The More Mavericks, the Merrier!

by Brenda Harlen

  She tipped her head back to look at him, and found his eyes—those deep blue eyes—were fixed on hers. This his gaze dipped to her mouth, and her breath caught in her lungs.

  “Fa-fa!” Henry called, the familiar and impatient demand finally breaking the spell that seemed to have woven around Fallon and Jamie.

  She attempted to step back, and stumbled against the stool she’d actually, stupidly, forgotten was there. But Jamie still had his hands on her hips, so she didn’t fall. His lips twitched at the corners, as if he was trying not to smile. Not to laugh at her. She felt her cheeks flush—the curse of being a redhead. Embarrassed and annoyed, she shoved the strand of lights at him.

  “Fine, you put these on the tree while I finish untangling the rest.”

  He had to let go of her to catch the lights, and then he finally stepped away from her.

  “Fa-fa,” Henry chanted again.

  She shifted her attention to the baby, who was standing up and holding on to the top of the gate. “What’s up, big guy?”

  He pointed to the rubber ball he’d thrown to her.

  “You want to play catch?”

  He grinned, showing her his six tiny white teeth. She scooped up the ball and tossed it back into the enclosure. He let go of the gate to clap his hands together.

  Fallon gasped softly. “Jamie!”

  “I see him,” he said, his voice close behind her.

  “He’s standing up without holding on to anything.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before he wobbled, then fell back onto his butt. His eyes opened wide, as if he wasn’t sure what had happened, and then his lower lip began to tremble.

  “You’re okay,” Fallon told him, deliberately employing the sing-song tone of voice that was usually effective in diverting a meltdown. “You were up, and then you went down, that’s all.”

  His lip stopped trembling.

  “Up then down,” she said again, then clapped her hands together. “Yay!”

  He clapped his hands together, too.

  Jamie reached over the wall of the enclosure to ruffle his son’s hair. “Way to go, big guy.”

  Henry grinned, obviously proud of himself even if he wasn’t sure why.

  “Make sure you note the date in his baby book,” Fallon said.

  “I will,” he promised. “I missed the first time he rolled over—actually, the first time each one of them rolled over—so there’s no way I’ll forget this milestone.”

  He stepped up onto the bottom step of the stool—because he was at least six inches taller than she was and had longer arms, too—and began winding the lights around the tree.

  “Don’t just hang them off the ends of the branches,” Fallon admonished. “Wrap them around each branch, up one side and back down the other.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I’m doing it?” he wanted to know.

  “Aside from the fact that it’s sloppy and lazy, you won’t have any light emanating from inside the tree.”

  “You’re being picky again,” he told her.

  “Discerning,” she countered.

  “And these needles are prickly.”

  “Just like your attitude.”

  His lips curved at that. “Fine. I’ll do it your way,” he relented. “But as soon as I get the highest branches done, I’m letting you take over.”

  She handed him another strand of lights. “Are you sure you can trust me to stand two feet off the ground?”

  “No, but it’s unlikely you’d break a leg falling from that height.”

  She continued to untangle lights while he worked at wrapping the tree, muttering under his breath whenever the needles poked his skin.

  “Did you grumble this much when you put the lights on your tree last year—or did Paula do it?”

  He snorted. “Paula wasn’t exactly in the holiday spirit last year, so I picked up a tree from the lot down by Crawford’s.”

  “I guess, being five months pregnant with triplets, she wasn’t up to hiking half a mile through the snow to chop down a blue spruce,” she said, wishing she hadn’t mentioned his wife’s name.

  “Or even decorate it,” he admitted.

  “She didn’t tell you what ornaments she wanted where?”

  He shook his head. “By December, we were barely on speaking terms.”

  “I know you went through a rough patch,” she said softly. “But I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about, with anyone,” he admitted. “And, of course, everyone thinks I’ve spent the past ten months mourning the loss of my wife, but the truth is, our happy marriage was an illusion. Even if she hadn’t died, we wouldn’t be celebrating this holiday together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was planning to leave after the babies were born.”

  Fallon shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true,” he told her. “You remember how I told you that she wasn’t happy to discover that she was carrying triplets?”

  “Sure,” she agreed. “But any woman would be daunted by the prospect of birthing and caring for three babies. I imagine you were a little apprehensive yourself.”

  “More than a little,” he admitted. “The difference is that I always wanted a big family—even if I assumed they would come one at a time.”

  She lifted a hand to his arm, drawing his gaze to her. “She was scared and overwhelmed, but she would have come around,” she said softly.

  “I’m not so sure,” he confided. “Before Christmas last year, she made it clear that the babies would be my responsibility because she was going back to Seattle and filing for divorce.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Fallon said again. “I mean, I believe that she said it,” she clarified. “But I don’t believe she would have done it. She loved you, Jamie.”

