relationship with Donovan, not when the result was Tommy, but... You’ve heard the rumors about Donovan? I’m talking to you as a friend,” she added quickly. “Not as the sheriff’s brother.”
Will hesitated. Donovan Anders was a lowlife, and Cupid’s Bow would be better off with him in jail. But his main focus right now was helping Amy, not pressing for details that would help his brother build a case. “I’ve heard gossip.”
“Most of it is true,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “He told me that he wanted to help, wanted to give me more energy to enjoy my time with Tommy. So I’ve been taking these...supplements.”
Will bit the inside of his cheek, not voicing his opinion of the man who’d taken advantage of a young woman almost a decade his junior. They both knew she wasn’t talking about a daily dose of vitamin C. “Amy, the kind of supplements Donovan deals have very dangerous side effects.”
Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m a horrible mother. I tried to stop, and I can’t. If I loved my son enough, wouldn’t it be easy? I should be able to stop for Tommy.”
“Amy.” He sat in the chair next to her, reaching across to squeeze her hand. “Even the best mothers in the world make mistakes. Just don’t tell my mother I said so,” he added with a comical grimace. “That woman still terrifies me.”
Amy managed a watery laugh. At the sound, baby Tommy twisted in his car seat, face scrunched in warning. Will expected the infant to join his mother in crying, but then Tommy stilled.
“I need a clean break from Donovan,” she said quietly. “But in a town this size, it’s so hard to stay apart.”
Will understood. It had been a relief when his ex finally moved out of town because, up until then, he’d felt like he tripped over her every time he left the house. “Anything’s possible with enough moral support. You just need a...task force of first responders. People you can call before you slip back into unwanted habits or find yourself facing temptation.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It won’t be.” He wanted to offer encouragement, not false hope. Amy had some serious challenges ahead.
“No.” She sighed, watching her now fidgeting son with an unreadable expression. “No, it won’t be. But I have to do what’s best for him, right?” She sniffed. “I’m leaking all over your kitchen. I should go wash my face. And there’s some stuff of Tommy’s in my car I need to get.”
More stuff? What could she possibly need that wasn’t already crammed in that tote? He’d seen blimps over football stadiums that were smaller. But he nodded supportively. “Okay. That’ll give Tommy and me a few minutes for some male bonding.”
“He’ll be awake in a second. Can you hold him so he’s not scared, waking up in a strange place?”
“Uh, sure.” He entered burning buildings for a living; he’d ridden bulls in junior rodeo. Surely he could pick up a baby and keep him comforted for the few moments it would take for Amy to return.
She swallowed hard. “Will, I don’t know what I’d do without your friendship. I...” Shaking her head, she hurried from the room as if afraid of losing her composure. A moment later, the front door shut, startling Tommy from his sleep.
As promised, the baby did wake up cranky. In fact, his eyes were barely open before he let loose a wail they could use to part traffic during emergencies. Will was surprised the kitchen walls didn’t shake.
Fingers mentally crossed that picking up the baby would quiet him, Will reached into the car seat. The latches on the safety harness turned out to be trickier than he anticipated—or maybe it was only the thrashing, crying baby that made them seem complicated. Either way, after a few fumbled attempts and some nonsensical pleading, Will managed to free the squalling infant. He held Tommy upright, but aside from supporting his head—was the baby young enough that he even needed head support?—Will wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“Your mama is coming back,” he promised. “I know I’m not who you were looking for, but I swear I’m a decent guy.” This did not appease the baby, who only cried louder. “I feel ya, kid. An incompetent bachelor is no substitute for a pretty young woman.” At some point, he’d started patting the baby on the back. Tommy wasn’t getting any quieter, but at least he wasn’t noticeably louder—if that were even possible.
Will paced the kitchen, still patting as if his eardrums depended on it. Over the din, he called, “Amy? My holding him isn’t doing the trick.” It was a stupid thing to point out, considering that she could hear the baby. Folks in the neighboring town of Turtle could probably hear the baby. Still, desperation reduced him to stating the obvious.
Long moments passed with no response.
Desperation escalated to panic. This much crying couldn’t be good for the kid. “Amy?” Pause. “Amy?” His heart raced. Was she okay? There was no telling what drugs Donovan had been feeding her, or what physical effects she might be suffering.
