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Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets
Melissa Senate


She went to bed single… And woke up married!Detective Reed Barelli doesn’t quite know how he ended up married to Norah Ingalls. An instant family wasn’t exactly what he’d planned… Yet the thought of just walking away is unimaginable.







She went to bed a single mom of triplets...

And woke up married!

Blame it on the spiked punch, or on the legend of Wedlock Creek Chapel. But Norah Ingalls is now Detective Reed Barelli’s wife. The lawman certainly didn’t intend to marry the gorgeous mom of three infant babies; an instant family wasn’t in his plans. Yet just walking away was unimaginable. In this brand-new Wyoming Multiples romance, marriage is just the beginning...


MELISSA SENATE has written many novels for Mills & Boon and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty- ive countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenaged son, their sweet rescue Shepherd mix, Flash, and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, www.melissasenate.com (http://melissasenate.com).


Books by Melissa Senate (#u4acbeb57-77c7-5874-b1c9-a90e87e0256b)

The Baby Switch!

As Meg Maxwell

Mommy and the Maverick

Santa’s Seven-Day Baby Tutorial

Charm School for Cowboys

The Cook’s Secret Ingredient

The Cowboy’s Big Family Tree

The Detective’s 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise A

Cowboy in the Kitchen

Little Black Dress

Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Detective Barelli’s Legendary Triplets

Melissa Senate






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07785-9

DETECTIVE BARELLI’S LEGENDARY TRIPLETS

© 2018 Melissa Senate

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dedicated to my darling Max.


Contents

Cover (#u8b64ad4c-68cc-53ea-ab20-1520461eb8fb)

Back Cover Text (#u04c7f3db-4751-5111-b922-728917d7ffe8)

About the Author (#ub675160a-2e62-5add-a2cb-bc0c19985e88)

Booklist (#u75e19db6-5a6c-534f-adab-de307e4ff24d)

Title Page (#uf6ea8d97-c0c1-51f7-bf0b-8e159f663426)

Copyright (#ud23d247e-7c04-58ca-aeb2-0007b4d5e651)

Dedication (#u11ad3f75-2131-590d-bf0d-c31e8a78212e)

Chapter One (#u26869336-dad9-52b8-88de-059e1f33bfe3)

Chapter Two (#uefda28f2-b388-5071-8c3d-8f06b798a808)

Chapter Three (#ue4f54b2a-953f-5b9c-810e-e500a451958b)

Chapter Four (#u842a29cf-79b1-538c-8639-f1ed032afdee)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u4acbeb57-77c7-5874-b1c9-a90e87e0256b)

The first thing Norah Ingalls noticed when she woke up Sunday morning was the gold wedding band on her left hand.

Norah was not married. Had never been married. She was as single as single got. With seven-month-old triplets.

The second thing was the foggy headache pressing at her temples.

The third thing was the very good-looking stranger lying next to her.

A memory poked at her before panic could even bother setting in. Norah lay very still, her heart just beginning to pound, and looked over at him. He had short, thick, dark hair and a hint of five-o’clock shadow along his jawline. A scar above his left eyebrow. He was on his back, her blue-and-white quilt half covering him down by his belly button. An innie. He had an impressive six-pack. Very little chest hair. His biceps and triceps were something to behold. The man clearly worked out. Or was a rancher.

Norah bolted upright. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He wasn’t a rancher. He was a secret service agent! She remembered now. Yes. They’d met at the Wedlock Creek Founder’s Day carnival last night and—

And had said no real names, no real stories, no real anything. A fantasy for the night. That had been her idea. She’d insisted, actually.

The man in her bed was not a secret service agent. She had no idea who or what he was.

She swallowed against the lump in her parched throat.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What happened? Think, Norah!

There’d been lots of orange punch. And giggling, when Norah was not a giggler. The man had said something about how the punch must be spiked.

Norah bit her lower lip hard and looked for the man’s left hand. It was under the quilt. Her grandmother’s hand-me-down quilt.

She sucked in a breath and peeled back the quilt enough to reveal his hand. The same gold band glinted on his ring finger.

As flashes of memories from the night before started shoving into her aching head, Norah eased back down, lay very still and hoped the man wouldn’t wake before she remembered how she’d ended up married to a total stranger. The fireworks display had started behind the Wedlock Creek chapel and everything between her and the man had exploded, too. Norah closed her eyes and let it all come flooding back.

* * *

A silent tester burst of the fireworks display, red and white just visible through the treetops, started when she and Fabio were on their tenth cup of punch at the carnival. The big silver punch bowl had been on an unmanned table near the food booths. Next to the stack of plastic cups was a lockbox with a slot and a sign atop it: Two Dollars A Cup/Honor System. Fabio had put a hundred-dollar bill in the box and taken the bowl and their cups under a maple tree, where they’d been sitting for the past half hour, enjoying their punch and talking utter nonsense.

Not an hour earlier Norah’s mother and aunt Cheyenne had insisted she go enjoy the carnival and that they’d babysit the triplets. She’d had a corn dog, won a little stuffed dolphin in a balloon-dart game, which she’d promptly lost somewhere, and then had met the very handsome newcomer to town at the punch table.

“Punch?” he’d said, handing her a cup and putting a five-dollar bill in the box. He’d then ladled himself a cup.

She drank it down. Delicious. She put five dollars in herself and ladled them both two more cups.

“Never seen you before,” she said, daring a glance up and down his six-foot-plus frame. Muscular and lanky at the same time. Navy Henley and worn jeans and cowboy boots. Silky, dark hair and dark eyes. She could look, but she’d never touch. No sirree.

