Her Triplets' Mistletoe Dad. Patricia Johns

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      Seth was stomping around, not looking exactly welcoming. Three times now, Gabby had put something down and he’d moved it—a bag of baby clothes, containers of formula, her purse…and she was a little worried that he wouldn’t be as able to adjust to her being around here as he claimed. It might be easier to have him out of the house for a while. When he came back, he could reel under the shock all at once.

      “You have the week off, right?” Gabby asked as she sank down into a kitchen chair.

      “Yep,” he said. “I haven’t taken my vacation time in a while, so Mr. Ross was glad to give it to me.”

      So much for having him out from underfoot. It felt different now—it wasn’t the same as before.

      “You’re definitely uncomfortable,” she said with a small smile. Might as well face this head-on.

      Seth cleared his throat. “I’m used to facing marriage a little differently than this.”

      “I know…”

      “I mean, my parents had that vicious divorce when I was twelve, so Bonnie and I—” He swallowed. “We really took our marriage seriously. It was top priority. We read marriage books and had our own plan that was supposed to keep us divorce-proof, and now…” He met her gaze. “I’m not sure how to do a marriage like ours. You know?”

      “We said this was going to be pragmatic,” she said.

      “And it is,” he agreed. “I honestly think this is smart, but I’m not sure how to do this now that we’re…home. There aren’t a lot of books on how to make a practical marriage work.”

      Right. Seth and his love of research.

      “We should probably talk about money,” she suggested. “You know, now—before there’s any resentment.”

      “Probably,” he agreed.

      “Obviously, I’ve got to contribute,” she said. “I could get my aunt to watch the boys while I work part-time somewhere. With them so young, it would be hard to do more than part-time, but—”

      “No.” His tone was closer to a growl, and she stopped, surprised.

      “No, what?” she asked.

      “No, you don’t have to work. Three newborns are enough on your plate, and I didn’t do this expecting you to pay me back.”

      “Yes, but I still need to contribute,” she countered. “Realistically speaking—”

      “How about…” he interrupted, and she saw the discomfort on his face. “With some cooking and stuff?”

      “Are you asking me to be a housewife?” she asked, expecting to laugh when he did.

      “Yes?” He smiled bashfully. “I know this marriage is a practical one, but it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve come home to a hot meal.”

      “A housewife…” She rolled that thought around in her mind, and found that it felt rather nice at the moment. She could spend her days raising her boys and taking care of this farmhouse…

      “I’m not sure you’d actually like that,” she countered. “I’d change things.”

      “Hmm.” It sounded more like a grunt, and when she searched his face for a reaction, all she saw was granite. He was hiding his feelings from her—something she’d never cared too much about before, but it wouldn’t make living together easy if she couldn’t read him.

      “I’d rearrange stuff,” she pressed on. “I’d cook food that I like, and I’d probably want to paint some walls, or plant a garden, or—or…” She cast about, searching for the sorts of things that would occur to her, and she’d be halfway through before Seth even got to voice an opinion. “I might want to decorate for the holidays.”

      “Not yet,” he said with a sigh. “No painting. No rearranging. I like things the way they are. Just for now. For a while.”

      So she was a houseguest, not a housewife. Good to know. He met her gaze with a hesitant smile. The sparkle in his eye made her breath catch ever so slightly, though, and she broke eye contact.

      “Hey, we’re making some ground rules here,” he went on. “So if you’ve got something that’s nonnegotiable, now’s the time to put it out there.”

      “Okay,” she said. “I’m not waiting on you hand and foot. That’s something I won’t budge on. I’m technically your wife, but I’m not your servant.”

      Seth grinned. “I never thought that was an option, Gabs.”

      “No slipper-fetching or reverence in your presence,” she said, only halfway joking. “I’m not standing by with a plate of food warmed in the oven. So if that was in the back of your mind, you might want to encourage me to find a job to contribute financially.”

      “Gabby.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. His dark gaze met hers and pinned her to the spot. She could make out the sandpaper of his stubble across his chin, and the few gray hairs that had worked their way into his beard. His hand moved slowly around her palm as if he didn’t even realize how he was touching her—an absentminded kind of caress from a man who’d been married before. “You aren’t that good of a cook.”

      That broke the moment, and she pulled her hand back with a laugh. “I’m better than nothing, you lout.”

      Seth seemed to realize how he’d touched her, and he closed his fingers into a fist, flattening his lips. “I’m just saying. We can make this work, but don’t stress about me expecting you to be a servant. You know me.”

      Gabby did know him, but she’d never been married to him before. And when he was married, Bonnie had kept Gabby at a good distance. She hadn’t seen too much of them. Maybe Gabby was worrying for nothing. He was offering a great deal here, and he’d already made it possible for her to feed her boys without worry. Now he was letting her raise them without worry, too. Maybe she felt a little guilty for all she was getting from this deal. She could do something in return, and maybe she wasn’t entirely closed to the idea of keeping some food warm for him in the oven…

      “I’ll probably be cleaning up and stuff while you’re working,” she said. “Anything you don’t want me to touch—like at all?”

      “My bedroom.”

      There was a finality in his tone that sobered her, and she nodded quickly. He was giving her access to the house, but not to his private space. It was fair, but it also drew a solid line.

      “Okay,” she said quietly. “I leave your bedroom alone. And I won’t change too much around here. I’m just warning you. I’m here. I’ll…leave a mark, I guess.”

      “Yeah,” he said, his gaze meeting hers again. “You’re right. Look, I know you’ll change a few things. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll adjust.”

      It was good to talk this stuff out. They had a friendship worth protecting, and marriage was going to complicate that.

      “We СКАЧАТЬ