He headed toward the restroom, but the door stood ajar. She wasn’t in there. Outside, then? Did she need help unloading Tommy’s stuff from the car?
Will opened the front door, then stood paralyzed, unable to process what he was seeing. Or, more accurately, not seeing—namely, Amy’s car.
Dread churned in his stomach. “Oh no, no, no, no.” Where her car had been parked, there now sat a small box next to a folded heap of plastic and mesh. Some kind of portable crib, if he wasn’t mistaken, with a note taped to it on bright yellow stationery.
Dear Will,
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever asked anyone, but you’re the only real-life hero I’ve ever met. I know Tommy will be safe with you. I have to get clean for him. I have an aunt who’s been through rehab, and she got me a place in the clinic near her. During the weeks I’m gone, I need someone to watch Tommy. My mom might seem like the obvious choice, but she barely knew what to do with her daughter. She was relieved when I started dating Donovan, so he could take care of me. I’ll be back soon and will be forever in your debt. Please, please keep him safe for me and tell him every day that his mommy loves him.
Amy
Shock jolted through Will, and a word escaped his lips that he had no business saying in front of a baby. He was reeling too violently to censor himself. When Amy had told him she needed his assistance, he’d unthinkingly vowed, “Anything.”
But he sure as hell hadn’t expected this.
Chapter Four (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
Holding Tommy tight against him with one arm, Will used his free hand to drag the crib into the house. The entire time, his head throbbed, and his stomach buckled like he had the worst hangover in history. Tommy’s angry cries only added to the pounding in his skull.
“Look, kid, I’m begging for mercy here. You win—my brothers were never able to get me to say uncle when we were growing up.” His brothers. Should Will call one of them? After all, Cole had plenty of experience with young children, and it had been Jace who suggested Will reach out to Amy in the first place.
But Cole had left for Houston with his fiancée yesterday. And Jace, who made some of his best bartending tips on Saturdays, was probably working. Which left Gayle Trent. He fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket while trying to find some sort of rocking motion that would pacify Tommy. He had to turn the volume all the way up to hear his mother’s phone ring, but, unfortunately, there was no answer. He hung up before leaving a message. The situation seemed a bit too complicated to sum up after the beep.
“All right, we can do this,” he told the baby. “But you’re going to have to work with me, Tommy.” Didn’t babies mostly eat and sleep? Since the kid had already napped, it stood to reason he was hungry. Will just had to strap him back into the car seat long enough to figure out what to feed him. Probably not lasagna.
Milk? Formula? Baby food? “Let’s get you buckled safely into your chair so I can see what your mama left us.” No doubt the massive duffel bag was packed with supplies. But when he attempted to put Tommy back in his seat, the baby arched his back and went rigid, protesting so loudly that his face turned purple.
“Hey, none of that, now,” Will coaxed. “I have a next-door neighbor who specifically asked me to keep it down over here. You wouldn’t want to get your uncle Will in trouble, would you?” Thinking of Megan filled him with a sudden reckless hope. She managed three daughters all by herself. Surely she’d know what to do about one crying baby?
You’re forgetting, she hates you.
True. But maybe her maternal instinct would kick in when she saw Tommy, and she’d help anyway.
* * *
“MAMA?”
Megan glanced up just in time to catch the cordless phone. Daisy didn’t always wait to make sure recipients had a grip on whatever she was handing them before letting go.
“Gammy!” Daisy said as she toddled out of the kitchen, blissfully unaware of how much Megan did not want to speak with her mother.
Since Daisy had so helpfully answered the phone, it was too late to pretend not to be home. Megan hadn’t even heard it ring over the mechanical whirr of the food processor. She’d been shredding broccoli into pieces too small for the girls to pick out of tonight’s macaroni and cheese. Whether the broccoli smithereens were big enough to actually add any nutritional value was debatable, but sometimes the best you could hope for in motherhood was a moral victory.
Frankly, daughterhood was no picnic, either. “Hello?” she said, pasting a smile on her face in an attempt to sound cheery and welcoming.
“I can’t believe you let a three-year-old answer the phone.”
“I’m sure Daisy thought she was being helpful. I was busy getting dinner ready.”
“Too busy to speak to your mother?”
Yes. The word hovered on her tongue, but Megan knew she’d never say it. The lasting drama of Beth Ann’s hurt feelings wouldn’t be worth the short-term satisfaction. “What do you need, Mom?”
