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Norah swallowed. But then she remembered this wasn’t real and would be rectified. Brody let out a wail and once again she snapped back to reality. She was no one’s bride, no one’s wife. There was a big difference between old dreams and the way things really were. “I’d better go save the detective from the three little screechers.”
Norah opened the door and almost gasped at the sight on the doorstep. Brody was in Reed’s strong arms, the sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up. He lifted the baby high in the air, then turned to Bea and Bella in the stroller and made a funny face at them before lifting Brody again. “Upsie downsie,” Reed said. “Downsie upsie,” he added as he lifted Brody again.
Baby laughter exploded on the porch.
Norah stared at Reed and then glanced over at Shelby, who was looking at Reed Barelli in amazement.
“My first partner back in Cheyenne had a baby, and whenever he started fussing, I’d do that and he’d giggle,” Reed explained, lifting Brody one more time for a chorus of more triplet giggles.
Bea lifted her arms. Reed put Brody back and did two upsie-downsies with Bea, then her sister.
“I’ll let Mom and Aunt Cheyenne know you might not be in today,” Shelby said very slowly. She glanced at Reed, positively beaming, much like Annie had done earlier. “I’ll be perfectly honest and report you have a headache from the sweet punch.”
“Thanks,” Norah said. “I’m not quite ready to explain everything just yet.”
As her sister said goodbye and walked off in the direction of the diner, Norah appreciated that Shelby hadn’t added a “Welcome to the family.” She turned back to Reed. He was twisting his wedding ring on his finger.
“So you were supposed to work today?” he asked.
“Yes—and Sundays are one of the busiest at the Pie Diner—but I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate. My mom and aunt will be all over me with questions. And now that I think about it, with the festival and carnival continuing today, business should be slow. I’ll just make my pot pies here and take them over later, once we’re settled on what to say if word gets out.”
“Word will get out?” he said. “Oh no—don’t tell me Annie and Abe are gossips.”
“They’re strategic,” Norah said. “Which is exactly how we ended up married and not sent away last night.”
“Meaning they’ll tell just enough people, or the right people, to make it hard for us to undo the marriage so easily.”
“She probably has a third cousin at the courthouse!” Norah said, throwing up her hands. But town gossip was the least of her problems right now, and boy did she have problems, particularly the one standing across from her looking so damned hot.
She turned from the glorious sight of him and racked her brain, trying to think who she could ask to babysit this morning for a couple hours on such short notice so she could get her pies done and her equilibrium back.
Her family was out of the question, of course. Her sister was busy enough with her own two kids and her secondhand shop to run, plus she often helped out at the diner. There was Geraldina next door, who might be able to take the triplets for a couple of hours, but her neighbor was another huge gossip and maybe she’d seen the two of them return home last night in God knew what state. For all Norah knew, Reed Barelli had carried her down the street like in An Officer and a Gentleman and swept her over the threshold of her house.
Huh. Had he?
“You okay?” he asked, peering at her.
Her shoulders slumped. “Just trying to figure out a sitter for the triplets while I make six pot pies. The usual suspects aren’t going to work out this morning.”
“Consider me at your service, then,” he said.
“What?” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t ask that.”
“Least I can do, Norah. I got you into this mess. If I remember correctly, last night you said you’d always wanted to get married at that chapel and I picked you up and said ‘Then let’s get married.’” He let out a breath. “I still can’t quite get over that I did that.”
“I like being able to blame it all on you. Thanks.” She smiled, grateful that he was so...nice.
“Besides, and obviously, I like babies,” he said, “and all I had on my agenda today was re-familiarizing myself with Wedlock Creek.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t try to let you off the hook. Triplet seven-month-olds who are just starting to crawl are pretty wily creatures.”
“I’ve dealt with plenty of wily creatures in my eight-year career as a cop. I’ve got this.”
She raised an eyebrow and opened the door, surprised when Reed took hold of the enormous stroller and wheeled in the babies. She wasn’t much used to someone else...being there. “Didn’t I hear you tell Annie that you had no intention of ever getting married? I would think that meant you had no intention of having children, either.”
“Right on both counts. But I like other people’s kids. And babies are irresistible. Besides, yours already adore me.”