He extended his hand. “I’m—”

She held up her own, palm facing him. “Nope. No real names. No real stories.” She was on her own tonight, rarely had a moment to herself, and if she was going to talk to a man, a handsome, sexy, no-ring-on-his-finger man—something she’d avoided since becoming a mother—a little fantasy was in order. Norah didn’t date and had zero interest in romance. Her mother, aunt and sister always shook their heads at that and tried to remind her that her faith in love, and maybe herself, had been shaken, that was all, and she’d come around. That was all? Ha. She was done with men with a capital D.

He smiled, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Early thirties, she thought. And handsome as sin. “In that case, I’m...Fabio. A...secret service agent. That’s right. Fabio the secret service agent. Protecting the fresh air here in Wedlock Creek.”

She giggled for way too long at that one. Jeez, was there something in the punch? Had to be. When was the last time she’d giggled? “Kind of casually dressed for a Fed,” she pointed out, admiring his scuffed brown boots.

“Gotta blend,” he said, waving his arm at the throngs of people out enjoying the carnival.

“Ah, that makes sense. Well, I’m Angelina, international flight attendant.” Where had that come from? Angelina had a sexy ring to it, she thought. She picked up a limp fry from the plate he’d gotten from the burger booth across the field. She dabbed it in the ketchup on the side and dangled it in her mouth.

“You manage to make that sexy,” he said with a grin.

Norah Ingalls, single mother of drooling, teething triplets, sexy? LOL. Ha. That was a scream. She giggled again and he tipped up her face and looked into her eyes.

Kiss me, you fool, she thought. You Fabio. You secret service agent. But his gaze was soft on her, not full of lascivious intent. Darn.

That was when he suggested they sit, gestured at the maple tree, then put the hundred in the lockbox and took the bowl over to their spot. She carried their cups.

“Have more punch,” she said, ladling him a cup. And another. And another. He told her stories from his childhood, mostly about an old falling-down ranch on a hundred acres, but she wasn’t sure what was true and what wasn’t. She told him about her dad, who’d been her biggest champion. She told him the secret recipe for her mother’s chicken pot pie, which was so renowned in Wedlock Creek and surrounding towns that the Gazette had done an article on her family’s pie diner. She told him everything but the most vital truth about herself.

Tonight, Norah was a woman out having fun at the annual carnival, allowing herself for just pumpkin-hours to bask in the attention of a good-looking, sexy man who was sweet and smart and funny as hell. At midnight—well, 11:00 p.m. when the carnival closed—she’d turn back into herself. A woman who didn’t talk to hot, single men.

“What do you think the punch is spiked with?” she asked as he fed her a cold french fry and poured her another cup.

He ran two fingers gently down the side of her cheek. “I don’t know, but it sure is nice to forget myself, just for a night when I’m not on duty.”

Duty? Oh, right, she thought. He was a secret service agent. She giggled, then sobered for a second, a poke of real life jabbing at her from somewhere.

Now the first booms of the fireworks were coming fast and there were cheers and claps in the distance, but they couldn’t see the show from their spot.

“Let’s go see!” she said, taking his hand to pull him up.

But Fabio’s expression had changed. He seemed lost in thought, far away.

“Fabio?” she asked, trying to think through the haze. “You okay?”

He downed another cup of punch. “Those were fireworks,” he said, color coming back into his face. “Not gunfire.”

She laughed. “Gunfire? In Wedlock Creek? There’s no hunting within town limits because of the tourism and there hasn’t been a murder in over seventy years. Plus, if you crane your neck, you can see a bit of the fireworks past the trees.”

He craned that beautiful neck, his shoulder leaning against hers. “Okay. Let’s go see.”

They walked hand in hand to the chapel, but by the time they got there—a few missed turns on the path due to their tipsiness—the fireworks display was over. The small group setting them off had already left the dock, folks clearing away back to the festival.

The Wedlock Creek chapel was all lit up, the river behind it illuminated by the glow of the almost full moon.

“I always dreamed of getting married here,” she said, gazing up at the beautiful white-clapboard building, which looked a bit like a wedding cake. It had a vintage Victorian look with scallops on the upper tiers and a bell at the top that almost looked like a heart. According to town legend, those who married here would—whether through marriage, adoption, luck, science or happenstance—be blessed with multiples: twins or triplets or even quadruplets. So far, no quintuplets. The town and county was packed with multiples of those who’d gotten married at the chapel, proof the legend was true.

For some people, like Norah, you could have triplets and not have stepped foot in the chapel. Back when she’d first found out she was pregnant, before she’d told the baby’s father, she’d fantasized about getting married at the chapel, that maybe they’d get lucky and have multiples even if it was “after the fact.” One baby would be blessing enough. Two, three, even four—Norah loved babies and had always wanted a houseful. But the guy who’d gotten her pregnant, in town on the rodeo circuit, had said, “Sorry, I didn’t sign up for that,” and left town before his next event. She’d never seen him again.

She stared at the chapel, so pretty in the moonlight, real life jabbing her in the heart again. Where is that punch bowl? she wondered.

“You always wanted to marry here? Then let’s get married,” Fabio said, scooping her up and carrying her into the chapel.

Her laughter floated on the summer evening breeze. “But we’re three sheets to the wind, as my daddy used to say.”

“That’s the only way I’d get hitched,” he said, slurring the words.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” She let her head drop back.

Annie Potterowski, the elderly chapel caretaker, local lore lecturer and wedding officiant, poked her head out of the back room. She stared at Norah for a moment, then her gaze moved up to Fabio’s handsome face. “Ah, Detective Barelli! Nice to see you again.”

