Her eyes grew wide. “They did?” She raced forward to show him the drawing, the piece of paper flapping like it was caught in a wind tunnel.
He made such a fuss over her artistic skills that Lily and Daisy both ran for the crayon box. Megan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. If Jace wasn’t careful, he’d leave here today with enough drawings to wallpaper his house. He addressed each girl by name without ever asking who was who, and she realized that Will must’ve described what they were wearing, thinking ahead to add a bit more magic to the visit. Her eyes burned. Get a grip—you’re not really about to cry over a bartender in a Santa suit, are you?
No, if she shed any tears, it would be over the kindness Will had shown them. One of Megan’s greatest concerns in life was how uninvolved Spencer was with his daughters; obviously, distance and job concerns were factors, but the truth was, he didn’t expend much effort. She’d worried that as the girls grew older they might notice that more, might take it personally. Might feel unloved. But family could mean lots of things, not all definitions biological. She suddenly felt more confident that here in Cupid’s Bow, there would be enough special people to make up for Spencer’s lack.
Will caught her eye, and his grin faltered. He mouthed the words you okay? She nodded, redoubling her efforts to keep her composure. For months after moving here, she’d foolishly scoffed at women who threw themselves at Will because of his deep blue eyes and muscular body. But she now realized there were so many reasons a woman would want him.
Recalling their kiss, she admitted to herself that she wanted him.
Enough to do anything about it? Probably not. Even if she would be content with a casual affair, it wasn’t as if she could seduce him in the kitchen while the girls sang along to a nursery rhyme CD in the next room. But if you had a real opportunity?
That was such a dangerous thought she decided to busy herself with something else. “Time for pictures, okay? Then we should let Santa go. He has a lot to do in order to get ready for Christmas.” Daisy and Iris both climbed into his lap and were already saying “Cheese!” before Megan even had her phone out. Lily stood next to Santa’s chair, not touching him but looking otherwise happy and relaxed.
Megan got a number of great shots, and Jace rewarded the girls by distributing candy canes and stickers. By the time he stood to go, he’d committed so fully to his role that Megan couldn’t find any traces of the grumbling smart aleck she’d met earlier. Cupid’s Bow Community Theater could benefit from his talents.
Jace left first, presumably disappearing into his brother’s house, and Will left a few minutes later so that it wasn’t immediately obvious that he needed to give Santa a ride home.
She walked Will to the door. “They’re going to be talking about this for days. They’ll be the envy of the entire preschool. Thank you.” She looked up at his handsome face and knew that, if he hadn’t been holding a baby right then, she would have kissed him. “You’re a hell of a guy, Will Trent.”
He gave her a lazy grin. “I have my moments.”
Closing the door behind him, she turned to find her mother, a gleam in her eye.
“Well, well, well. That was certainly a surprise.”
“Yeah. Who could have anticipated a drop-in from Saint Nick?”
“The bigger surprise was that strapping young gentleman you’ve never bothered to mention during any of our phone conversations.”
She sighed. “Will is a complicated subject, and... I need to get dinner started.”
On the bright side, if her mother was still here next Saturday, she gave every indication that she would be happy to babysit the girls during the wedding. From the way Beth Ann had ogled Will—as if he was the answer to her prayers—she’d be more than happy to babysit if he wanted to take Megan on an expedition to the actual North Pole. Later, Megan would have to find a tactful way to explain to her mom that there was no future with Will.
In the meantime, Megan needed to remind herself of that. As often as possible.
* * *
WILL QUICKLY SURVEYED the premises, as he’d been trained to do, and realized he should have called for backup. His nerves were taut with trepidation. He fought the urge to bolt for the exit. Trying to put on a brave face, he told Tommy, “We’ll get through this together.”
Glancing up from his car seat, the baby responded with “B-b-b-b.” Which was probably infant-speak for Dude, how about we just bail and go for a walk in the park? No one has to know.
