Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets Read online

  “I most certainly do,” he said, then hooted in laughter.

  Norah cracked up, too. Reed had the most marvelous laugh.

  Annie turned to Norah. She repeated her vows. Yes, God, yes, she took this man to be her lawfully wedded husband.

  “By the power vested in me by the State of Wyoming, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss your bride.”

  Reed stared at Norah for a moment, then put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, so tenderly, yet passionately, that for a second, Norah’s mind cleared completely and all she felt was his love. Her new husband of five seconds, whom she’d known for about two hours, truly loved her!

  Warmth flooded her, and when rice, which she realized Abe was throwing, rained down on them, she giggled, drunk as a skunk.

  * * *

  Reed Barelli registered his headache before he opened his eyes, the morning sun shining through the sheer white curtains at the window. Were those embroidered flowers? he wondered as he rubbed his aching temples. Reed had bought a bunch of stuff for his new house yesterday afternoon—everything from down pillows to coffee mugs to a coffee maker itself, but he couldn’t remember those frilly curtains. They weren’t something he’d buy for his place.

  He fully opened his eyes, his gaze landing on a stack of books on the bedside table. A mystery. A travel guide to Wyoming. And Your Baby’s First Year.

  Your Baby’s First Year? Huh?

  Wait a minute. He bolted up. Where the hell was he? This wasn’t the house he’d rented.

  He heard a soft sigh come from beside him and turned to the left, eyes widening.

  Holy hell. There was a woman sleeping in his bed.

  More like he was in her bed, from the looks of the place. He moved her long reddish-brown hair out of her face and closed his eyes. Oh Lord. Oh no. It was her—Angelina slash Norah. Last night he’d given in to her game of fantasy, glad for a night to eradicate his years as a Cheyenne cop.

  He blinked twice to clear his head. He wasn’t a Cheyenne cop anymore. His last case had done him in and, after a three-week leave, he’d made up his mind and gotten himself a job as a detective in Wedlock Creek, the idyllic town where he’d spent several summers as a kid with his maternal grandmother. A town where it seemed nothing could go wrong. A town that hadn’t seen a murder in over seventy years. Hadn’t Norah mentioned that last night?

  Norah. Last night.

  He lifted his hand to scrub over his face and that was when he saw it—the gold ring on his left hand. Ring finger. A ring that hadn’t been there before he’d gone to the carnival.

  What the...?

  Slowly, bits and pieces of the evening came back to him. The festival. A punch bowl he’d commandeered into the clearing under a big tree so he and Norah could have the rest of it all to themselves. A clearly heavily spiked punch bowl. A hundred-dollar bill in the till, not to mention at least sixty in cash. Norah, taking his hand and leading him to the chapel.

  She’d always dreamed of getting married, she’d said.

  And he’d said, “Then let’s get married.”

  He’d said that! Reed Barelli had uttered those words!

  He held his breath and gently peeled the blue-and-white quilt from her shoulder to look at her left hand—which she used to yank the quilt back up, wrinkling her cute nose and turning over.

  There was a gold band on her finger, too.

  Holy moly. They’d really done it. They’d gotten married?

  No. Couldn’t be. The officiant of the chapel had called him by name. Yes, the elderly woman had known him, said she’d seen the chief showing him around town yesterday when he’d arrived. And she’d seemed familiar with Norah, too. She knew both of them. She wouldn’t let them drunk-marry! That was the height of irresponsible. And as a man of the law, he would demand she explain herself and simply undo whatever it was they’d signed. Dimly, he recalled the marriage license, scrawling his name with a blue pen.

  Norah stirred. She was still asleep. For a second he couldn’t help but stare at her pretty face. She had a pale complexion, delicate features and hazel eyes, if he remembered correctly.

  If they’d made love, that he couldn’t remember. And he would remember, drunk to high heaven or not. What had been in that punch?

  Maybe they’d come back to her place and passed out in bed?

  He closed his eyes again and slowly opened them. Deep breaths, Barelli. He looked around the bedroom to orient himself, ground himself.

  And that was when he saw the framed photograph on the end table on Norah’s side. Norah in a hospital bed, in one of those thin blue gowns, holding three newborns against her chest.

  Ooh boy.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m sure we’re not really married!” Norah said on a high-pitched squeak, the top sheet wrapped around her as she stood—completely freaked out—against the wall of her bedroom, staring at the strange man in her bed.

  A man who, according to the wedding ring on her left hand—and the one on his—was her husband.

  She’d pretended to be asleep when he’d first started stirring. He’d bolted upright and she could feel him staring at her. She couldn’t just lie there and pretend to be asleep any longer, even if she was afraid to open her eyes and face the music.

