“Then you have a beautiful niece,” she amended.
He looked at the child in question and felt a familiar tug in the vicinity of his heart. “Yeah, she is kinda cute.”
Tessa lifted her arms, a wordless request.
Liam glanced at his watch and tried to remember if Kate had told him when she expected to be finished in court. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tessa’s arms drop back down and her lower lip thrust forward in a pout.
He sighed and reached for her. “I’m conducting an interview here,” he said, as he settled his niece on his hip. “So let’s try to keep things professional, okay?”
She responded by leaning forward and pressing her puckered lips to his cheek.
“Not really a good start,” he noted dryly.
But his potential innkeeper smiled, clearly charmed by the little girl.
“And if your diaper needs changing, that’s going to have to wait until your mom gets back,” he warned his niece.
“You don’t do diapers?” Macy guessed.
“Not if I can help it. And Kate promised she’d be back from court before Tessa woke up so that I wouldn’t have to.”
“Either Kate was delayed or Tessa woke up early—maybe because she was wet,” she suggested. “Did your sister leave a diaper bag?”
“If you can call something that would likely be tagged ‘oversized’ by an airport luggage handler a bag,” he remarked, gesturing to the multipocketed behemoth.
Macy reached for the bag and, after rifling through its contents, pulled out a change pad, clean diaper and package of wipes, which she set on the table in front of him.
Still, Liam hesitated. “I’m sure she can wait until we’ve finished our interview.”
“Maybe she can, but she shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable,” Macy said. “I can step out of the room, if you want privacy.”
“Do you have much experience with babies and diapers?”
The corners of her mouth tipped up again. “Some.”
He unfolded the changing pad and laid his niece on top of it. “Then you should probably stay, because I might need some pointers—or an extra set of hands,” he said, as Tessa started to roll away from him.
While Macy seemed willing and able to help, he managed to unsnap his niece’s corduroy overalls with one hand and hold her in place with the other.
“Give me some specific examples of guest complaints you’ve heard and tell me how you dealt with them,” he suggested, as he pulled a wipe from the dispenser.
Macy shared anecdotes from her work experience while also jiggling a plastic ring of colorful keys she’d found in the diaper bag to hold the little girl’s attention while he focused on changing the diaper.
Her stories proved that she was creative and clever, and by the time he’d slid the clean diaper under his niece’s bottom, he didn’t doubt that the Courtland Hotel had been sorry to lose her when she left Las Vegas.
“Usually I fasten the diaper tabs before I do up the pants,” she remarked, as he began to pinch the snaps that lined the inseam of Tessa’s overalls together.
“What?”
“You didn’t secure the diaper.”
“Of course I did.” He finished his task and let Tessa roll over. She immediately pushed herself to her feet and clapped her hands. Since she’d learned to stand and, more recently, walk, she’d become accustomed to her every effort being applauded.
His own efforts were hardly cause for celebration, because the awkward bulging in her pants confirmed that Macy was right. He sighed. “Apparently I didn’t.”
So he scooped up Tessa again. “Uncle Liam messed up,” he said. “And now we need to fix it.”
But Tessa didn’t want to be reasoned with—she wanted to be free. And she kicked and screamed in protest.
“What’s this?” Macy said, offering the little girl a sippy cup filled with juice that she’d found in the bag.
Tessa stopped kicking and reached out with both hands. “Joosh!”
“Do you want your juice?”
The little girl nodded.
Macy gave her the cup and Liam unsnapped her overalls again—only to realize that the diaper tabs were stuck to her pants. He tried to peel them away from the fabric, determined to salvage the diaper—but his fingers felt too big and clumsy for the task.
“I think I need some help,” he admitted.
Macy didn’t hesitate to brush his hands aside, unstick the tabs from the little girl’s pants, reposition the diaper and deftly fasten it in place. Though the woman kept her gaze focused on the child, she spoke to Liam as she completed the task. “I trust you know that a good employee is one who steps up to do a job that needs doing, even if it falls outside of her job description.”
“You can’t expect me to hire you just because you helped change my niece’s diaper,” he remarked—after the task was completed.
“Of course not,” she agreed, passing the clean and happy little girl to him. “I expect you to hire me because I’m the best person for the job.”
Chapter Two
In retrospect, Macy acknowledged that she should have taken a change of clothes when she left home for her interview. Whenever she headed out with Ava, Max and Sam, she triple-checked to ensure she was prepared for every possible contingency. But when it came to making plans for herself, she couldn’t seem to think two steps ahead.
Her friend Stacia called it “pregnancy brain” and confessed that she’d experienced similar bouts of absentmindedness during both of her pregnancies. But that title suggested to Macy a temporary condition that would correct itself after she’d given birth. Instead, it had transitioned to “momnesia.”
Apparently there was scientific proof that the hormonal changes designed to help a new mother bond with her baby could interfere with the brain’s ability to process other information. This explained why Macy could jolt from a deep sleep to wide awake when any of her babies stirred in the night but the cook at Diggers’ had to repeat her name three times before she realized that an order was up. And even though the triplets were close to eight months old now, her brain apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that she’d bonded with them and could, perhaps, start to focus on other things again.