“You know Fabio?” Norah asked, confused. Or was his first name really Detective?

“I ran into the chief when he was showing Detective Barelli around town,” Annie said. “The chief’s my second cousin on my mother’s side.”

Say that five times fast, Norah thought, her head beginning to spin.

And Annie knew her fantasy man. Her fantasy groom! Isn’t that something, Norah thought, her mind going in ten directions. Suddenly the faces of her triplets pushed into the forefront of her brain and she frowned. Her babies! She should be getting home. Except she felt so good in his arms, being carried like she was someone’s love, someone’s bride-to-be.

Annie’s husband, Abe, came out, his blue bow tie a bit crooked. He straightened it. “We’ve married sixteen couples tonight. One pair came as far as Texas to get hitched here.”

“We’re here to be the seventeenth,” Fabio said, his arm heavy around Norah’s.

“Aren’t you a saint!” Annie said, beaming at him. “Oh, Norah, I’m so happy for you.”

Saint Fabio, Norah thought and burst into laughter. “Want to know a secret?” Norah whispered into her impending husband’s ear as he set her on the red velvet carpet that created an aisle to the altar.

“Yes,” he said.

“My name isn’t really Angelina. It’s Norah. With an h.”

He smiled. “Mine’s not Fabio. It’s Reed. Two e’s.” He staggered a bit.

The man was as tipsy as she was.

“I never thought I’d marry a secret service agent,” she said as they headed down the aisle to the “Wedding March.”

“And we could use all your frequent flyer miles for our honeymoon,” Reed added, and they burst into laughter.

“Sign here, folks,” Annie said as they stood at the altar. The woman pointed to the marriage license. Norah signed, then Reed, and Annie folded it up and put it in an addressed, stamped envelope.

I’m getting married! Norah thought, gazing into Reed’s dark eyes as he stood across from her, holding her hands. She glanced down at herself, confused by her shorts and blue-and-white T-shirt. Where was her strapless, lace, princess gown with the beading and sweetheart neckline she’d fantasized about from watching Say Yes to the Dress? And should she be getting married in her beat-up slip-on sneakers? They were hardly white anymore.

But there was no time to change. Nope. Annie was already asking Reed to repeat his vows and she wanted to pay attention.

“Do you, Reed Barelli, take this woman, Norah Ingalls, to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I most certainly do,” he said, then hooted in laughter.

Norah cracked up, too. Reed had the most marvelous laugh.

Annie turned to Norah. She repeated her vows. Yes, God, yes, she took this man to be her lawfully wedded husband.

“By the power vested in me by the State of Wyoming, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss your bride.”

Reed stared at Norah for a moment, then put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, so tenderly, yet passionately, that for a second, Norah’s mind cleared completely and all she felt was his love. Her new husband of five seconds, whom she’d known for about two hours, truly loved her!

Warmth flooded her, and when rice, which she realized Abe was throwing, rained down on them, she giggled, drunk as a skunk.

* * *

Reed Barelli registered his headache before he opened his eyes, the morning sun shining through the sheer white curtains at the window. Were those embroidered flowers? he wondered as he rubbed his aching temples. Reed had bought a bunch of stuff for his new house yesterday afternoon—everything from down pillows to coffee mugs to a coffee maker itself, but he couldn’t remember those frilly curtains. They weren’t something he’d buy for his place.

He fully opened his eyes, his gaze landing on a stack of books on the bedside table. A mystery. A travel guide to Wyoming. And Your Baby’s First Year.

Your Baby’s First Year? Huh?

Wait a minute. He bolted up. Where the hell was he? This wasn’t the house he’d rented.

He heard a soft sigh come from beside him and turned to the left, eyes widening.

Holy hell. There was a woman sleeping in his bed.

More like he was in her bed, from the looks of the place. He moved her long reddish-brown hair out of her face and closed his eyes. Oh Lord. Oh no. It was her—Angelina slash Norah. Last night he’d given in to her game of fantasy, glad for a night to eradicate his years as a Cheyenne cop.

He blinked twice to clear his head. He wasn’t a Cheyenne cop anymore. His last case had done him in and, after a three-week leave, he’d made up his mind and gotten himself a job as a detective in Wedlock Creek, the idyllic town where he’d spent several summers as a kid with his maternal grandmother. A town where it seemed nothing could go wrong. A town that hadn’t seen a murder in over seventy years. Hadn’t Norah mentioned that last night?

Norah. Last night.

He lifted his hand to scrub over his face and that was when he saw it—the gold ring on his left hand. Ring finger. A ring that hadn’t been there before he’d gone to the carnival.

What the...?

Slowly, bits and pieces of the evening came back to him. The festival. A punch bowl he’d commandeered into the clearing under a big tree so he and Norah could have the rest of it all to themselves. A clearly heavily spiked punch bowl. A hundred-dollar bill in the till, not to mention at least sixty in cash. Norah, taking his hand and leading him to the chapel.

She’d always dreamed of getting married, she’d said.

And he’d said, “Then let’s get married.”

He’d said that! Reed Barelli had uttered those words!

He held his breath and gently peeled the blue-and-white quilt from her shoulder to look at her left hand—which she used to yank the quilt back up, wrinkling her cute nose and turning over.

There was a gold band on her finger, too.

Holy moly. They’d really done it. They’d gotten married?

