Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets. Melissa Senate

      “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. So had Norah.

      Damn. Back in Cheyenne, his guard had been so up he’d practically gotten himself killed during a botched stakeout. Where the hell was the happy medium? Maybe he’d never get a handle on just right.

      “And you said you were glad to forget? Or something like that?” she asked, darting a glance at him.

      He looked out over a stand of heavy trees along the side of the road. Let it go, he reminded himself. No rehashing, no what-ifs. “I’m here for a fresh start. Now I need a fresh start to my fresh start.” He stopped and shook his head. What a mess. “Sixteen couples besides us?” he said, resuming walking. “It’s a little too easy to get married in the state of Wyoming.”

      “Someone should change the law,” Norah said. “There should be a waiting period. Blood tests required. Something, anything, so you can’t get insta-married.”

      That was for sure. “It’s like a mini Las Vegas. I wonder how many of those couples meant to get married.”

      “Oh, I’m sure all of them. The Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel is famous. People come here because of the legend.”

      He glanced at her. “What legend?”

      “Just about everyone who marries at the chapel becomes the parent of multiples in some way, shape or form. According to legend, the chapel has a special blessing on it. A barren witch cast the spell the year the chapel was built in 1895.”

      Reed raised an eyebrow. “A barren witch? Was she trying to be nice or up to no good?”

      “No one’s sure,” she said with a smile. “But as the mother of triplets, I’m glad I have them.”

      Reed stopped walking.

      She’d said it. It was absolutely true. She was the mother of triplets. No wonder Annie Potterowski had called him a saint last night. The elderly woman had thought he was knowingly marrying a single mother of three babies! “So you got married at the chapel?” He supposed she was divorced, though that must have been one quick marriage.

      She glanced down. “No. I never did get married. The babies’ father ran for the hills about an hour after I told him the news. We’d been dating for only about three months at that point. I thought we had something special, but I sure was wrong.”

      Her voice hitched on the word wrong and he took her hand. “I’m sorry.” The jerk had abandoned her? She was raising baby triplets on her own? One baby seemed like a handful. Norah had three. He couldn’t even imagine how hard that had to be.

      She bit her lip and forced a half smile, slipping her hand away and into her pocket. “Oh, that’s all right. I have my children, who I love to pieces. I have a great family, work I love. My life is good. No complaints.”

      “Still, your life can’t be easy.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “Whose is? Yours?”

      He laughed. “Touché. And I don’t even have a pet. Or a plant for that matter.”

      She smiled and he was glad to see the shadow leave her eyes. “So, what’s our plan for getting back our marriage license? I guess we can just drive out to Brewer first thing in the morning and ask for it back. If we get to the courthouse early and spring on them the minute they open, I’m sure we’ll get the license back before it’s processed.”

      “Sounds good,” he said.

      “And if we can’t get it back for whatever reason, we’ll just have the marriage annulled.”

      “Like it never happened,” he said.

      “Exactly,” she said with a nod and smile.

      Except it had happened and Reed had a feeling he wouldn’t shake it off so easily, even with an annulment and the passage of time. The pair of them had gotten themselves into a real pickle as his grandmother used to say.

      “So I guess this means you really didn’t secretly marry me to get your hands on your grandmother’s ranch,” Norah said. “Between renting a house the minute you moved here yesterday and talking about annulments, that’s crystal clear.”

      He thought about telling her why he didn’t believe in marriage but just nodded instead. Last night, as he’d picked her up and carried her into that chapel, he’d been a man—Fabio the secret service agent—who did believe in marriage, who wanted a wife and a house full of kids. He’d liked being that guy. Of course, with the light of day and the headache and stone-cold reality, he was back to Reed Barelli, who’d seen close up that marriage wasn’t for him.

      Reed envisioned living alone forever, a couple of dogs to keep him company, short-term relationships with women who understood from the get-go that he wasn’t looking for commitment. He’d thought the last woman he’d dated—a funny, pretty woman named Valerie was on the same page, but a few weeks into their relationship, she’d wanted more and he hadn’t, and it was a mess. Crying, accusations and him saying over and over But I told you on the first date how I felt. That was six months ago and he hadn’t dated since. He missed sex like crazy, but he wasn’t interested in hurting anyone.

      They walked in silence, Norah gesturing that they should cross Main Street. As they headed down Norah’s street, Sycamore, he realized they’d made their plan and there was really no need for that coffee, after all. He’d walk her home and then—

      “Norah! You’re alive!”

      Reed glanced in the direction of the voice. A young blond woman stood in front of Norah’s small, white Cape Cod house, one hand waving at them and one on a stroller with three little faces peering out.

      Three. Little. Faces.

      Had a two-by-four come out of nowhere and whammed him upside the head?

       Just about everyone who marries at the chapel becomes the parent of multiples in some way, shape or form.

      Because he’d just realized that the legend of the Wedlock Creek chapel had come true for him.

       Chapter Three

      Norah was so relieved to see the babies that she rushed over to the porch—forgetting to shove her hand into her pocket and hide the ring that hadn’t been on her finger yesterday.

      And her sister, Shelby, wasn’t one to miss a thing. Shelby’s gaze shifted from the ring on Norah’s hand to Reed and his own adorned left hand, then back to Norah. “I dropped by the diner this morning with a Greek quiche I developed last night, and Aunt Cheyenne and Mom said they hadn’t heard from you. So I figured I’d walk the triplets over and make sure you were all right.” She’d said it all so casually, but her gaze darted hard from the ring on Norah’s hand to Norah, then back again. And again. Her sister was dying for info. That was clear.

      “I’m all right,” Norah said. “Everything is a little topsy-turvy, but I’m