The bright, primary colors of the pediatric waiting room were almost ominously cheerful—like a nightmare about clowns. The room was packed with beleaguered-looking mothers of children who ran the gamut from hyperactive to plague-stricken. A kid in the corner was coughing all over everyone in a three-foot radius, reminding Will uneasily of a medical thriller he’d seen about a futuristic pandemic.
“Don’t worry,” he muttered to Tommy. “We’re not sitting anywhere near Patient Zero over there.” Will didn’t really want to sit in this room, period. Once he’d checked in with the receptionist, couldn’t she give him the kind of buzzer popular restaurants used on crowded nights? Then he and Tommy could wait in his comparatively germ-free car until the buzzer lit up, alerting them that their table—er, exam room—was ready.
He filled out some forms at the front window, and the receptionist told him to “take a seat.” Sadly, she neither handed him a buzzer nor told him he could wait at the bar. So Will folded himself into a vacant chair that seemed more appropriately sized for a six-year-old than a six-foot-plus man. The assorted magazines fanned across the table had bold-faced headlines on bed-wetting, breast-feeding and baby names. He grimaced.
My kingdom for a Sports Illustrated.
He didn’t mind bringing Tommy to the doctor; he would do anything he could to keep the little guy healthy. But he regretted not asking someone to accompany him—Megan, or Kate, or Megan, or his mom. Or Megan. Like a kid replaying his favorite part of the movie over and over, he thought once again of the look she’d given him last Friday when he’d brought Jace over. She’d beamed at Will as if he were a superhero, one she wanted to cover with kisses. Would she give him any of those kisses at the wedding on Saturday? He—
His pleasant daydreams were harshly interrupted when an elementary-aged kid ran over to the nearby garbage can and vomited.
“I am so sorry,” the kid’s mother said. “There was someone in the bathroom, and, as you can see, it was an emergency. Can we get a bottle of water?” she called to a nurse behind the counter.
Will moved to another section of the wall in order to give his chair to the still-green-faced kid. A mother two seats down was wagging her finger at her daughter, threatening, “Wait until your father hears about this. I’m tempted to call him right now at work. He’s going to want to have a long talk with you when he gets home tonight.”
Will felt a twinge of sympathy for the unseen father. Somewhere, the man was probably working hard at his job, waiting for Monday to end, with no idea that he’d just been scheduled to preside over a disciplinary hearing. It struck Will that if you were a parent, you never really went home from work. Your work was ongoing from the moment a child was born to...well, forever, based on his own mother. She certainly hadn’t stopped fretting over her sons just because they no longer lived at home. The responsibilities were unending, from grocery trips to laundry loads to soccer practices to ballet recitals to doctor appointments to homework assistance to bedtime stories to last-minute checks under beds and in closets for monsters.
He rocked the car seat in his lap, reaching out his hand so that Tommy could grab his fingers. “No offense, little man, but I’ll be glad when your mama gets back. You’re fun to hang out with—come visit when you’re older and I’ll teach you to ride a horse and fish—but I’d like my life back.” Over the weekend, after he’d finished with the charity light display
, Manuel and Brody had gone for beers and to shoot pool. They’d invited Will to go along, but he’d felt obligated to get Tommy home to bed.
“Tommy Reynolds?” A nurse in her late forties, dressed in Christmas-themed scrubs, read the name off a clipboard from a side doorway.
“That’s us. Him, I mean.” Will stood and crossed the waiting room.
“Right this way.”
They went down a long hallway, and she stopped at the end to get Tommy’s height and weight. Then she settled them into an exam room.
“Is there a little paper gown I’m supposed to dress him in?” Will joked.
She laughed, then told him he wouldn’t have to wait long for Dr. Ingram. Half an hour later, Will was thinking that the kind-faced nurse might actually be a pathological liar. Thirty minutes was like nine hours in baby time. Tommy was starting to get antsy, no longer entertained by his ring of plastic keys, his favorite puppy blanket or Will’s repertoire of funny faces. Will had pulled the baby out of the car seat and was bouncing him on his lap. What Tommy really wanted was to be let down to scoot across the tile floor, which Will thought was a bad idea. Hurry up, he silently implored the doctor.