So she was feeling a little bit guilty about boasting to Liam Gilmore that she was the best person for the manager’s job—because what if she wasn’t? What if she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned about the hospitality industry? Maybe her only real talent now was being able to diaper three squirming babies in less than a minute.
But she wanted the job. She’d been excited about the possibility as soon as she’d learned that the new owner of the Stagecoach Inn was looking for a manager, and even more so when she’d walked through the front door and breathed in the history and grandeur of the old building.
Her only hesitation derived from the frisson of something she’d experienced when Liam Gilmore clasped her hand in his. It had been so long since she’d felt anything in response to a man’s touch that she hadn’t been sure how to respond. Thankfully, her brain had kicked back into gear and reminded her that the handsome cowboy was her potential boss and not a man she should ever contemplate seeing naked. Which was a shame, because the breadth of his shoulders—
No, she wasn’t going there.
The admonishment from her brain had helped refocus her attention on the interview. She could only hope he hadn’t sensed her distraction, because she really wanted the job.
Macy had started working at Diggers’ Bar & Grill because she’d wanted—needed—to do something to help support her family. But she missed the hospitality business more than she’d anticipated. Working at the inn wouldn’t just be a job, it would be a pleasure. For now, though, she was still a waitress—and if she didn’t hurry up, she was going to be late for her shift.
She took a few minut
es to play with Ava, Max and Sam, though, because they weren’t just the reason for everything she did but the center of her world. Yes, she’d been stunned—and terrified—when she’d discovered that she was pregnant with triplets, but after only eight months, she couldn’t imagine her life without her three precious and unique babies.
Ava, perhaps because she was the only girl, was already accustomed to being the center of attention. Of course, it helped that she had a sweet disposition and was usually quicker to smiles than tears. She also had big blue eyes with long dark lashes and silky dark hair that had finally grown enough that Macy no longer felt the need to put decorative bands on her head to broadcast that she was a girl.
Max was her introspective child—usually content to sit back and watch the world around him. His eyes were green, his hair dark, and his happy place was in his mother’s arms.
Sam looked so much like his brother that it was often assumed they were identical twins, though the doctor had assured Macy they were not. Sam was the last born and smallest of her babies. He was also the fussiest, and Macy felt a special bond with the little guy who seemed to need her more than either his brother or sister did.
When she could delay her departure no longer, Macy headed out again, entrusting her precious babies to the care of their doting grandparents.
Bev and Norm had been shocked to learn of their unmarried daughter’s pregnancy—and even more so when she confided the how and why it had happened. To say that they disapproved would be a gross understatement, but they’d put aside their concerns about the circumstances of conception to focus on helping their daughter prepare for the life-changing event.
And having triplets was life changing. Macy’s apartment in Vegas had been far too small for three babies, but she couldn’t afford anything bigger. And she’d budgeted for the expense of daycare for one baby, but triplets meant that cost would be multiplied threefold. So when she was five months pregnant and already waddling like a penguin—another perk of carrying three babies—she did the only thing she could do: resigned her position at the Courtland Hotel, packed up everything she owned and moved herself and all of her not-so-worldly possessions to her parents’ house in Haven, Nevada.
At least she hadn’t had to move back into her childhood bedroom, instead taking up residence in the in-law suite downstairs. The apartment was originally designed for her maternal grandmother, so that Shirley Haskell could live independently but close to family, and she’d occupied the space for almost six years before her dementia advanced to a stage where she needed round-the-clock nursing care. After that, Bev and Norm had occasionally offered the apartment for rent, most recently to Reid Davidson, who’d come to town to finish out Jed Traynor’s term when the former sheriff retired. Almost two years later, most people still referred to Reid as the new sheriff—and would likely do so until he was ready to retire.
The apartment had remained vacant for a long time after the sheriff moved out, and Macy suspected it was because the rooms were in dire need of redecorating. The sofa and chairs in the living room were covered in bold floral fabrics that attested to their outdatedness, and the coffee table, end tables and lamps all bore witness to the tole painting class Bev had taken while her mother was in residence.
When Macy moved in, the first thing she did was buy covers for the furniture and strip away all evidence of cabbage roses and daisies and tulips. If Beverly was disappointed that her art wasn’t appreciated by her daughter, she never said so. Instead, she focused her energy on getting ready for the arrival of three new grandbabies.
For the first few months after Ava, Max and Sam were born, Macy had done nothing but learn how to be a mother. It was a bigger adjustment than she’d anticipated. With three babies, she felt as if she was constantly feeding, burping, changing, bathing or rocking one or more of them. Bev helped as much as she could, and Macy knew there was no way she would have made it through those early days without her mother.