Brody was sticking up his skinny little arms, smiling at Reed, three little teeth coming up in his gummy mouth.
“See?” he said.
Norah smiled. “Point proven. I’d appreciate the help. So thank you.”
Norah closed the door behind Reed. It was the strangest feeling, walking into her home with her three babies—and her brand-new husband.
She glanced at her wedding ring. Then at his.
Talk about crazy. For a man who didn’t intend to marry or have kids, he now had one huge family, even if that family would dissolve tomorrow at the courthouse.
* * *
As they’d first approached Norah’s house on the way back from Annie and Abe’s, Reed had been all set to suggest they get in his SUV, babies and all, and find someone, anyone, to open the courthouse. They could root through the mail that had been dumped through the slot, find their license application and just tear it up. Kaput! No more marriage!
But he’d been standing right in front of Norah’s door, cute little Brody in his arms, the small, baby-shampoo-smelling weight of him, when he’d heard what Norah had said. Heard it loud and clear. And something inside him had shifted.
You know what else is crazy, how special it was. The ceremony, I mean. Me—even in my T-shirt and shorts and grubby slip-on sneakers—saying my vows. Hearing them said back to me. In that moment, Shel, I felt so...safe. For the first time in a year and a half, I felt safe.
He’d looked at the baby in his arms. The two little girls in the stroller. Then he’d heard Norah say something about a dream come true and back to reality.
His heart had constricted in his chest when she’d said she’d felt safe for the first time since the triplets were born. He’d once overheard his mother say that the only time she felt safe was when Reed was away in Wedlock Creek with his paternal grandmother, knowing her boy was being fed well and looked after.
Reed’s frail mother had been alone otherwise, abandoned by Reed’s dad during the pregnancy, no child support, no nothing. She’d married again, more for security than love, but that had been short-lived. Not even a year. Turned out the louse couldn’t stand kids. His mother had worked two jobs to make ends meet, but times had been tough and Reed had often been alone and on his own.
He hated the thought of Norah feeling that way—unsteady, unsure, alone. This beautiful woman with so much on her shoulders. Three little ones her sole responsibility. And for a moment in the chapel, wed to him, she’d felt safe.
He wanted to help her somehow. Ease her burden. Do what he could. And if that was babysitting for a couple hours while she worked, he’d be more than happy to.
She picked up two babies from the stroller, a pro at balancing them in each arm. “Will you take Bea?” she asked.
He scooped up the baby girl, who immediately grabbed his cheek and stared at him with her huge gray-blue eyes, and followed Norah into the kitchen. A playpen was wedged in a nook. She put the two babies inside and Reed put Bea beside them. They all immediately reached for the little toys.
Norah took an apron from a hook by the refrigerator. “If I were at the diner, I’d be making twelve pot pies—five chicken and three turkey, two beef, and two veggie—but I only have enough ingredients at home to do six—three chicken and three beef. I’ll just make them all here and drop them off for baking. The oven in this house can’t even cook a frozen pizza reliably.”
Reed glanced around the run-down kitchen. It was clean and clearly had been baby-proofed, given the covered electrical outlets. But the refrigerator was strangely loud, the floor sloped and the house just seemed...old. And, he hated to say it, kind of depressing. “Have you lived here long?”
“I moved in a few months after finding out I was pregnant. I’d lived with my mom before then and she wanted me to continue living there, but I needed to grow up. I was going to be a mother—of three—and it was time to make a home. Not turn my mother into a live-in babysitter or take advantage of her generosity. This place was all I could afford. It’s small and dated but clean and functional.”
“So a kitchen, living room and bathroom downstairs,” he said, glancing into the small living room with the gold-colored couch. Baby stuff was everywhere, from colorful foam mats to building blocks and rattling toys. There wasn’t a dining room, as far as he could see. A square table was wedged in front of a window with one chair and three high chairs. “How many bedrooms upstairs?”
“Only two. But that works for now. One for me and one for the triplets.” She bit her lip. “It’s not a palace. It’s hardly my dream home. But you do what you have to. I’m their mother and it’s up to me to support us.”