No. Couldn’t be. The officiant of the chapel had called him by name. Yes, the elderly woman had known him, said she’d seen the chief showing him around town yesterday when he’d arrived. And she’d seemed familiar with Norah, too. She knew both of them. She wouldn’t let them drunk-marry! That was the height of irresponsible. And as a man of the law, he would demand she explain herself and simply undo whatever it was they’d signed. Dimly, he recalled the marriage license, scrawling his name with a blue pen.

Norah stirred. She was still asleep. For a second he couldn’t help but stare at her pretty face. She had a pale complexion, delicate features and hazel eyes, if he remembered correctly.

If they’d made love, that he couldn’t remember. And he would remember, drunk to high heaven or not. What had been in that punch?

Maybe they’d come back to her place and passed out in bed?

He closed his eyes again and slowly opened them. Deep breaths, Barelli. He looked around the bedroom to orient himself, ground himself.

And that was when he saw the framed photograph on the end table on Norah’s side. Norah in a hospital bed, in one of those thin blue gowns, holding three newborns against her chest.

Ooh boy.


Chapter Two (#u4acbeb57-77c7-5874-b1c9-a90e87e0256b)

“I’m sure we’re not really married!” Norah said on a high-pitched squeak, the top sheet wrapped around her as she stood—completely freaked out—against the wall of her bedroom, staring at the strange man in her bed.

A man who, according to the wedding ring on her left hand—and the one on his—was her husband.

She’d pretended to be asleep when he’d first started stirring. He’d bolted upright and she could feel him staring at her. She couldn’t just lie there and pretend to be asleep any longer, even if she was afraid to open her eyes and face the music.

But a thought burst into her brain and she’d sat up, too: she’d forgotten to pick up the triplets. As her aunt’s words had come back to her, that Cheyenne didn’t expect her to pick up the babies last night, that she’d take them to the diner this morning, Norah had calmed down. And slowly had opened her eyes. The sight of the stranger awake and staring at her had her leaping out of bed, taking the sheet with her. She was in a camisole and underwear.

Oh God, had they...?

She stared at Reed. In her bed. “Did we?” she croaked out.

He half shrugged. “I don’t know. Sorry. I don’t think so, though.”

“The punch was spiked?”

“Someone’s idea of a joke, maybe.”

“And now we’re married,” she said. “Ha ha.”

His gaze went to the band of gold on his finger, then back at her. “I’m sure we can undo that. The couple who married us—they seemed to know both of us. Why would they have let us get married when we were so drunk?”

Now it was her turn to shrug. She’d known Annie since she was born. The woman had waitressed on and off at her family’s pie diner for years to make extra cash. How could she have let Norah do such a thing? Why hadn’t Annie called her mother or aunt or sister and said, Come get Norah, she’s drunk off her butt and trying to marry a total stranger? It made no sense that Annie hadn’t done just that!

“She seemed to know you, too,” Norah said, wishing she had a cup of coffee. And two Tylenol.

“I spent summers in Wedlock Creek with my grandmother when I was a kid,” he said. “Annie may have known my grandmother. Do the Potterowskis live near the chapel? Maybe we can head over now and get this straightened out. I’m sure Annie hasn’t sent in the marriage license yet.”

“Right!” Norah said, brightening, tightening the sheet around her. “We can undo this! Let’s go!”

He glanced at his pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. “I’ll go into the bathroom and get dressed.” He stood, wearing nothing but incredibly sexy black boxer briefs. He picked up the pile and booked into the bathroom, shutting the door.

She heard the water run, then shut off. A few minutes later the door opened and there he was, dressed like Fabio from last night.

She rushed over to her dresser, grabbed jeans and a T-shirt and fresh underwear, then sped past him into the bathroom, her heart beating like a bullet train. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, got dressed and stepped back outside.

Reed was sitting in the chair in the corner, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. How could he look so handsome when he was so rumpled, his hair all mussed? He was slowly shaking his head as if trying to make sense of this.

“So you always wanted to be a secret service agent?” she asked to break the awkward silence.

He sat up and offered something of a smile. “I have no idea why I said that. I’ve always wanted to be a cop. I start at the Wedlock Creek PD on Monday. Guess you’re not a flight attendant,” he added.

“I’ve never been out of Wyoming,” she said. “I bake for my family’s pie diner.” That was all she’d ever wanted to do. Work for the family business and perfect her savory pies, her specialty.

The diner had her thinking of real life again, Bella’s, Bea’s and Brody’s beautiful little faces coming to mind. She missed them and needed to see them, needed to hold them. And she had to get to the diner and let her family know she was all right. She hadn’t called once to check in on the triplets last night. Her mom and aunt had probably mentioned that every hour on the hour. No call from Norah? Huh. Must be having a good time. Then looking at each other and saying Not in unison, bursting into laughter and sobering up fast, wondering what could have happened to her to prevent her from calling every other minute to make sure all was well with the babies.

Her phone hadn’t rung last night, so maybe they’d just thought she’d met up with old friends and was having fun. She glanced at her alarm clock on the bedside table. It was barely six o’clock. She wouldn’t be expected at the diner until seven.

Reed was looking at the photo next to the clock. The one of her and her triplets taken moments after they were born. He didn’t say a word, but she knew what he was thinking. Anyone would. Help me. Get me out of this. What the hell have I done? Triplets? Ahhhhh! She was surprised he didn’t have his hands on his screaming face like the kid from the movie Home Alone.

Well, one thing Norah Ingalls was good at? Taking care of business. “Let’s go see Annie and Abe,” she said. “They wake up at the crack of dawn, so I’m sure they’ll be up.”

His gaze snapped back to hers. “Good idea. We can catch them before they send the marriage license into the state bureau for processing.”

