Laura Altom - Three Boys and a Baby

“Dr. Shepherd wants to check her over at the hospital,” Ella explained.

“But I thought you were the baby doctor?”

“I am, sweetie, but Sheriff Hank figured I’d probably want to spend time with my own babies tonight.”

“I’m not a baby,” Oliver pointed out.

“I am,” Owen said. “I’m never running away—Hey, look! There’s Dillon’s mom. And she’s crying and hugging his dad. They getting married again?”

The polite thing would have been to grant them some privacy. So how come Ella couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of Jackson with his ex?

Dear Reader,

As an eighties teen, one of my fave movies was Three Men and a Baby—and of course the sequel! The concept of those three hunky, accomplished men falling to pieces while caring for that sweet little baby always makes me smile. Which is why, after seeing a late-night running of the film, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if three equally adorable little boys were to find themselves in a similar situation. Being kids, of course, their parents would have to be brought into the situation, and naturally, mayhem ensues!

Even before having a newborn thrust into their lives, Ella and Jackson both have plenty of personal issues to work through. Longtime acquaintances, the two find it all too easy to fall for each other over baby bathing and feedings. Trouble is, seeing how Jackson’s son has his heart set on a reunion between his recently divorced parents, this hunky fireman has no business falling for a pretty pediatrician!

Happy reading!

Laura Marie

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys an almost glamorous lifestyle of zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out, and constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura is content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her kids and handsome hubby.

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail: BaliPalm@aol.com. Love lounging on the beach while winning fun stuff? Check out lauramariealtom.com!

For my new friend and partner in miscellaneous

mischief, Melinda Taylor. You’re a hoot!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

“Cool! Can we keep it?”

Oliver Garvey, a full minute older than his identical eight-year-old twin, Owen, peeked into the basket and fell in love. The baby was a girl. He knew, because her blanket was pink. So were her pajamas, but the note that was safety-pinned to them was written on yellow paper. It read: Please take care of me. Since Oliver was oldest, and therefore smartest, he said, “Duh. Of course we’re gonna keep it. What kind of dummy are you?”

“Don’t call me a dummy,” Owen said, almost falling off the neighborhood park’s merry-go-round while making a fist.

“You’re a dummy.”

“Can I name her?” their seven-year-old neighbor and friend, Dillon Tate, asked. “I always wanted a baby, but Dad says they’re loud and smelly.”

“She doesn’t seem loud or smelly to me,” Owen said.

“Just wait till she poops.” Oliver sniffed the part of her blanket where the stinky stuff would be. “I saw in a movie one time where babies poop a lot. We’re going to have to find some diapers.”

“I bet Mom has some,” Owen suggested. “We’ll tell her to bring ’em home from the clinic.” Their mother was a kid doctor, so she always had kid gear around in case of an emergency. Lots of times they’d seen her do medicine stuff, so Owen was pretty much a doctor himself.

“No!” Dillon crossed his arms and stomped his right foot.

“I don’t wanna tell your mom.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Oliver asked him.

“You guys, that’s what. You can’t go calling your mom at a time like this.”

“Why come?” Owen wanted to know.

“’Cause this is a boys only club. Why do you want to make your mom a member?”

“We don’t,” Oliver said, “but she knows all about babies. She’s a doctor.”

“My dad knows about babies, too. He’s a fireman. Plus, he’s a guy, which makes him a lot better to be with than your mom.”

“I love Mom,” Owen said. “She’s a good cook.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.” Dillon rolled his eyes. “All I meant was that this is a guy club and we need to keep the baby a guy secret.”

“What do you think?” Owen asked, turning to his older brother.

Oliver took a moment to consider the facts. He guessed his mom probably knew more about babies, but she was a girl. Dillon’s dad knew lots about fires and stuff, though, so if the baby caught on fire, he’d know what to do. Of course, they could just ask the baby who she wanted to go to, but that would be kind of stupid since she didn’t even know how to talk. In case the other guys laughed at him, Oliver kept that last idea to himself.

“Well?” Owen and Dillon asked.

“I agree with Dillon. We need to keep this a guy secret.”

“Shouldn’t we vote?” Owen asked.

Oliver sighed. “Raise your hand if you think we should take it to Dillon’s dad.”

Oliver and Dillon raised their hands.

“Okay,” Oliver said, “now raise your hand if you want to take it to our mom.”

Owen and Dillon raised their hands.

“You can’t vote twice, Dillon.” Honestly, at the moment, Oliver was kind of mad with his best friend. “Which do you want?”

“I want my dad, but I didn’t want Owen to feel bad. Plus, your mom is a good cook.”

Oliver sighed. Geez Louise, it was hard work being around such lamebrains. “Okay, let’s vote again. Who wants Dillon’s dad?”

Oliver and Dillon raised their hands.

“Our mom?”

Owen and the baby raised their hands.

“Oh, come on,” Oliver said. “Owen, get away from the baby. You’re gonna break its arm.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“That’s it,” Oliver said. “I’m the boss of both of you, and I say we’re takin’ it to Dillon’s dad.”

Owen stuck out his tongue.

IT WAS DONE.

Her baby would be all right. From watching all three boys at one time or another at the neighborhood day care, she knew they came from wonderful, loving homes. The kind of home she’d never be able to provide for her precious baby girl.

Giving her up had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Harder than running away for seven months, then living in that group home for pregnant teens so that her grandma and father would never feel the shame.

Giving away her baby had been even harder than taking her from the group home’s nursery, then hitching her way back to her miniscule hometown of Brown, Kansas—renamed during the 1930s when there’d been a drought. Before that, the town had been called Garden Glade. Her Sunday-school teacher had said that every so often some outraged garden-club member circulated a petition to change the name back to the original, but so far, Brown had stuck.