“The chance to apologize, for starters. I never should have discouraged you from divorcing Spencer. That man is a no-good cheat.”
Megan blinked, stunned by her mother’s sudden about-face. After Spencer’s first affair, Beth Ann had defended her son-in-law, saying he’d acted rashly in his panic over impending fatherhood and had only succumbed to temptation because Megan was on bed rest and unavailable for “marital relations.” Wanting to believe his infidelity was a onetime mistake, Megan had agreed to stay with him on the condition that they see a therapist. But less than a year later, she’d caught him in another affair and left him. Her mother had argued vehemently, claiming Megan was insane to try to raise triplets by herself and that she would regret her decision.
Not as much as I would have regretted setting the example for my girls that it’s okay for a husband to be unfaithful.
And now, two years later, her mother was randomly offering her support? “I accept your apology,” she said cautiously.
“When I urged you to stay with him, I was only thinking of your well-being. I know how hard it is to raise a child alone.” Her own husband, a soldier, had been overseas for much of their marriage. Then, while Megan was in high school, he’d died of a heart attack in his sleep. “But your situation is different than mine. I was almost fifty when Jeremy left me widowed. You’re young enough to remarry.”
Ah. So that was why Beth Ann was suddenly okay with the divorce—she thought Megan should start searching for Spencer’s replacement. No, thank you. “I’m glad you’ve made your peace with the divorce.” She ignored the other half of what her mom said. “Maybe we can talk later in the week? If I don’t concentrate on the girls’ dinner, I may end up burning something.”
“If you were married, your husband could keep an eye on the stove long enough for you to chat with me.”
Yeah, there was great incentive to look for a man—more phone calls like this one. “Mom, I—” A discordant gonging sounded through the house, its warble reminding her that she needed to get her doorbell fixed. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Uh-huh.” Beth Ann’s skepticism was palpable. “Well, I’ll just call back at a more convenient time.”
By the time Megan set down the phone, Daisy was standing on her tiptoes at the baby gate, trying to get a glimpse of who might be outside, and Lily had dashed into the kitchen to cling to her mother. Meanwhile, Iris—very focused for a preschooler—remained on the kitchen floor and continued to color a picture.
Megan distracted anxious Lily with a sippy cup, then stepped over the gate to answer the door, fully expecting someone who would try to sell her lawn care or aluminum siding. Salesmen had a knack for always interrupting right at dinnertime. Still, whoever this person was, he had helped free her from a conversation with her mother, so she was prepared to be friendly as she sent him away. She opened the door, keeping the screen door shut between them, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Will Trent, holding a ginormous bag and one seriously unhappy baby.
The red-faced infant bore little resemblance to the sleeping cherub she’d seen that afternoon, but she recognized the knit hat with the cute koala. Amy’s son. In certain circumstances, an attractive man holding a baby would be adorable. But since the baby was loudly broadcasting his displeasure and the man in question was Will Trent...
“Can we come in?” he asked.
Preferably not. “Where’s Amy?”
“Visiting an aunt. Tommy will be staying with me for a while.” His expression and stiff body language told her how much he resented the circumstances even before he muttered, “She didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
Despite her earlier suspicions, Megan hadn’t wanted to believe he was the baby’s father. He was older and more worldly than that vulnerable young woman. Men were scum. Not all of them. She forcibly reminded herself of Jarrett Ross, who’d been so sweet with her daughters at the fall festival, and Sheriff Cole Trent, a man of integrity who clearly adored his fiancée. Unfortunately, Will’s resemblance to his brother seemed to be strictly physical.
“I could use a hand. Please, Megan.” It wasn’t his pleading tone that got to her, but the baby’s pitiful sobs. Tommy was running out of steam, his cries now more bewildered than furious. He seemed perplexed as to why his mother had left him with Will. Biological bond or not, there had to be better babysitters in Cupid’s Bow. Of course, after what Amy had said about expenses, maybe she couldn’t afford to hire one.
With a sigh, Megan opened the screen door. “Last night it was the car alarm during bedtime. Tonight you’ve caught us right at dinner. Maybe tomorrow you can park the fire truck outside the house with sirens blaring at bath time.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Is that your way of saying that life next door to me is never boring?”
Refusing to be sucked in by his humor and aw-shucks charm, she reached for the baby. “When was the last time you fed him?”