“Right. It’s not like we’re really married. I mean, it’s not legal.”

He nodded. “We could undo this before 7:00 a.m. and get back to our lives,” he said.

This was definitely not her life.

* * *

Norah poked her head out the front door of her house, which, thank heavens, was blocked on both sides by big leafy trees. The last thing she needed was for all of Wedlock Creek to know a man had been spotted leaving her house at six in the morning. Norah lived around the corner from Main Street and just a few minutes’ walk to the diner, but the chapel was a good half mile in the other direction.

“Let’s take the parallel road so no one sees us,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t want to be the center of gossip before you even start your first day at the police station.”

“I definitely don’t,” he said.

They ducked down a side street with backyards to the left and the woods and river to the right. At this early hour, no one was out yet. The Potterowskis lived in the caretaker’s cottage to the right of the chapel. Norah dashed up the steps to the side door and could see eighty-one-year-old Annie in a long, pink chenille bathrobe, sitting down with tea and toast. She rang the bell.

Annie came to the door and beamed at the newlyweds. “Norah! Didn’t expect to see you out and about so early. Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” Annie peered behind Norah and spied Reed. “Ah, there you are, handsome devil. Come on in, you two. I just made a pot of coffee.”

How could the woman be so calm? Or act like their getting married was no big deal?

Norah and Reed came in but didn’t sit. “Annie,” Norah said, “the two of us were the victims of spiked punch at the festival last night! We were drunk out of our minds. You had to know that!”

Annie tilted her head, her short, wiry, silver curls bouncing. “Drunk? Why, I don’t recall seeing you two acting all nutty and, trust me, we get our share of drunk couples and turn them away.”

Norah narrowed her eyes. There was no way Annie hadn’t known she was drunk out of her mind! “Annie, why would I up and marry a total stranger out of the blue? Didn’t that seem weird?”

“But Reed isn’t a stranger,” Annie said, sipping her coffee. “I heard he was back in town to work at the PD.” She turned to him. “I remember you when you were a boy. I knew your grandmother Lydia Barelli. We were dear friends from way back. Oh, how I remember her hoping you’d come live in Wedlock Creek. I suppose now you’ll move to the ranch like she always dreamed.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “I’ve rented a house right in town. I loved my grandmother dearly, but she was trying to bribe me into getting married and starting a family. I had her number, all right.” He smiled at Annie, but his chin was lifted. The detective was clearly assessing the situation.

Annie waved her hand dismissively. “Well, bribe or not, you’re married. Your dear grandmother’s last will and testament leaves you the ranch when you marry. So now you can take your rightful inheritance.”

Norah glanced from Annie to Reed. What was all this about a ranch and an inheritance? If Reed had intended to find some drunk fool to marry to satisfy the terms and get his ranch, why would he have rented a house his first day in town?

The detective crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no intention of moving to the ranch, Annie.”

“Oh, hogwash!” Annie said, waving her piece of toast. “You’re married and that’s it. You should move to the ranch like your grandmamma intended, and poor Norah here will have a father for the triplets.”

Good golly. Watch out for little old ladies with secret agendas. Annie Potterowski had hoodwinked them both!

Norah watched Reed swallow. And felt her cheeks burn.

“Annie,” Norah said, hands on hips. “You did know we were drunk! You let us marry anyway!”

“For your own good,” Annie said. “Both of you. But I didn’t lure you two here. I didn’t spike the punch. You came in here of your own free will. I just didn’t stop you.”

“Can’t you arrest her for this?” Norah said to Reed, narrowing her eyes at Annie again.

Annie’s eyes widened. “I hope you get a chance to leave town and go somewhere exotic for your honeymoon,” she said, clearly trying to change the subject from her subterfuge. “New York City maybe. Or how about Paris? It’s so romantic.”

Norah threw up her hands. “She actually thinks this is reasonable!”

“Annie, come on,” Reed said. “We’re not really married. A little too much spiked punch, a wedding chapel right in our path, no waiting period required—a recipe for disaster and we walked right into it. We’re here to get back the marriage license. Surely you haven’t sent it in.”

“We’ll just rip it up and be on our way,” Norah said, glancing at her watch.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry, but that’s impossible,” Annie said. “I sent Abe to the county courthouse in Brewer about twenty minutes ago. I’m afraid your marriage license—and the sixteen others from yesterday—are well on their way to being deposited. There’s a mail slot right in front of the building. Of course, it’s Sunday and they’re closed, so I reckon you won’t be able to drive over to try to get it back.”

Reed was staring at Annie with total confusion on his face. “Well, we’ll have to do something at some point.”

“Yeah,” Norah agreed, her head spinning. Between all the spiked punch and the surprise this morning of the wedding rings, and now what appeared to be this crazy scheme of Annie’s to not undo what she’d allowed to happen...

“I need coffee,” Reed said, shaking his head. “A vat of coffee.”

Norah nodded. “Me, too.”

“Help yourself,” Annie said, gesturing at the coffeepot on the counter as she took a bite of her toast.

Reed sighed and turned to Norah. “Let’s go back to your house and talk this through. We need to make a plan for how to undo this.”

Norah nodded. “See you, Annie,” she said as she headed to the door, despite how completely furious she was with the woman. She’d known Annie all her life and the woman had been nothing but kind to her. Annie had even brought each triplet an adorable stuffed basset hound, her favorite dog, when they’d been born, and had showered them with little gifts ever since.

“Oh, Norah? Reed?” Annie called as they opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

Norah turned back around.

