The Christmas Triplets. Tanya Michaels
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.
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