The More Mavericks, The Merrier!

Jamie shook his head. “Your baking did not make him sick.”

“How do you know?” she challenged.

“Because all of the babies had the same thing and only Henry threw up.”

“So far,” she muttered.

“Besides, I ate four of those muffins,” he pointed out. “And they were delicious.”

She still looked dubious.

“He’s fine, Fallon. If I’ve learned nothing else over the past ten months, I’ve learned that kids get sick—and preemies more often than most. There’s no way to prevent it,” he assured her.

“I’ve also learned that three babies living in close proximity usually share germs and viruses much more willingly than toys—so it’s quite possible that whatever caused Henry’s stomach upset might already have been passed on to Jared and Katie.”

She nodded in acknowledgment of that fact. “Which is another reason it might be a good idea to delay the tree-cutting.”

“That will also give me a chance to haul down the boxes of decorations from the attic,” he said. “Because I assume that, after we cut down the tree, you’re going to want to decorate it.”

“No, you’re going to decorate it,” she said, but softened the directive with a smile.

A smile that drew his attention to her mouth and made him wonder if her lips could possibly be as soft and sweet as they looked. He pushed the tempting question aside. “There you go, being all bossy again,” he said, his tone deliberately light.

“But I might be persuaded to help,” Fallon relented.

He lifted the lid on the pot and peered at the roast beef and vegetables in an effort to avoid focusing on her and the new and unexpected hunger that was churning inside him. “Are you sure it’s going to be another hour before it’s ready?”

She took the lid from his hand and set it firmly back on top of the stoneware. “Longer if you keep letting all the heat out,” she warned.

Except he suspected that her proximity was generating even more heat than the cooking pot. He took a deliberate step away. “Sorry—but I worked through lunch, and dinner smells so good.”

She plucked a muffin out of the container on the table and tossed it to him.

He immediately took a bite out of the top, because he was hungry and wanted to reassure her that he had no concerns about the treats she’d baked, but also because focusing on the muffin would help him resist the urge to reach for her. “These are really delicious.”

“See? I’m not as inept in the kitchen as people like to believe.”

“Hmm.”

She narrowed her gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well...that was a pretty awful cake that you took to the potluck.” He couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “One mistake. One. And no one will let me live it down.”

“On the other hand, the roast in that Crock-Pot smells really good.”

“Crock-Pot cooking is easy,” she admitted. “You just toss in the meat and veggies, add some liquid and seasoning, and it pretty much cooks itself.”

“Still, I appreciate the effort,” he said.

“If that’s a ‘thank you,’ then you’re welcome,” she said, lifting her coat off the hook by the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.”

He should let her go. He needed some time to catch his breath and think about the sudden and unexpected awareness between them—and he couldn’t do that while her presence was wreaking havoc on his hormones. But instead of nodding and advising her to ‘drive safely,’ when he opened his mouth, the only word that came out was, “Stay.”

Chapter Four (#u37234b83-7376-505a-b4e9-c5a9d1404a57)

Fallon raised a brow. “Now who’s being bossy?”

But she didn’t protest when Jamie took the coat from her hand and returned it to the hook. “You went to the effort of making dinner, you should stay and eat it with us.”

“I thought you might appreciate some peace and quiet after a busy day,” she said.

“Yeah, me and the triplets—a definite recipe for peace and quiet,” he remarked dryly.

Still she hesitated.

“If you don’t have other plans, I would enjoy some adult company.”

“Bella won’t be home for dinner?”

“Not likely,” he told her. “She and Hudson are pretty much inseparable these days.”

“I guess that makes sense, considering that they’re head over heels in love and planning to get married.”

His only response was to snag another muffin.

“I thought a dozen of those would last more than a day,” she noted, heading back to the living room where the kids were playing.

“I worked up an appetite today,” he told her.

She lowered herself to the floor, near the play yard, using the sofa as a backrest. “Did you get the north fence repaired?”

He nodded as he sat down beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him.

She picked up a block that Henry tossed over the enclosure and dropped it back inside for him. “How’s Daisy?”

“She seems to be doing okay, if maybe a little restless.” He polished off the second muffin as his firstborn continued to play “catch” with Fallon. “How was your day—aside from being vomited on?”

As he’d expected, her cheeks immediately filled with color. “Aside from that, it was good,” she said. “Bella asked me to be her maid of honor.”

“I thought she would,” Jamie said. “You’re not just her best friend, you’re like a sister to her. To both of us.” It was an effort to keep his tone casual, to not reveal any of the inner turmoil he was feeling.

Because while Fallon was like a sister to Bella, she could never take the place of the actual sisters that she’d lost touch with eleven years earlier. And while he wanted to believe she was like a sister to him, their relationship wasn’t quite that simple. Especially since he’d seen her half-naked in the laundry room. While he was still trying to get a handle on the feelings churning inside him, he was certain of one thing: those feelings weren’t the least bit brotherly.