“Congratulations,” the elderly officiant said with a sheepish smile and absolute mirth glowing in her eyes.

* * *

Reed had been so fired up when he’d left Norah’s house for the chapel that he hadn’t realized how chilly it was this morning, barely fifty-five degrees. He glanced over at Norah; all she wore was a T-shirt and her hands were jammed in her pockets as she hunched over a bit. She was cold. He took off his jacket and slipped it around Norah’s shoulders.

She started and stared down at the jacket. “Thank you,” she said, slipping her arms into it and zipping it up. “I was so out of my mind before, I forgot to grab a sweater.” She turned to stare at him. “Of course, now you’ll be cold.”

“My aching head will keep me warm,” he said. “And I deserve the headache—the literal and figurative one.”

“We both do,” she said gently.

The breeze moved a swath of her hair in her face, the sun illuminating the red and gold highlights, and he had the urge to sweep it back, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear. “I’m a cop. It’s my job to serve and protect. I had no business getting drunk, particularly at a town event.”

“Well, the punch was spiked with something very strong. And you weren’t on duty,” she pointed out. “You’re not even on the force till tomorrow.”

“Still, a cop is always a cop. Unfortunately, by the time I realized the punch had to be spiked, I was too affected by it to care.” He wouldn’t put himself in a position like that again. Leaving Cheyenne, saying yes to Wedlock Creek—even though it meant he couldn’t live in his grandmother’s ranch—trying to switch off the city cop he’d been... He’d let down his guard and he’d paid for it with this crazy nonsense. So had Norah.

Damn. Back in Cheyenne, his guard had been so up he’d practically gotten himself killed during a botched stakeout. Where the hell was the happy medium? Maybe he’d never get a handle on just right.

“And you said you were glad to forget? Or something like that?” she asked, darting a glance at him.

He looked out over a stand of heavy trees along the side of the road. Let it go, he reminded himself. No rehashing, no what-ifs. “I’m here for a fresh start. Now I need a fresh start to my fresh start.” He stopped and shook his head. What a mess. “Sixteen couples besides us?” he said, resuming walking. “It’s a little too easy to get married in the state of Wyoming.”

“Someone should change the law,” Norah said. “There should be a waiting period. Blood tests required. Something, anything, so you can’t get insta-married.”

That was for sure. “It’s like a mini Las Vegas. I wonder how many of those couples meant to get married.”

“Oh, I’m sure all of them. The Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel is famous. People come here because of the legend.”

He glanced at her. “What legend?”

“Just about everyone who marries at the chapel becomes the parent of multiples in some way, shape or form. According to legend, the chapel has a special blessing on it. A barren witch cast the spell the year the chapel was built in 1895.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “A barren witch? Was she trying to be nice or up to no good?”

“No one’s sure,” she said with a smile. “But as the mother of triplets, I’m glad I have them.”

Reed stopped walking.

She’d said it. It was absolutely true. She was the mother of triplets. No wonder Annie Potterowski had called him a saint last night. The elderly woman had thought he was knowingly marrying a single mother of three babies! “So you got married at the chapel?” He supposed she was divorced, though that must have been one quick marriage.

She glanced down. “No. I never did get married. The babies’ father ran for the hills about an hour after I told him the news. We’d been dating for only about three months at that point. I thought we had something special, but I sure was wrong.”

Her voice hitched on the word wrong and he took her hand. “I’m sorry.” The jerk had abandoned her? She was raising baby triplets on her own? One baby seemed like a handful. Norah had three. He couldn’t even imagine how hard that had to be.

She bit her lip and forced a half smile, slipping her hand away and into her pocket. “Oh, that’s all right. I have my children, who I love to pieces. I have a great family, work I love. My life is good. No complaints.”

“Still, your life can’t be easy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Whose is? Yours?”

He laughed. “Touché. And I don’t even have a pet. Or a plant for that matter.”

She smiled and he was glad to see the shadow leave her eyes. “So, what’s our plan for getting back our marriage license? I guess we can just drive out to Brewer first thing in the morning and ask for it back. If we get to the courthouse early and spring on them the minute they open, I’m sure we’ll get the license back before it’s processed.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

“And if we can’t get it back for whatever reason, we’ll just have the marriage annulled.”

“Like it never happened,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said with a nod and smile.

Except it had happened and Reed had a feeling he wouldn’t shake it off so easily, even with an annulment and the passage of time. The pair of them had gotten themselves into a real pickle as his grandmother used to say.

“So I guess this means you really didn’t secretly marry me to get your hands on your grandmother’s ranch,” Norah said. “Between renting a house the minute you moved here yesterday and talking about annulments, that’s crystal clear.”

He thought about telling her why he didn’t believe in marriage but just nodded instead. Last night, as he’d picked her up and carried her into that chapel, he’d been a man—Fabio the secret service agent—who did believe in marriage, who wanted a wife and a house full of kids. He’d liked being that guy. Of course, with the light of day and the headache and stone-cold reality, he was back to Reed Barelli, who’d seen close up that marriage wasn’t for him.

Reed envisioned living alone forever, a couple of dogs to keep him company, short-term relationships with women who understood from the get-go that he wasn’t looking for commitment. He’d thought the last woman he’d dated—a funny, pretty woman named Valerie was on the same page, but a few weeks into their relationship, she’d wanted more and he hadn’t, and it was a mess. Crying, accusations and him saying over and over But I told you on the first date how I felt. That was six months ago and he hadn’t dated since. He missed sex like crazy, but he wasn’t interested in hurting anyone.

