The Christmas Triplets. Tanya Michaels
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