“Technically, never.”
Her eyebrows shot skyward. “You’ve never helped Amy feed him?”
“Until today, I’ve barely even held him.” He said it without a trace of shame, reminding her of Spencer. For all that her ex claimed to love his daughters, he preferred absentee fathering, only seeing them on rare occasions like his upcoming holiday visit. He’d scheduled his own children for an early Christmas so that he could spend Christmas Day with his current girlfriend.
“But I’m a fast learner,” Will added. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this in no time.”
“Right, because parenting is such a piece of cake.” She snuggled the baby against her shoulder, feeling sorry for him. You deserve better.
“Well, obviously not. I—”
“Do you know when the last time he ate was?” she asked, reframing her original question.
“At least an hour or so?” His hesitant tone made it sound like a guess. “I wanted to put him in the car seat and look in his bag for formula, but the way he was thrashing around...”
From behind her, Daisy asked, “Who baby?”
Megan wasn’t sure if her daughter was inquiring who the baby was or who he belonged to. She pointed to Will, aware that it had been a long time since the girls had seen a man in the house. “This is Mr. Will, our neighbor, and this is Baby...?”
“Tommy,” Will supplied.
Daisy crinkled up her nose. “Tommy’s noisy.” She turned to pick up her own baby doll from the floor behind her and showed it to Will. “I have quiet baby.”
“You’re obviously better at this child-care gig than I am.” Will set the duffel bag down in the foyer and unzipped it. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
“Lesson number one,” Megan said, “feed the hungry baby.” Spotting a canister of formula and an empty bottle, she swatted Will’s hand out of her way. But she couldn’t make dinner for Tommy and feed her girls at the same time. “How are you with macaroni and cheese? Someone needs to get back to the stove, preferably before something catches fire.”
He grinned. “The good news is, in case of disaster, the fire department is already here.”
“Save the megawatt smile for someone who’s not immune and go check on the food. Daisy, can you show Mr. Will our kitchen?” She followed right behind them, making sure Lily didn’t panic at the sight of a stranger in the house. The last triplet to be born, Lily had been more timid than her sisters from day one; she also spoke less, struggling with many of her consonant sounds.
“There’s baked chicken in the oven,” Megan said. “Mitts are hanging on the wall behind the sink. And you need to stir the broccoli bits into the cheese—”
“Broccoli? In macaroni and cheese?” His expression was appalled, mirroring the grimace on Daisy’s small face. “Remind me never to have dinner here.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to issue any invitations.”
* * *
JACE WOULD BE so disappointed in me. Where was the fabled Trent Charm? Will should be falling all over himself thanking his neighbor, not criticizing her cooking decisions. It was none of his business if she wanted to screw up perfectly good mac and cheese with broccoli, but Will wasn’t at his best right now.
Obviously, he hadn’t adjusted to the shock of Amy leaving the baby with him, but it was more than that. He was flummoxed by Megan’s continued hostility. Save the megawatt smile for someone who’s not immune. No woman had ever snapped at him for smiling. It would be easy to assume the brunette was tart and hostile by nature—but she was working with Kate and Cole on the wedding and they both liked her. Amy had called her friendly.
He was curious enough that he almost asked about her “immunity” toward him, but he wouldn’t risk antagonizing her while she was giving him much-needed assistance with the baby. Instead, he turned his focus from Megan’s weird personality quirks to the kitchen surrounding him. Her counters were covered with far more supplies and appliances than his; he got by with a coffeemaker and microwave. And the room was a riot of color, from the plastic place mats on the table to the yellow curtains framing the kitchen window to the crayoned drawings displayed on the refrigerator with magnets. In fact, one of Daisy’s sisters was at his feet, coloring another sheet of paper, reminding him of his niece Alyssa, who was never without art supplies.
“Nice picture,” he said to the girl. There were several people-shaped blobs, one covered in red slashes. It reminded Will vaguely of a Mafia movie he’d once seen, but since this was December... “Santa Claus?”
The girl nodded happily.
Watching this exchange, Daisy suddenly declared, “I draw a picture, too!” She plopped on the floor and grabbed a crayon. Her sister shrieked in protest. Meanwhile, the other triplet watched from under the kitchen table, wide-eyed, as she sucked her thumb. As Megan restored peace and sent the girls to wash their hands, he hurried to the stove, hoping that cheesy pasta would soothe tempers.