  He appreciated the sentiment, but he no longer believed it was true. Maybe Paula had loved him when she married him, but any affection she’d felt for him in the beginning was long gone before her premature labor. Pushing the unhappy memories aside, he turned his attention back to the lights.

  Although he’d threatened to make Fallon do the lower half of the tree, by the time he was halfway, it seemed easier just to finish the task. When the lights were on, she handed him the garland, and he draped that along the branches while she found the boxes of decorative bows and balls and other ornaments.

  She chatted to HJK while she was opening boxes and unwrapping ornaments, carrying on a one-sided conversation that kept them engaged while they played. Watching her with his children, Jamie never ceased to be amazed by her natural ease with them. She had an innate ability to anticipate their wants and needs, offering comfort and support while also encouraging them to push their own boundaries and try new things. He had no doubt she’d make a great mother one day.

  He hung a red cardinal-shaped ornament on a branch in the middle of the tree and stepped back. “That’s the last one.”

  “Not quite,” Fallon said, handing him a medium-sized square box with a red bow on the top.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it and see.”

  He lifted the lid to uncover three frosted ornaments nestled in separate compartments. Two of them were adorned with sets of blue footprints on the front and the third with pink footprints. He lifted one from the box and turned it over to see that there was a date and an inscription on the other side: Henry’s First Christmas.

  The other ornaments were similarly marked with Jared’s and Katie’s names and the date.

  “These are great, Fallon.”

  “I saw the woman who makes them at a craft show in Kalispell last month and immediately put in my order,” she told him. “They look like glass but they are
n’t. I didn’t see any point in a keepsake ornament that would break the first time it fell off a branch.”

  “I never thought about getting something like this...something to commemorate the occasion,” he admitted, moved by her thoughtfulness.

  “You would have,” she said confidently. “But I saw them first and couldn’t resist.”

  “You give me too much credit.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough. I can only imagine how hard it must be to keep the ranch running and take care of three babies all by yourself.”

  “I don’t do it by myself,” he reminded her. “There’s no way I could manage without Bella and all the baby chain volunteers...and you.”

  “You don’t have to,” she assured him.

  He managed a smile at that. “I can’t expect the baby chain to operate forever.”

  “Of course, it won’t be forever. In another four years, the triplets will be ready for school.”

  “Only another four years?”

  She bumped her shoulder against his playfully, and the soft curls on top of her head brushed against his jaw. “You’re going to make it.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence,” he said, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—strawberries and cream, sweet and tempting.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel and winced. “And if I’m going to make it home in time for family dinner, I need to run.”

  After a quick check on the babies, he followed her to the door, where she was already zipping up her coat. She tugged her pom-pom hat onto her head again, and he lifted a hand to her hair.

  She went completely still. “What are you doing?”

  “You’ve got a pine needle caught in your curls,” he told her.

  “Oh.”

  He attempted to work it free—without much success. He was trying to extricate it without pulling her hair, but the curls seemed reluctant to let go of the needle, and he found himself reluctant to remove his fingers from her soft tresses.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, after about half a minute had passed with no apparent success. “My hair is—”

  “I’ve got it,” he assured her. “Just give me a second.”

  It probably wasn’t much more than that before he lowered his hand from her curls with the long green needle pinched between two fingers.

  “Thanks,” she said, a little breathlessly.

  “Thank you,” he countered. “I wasn’t really looking forward to the tree decorating but you made it fun.”

  “Only the first of many fun activities on my list,” she promised.

  Which somehow started him thinking of fun activities that he knew weren’t on her list. Activities of a much more personal nature.

  He blamed those thoughts for what he did next: he dipped his head toward her, tempted almost beyond reason by the sexy curve of her lips. Tempted to sample her sweetness, to taste and take like a starving man at a banquet until he was finally sated by her flavor.

  But at the last moment, he shifted and touched his lips to her cheek instead.

  Because kissing her would change everything between them, and he wasn’t sure that he was ready for things to change—or if he ever would be.

  Chapter Six

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Fallon said, kissing her mother’s cheek as she hurried past her to wash up at the sink.

  Maureen O’Reilly glanced up from the potatoes she was mashing. “Where have you been?”

  “At The Short Hills Ranch.” She turned on the faucet, squirted some soap on her hands and rubbed them together to create a foamy lather.

  Her mother punched the masher into the potatoes again. “With Jamie Stockton,” she said, her statement of the obvious spoken in a tone of disapproval.

  “Yes, with Jamie and the triplets,” Fallon clarified, focusing all of her attention on rinsing the soap off of her hands and willing the heat to fade from her cheeks—one of which had recently been brushed by Jamie’s lips. “We chopped down and decorated their Christmas tree.”

  “It’s nice that you were there to help,” Maureen acknowledged. “But maybe you should let Jamie celebrate those kinds of family traditions with his family.”

