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?”
She smiled and lay pie crust over the tins, making some kind of decoration in the center. “Same way you did bringing the triplets from the kitchen to the living room. You just have to move fast and be constantly on guard. I do what I have to. That’s just the way it is.”
An angry wail came from the playpen. Then another. The three Ingalls triplets began rubbing their eyes again, this time with very upset little faces.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “The pies are assembled.” She hurried to the sink to wash her hands, then hurried over to the playpen. “Nap time for you cuties.”
“I’ll help,” Reed said, putting down his mug.
Brody was holding up his arms and staring at Reed. Reed smiled and picked him up, the little weight sweet in his arms. Brody reached up and grabbed Reed’s cheek, like his sister had, not that there was much to grab. Norah scooped up Bea and Bella. They headed upstairs, the unlined wood steps creaky and definitely not baby-friendly when they would start to crawl, which would probably be soon.
The nursery was spare but had the basics. Three cribs, a dresser and changing table. The room was painted a pale yellow with white stars and moons stenciled all over.
“Ever changed a diaper?” she asked as she put both babies in a crib, taking off their onesies.
“Cops have done just about everything,” he said. “I’ve changed my share of diapers.” He laid the baby on the changing table. “Phew. Just wet.” He made quick work of the task, sprinkling on some cornstarch powder and fastening a fresh diaper.
“His jammies are in the top drawer. Any footsie ones.”
Reed picked up the baby and carried him over to the dresser, using one hand to open the drawer. The little baby clothes were very neatly folded. He pulled out the top footed onesie, blue cotton with dinosaurs. He set Brody down, then gently put his little arms and legs into the right holes, and there Brody was, all ready for bed. He held the baby against his chest, Brody’s impossibly little eyes drooping, his mouth quirking.
He tried to imagine his own father holding him like this, his own flesh and blood, and just walking away. No look back. No nothing. How was it possible? Reed couldn’t fathom it.
“His crib is on the right,” Norah said, pointing as she took one baby girl out of the crib and changed her, then laid her down in the empty crib. She scooped up the other baby, changed her and laid her back in the crib.
He set Brody down and gave his little cheek a caress. Brody grabbed his thumb and held on.
“He sure does like you,” Norah whispered.
Reed swallowed against the gushy feeling in the region of his chest. As Brody’s eyes drifted closed, the tiny fist released and Reed stepped back.
Norah shut off the light and turned on a very low lullaby player. After half a second of fussing, all three babies closed their eyes, quirking their tiny mouths and stretching their arms over their heads.
“Have a good nap, my loves,” Norah said, tiptoeing toward the door.
Reed followed her, his gold band glinting in the dim light of the room. He stared at the ring, then at his surroundings. He was in a nursery. With the woman he’d accidentally married. And with her tr
iplets, whom he’d just babysat, read to and helped get to nap time.
What the hell had happened to his life? A day ago he’d been about to embark on a new beginning here in Wedlock Creek, where life had once seemed so idyllic out in the country where his grandmother had lived alone after she’d been widowed. Instead of focusing on reading the WCPD manuals and getting up to speed on open cases, he was getting his heart squeezed by three eighteen-pound tiny humans.
And their beautiful mother.
As he stepped into the hallway, the light cleared his brain. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. Pick you up at eight thirty tomorrow for the trip to Brewer? The courthouse opens at nine. Luckily, I don’t report for duty until noon.”
“Sounds good,” she said, leading the way downstairs. “Thanks for helping. You put Brody down for his nap like a champ.”
But instead of heading toward the door, he found himself just standing there. He didn’t want to leave the four Ingalls alone. On their own. In this falling-down house.
He felt...responsible for them, he realized.
But he also needed to take a giant step backward and catch his breath.
So why was it so hard to walk out the door?
Chapter Four
At exactly eight thirty on Monday morning, Norah saw Reed pull up in front of her house. He must be as ready to get this marriage business taken care of as she was. Yesterday, after he’d left, she’d taken a long, hot bubble bath upstairs, ears peeled for the triplets, but they’d napped for a good hour and a half. In that time, a zillion thoughts had raced through her head, from the bits and pieces she remembered of her evening with Fabio to the wedding to waking up to find Detective Reed Barelli in her bed to how he played upsie-downsie with the triplets and read them a story. And fixed her bagel. And the cabinet.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him, how kind he’d been, how good-natured about the whole mess. It had been the man’s first day in town. And he’d found himself married to a mother of three. She also couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d looked in those black boxer briefs, how tall and muscular he was. The way his dark eyes crinkled at the corners.
Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets Page 4