Will couldn’t help noticing that even though Tommy still hadn’t been fed, Megan had done an enviable job soothing him. “He likes you. A lot more than he likes me.”
“Babies sense tension.” She scooped formula into a bottle. “When you showed up on my doorstep, you were practically rigid with panic. The more relaxed and calm you are, the more he will be.”
The uptight brunette was telling him to be more laid-back? “Maybe you should take some of your own advice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
What are you doing, dumb-ass? Charm had gone completely out the door. “Well, to tell the truth, you’re a little...prickly.”
“Just because I don’t fawn over a pair of broad shoulders and blue eyes—” In her arms, Tommy let out a cry. “Sorry, sweetie. Here you go.” Her tone switched to soft and crooning. Tommy lunged for the bottle and was making hearty slurping noises within seconds.
Keeping her voice low, Megan asked, “I don’t suppose you know how many ounces he normally takes?”
“No clue.”
“How much does he weigh?”
Doubting that “heavier than a sack of potatoes” was the answer she wanted, Will shrugged.
She sighed. “How old is he?”
He leaned down to get the baked chicken while doing some mental calculations. “Five months, give or take.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Her glare was hotter than the inside of the oven. “Were you even there when he was born?”
“Of course not. That would— Wait! You don’t think he’s mine?”
Megan blinked. “It seemed logical, since Amy left him with you. And given your—” her face went bright red “—social habits.”
Unreal. If it had been up to him, he’d be married right now—perhaps with an actual baby of his own on the way—but this near stranger had him painted as some sort of depraved sex addict. “Lady, you don’t know the first thing about me.” Unlike Donovan Anders, Will didn’t seduce nineteen-year-olds.
“I—” She was interrupted by her daughters rushing back into the room.
“Hands clean,” Daisy declared, the entire front of her long-sleeved shirt soaked with water.
Megan pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is really not my night.”
Will felt a wave of commiseration. “If it helps, I know exactly how you feel.”
“It doesn’t.” She met his gaze, giving him the first real smile he’d ever seen from her. “But thank you.”
Chapter Five (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
Although Megan would normally admonish Daisy to eat more and talk less, tonight she was grateful for her daughter’s chatty presence. Even Iris, excited about their outing to the town’s Christmas tree lighting tomorrow, contributed to the dinner conversation, helping mask what would’ve been an awkward silence between Megan and Will. I misjudged him. She needed to apologize for her rash assumption, but it seemed like bad parenting to discuss his sex life in front of the girls.
She’d invited Will to stay for dinner, partly as atonement and partly because she was reluctant to disturb the baby who’d fallen asleep against her shoulder. Holding him so long was an enjoyable novelty, his breath coming in soft puffs against her neck. When her own girls were babies, Megan had felt like a one-woman assembly line. Just as she got one of the triplets to doze off, another would need a diaper or bottle.
Will stood, picking up his plate as well as Iris’s empty one. He nodded toward Tommy before carrying the dishes to the sink. “The last thing I want to do is wake him and set him off again, but if I let him sleep now, what are the odds he’ll sleep for me tonight?” He paused, his expression alarmed. “Do five-or six-month-olds even sleep through the night?”
“They can.” At least, Megan thought so. The first year had been a blur. Her daughters had kept her so busy she’d barely had time to be heartbroken over the divorce. In retrospect, she could find blessings in the chaos. “But it’s hard to gauge how he’ll react to being in a strange place. Did the notebook say anything about his sleep schedule?” Midway through giving Tommy his bottle, Megan had asked Will to look in the duffel bag for a burp cloth. He’d found a tiny spiral notebook with information like the pediatrician’s phone number and feeding instructions.
“Not that I saw, but I need to read through it more closely.” He returned to the table, pausing by Daisy and raising his eyebrows in Megan’s direction.
Megan sighed. “Are you going to eat any more food?”
Daisy shook her head, her dark curls swishing. “Full.”
“I shouldn’t have given you that chocolate this afternoon.”
“Amy mentioned you were giving out chocolate,” Will said, reaching for Daisy’s dishes.
“It was originally intended for you.” Megan squirmed in her chair, fighting the urge to duck her gaze like a guilty child. “As a peace offering for how short-tempered I was last night.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful grin. “I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior, either. What do you say, neighbor? Fresh start?”
