The Christmas Triplets. Tanya Michaels
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Название: The Christmas Triplets
Автор: Tanya Michaels
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Cupid's Bow, Texas
isbn: 9781474041928
isbn:
“Save the megawatt smile for someone who’s not immune and go check on the food. Daisy, can you show Mr. Will our kitchen?” She followed right behind them, making sure Lily didn’t panic at the sight of a stranger in the house. The last triplet to be born, Lily had been more timid than her sisters from day one; she also spoke less, struggling with many of her consonant sounds.
“There’s baked chicken in the oven,” Megan said. “Mitts are hanging on the wall behind the sink. And you need to stir the broccoli bits into the cheese—”
“Broccoli? In macaroni and cheese?” His expression was appalled, mirroring the grimace on Daisy’s small face. “Remind me never to have dinner here.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to issue any invitations.”
* * *
JACE WOULD BE so disappointed in me. Where was the fabled Trent Charm? Will should be falling all over himself thanking his neighbor, not criticizing her cooking decisions. It was none of his business if she wanted to screw up perfectly good mac and cheese with broccoli, but Will wasn’t at his best right now.
Obviously, he hadn’t adjusted to the shock of Amy leaving the baby with him, but it was more than that. He was flummoxed by Megan’s continued hostility. Save the megawatt smile for someone who’s not immune. No woman had ever snapped at him for smiling. It would be easy to assume the brunette was tart and hostile by nature—but she was working with Kate and Cole on the wedding and they both liked her. Amy had called her friendly.
He was curious enough that he almost asked about her “immunity” toward him, but he wouldn’t risk antagonizing her while she was giving him much-needed assistance with the baby. Instead, he turned his focus from Megan’s weird personality quirks to the kitchen surrounding him. Her counters were covered with far more supplies and appliances than his; he got by with a coffeemaker and microwave. And the room was a riot of color, from the plastic place mats on the table to the yellow curtains framing the kitchen window to the crayoned drawings displayed on the refrigerator with magnets. In fact, one of Daisy’s sisters was at his feet, coloring another sheet of paper, reminding him of his niece Alyssa, who was never without art supplies.
“Nice picture,” he said to the girl. There were several people-shaped blobs, one covered in red slashes. It reminded Will vaguely of a Mafia movie he’d once seen, but since this was December... “Santa Claus?”
The girl nodded happily.
Watching this exchange, Daisy suddenly declared, “I draw a picture, too!” She plopped on the floor and grabbed a crayon. Her sister shrieked in protest. Meanwhile, the other triplet watched from under the kitchen table, wide-eyed, as she sucked her thumb. As Megan restored peace and sent the girls to wash their hands, he hurried to the stove, hoping that cheesy pasta would soothe tempers.
Will couldn’t help noticing that even though Tommy still hadn’t been fed, Megan had done an enviable job soothing him. “He likes you. A lot more than he likes me.”
“Babies sense tension.” She scooped formula into a bottle. “When you showed up on my doorstep, you were practically rigid with panic. The more relaxed and calm you are, the more he will be.”
The uptight brunette was telling him to be more laid-back? “Maybe you should take some of your own advice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
What are you doing, dumb-ass? Charm had gone completely out the door. “Well, to tell the truth, you’re a little...prickly.”
“Just because I don’t fawn over a pair of broad shoulders and blue eyes—” In her arms, Tommy let out a cry. “Sorry, sweetie. Here you go.” Her tone switched to soft and crooning. Tommy lunged for the bottle and was making hearty slurping noises within seconds.
Keeping her voice low, Megan asked, “I don’t suppose you know how many ounces he normally takes?”
“No clue.”
“How much does he weigh?”
Doubting that “heavier than a sack of potatoes” was the answer she wanted, Will shrugged.
She sighed. “How old is he?”
He leaned down to get the baked chicken while doing some mental calculations. “Five months, give or take.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Her glare was hotter than the inside of the oven. “Were you even there when he was born?”
“Of course not. That would— Wait! You don’t think he’s mine?”
Megan blinked. “It seemed logical, since Amy left him with you. And given your—” her face went bright red “—social habits.”
Unreal. If it had been up to him, he’d be married right now—perhaps with an actual baby of his own on the way—but this near stranger had him painted as some sort of depraved sex addict. “Lady, you don’t know the first thing about me.” Unlike Donovan Anders, Will didn’t seduce nineteen-year-olds.
“I—” She was interrupted by her daughters rushing back into the room.
“Hands clean,” Daisy declared, the entire front of her long-sleeved shirt soaked with water.
Megan pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is really not my night.”
Will felt a wave of commiseration. “If it helps, I know exactly how you feel.”
“It doesn’t.” She met his gaze, giving him the first real smile he’d ever seen from her. “But thank you.”
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