Everything looked rumpled, secondhand, and it probably was. The place reminded him of his apartment as a kid. His mother hadn’t even had her own room. She’d slept on a pull-out couch in the living room and folded it up every morning. She’d wanted so much more for the two of them, but her paycheck had stretched only so far. When he was eighteen, he’d enrolled in the police academy and started college at night, planning to give his mother a better standard of living. But she’d passed away before he could make any of her dreams come true.
A squeal came from the playpen and he glanced over at the triplets. The little guy was chewing on a cloth book, one of the girls was pressing little “piano” keys and the other was babbling and shaking keys.
“Bea’s the rabble-rouser,” Norah said as she began to sauté chicken breasts in one pan, chunks of beef in another, and then set a bunch of carrots and onions on the counter. “Bella loves anything musical, and Brody is the quietest. He loves to be read to, whereas Bea will start clawing at the pages.”
“Really can’t be easy raising three babies. Especially on your own,” he said.
“It’s not. But I’ll tell you, I now know what love is. I mean, I love my family. I thought I loved their father. But the way I feel about those three? Nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’d sacrifice anything for them.”
“You’re a mother,” he said, admiring her more than she could know.
She nodded. “First and foremost. My family keeps trying to set me up on dates. Like any guy would say yes to a woman with seven-month-old triplets.” She glanced at Reed, then began cutting up the carrots. “I sure trapped you.”
He smiled. “Angelina, international flight attendant, wasn’t a mother of three, remember? She was just a woman out having a good time at a small-town carnival.”
She set down the knife and looked at him. “You’re not angry that I didn’t say anything? That I actually let you marry me without you knowing what you were walking into?”
He moved to the counter and stood across from her. “We were both bombed out of our minds.”
She smiled and resumed chopping. “Well, when we get this little matter of our marriage license ripped up before it can be processed, I’ll go back to telling my family to stop trying to fix me up and you’ll be solving crime all over Wedlock Creek.”
“You’re not looking for a father for the triplets?” he asked.
“Maybe I should be,” she said. “To be fair to them. But right now? No. I have zero interest in romance and love and honestly no longer believe in happily-ever-after. I’ve got my hands full, anyway.”
Huh. She felt the same way he did. Well, to a point. Marriage made her feel safe, but love didn’t. Interesting, he thought, trying not to stare at her.
As she pulled open a cabinet, the hinge broke and it almost hit her on the head. Reed rushed over and caught it before it could.
“This place is falling down,” he said, shaking his head. “You could have been really hurt. And you could have been holding one of the triplets.”
She frowned. “I’ve fixed that three times. I’ll call my landlord. She’ll have it taken care of.”
“Or I could take care of it right now,” he said, surveying the hinge. “Still usable. Have a power drill?”
“In that drawer,” she said, pointing. “I keep all the tools in there.”
He found the drill and fixed the hinge, making sure it was on tight. “That should do it,” he said. “Anything else need fixing?”
“Wow, he babysits and is handy?” She smiled at him. “I don’t think there’s anything else needing work,” she said, adding the vegetables into a pot bubbling on the stove. “And thank you.”
When the triplets started fussing, he announced it was babysitting time. He scooped up two babies and put them in Exersaucers in the living room, then raced back for the third and set Brody in one, too. The three of them happily played with the brightly colored attachments, babbling and squealing. He pulled Bea out—he knew she was Bea by her yellow shirt, whereas Bella’s was orange—and did two upsie-downsies, much to the joy of the other two, who laughed and held up their arms.
“Your turn!” he said to Bella, lifting her high to the squeals of her siblings. “Now you, Brody,” he added, putting Bella back and giving her brother his turn.
They sure were beautiful. All three had the same big cheeks and big, blue-gray eyes, wisps of light brown hair. They were happy, gurgling, babbling, laughing seven-month-olds.
Something squeezed in his chest again, this time a strange sensation of longing. With the way he’d always felt about marriage, he’d never have this—babies, a wife making pot pies, a family. And even in this tired old little house, playing at family felt...nicer than he expected.
Brody rubbed his eyes, which Reed recalled meant he was getting tired. Maybe it was nap time? It was barely seven-thirty in the morning, but they’d probably woken before the crack of dawn.