“I’d like that.” Especially since he was helping to clean her kitchen. That was more than fair compensation for her giving the baby a bottle and getting to snuggle him all through dinner. But since Lily would freak out if the tall, broad-shouldered man got too close, it was time for Megan to pitch in clearing the table. “All done?” she asked her daughter.
Lily nodded. She’d barely taken a bite, too busy watching their guest with a mixture of fascination and anxiety. Megan would put the kids’ leftovers in the fridge for lunch tomorrow. Cradling the baby against her with one hand, she took Lily’s plate and crossed the kitchen. Looking into the adjacent living room, at pint-size furniture and toys strewn across the carpet, she tried to think of anything the girls had outgrown that she could lend Will for the next couple of...days? Weeks? He hadn’t said when Amy was coming back, or why she had chosen him as Tommy’s caregiver in the meantime, and Megan hadn’t pressed for details in front of her daughters.
“Since you girls are all done eating, how about we put in that DVD we checked out from the library?” That would give her a few minutes to talk to Will without an audience. She found herself reluctantly curious about him. The last few months had given her an up close view of his social life, and she’d thought she understood him pretty well. But based on his patience with her daughters, his willingness to pitch in with dinner and the huge favor he was doing for Amy, maybe Megan had judged him too harshly. Not all men are Spencer.
True, but she’d been naive about her ex-husband, giving him the benefit of the doubt far more often than he deserved. It was a mistake she wouldn’t allow herself to repeat.
She went around the corner to get the DVD started. When she returned to the kitchen, Will was wiping down counters. “Thanks,” she said, “but you don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. I want to make sure I stay in your good graces for the next time I have a Tommy emergency.” He eyed the sleeping baby in her arms. “No matter how peaceful he looks now, I’m sure we’ll face plenty of challenges between now and when his mama gets back.”
“How long will Amy be gone?”
“I’m not sure.”
She recalled the young woman’s tear-streaked face. “Is she all right?”
He was slower to answer this time, the words softer. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re worried about her.” She studied his face, noting the concern in his dark blue eyes and feeling guilty for her assumptions about his selfish, carefree bachelor lifestyle.
“Yeah. She... No offense, but I probably shouldn’t be discussing the details of her personal life. Not that I know many of them. She and I aren’t nearly as close as you imagined.”
“Close enough that she trusts you with her child.” When he stiffened, she clarified, “I meant that as a compliment. I really am sorry I leaped to conclusions.”
“I guess, since she left the baby with me, I can understand why you’d think something so far-fetched. It never occurred to me anyone would make that mistake. Most everybody in town knows about her relationship with Donovan.” His voice was almost a snarl when he said the other man’s name. “I keep forgetting you’re new.”
She’d moved to Cupid’s Bow in January, practically a year ago. In a small town where most of the locals had lived here since birth, she still felt like an outsider. Raising three girls alone didn’t leave a lot of time for a thriving social life.
“What made you pick Cupid’s Bow?” he asked. “I mean, I love this town, but it’s a bit off the beaten path.”
“I needed a change after the divorce. I wanted to be someplace...” Where she didn’t feel ashamed of her failed marriage and where she wasn’t forced to wonder every time she spoke with a female acquaintance, Did Spencer sleep with you, too? She shook her head. “Before the girls were born, I worked at a botanical garden. I’ve always loved plants and flowers. I didn’t know Dagmar well before moving here, but she was my dad’s cousin. When she decided she wanted to cut back on her hours at the florist shop, she offered me a job. So here I am.”
“Just in time to do the arrangements for Cole and Kate’s wedding. You know she’s from Houston, right? Between the two of you and Sierra Bailey moving here, this is the closest thing to a population boom Cupid’s Bow has had since the 1800s.”
She laughed at the idea of a three-woman boom, and Tommy twisted in her arms, his eyelids fluttering. “Oops,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about waking him. I should get him back to my place anyway.”
“Where do you plan for him to sleep tonight? In the car seat? In bed with you?” There was no reason for her cheeks to heat at the mere mention of Will’s bed. But now that her attitude toward him had softened, it was a lot harder to ignore how attractive he was. Get a grip. A hot fireman cleaning your kitchen is no reason to go weak in the knees. Wait, actually, a hot fireman willing to clean was a pretty solid female fantasy. And here Will was, fantasy made flesh.