  But a thought burst into her brain and she’d sat up, too: she’d forgotten to pick up the triplets. As her aunt’s words had come back to her, that Cheyenne didn’t expect her to pick up the babies last night, that she’d take them to the diner this morning, Norah had calmed down. And slowly had opened her eyes. The sight of the stranger awake and staring at her had her leaping out of bed, taking the sheet with her. She was in a camisole and underwear.

  Oh God, had they...?

  She stared at Reed. In her bed. “Did we?” she croaked out.

  He half shrugged. “I don’t know. Sorry. I don’t think so, though.”

  “The punch was spiked?”

  “Someone’s idea of a joke, maybe.”

  “And now we’re married,” she said. “Ha ha.”

  His gaze went to the band of gold on his finger, then back at her. “I’m sure we can undo that. The couple who married us—they seemed to know both of us. Why would they have let us get married when we were so drunk?”

  Now it was her turn to shrug. She’d known Annie since she was born. The woman had waitressed on and off at her family’s pie diner for years to make extra cash. How could she have let Norah do such a thing? Why hadn’t Annie called her mother or aunt or sister and said, Come get Norah, she’s drunk off her butt and trying to marry a total stranger? It made no sense that Annie hadn’t done just that!

  “She seemed to know you, too,” Norah said, wishing she had a cup of coffee. And two Tylenol.

  “I spent summers in Wedlock Creek with my grandmother when I was a kid,” he said. “Annie may have known my grandmother. Do the Potterowskis live near the chapel? Maybe we can head over now and get this straightened out. I’m sure Annie hasn’t sent in the marriage license yet.”

  “Right!” Norah said, brightening, tightening the sheet around her. “We can undo this! Let’s go!”

  He glanced at his pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. “I’ll go into the bathroom and get dressed.” He stood, wearing nothing but incredibly sexy black boxer briefs. He picked up the pile and booked into the bathroom, shutting the door.

  She heard the water run, then shut off. A few minutes later the door opened and there he was, dressed like Fabio from last night.

  She rushed over to her dresser, grabbed jeans and a T-shirt and fresh underwear, then sped past him into the bathroom, her heart beating like a bullet train. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, got dressed and stepped back outside.

  Reed was sitting in the chair in the corner, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. How
could he look so handsome when he was so rumpled, his hair all mussed? He was slowly shaking his head as if trying to make sense of this.

  “So you always wanted to be a secret service agent?” she asked to break the awkward silence.

  He sat up and offered something of a smile. “I have no idea why I said that. I’ve always wanted to be a cop. I start at the Wedlock Creek PD on Monday. Guess you’re not a flight attendant,” he added.

  “I’ve never been out of Wyoming,” she said. “I bake for my family’s pie diner.” That was all she’d ever wanted to do. Work for the family business and perfect her savory pies, her specialty.

  The diner had her thinking of real life again, Bella’s, Bea’s and Brody’s beautiful little faces coming to mind. She missed them and needed to see them, needed to hold them. And she had to get to the diner and let her family know she was all right. She hadn’t called once to check in on the triplets last night. Her mom and aunt had probably mentioned that every hour on the hour. No call from Norah? Huh. Must be having a good time. Then looking at each other and saying Not in unison, bursting into laughter and sobering up fast, wondering what could have happened to her to prevent her from calling every other minute to make sure all was well with the babies.

  Her phone hadn’t rung last night, so maybe they’d just thought she’d met up with old friends and was having fun. She glanced at her alarm clock on the bedside table. It was barely six o’clock. She wouldn’t be expected at the diner until seven.

  Reed was looking at the photo next to the clock. The one of her and her triplets taken moments after they were born. He didn’t say a word, but she knew what he was thinking. Anyone would. Help me. Get me out of this. What the hell have I done? Triplets? Ahhhhh! She was surprised he didn’t have his hands on his screaming face like the kid from the movie Home Alone.

  Well, one thing Norah Ingalls was good at? Taking care of business. “Let’s go see Annie and Abe,” she said. “They wake up at the crack of dawn, so I’m sure they’ll be up.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. “Good idea. We can catch them before they send the marriage license into the state bureau for processing.”

  “Right. It’s not like we’re really married. I mean, it’s not legal.”

  He nodded. “We could undo this before 7:00 a.m. and get back to our lives,” he said.

  This was definitely not her life.

  * * *

  Norah poked her head out the front door of her house, which, thank heavens, was blocked on both sides by big leafy trees. The last thing she needed was for all of Wedlock Creek to know a man had been spotted leaving her house at six in the morning. Norah lived around the corner from Main Street and just a few minutes’ walk to the diner, but the chapel 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.”