Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets. Melissa Senate

was a good half mile in the other direction.

      “Let’s take the parallel road so no one sees us,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t want to be the center of gossip before you even start your first day at the police station.”

      “I definitely don’t,” he said.

      They ducked down a side street with backyards to the left and the woods and river to the right. At this early hour, no one was out yet. The Potterowskis lived in the caretaker’s cottage to the right of the chapel. Norah dashed up the steps to the side door and could see eighty-one-year-old Annie in a long, pink chenille bathrobe, sitting down with tea and toast. She rang the bell.

      Annie came to the door and beamed at the newlyweds. “Norah! Didn’t expect to see you out and about so early. Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” Annie peered behind Norah and spied Reed. “Ah, there you are, handsome devil. Come on in, you two. I just made a pot of coffee.”

      How could the woman be so calm? Or act like their getting married was no big deal?

      Norah and Reed came in but didn’t sit. “Annie,” Norah said, “the two of us were the victims of spiked punch at the festival last night! We were drunk out of our minds. You had to know that!”

      Annie tilted her head, her short, wiry, silver curls bouncing. “Drunk? Why, I don’t recall seeing you two acting all nutty and, trust me, we get our share of drunk couples and turn them away.”

      Norah narrowed her eyes. There was no way Annie hadn’t known she was drunk out of her mind! “Annie, why would I up and marry a total stranger out of the blue? Didn’t that seem weird?”

      “But Reed isn’t a stranger,” Annie said, sipping her coffee. “I heard he was back in town to work at the PD.” She turned to him. “I remember you when you were a boy. I knew your grandmother Lydia Barelli. We were dear friends from way back. Oh, how I remember her hoping you’d come live in Wedlock Creek. I suppose now you’ll move to the ranch like she always dreamed.”

      Reed raised an eyebrow. “I’ve rented a house right in town. I loved my grandmother dearly, but she was trying to bribe me into getting married and starting a family. I had her number, all right.” He smiled at Annie, but his chin was lifted. The detective was clearly assessing the situation.

      Annie waved her hand dismissively. “Well, bribe or not, you’re married. Your dear grandmother’s last will and testament leaves you the ranch when you marry. So now you can take your rightful inheritance.”

      Norah glanced from Annie to Reed. What was all this about a ranch and an inheritance? If Reed had intended to find some drunk fool to marry to satisfy the terms and get his ranch, why would he have rented a house his first day in town?

      The detective crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no intention of moving to the ranch, Annie.”

      “Oh, hogwash!” Annie said, waving her piece of toast. “You’re married and that’s it. You should move to the ranch like your grandmamma intended, and poor Norah here will have a father for the triplets.”

      Good golly. Watch out for little old ladies with secret agendas. Annie Potterowski had hoodwinked them both!

      Norah watched Reed swallow. And felt her cheeks burn.

      “Annie,” Norah said, hands on hips. “You did know we were drunk! You let us marry anyway!”

      “For your own good,” Annie said. “Both of you. But I didn’t lure you two here. I didn’t spike the punch. You came in here of your own free will. I just didn’t stop you.”

      “Can’t you arrest her for this?” Norah said to Reed, narrowing her eyes at Annie again.

      Annie’s eyes widened. “I hope you get a chance to leave town and go somewhere exotic for your honeymoon,” she said, clearly trying to change the subject from her subterfuge. “New York City maybe. Or how about Paris? It’s so romantic.”

      Norah threw up her hands. “She actually thinks this is reasonable!”

      “Annie, come on,” Reed said. “We’re not really married. A little too much spiked punch, a wedding chapel right in our path, no waiting period required—a recipe for disaster and we walked right into it. We’re here to get back the marriage license. Surely you haven’t sent it in.”

      “We’ll just rip it up and be on our way,” Norah said, glancing at her watch.

      “Oh dear. I’m sorry, but that’s impossible,” Annie said. “I sent Abe to the county courthouse in Brewer about twenty minutes ago. I’m afraid your marriage license—and the sixteen others from yesterday—are well on their way to being deposited. There’s a mail slot right in front of the building. Of course, it’s Sunday and they’re closed, so I reckon you won’t be able to drive over to try to get it back.”

      Reed was staring at Annie with total confusion on his face. “Well, we’ll have to do something at some point.”

      “Yeah,” Norah agreed, her head spinning. Between all the spiked punch and the surprise this morning of the wedding rings, and now what appeared to be this crazy scheme of Annie’s to not undo what she’d allowed to happen...

      “I need coffee,” Reed said, shaking his head. “A vat of coffee.”

      Norah nodded. “Me, too.”

      “Help yourself,” Annie said, gesturing at the coffeepot on the counter as she took a bite of her toast.

      Reed sighed and turned to Norah. “Let’s go back to your house and talk this through. We need to make a plan for how to undo this.”

      Norah nodded. “See you, Annie,” she said as she headed to the door, despite how completely furious she was with the woman. She’d known Annie all her life and the woman had been nothing but kind to her. Annie had even brought each triplet an adorable stuffed basset hound, her favorite dog, when they’d been born, and had showered them with little gifts ever since.

      “Oh, Norah? Reed?” Annie called as they opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

      Norah turned back around.

      “Congratulations,” the elderly officiant said with a sheepish smile and absolute mirth glowing in her eyes.

      * * *

      Reed had been so fired up when he’d left Norah’s house for the chapel that he hadn’t realized how chilly it was this morning, barely fifty-five degrees. He glanced over at Norah; all she wore was a T-shirt and her hands were jammed in her pockets as she hunched over a bit. She was cold. He took off his jacket and slipped it around Norah’s shoulders.

      She started and stared down at the jacket. “Thank you,” she said, slipping her arms into it and zipping it up. “I was so out of my mind before, I forgot to grab a sweater.” She turned to stare at him. “Of course, now you’ll be cold.”

      “My aching head will keep me warm,” he said. “And I deserve the headache—the literal and figurative one.”

      “We both do,” she said gently.

      The breeze moved a swath of her hair in her face, the sun illuminating the red and gold highlights, and he had the urge to sweep it back, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear. “I’m a cop. It’s my job to serve and protect. I had no business getting drunk, particularly at a town event.”

      “Well, the punch was spiked with something very strong. And you weren’t on duty,” she pointed out. “You’re not even on the force till tomorrow.”

      “Still, a cop is always a cop. Unfortunately, by the time I realized the punch had to be spiked, I was too affected by it to care.” He wouldn’t put himself in a position like that again. Leaving Cheyenne, saying yes to Wedlock Creek—even though it meant he couldn’t live in his grandmother’s ranch—trying to switch off the city cop he’d been... He’d let down his guard and he’d paid for it with this crazy nonsense.