The Christmas Triplets

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

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

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.