Norm had done his part, too. Although he occasionally made excuses to avoid diaper duty—not unlike Liam Gilmore had attempted to do earlier that afternoon—Macy’s dad was the first to volunteer to take the babies for a walk in their stroller or rock a restless infant to sleep. And he never once complained about the fact that the presence of his only daughter and her three children had completely upended his life—as she knew they had done.
Life was busy but good, so Macy had been a little surprised when, shortly before the triplets’ six-month birthday, Beverly suggested that her daughter think about getting a job. Macy had assured her mom that she had savings and could increase the amount of rent she paid—because she’d refused to move into their home without contributing at least something to the cost of the roof over her head.
Of course, they’d argued about that, with her parents recommending that her savings should remain that, as there was no way to know what unexpected expenses might arise in the future. But Macy had insisted, and her parents had finally relented—then promptly started education savings plans for Ava, Max and Sam with the money Macy paid to them.
“We don’t need you to pay more rent,” Bev had assured her. “But you need a reason to get out of the house and interact with other people.”
“I do get out of the house.”
“Taking Ava, Max and Sam to the pediatrician doesn’t count.”
“But...if I got a job—who would look after the kids?”
“Oh, well.” Bev tapped a finger against her chin, as if searching for an answer to a particularly difficult question. “Hmm...that is a tough one.”
“I can’t ask you to do it,” Macy explained. “You already do so much for us.”
“You don’t have to ask, I’m offering. In fact, I’m insisting.”
And that was how Macy found herself replying to the Help Wanted ad in the window at Diggers’ Bar & Grill.
At first she’d only worked the lunch shift two days a week. But after a couple of weeks on the job, Duke had added dinner shifts to her schedule—and dinner occasionally extended to late night. Usually she worked the restaurant side, but she was sometimes tagged to help out in the bar when it was particularly busy.
Tonight she was scheduled to work 6 p.m. to midnight in the bar. It was six-oh-seven when she parked her car and six-oh-eight when Duke found her in the staff lounge—really not much more than a closet where employees hung their coats and stashed their personal belongings—tying her apron around her waist.
Her boss folded his beefy arms over his chest and pinned her with his gaze. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.” Macy’s apology was automatic but sincere. “Max was fussing and I wanted to help settle him down before I left.”
“I’ve got kids,” Duke said. “Of course, mine are grown now, but I remember the early days and can empathize with your situation. However, your customers don’t care if Sam’s cutting teeth or Ava’s got a fever—they just want to order food and drink from a waitress who’s on time.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said again.
“You were bussing tables here while you were still in high school. We both know you’re overqualified for this job, but as long as you’re working here, I need you to do the job you were hired to do.”
She nodded.
“Of course, if you were to get another job more suited to your interests, then I could hire someone who is more interested in waiting tables,” he remarked.
“I had an interview with Liam Gilmore today,” she told him.
“Good. Because I interviewed Courtney Morgan for your job here.”
“Hey,” she said, because she felt compelled to make at least a token protest. Though it wasn’t her lifelong dream to wait tables, she usually enjoyed working at Diggers’—the hub of most social activity in Haven. Of course, the town only boasted two other restaurants: the Sunnyside Diner and Jo’s Pizzeria, so if residents wanted anything other tha
n all-day breakfast or pizza, they inevitably headed to Diggers’.
Early in the week, business wasn’t nearly as brisk as it was on weekends, but Macy didn’t mind the slower pace because it meant that she had more time to chat with the customers she served.
“Somebody was hungry,” she commented, as she picked up the now-empty plate that had contained a six-ounce bison burger on a pretzel bun, a scoop of creamy coleslaw and a mountain of curly fries when she’d delivered it to Connor Neal.
“Yeah, me and the sheriff got caught up with a case and worked right through lunch,” the deputy told her.
Macy hadn’t really known Connor while she was growing up in Haven. He was a few years younger than she was and, even as a kid, he’d been known around town as “that no-good Neal boy.”
She’d never been sure if he’d earned his bad-boy reputation or simply had the misfortune of living on the wrong side of the tracks with his unwed mother and younger half brother, but notwithstanding this difficult start, he’d managed to turn his life around. Not only was he a deputy in the sheriff’s office now, he’d recently married Regan Channing, whose family had made their substantial fortune in mining.
“Do you want dessert?” Macy asked him now.
“No, thanks. But I do need an order to go.” He scrolled through the messages in his phone, then read aloud: “Buffalo chicken wrap with extra hot sauce, fries and onion rings, and one of those big pickles.”
“It sounds like your wife might have worked through lunch, too,” she noted. “Or it might just be that she’s eating for two.”
“Three actually,” Connor confided.
“Three?” Macy echoed.
The deputy nodded. “She’s having twins. We’re having twins,” he hastily amended.
“I hadn’t heard,” she said. “That’s wonderful news—congratulations.”
He smiled weakly. “Two babies are twice the fun, right?”
“For sure,” she agreed. And twice the diapers and midnight feedings, but she kept that to herself. The reality would hit him quickly enough when the babies were born. “Do you know if you’re going to have two sons or daughters or one of each?”
Claiming the Cowboy's Heart Page 2
