sigh, Megan opened the screen door. “Last night it was the car alarm during bedtime. Tonight you’ve caught us right at dinner. Maybe tomorrow you can park the fire truck outside the house with sirens blaring at bath time.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Is that your way of saying that life next door to me is never boring?”
Refusing to be sucked in by his humor and aw-shucks charm, she reached for the baby. “When was the last time you fed him?”
“Technically, never.”
Her eyebrows shot skyward. “You’ve never helped Amy feed him?”
“Until today, I’ve barely even held him.” He said it without a trace of shame, reminding her of Spencer. For all that her ex claimed to love his daughters, he preferred absentee fathering, only seeing them on rare occasions like his upcoming holiday visit. He’d scheduled his own children for an early Christmas so that he could spend Christmas Day with his current girlfriend.
“But I’m a fast learner,” Will added. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this in no time.”
“Right, because parenting is such a piece of cake.” She snuggled the baby against her shoulder, feeling sorry for him. You deserve better.
“Well, obviously not. I—”
“Do you know when the last time he ate was?” she asked, reframing her original question.
“At least an hour or so?” His hesitant tone made it sound like a guess. “I wanted to put him in the car seat and look in his bag for formula, but the way he was thrashing around...”
From behind her, Daisy asked, “Who baby?”
Megan wasn’t sure if her daughter was inquiring who the baby was or who he belonged to. She pointed to Will, aware that it had been a long time since the girls had seen a man in the house. “This is Mr. Will, our neighbor, and this is Baby...?”
“Tommy,” Will supplied.
Daisy crinkled up her nose. “Tommy’s noisy.” She turned to pick up her own baby doll from the floor behind her and showed it to Will. “I have quiet baby.”
“You’re obviously better at this child-care gig than I am.” Will set the duffel bag down in the foyer and unzipped it. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
“Lesson number one,” Megan said, “feed the hungry baby.” Spotting a canister of formula and an empty bottle, she swatted Will’s hand out of her way. But she couldn’t make dinner for Tommy and feed her girls at the same time. “How are you with macaroni and cheese? Someone needs to get back to the stove, preferably before something catches fire.”
He grinned. “The good news is, in case of disaster, the fire department is already here.”
“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