“How about a story?” he asked, sitting on the braided rug and grabbing a book from the coffee table. “Lulu Goes to the Fair.” A white chicken wearing a baseball cap was on the cover. “Your mother and I went to the fair last night,” he told them. “So this book will be perfect.” He read them the story of Lulu wanting to ride the Ferris wheel but not being able to reach the step until two other chickens from her school helped her. Then they rode the Ferris wheel together. The end. Bella and Brody weren’t much interested in Lulu and her day at the fair, but Bea was rapt. Then they all started rubbing their eyes and fussing.
It was now eight o’clock. Maybe he’d put the babies back in the playpen to see if he could help Norah. Not that he could cook, but he could fetch.
He picked up the two girls and headed back into the kitchen, smiled at Norah, deposited the babies in the playpen and then went to get Brody.
“Thank you for watching them,” she said. “And reading to them.”
“Anytime,” he said. Which felt strange. Did he mean that?
“You’re sure you didn’t win Uncle of the Year or something? How’d you get so good with babies?”
“Told you. I like babies. Who doesn’t? I picked up a few lessons on the job, I guess.”
Why had he said “anytime” though? That was kind of loaded.
With the babies set for the moment, he shook the thought from his scrambled head and watched Norah cook, impressed with her multitasking. She had six tins covered in pie crust. The aromas of the onions and chicken and beef bubbling in two big pots filled the kitchen. His stomach growled. Had they eaten breakfast? He suddenly realized they hadn’t.
“I made coffee and toasted a couple of bagels,” she said as if she could read his mind. She was so multitalented, he wouldn’t be surprised if she could. “I have cream cheese and butter.”
“You’re doing enough,” he said. “I’ll get it. What do you want on yours?”
“Cream cheese. And thanks.”
He poured the coffee into mugs and took care of the bagels, once again so aware of her closeness, the physicality of her. He couldn’t help but notice how incredibly sexy she was, standing there in her jeans and maroon T-shirt, the way both hugged her body. There wasn’t anywhere to sit in the kitchen, so he stood by the counter, drinking the coffee he so desperately needed.
“The chief mentioned the Pie Diner is the place for lunch in Wedlock Creek. I’m sure I’ll be eating one of those pies tomorrow.”
She smiled. “Oh, good. I’ll have to thank him for that. We need to attract the newcomers to town before the burger place gets ’em.” She took a long sip of her coffee. “Ah, I needed that.” She took another sip, then a bite of her bagel. She glanced at him as if she wanted to ask something, then resumed adding the pot pie mixtures into the tins. “You moved here for a fresh start, you said?”
He’d avoided that question earlier. He supposed he could answer without going into every detail of his life.
He sipped his coffee and nodded. “I came up for my grandmother’s funeral a few months ago. She was the last of my father’s family. When she passed, I suddenly wanted to be here, in Wedlock Creek, where I’d spent those good summers. After a bad stakeout a few weeks ago that almost got me killed and did get my partner injured, I’d had it. I quit the force and applied for a job in Wedlock Creek. It turns out a detective had retired just a few weeks prior.”
“Sorry about your grandmother. Sounds like she was very special to you.”
“She was. My father had taken off completely when I was just a month old, but my grandmother refused to lose contact with me. She sent cards and gifts and called every week and drove out to pick me up every summer for three weeks. It’s a three-hour drive each way.” He’d never forget being seven, ten, eleven and staring out the window of his apartment, waiting to see that old green car slowly turn up the street. And when it did, emotion would flood him to the point that it would take him a minute to rush out with his bag.
“I’m so glad you had her in your life. You never saw your dad again?”
“He sent the occasional postcard from all over the west. Last one I ever got was from somewhere in Alaska. Word came that he died and had left instructions for a sea burial. I last saw him when I was ten, when he came back for his dad’s funeral—my grandfather.”
“And your mom?”
“It was hard on her raising a kid alone without much money or prospects. And it was just me. She remarried, but that didn’t work out well, either, for either of us.” He took a long slug of the coffee. He needed to change the subject. “How do you manage three babies with two hands?”
