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.”