They walked in silence, Norah gesturing that they should cross Main Street. As they headed down Norah’s street, Sycamore, he realized they’d made their plan and there was really no need for that coffee, after all. He’d walk her home and then—

“Norah! You’re alive!”

Reed glanced in the direction of the voice. A young blond woman stood in front of Norah’s small, white Cape Cod house, one hand waving at them and one on a stroller with three little faces peering out.

Three. Little. Faces.

Had a two-by-four come out of nowhere and whammed him upside the head?

Just about everyone who marries at the chapel becomes the parent of multiples in some way, shape or form.

Because he’d just realized that the legend of the Wedlock Creek chapel had come true for him.


Chapter Three (#u4acbeb57-77c7-5874-b1c9-a90e87e0256b)

Norah was so relieved to see the babies that she rushed over to the porch—forgetting to shove her hand into her pocket and hide the ring that hadn’t been on her finger yesterday.

And her sister, Shelby, wasn’t one to miss a thing. Shelby’s gaze shifted from the ring on Norah’s hand to Reed and his own adorned left hand, then back to Norah. “I dropped by the diner this morning with a Greek quiche I developed last night, and Aunt Cheyenne and Mom said they hadn’t heard from you. So I figured I’d walk the triplets over and make sure you were all right.” She’d said it all so casually, but her gaze darted hard from the ring on Norah’s hand to Norah, then back again. And again. Her sister was dying for info. That was clear.

“I’m all right,” Norah said. “Everything is a little topsy-turvy, but I’m fine.” She bent over and faced the stroller. “I missed you little darlings.” She hadn’t spent a night away from her children since they were born.

Shelby gave her throat a little faux clear. “I notice you and this gentleman are wearing matching gold wedding bands and taking walks at 6:30 a.m.” Shelby slid her gaze over to Reed and then stared at Norah with her “tell me everything this instant” expression.

Norah straightened and sucked in a deep breath. Thank God her sister was here, actually. Shelby was practical and smart and would have words of wisdom.

“Reed Barelli,” Norah said, “this is my sister, Shelby Mercer. Shelby, be the first to meet my accidental husband, Detective Reed Barelli of the Wedlock Creek PD...well, starting tomorrow.”

Shelby’s green eyes went even wider. She mouthed What? to Norah and then said, “Detective, would you mind keeping an eye on the triplets while my sister and I have a little chat?”

Reed eyed the stroller. “Not at all,” he said, approaching warily.

Norah opened the door and Shelby pulled her inside. The moment the door closed, Shelby screeched, “What?”

Norah covered her face with her hands for a second, shook her head, then launched into the story. “I went to the carnival on Mom and Aunt Cheyenne’s orders. The last thing I remember clearly is having a corn dog and winning a stuffed dolphin, which I lost. Then it’s just flashes of the night. Reed and I drinking spiked punch—the entire bowl—and going to the chapel and getting married.”

“Oh, phew,” Shelby said, relief crossing her face. “I thought maybe you flew to Las Vegas or something crazy. There’s no way Annie or Abe would have let you get drunk-married to some stranger. I’m sure you just think you got married.”

“Yeah, we’d figured that, too,” Norah said. “We just got back from Annie’s house. Turns out she knows Reed from when he spent summers here as a kid. Apparently she was friends with his late grandmother. She called him a saint last night. Annie married us with her blessing! And our marriage license—along with sixteen others—is already at the county courthouse.”

“Waaah! Waah!” came a little voice from outside.

“That sounds like Bea,” Norah said. “I’d better go help—”

Shelby stuck her arm out in front of the door. “Oh no, you don’t, Norah Ingalls. The man is a police officer. The babies are safe with him for a few minutes.” She bit her lip. “What are you two going to do?”

Norah shrugged. “I guess if we can’t get back the license before it’s processed, we’ll have to get an annulment.”

“The whole thing is nuts,” Shelby said. “Jeez, I thought my life was crazy.”

Norah wouldn’t have thought anything could top what Shelby had been through right before Norah had gotten pregnant. Her sister had discovered her baby and a total stranger’s baby had been switched at birth six months after bringing their boys home from the Wedlock Creek Clinic. Shelby and Liam Mercer had gotten married so that they could each have both boys—and along the way they’d fallen madly in love. Now the four of them were a very happy family.

“You know what else is crazy?” Norah said, her voice going shaky. “How special it was. The ceremony, I mean. Me—even in my T-shirt and shorts and grubby slip-on sneakers—saying my vows. Hearing them said back to me. In that moment, Shel, I felt so...safe. For the first time in a year and a half, I felt safe.” Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked hard.

She was the woman who didn’t want love and romance. Who didn’t believe in happily-ever-after anymore. So why had getting married—even to a total stranger—felt so wonderful? And yes, so safe?

“Oh, Norah,” her sister said and pulled her into a hug. “I know what you mean.”

Norah blew out a breath to get ahold of herself. “I know it wasn’t real. But in that moment, when Annie pronounced us husband and wife, the way Reed looked at me and kissed me, being in that famed chapel...it was an old dream come true. Back to reality, though. That’s just how life is.”

Shelby squeezed her hand. “So, last night, did the new Mr. and Mrs. Barelli...?”

Norah felt her cheeks burn. “I don’t know. But if we did, it must have been amazing. You saw the man.”

Shelby smiled. “Maybe you can keep him.”

Norah shook her head. Twice. “I’m done with men, remember? Done.”

Shelby let loose her evil smile. “Yes, for all other men, sure. Since you’re married now.”