As if responding to the mental plea, a slender woman with close-cropped hair and wide hazel eyes suddenly entered the room. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re not Amy.”
“Not last time I checked. She’s out of town, and I’m watching Tommy.” He held out his hand. “Will Trent.”
“Darcy Ingram. Nice to meet you.” She paused, studying him. “Have you and Amy been dating long?”
“Oh, we’re just friends. I’m not dating anyone.” The words were reflexive, not meant to hint that he was available, but her expression shifted, reflecting interest.
His answering smile was ambivalent. She was attractive, an intelligent and clearly successful woman, but he had no interest in flirting with her. He just wanted to get through this appointment and—
Who am I? Since when did he purchase baby gates and stop showing interest in women?
“Mr. Trent, are you all right?”
Not really. He felt disoriented and uncomfortably flushed. Probably caught the flu in that waiting room. “Right as rain.”
She examined Tommy, asking about his feeding schedule, sleep habits and motor skills. Will reported the crawling with a boastful smile, as if it was something he personally had accomplished. She proclaimed the baby healthy but noted that he had a touch of eczema, and then she told Will it was time to start introducing solid foods.
“You should begin with an iron-fortified, single-grain cereal. Once his teeth come in, which should be soon, and he develops some chewing skills, we can start slowly adding mashed fruit and veggies. We have a nurses’ hotline if you have any questions or if he has any bad reactions.” Her brisk, professional tone grew huskier. “Or I can give you my cell phone number.”
“I doubt that will be necessary. I live next door to an unofficial baby expert.” He would call Megan to ask about what cereal and feeding supplies to buy for Tommy. When he realized just how much he was looking forward to talking to her, he almost groaned.
It had been weeks since he felt any interest in another woman, yet he kept dwelling on one he’d barely kissed—one whose life was full of those parenting responsibilities he’d been lamenting earlier. Times three.
Megan Rivers was not the kind of woman he normally dated, yet he was as excited about her accompanying him to Cole’s wedding as he was about the fact that his brother was getting married. Which might actually be more disconcerting than the pediatric waiting room.
* * *
WHEN THE DRYER buzzer sounded Wednesday evening, Megan sprang up from her seat at the table. She realized that she’d been unconsciously listening for the signal, impatiently waiting for it.
“That means Tommy’s puppy blanket is dry,” she said to no one in particular. The combination stuffed animal/security blanket had had a rough day, first taking the brunt of Iris’s juice, then being part of a diaper-related accident. It had been in the wash when Will picked up the baby earlier. “I’d better run it next door. Tommy loves his blanket. I’m sure Will needs it before bedtime.”
She hurried from the room before her mother could comment. Will had become a touchy subject. Over the weekend, Megan had explained to her mother that Will was counting the days until Amy returned for her son and he could return to an uncomplicated bachelor existence, thus ruling him out as marriage material for a mother of three. She hadn’t been sure her protests would actually dissuade her mom. But then yesterday, her mother had gone into town to have lunch with Dagmar and had apparently run into Will with the baby.
“It was disgusting,” Beth Ann had sniffed later. “He was surrounded by women. He was obviously exploiting the baby to pick up dates. You were right to avoid dating him, dear. He’s just like Spencer, probably never satisfied with just one woman’s attention.”
Megan had mixed feelings about her mother’s new dislike of him. Her gut reaction had been to defend him. After all, she’d seen firsthand at the Christmas tree farm that women surrounding him wasn’t always the result of something he’d done. If he wanted female attention, he didn’t have to use a cute baby to get it—although she could personally attest to the aww factor of watching him and Tommy together. But rather than speak up on his behalf, Megan had held her tongue. It suited her purposes for her mother to back off from the idea of a neighborhood romance.
