Brenda Harlen - The More Mavericks, The Merrier!

“I brought blueberry muffins.” Fallon set a plastic container in the middle of the table, then moved across the kitchen to retrieve a mug from the cupboard. She brought it and the carafe to the table, offering refills to Jamie and Bella.

But Bella shook her head. “I should be getting into work.”

Jamie picked up his mug and stood. “And I need to get out to the barn and check on Daisy. Brooks said she could foal any day now.”

Fallon frowned at both of them. “Why are you racing off? It’s barely seven-thirty.”

“Hudson wants to expand Just Us Kids to offer a newborn group and I promised to help him review the applications and set up the interviews,” Bella told her.

“And I’ve already had breakfast,” Jamie said.

Fallon looked from sister to brother and back again, her eyes narrowing. “This is about the coffee cake I made for the Fourth of July potluck, isn’t it?”

Jamie and Bella exchanged a look.

Fallon huffed out an exasperated breath as she lifted the lid off the container. “I misread the recipe,” she explained, selecting a muffin and peeling the paper off of the bottom half. “Once. And no one in this town will let me forget it.”

“Because you served the cake at the potluck.”

“Three years ago. And it wasn’t really that bad,” Fallon defended.

“You used two tablespoons of baking powder instead of two teaspoons,” Bella reminded her, settling back in her chair. “The cake was tough and chewy.”

“And tasted like metal,” Jamie chimed in.

Color filled Fallon’s cheeks as she tore a piece off the muffin. “Okay, it was bad,” she acknowledged, as she popped the morsel into her mouth. “But these are delicious.”

Jamie sat down again and reached into the container—because even after eating a full breakfast, there was room for a muffin. Bella continued to look dubious.

“I brought something else, too,” Fallon said, as she broke up the bottom of the muffin into pieces and set them onto each of the babies’ trays.

Henry, Jared and Kate showed no hesitation, gleefully stuffing the pieces into their mouths.

“What?” Jamie asked, nibbling tentatively on the muffin.

Fallon hesitated, not wanting to overstep. But she’d spent a lot of time with this man and his children over the past ten months, and although she understood that he was still grieving the loss of his wife, he needed to start to look forward instead of back—for the sake of his babies if no one else.

So she pulled the paper out of her pocket and unfolded it, then slid it across the table for Jamie to read.

He gave it a cursory—almost curious—glance, then looked away to focus his attention on the muffin that he suddenly couldn’t shove into his mouth fast enough.

Bella leaned forward to peer at the words on the page.

“It’s Henry, Jared and Katie’s first Christmas,” Fallon reminded Jamie gently, sliding the paper closer to him. “And I want to help you make it the best Christmas ever for them.”

“They’re not even a year old,” he pointed out. “It’s not as if they’ll remember the occasion.”

“Maybe not,” she acknowledged. But she loved the holiday season almost as much as she loved the triplets, so she’d decided that she was going to do everything in her power to ensure that their first Christmas was a truly memorable one. That was why she’d come up with a list of suggested activities to introduce HJK—as Jamie affectionately referred to his children—to some yuletide traditions and get everyone in the holiday spirit.

Unfortunately, she knew that she would face an obstacle in their father. It was Jamie’s first Christmas without his wife, and she understood it wouldn’t be an easy one for him. She also believed that it wouldn’t help him or his children to dwell on what they’d lost.

“But you will remember,” Fallon told him. “And when they look back on the pictures you take over the holiday season, they’ll see that you made it a wonderful one for them.”

“I don’t know—”

“Fallon’s right,” Bella interjected, reaching across the table to touch her brother’s hand. “You need to do something special—for all of you. It’s your first Christmas as a father—”

“And a widower,” he pointed out.

“As a father,” she said again, determined to emphasize the positive. “And that’s a cause for celebration.”

He glanced at the list again, his thick brows drawing together. “First Christmas photo with Santa? Am I supposed to ask the fat guy to pose with HJK after he squeezes down the chimney on Christmas Eve?”

“No,” Fallon said, with what she thought was incredible patience. “You’re supposed to take them to the mall in Kalispell.”

He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “I don’t do malls and I don’t have the time—or the inclination—to bundle up three babies, strap their screaming, squirming bodies into car seats, and trek into the city to stand in line with dozens of other harried parents for a photo op with a phony Kris Kringle.”

“Well, the real one is kind of busy at the North Pole this time of year,” she shot back, deadpan. “And you need to make the time and fake the inclination if necessary, because this is important.”

“To whom?” he countered.

“To me,” Bella interjected, obviously attempting to play peacemaker. “I’d love a picture of my niece and nephews with Santa.”

“Then you can take them,” Jamie told her.

Fallon drew in a slow, deep breath and mentally counted to ten. It wouldn’t help the situation if she lost her temper, but she was so frustrated with him—and for him. She knew he was grieving, but she also knew he loved his babies and, when he finally stopped grieving, he would regret the opportunities he’d missed. She wasn’t going to let him have regrets.

“We’ll put that one aside for now,” she finally relented. “The outfits I’ve ordered haven’t come in yet, anyway.”

His frown was back again. “You ordered outfits?”

“Wait until you see them. They’re the—”

“I don’t want to see them,” he told her. “I want you to send them back. I can afford to buy clothes for my kids. I don’t need your charity.”

Fallon sighed. “It’s not charity. It’s a gift.”

“And very thoughtful,” Bella interjected again, with a pointed look at her brother.

Jamie sighed. “Bella’s right. I’m sorry.”

“Prove it,” she said.

His brows lifted. “How am I supposed to prove it?”

“By agreeing to fulfill the requirements of my list.”

“I’m not that sorry.” He pushed the paper away from him.

She shoved it at him again.

With a sigh, he reached out to take it, his fingertips brushing against hers in the transfer. Little sparks skipped through her veins in response to the brief contact.

She glanced up, to see if he’d experienced any kind of reaction. His gaze remained focused on the page, his expression neutral.

“I have no objection to a tree,” he finally conceded.

Fallon ignored her own disappointment. “Great,” she said. “We’ll bundle the kids up this afternoon, take them in the sleigh out to the woods and find an appropriate specimen.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Bella agreed.

Jamie frowned. “This afternoon? What’s the hurry? It’s only the first day of December.”

“A tree is the most obvious symbol of Christmas,” Fallon pointed out reasonably. “Having one in the house will help you get into the spirit of the season.”

Nothing in his expression hinted at the tiniest bit of holiday spirit, but he shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. If you want to take the kids out and chop down a tree, I’ll see if one of the kids from next door is available to help you drag it back.”