Norah swallowed. But then she remembered this wasn’t real and would be rectified. Brody let out a wail and once again she snapped back to reality. She was no one’s bride, no one’s wife. There was a big difference between old dreams and the way things really were. “I’d better go save the detective from the three little screechers.”

Norah opened the door and almost gasped at the sight on the doorstep. Brody was in Reed’s strong arms, the sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up. He lifted the baby high in the air, then turned to Bea and Bella in the stroller and made a funny face at them before lifting Brody again. “Upsie downsie,” Reed said. “Downsie upsie,” he added as he lifted Brody again.

Baby laughter exploded on the porch.

Norah stared at Reed and then glanced over at Shelby, who was looking at Reed Barelli in amazement.

“My first partner back in Cheyenne had a baby, and whenever he started fussing, I’d do that and he’d giggle,” Reed explained, lifting Brody one more time for a chorus of more triplet giggles.

Bea lifted her arms. Reed put Brody back and did two upsie-downsies with Bea, then her sister.

“I’ll let Mom and Aunt Cheyenne know you might not be in today,” Shelby said very slowly. She glanced at Reed, positively beaming, much like Annie had done earlier. “I’ll be perfectly honest and report you have a headache from the sweet punch.”

“Thanks,” Norah said. “I’m not quite ready to explain everything just yet.”

As her sister said goodbye and walked off in the direction of the diner, Norah appreciated that Shelby hadn’t added a “Welcome to the family.” She turned back to Reed. He was twisting his wedding ring on his finger.

“So you were supposed to work today?” he asked.

“Yes—and Sundays are one of the busiest at the Pie Diner—but I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate. My mom and aunt will be all over me with questions. And now that I think about it, with the festival and carnival continuing today, business should be slow. I’ll just make my pot pies here and take them over later, once we’re settled on what to say if word gets out.”

“Word will get out?” he said. “Oh no—don’t tell me Annie and Abe are gossips.”

“They’re strategic,” Norah said. “Which is exactly how we ended up married and not sent away last night.”

“Meaning they’ll tell just enough people, or the right people, to make it hard for us to undo the marriage so easily.”

“She probably has a third cousin at the courthouse!” Norah said, throwing up her hands. But town gossip was the least of her problems right now, and boy did she have problems, particularly the one standing across from her looking so damned hot.

She turned from the glorious sight of him and racked her brain, trying to think who she could ask to babysit this morning for a couple hours on such short notice so she could get her pies done and her equilibrium back.

Her family was out of the question, of course. Her sister was busy enough with her own two kids and her secondhand shop to run, plus she often helped out at the diner. There was Geraldina next door, who might be able to take the triplets for a couple of hours, but her neighbor was another huge gossip and maybe she’d seen the two of them return home last night in God knew what state. For all Norah knew, Reed Barelli had carried her down the street like in An Officer and a Gentleman and swept her over the threshold of her house.

Huh. Had he?

“You okay?” he asked, peering at her.

Her shoulders slumped. “Just trying to figure out a sitter for the triplets while I make six pot pies. The usual suspects aren’t going to work out this morning.”

“Consider me at your service, then,” he said.

“What?” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t ask that.”

“Least I can do, Norah. I got you into this mess. If I remember correctly, last night you said you’d always wanted to get married at that chapel and I picked you up and said ‘Then let’s get married.’” He let out a breath. “I still can’t quite get over that I did that.”

“I like being able to blame it all on you. Thanks.” She smiled, grateful that he was so...nice.

“Besides, and obviously, I like babies,” he said, “and all I had on my agenda today was re-familiarizing myself with Wedlock Creek.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t try to let you off the hook. Triplet seven-month-olds who are just starting to crawl are pretty wily creatures.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of wily creatures in my eight-year career as a cop. I’ve got this.”

She raised an eyebrow and opened the door, surprised when Reed took hold of the enormous stroller and wheeled in the babies. She wasn’t much used to someone else...being there. “Didn’t I hear you tell Annie that you had no intention of ever getting married? I would think that meant you had no intention of having children, either.”

“Right on both counts. But I like other people’s kids. And babies are irresistible. Besides, yours already adore me.”

Brody was sticking up his skinny little arms, smiling at Reed, three little teeth coming up in his gummy mouth.

“See?” he said.

Norah smiled. “Point proven. I’d appreciate the help. So thank you.”

Norah closed the door behind Reed. It was the strangest feeling, walking into her home with her three babies—and her brand-new husband.

She glanced at her wedding ring. Then at his.

Talk about crazy. For a man who didn’t intend to marry or have kids, he now had one huge family, even if that family would dissolve tomorrow at the courthouse.

* * *

As they’d first approached Norah’s house on the way back from Annie and Abe’s, Reed had been all set to suggest they get in his SUV, babies and all, and find someone, anyone, to open the courthouse. They could root through the mail that had been dumped through the slot, find their license application and just tear it up. Kaput! No more marriage!

But he’d been standing right in front of Norah’s door, cute little Brody in his arms, the small, baby-shampoo-smelling weight of him, when he’d heard what Norah had said. Heard it loud and clear. And something inside him had shifted.

You know what else is crazy, how special it was. The ceremony, I mean. Me—even in my T-shirt and shorts and grubby slip-on sneakers—saying my vows. Hearing them said back to me. In that moment, Shel, I felt so...safe. For the first time in a year and a half, I felt safe.

He’d looked at the baby in his arms. The two little girls in the stroller. Then he’d heard Norah say something about a dream come true and back to reality.

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 triplets, 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 (#u4acbeb57-77c7-5874-b1c9-a90e87e0256b)

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.




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