In a timely reminder that real life was not fantasy, a rude odor began wafting toward her from the general vicinity of the baby’s rear end.
“Amy left some kind of playpen,” Will said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her eyes were starting to water. “I just have to figure out how to assemble it. Then little man can crash in my room with me. I want to be close in case he needs me—not that I’ll necessarily know how to help him. I’ve never even changed a diaper.”
She thrust Tommy toward him. “You’re in luck.”
Will’s nose wrinkled. “That does not smell like luck.”
* * *
WILL COULDN’T REMEMBER the last day he’d had that was so full of surprises. The noxious diaper was an unpleasant surprise; he really could have used a fireman’s mask and self-contained oxygen. But Megan finally grinning at him, after months of guarded glances and sharp tones, almost made up for it. As he knelt over the baby, her eyes danced with amusement.
“Good thing I’m a badass with no insecurities,” he deadpanned, “or all your laughing at me could be highly damaging to the ego.”
Working together, they’d cleaned Tommy up, but Will had insisted he needed the practice of putting on the new diaper alone. That was proving more difficult than expected. At least the girls had fled the room, protesting the smell. He could just imagine Daisy showing him her properly diapered baby doll and shaking her head at his incompetence.
Now that Tommy was fed and rested, he appeared to think it was playtime. He kept rolling onto his hands and knees, as if to crawl away. Will’s challenge was to keep the baby pinned in place without inadvertently hurting him. “I never realized how big my hands are.” They looked massive against Tommy’s small limbs.
“It can’t be that much of a surprise. You’re hu...” When she trailed off, he glanced over his shoulder and caught her studying him. “I mean, you’re even taller than your brothers.”
True. He’d towered over his mother by the time he was in middle school. Did Megan like tall men?
He blinked at the errant thought. I don’t care what kind of man she finds attractive. Until tonight, they’d barely exchanged a civil word. He sure as hell wouldn’t be asking her out.
“Okay.” He sat back on his heels. “I think that’ll hold. You’re free to flip over on your tummy all you want, little man.” Tommy did exactly that, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He rocked back and forth, not exactly moving forward but gaining impressive momentum. Will watched with concern. “You don’t think he can actually crawl, do you?”
Real mobility probably required some kind of baby-proofing. Megan’s living room had safety covers in the outlets and gates in the doorways. When she’d unlocked a series of gates for the girls earlier, he was reminded of the weekends he helped on his friend Brody’s ranch, herding cows through pens into the chute. But he’d refrained from comparing Megan’s daughters to cattle out loud.
She was watching the baby’s movements. “Doesn’t look like he’s crawling yet, but it won’t be long. And I warn you, once it happens, they move faster than you’d expect.”
Fantastic. Amy, you’d better get back to Cupid’s Bow soon. More terrifying than anything else—even toxic diapers—was the open-endedness of the situation. He’d been sincere about wanting to help Amy, but he couldn’t keep a baby indefinitely.
What were his other options? He couldn’t stomach the thought of handing over the infant to Donovan or, after reading Amy’s letter, her mother. And calling social services would feel like a total betrayal. So, for now, he’d be patient and take his unexpected guardianship one day at a time.
He lifted Tommy in front of his face. “We’ve imposed on Ms. Rivers long enough. Think we can manage by ourselves for the rest of the night?”
The baby gurgled happily, blowing a spit bubble.
“I’ll take that as hearty agreement.”
“Here.” Megan reached over to a small table and pulled a crayon out of a basket, then scribbled something across a piece of paper. “In case you have any emergencies tonight.”
“Thank you.” He stared at the purple digits. Megan Rivers was the last woman in town he ever would have expected to give him her phone number. Although hoping not to need it, as he folded the piece of paper into his pocket, he realized he was surprisingly happy to have it.
Chapter Six (#u70e61a8f-3eff-58ca-a209-0aba9ba53981)
As dawn stretched across the sky and the sunlight spilling through his bedroom window grew brighter, Will knew his chances of getting any decent rest were dwindling. His longest stretch of sleep all night had only been an hour long. It wasn’t that Tommy had been unreasonably demanding. He’d only needed one bottle, around four in the morning. Will had stubbed the hell out of his big toe while maneuvering through the dark room for diaper supplies, but the night had been otherwise uneventful. Still, he’d been plagued with uncharacteristic insomnia.
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