  “His sister spends most of her time with her fiancé, the rest of his siblings are scattered, he barely speaks to his grandfather and his children are more of a hindrance than a help at their age.” She grabbed a towel to dry her hands and tried not to think about the kiss—if the brief contact could even be considered a kiss. “Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a family like ours.”

  The explanation seemed to appease Maureen, at least a little.

  “Well, now that you’re here, you can finish setting the table. Brenna got it started, but then she got a text from one of her friends who just broke up with her boyfriend and she’s been on the phone ever since.”

  She was happy to be given a task that would allow her to escape the scrutiny of her mother’s eagle eye, but had to ask, “Where’s Fiona?”

  “She ran into town to pick up ice cream for the apple crisp.”

  “Mmm, I thought I smelled apples baking.”

  Fallon peeked into the dining room to see how much Brenna had accomplished and discovered that she’d put plates around the table—that was all.

  As she retrieved cutlery from the drawer, she didn’t ask what her brothers were up to. While Maureen wouldn’t hesitate to conscript her husband and sons if she needed their help, she generally considered the kitchen a woman’s domain—not a woman’s responsibility so much as her sanctuary.

  When Fiona got back with the ice cream and Brenna managed to extricate herself from her phone, the O’Reilly family gathered around the table. Conversation flowed freely and steadily as everyone piled their plates with the roast chicken, mashed potatoes and buttered corn, with topics ranging from ranch issues to town gossip.

  Fallon hadn’t been kidding when she told Jamie that attendance at Sunday night dinner was mandatory. Although the kids were adults now, they continued to live on the ranch. The girls still slept under their parents’ roof, but the boys had converted an old barn into their own living quarters. Throughout the week, it was rare for all of them to be able to sit down at the same time, which was why Maureen and Paddy insisted on them all being together on Sunday.

  After everyone had eaten their fill of dinner and dessert, Fiona went out to the barn with Paddy to check on her mare, who had stumbled while they were out riding earlier and had some minor swelling in her right foreleg. Keegan and Ronan headed to the barn, too, to complete the evening chores, and Brenna slipped away to visit her inconsolable friend. Which meant that the responsibility for clearing away the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen fell to Maureen and her youngest daughter.

  Fallon didn’t mind the chores or hanging out with her mother. Unlike some of her friends, she had a good relationship with both of her parents and she felt fortunate that there wasn’t anything she couldn’t talk to them about.

  Unfortunately, it also meant that her parents didn’t consider any topics off-limits. After she’d filled the sink with soapy water and started to wash the pots and pans, Maureen said, “I don’t think you should continue to take care of the Stockton triplets.”

  “What?” Fallon picked up a towel and turned to look at her mother. “Why would you say something like that?”

  “Because I’m worried about you,” Maureen admitted.

  “You don’t need to worry,” she told her. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re exhausted.”

  “I’m a little tired,” she acknowledged. Okay, she was a lot tired, but that wasn’t the sole responsibility of Jamie or his babies. And while her days were busy, she would rather give up her job at Country Kids Day Care than give up a single minute of the time that she spent
at The Short Hills Ranch. Especially if that brief, almost-kiss Jamie had given her was a prelude to better things.

  “And when was the last time you were on a date?” Maureen asked.

  Fallon frowned at the question. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You don’t even know, do you?” her mother challenged.

  “It’s been awhile,” she admitted, because the truth was, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on a date. But not dating didn’t mean she was missing out on anything, either, especially since the last few dates that she’d had were obviously not very memorable.

  In fact, feeling the touch of Jamie’s lips on her cheek had affected her more deeply than any other man’s kiss had ever done. Or maybe it was the anticipation that had tied her insides up in knots. Because for a brief moment, she’d actually thought that he was really going to kiss her. The way his gaze had dropped to her mouth and lingered there, she’d been almost certain he intended to touch his lips to her own.

  But, of course, he hadn’t. Because Jamie didn’t see her as a woman but as a friend.

  “Because every free minute you have is spent taking care of Jamie Stockton’s babies,” her mother continued, oblivious to the direction of Fallon’s wandering thoughts.

  “I’m not the only one who helps out,” she felt compelled to point out. “There are at least half a dozen people who are still part of the baby chain.”

  “I know,” her mother acknowledged. “But you spend more hours over there than anyone else, except maybe Jamie’s sister, who lives there.”

  “Because I have more time than anyone else. Cecelia Pritchett and Margot Crawford both have husbands waiting for them at home at the end of the day. Paige Dalton has a husband and a baby.”

  “Which is exactly my point,” Maureen said gently. “The other women have husbands and/or children of their own. And soon Bella is going to be married, too. But as long as you make Jamie Stockton and his babies your priority, you’re never going to find a man to marry and raise a family with.”