Beth Ann had been rather frosty when she opened the door for him earlier; he’d left the minute he had Tommy’s stuff in hand. With her mom here, Megan hadn’t been talking to him as much. There had been no staying for dinner or exchanging bad jokes about harmless wedding mishaps. Toasty warm baby blanket in hand, she welcomed the opportunity to go catch up. Catch up on what, exactly? You see the man practically every day. Nothing earth-shattering has happened that you need to report.
But she missed him. That was the bald truth. She crossed their yards with purpose. As she rapped against his front door, she realized that the last time she’d been here was to complain about the car alarm. She seemed to recall that she’d made some acerbic remarks about his dates. And as of this Saturday, she would be one of his dates. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction to the dress she’d splurged on at Jasmine Tucker’s boutique.
“Yeah?” The door swung open, and Will stood there wearing an irritated expression and multiple splotches of baby cereal across the front of his T-shirt.
Been there. “Did I interrupt in the middle of dinnertime?”
“Hard to say. Dinner implies food. I’ve been too preoccupied with Tommy to fix anything for myself, and I’m not sure I’ve successfully got any food into him. Mostly, it seems to be all over his face and me. Come on in. Just don’t tell my mother that the place is a mess and that I didn’t have any refreshments to offer you. Gayle Trent takes hospitality very seriously.”
“I won’t rat you out to your mom,” she promised. “After all, I’m partly here to hide from mine. And to give you this.” She started to hand him the freshly laundered puppy blanket but, seeing the cereal smears across his knuckles and wrist, opted to set it on the back of the sofa instead. “Want some help?”
“God, yes.” He ran his non-cereal-encrusted hand through his dark hair. “But what I really want is for Amy to come back. I’m not cut out for this long-term.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think all parents feel that way at some point. Even those of us who really, really wanted kids.”
“I know you’re probably telling the truth, but the way I feel right at this moment, it’s tough to imagine I’ll ever want kids.”
“How about you let me feed Tommy, and you can put some dinner together for yourself? I bet your outlook will improve once you have some food in your system.”
“Wise words.”
She wen
t into the kitchen, where Tommy was strapped into a high chair. “Kate went with me to the store to pick it out,” he said. “I had actually been thinking about asking you to come with me for guidance, but...”
“But?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know. Hunger’s making me light-headed. I guess you’re already doing so much for us, and I didn’t want to...become too dependent.”
“It’s been a two-way street,” she reminded him. He had tackled a couple of minor outdoor chores for her and even mentioned he might be able to fix the doorbell. “But I know what you mean.” Since the divorce, it hadn’t been easy to ask for help. She’d felt as if she’d needed to prove her self-reliance.
While Will puttered around in the kitchen behind her, she took over the task of feeding Tommy. She assumed that Will’s future sister-in-law had also helped him pick out baby-friendly dishes and the soft-tipped spoon Tommy was currently gumming.
“This will get easier,” she told Will. “He’s still learning how to eat off a utensil, which is different than the sucking reflex he’s used to.”
“So mealtimes will stop being so damnably messy and counterproductive?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been to my house for dinner—I think feeding the kids stays messy and aggravating until roughly college.”
He laughed at that, finally sounding more like himself. He ate his dinner standing at the counter, and once they began laughing and chatting, the time flew. As she was rinsing out Tommy’s bowl, her gaze landed on the oven clock.
She blinked. “I’ve been here an hour?”
“Has it been that long?” His expression mirrored her own surprise. “Sorry—didn’t mean to keep you.”
She smiled at him. “I’m not sorry.” Would he think it was stupid if she said she’d had fun? Spoon-feeding a six-month-old rice cereal was not exactly a hot date, but Will’s company left her with warm tingles and a grin that stayed on her face as she walked back to her house, humming softly.
The Christmas Triplets Page 12
