A Christmas to Believe In (15 page)

and exited the safe haven of his room. Barefoot, he padded

down the stairs, the scent of bacon intensifying the closer he

got to the kitchen. It blended with the aroma of maple syrup

and added punch to the sizzle of what he assumed was eggs.

His stomach growled, reminding him last night's dinner

had been meager. He'd hardly finished half a plate when time

dictated he ready for his ice skating adventure.

The scene that greeted him as he stepped inside the

kitchen took him back in time. If he ignored the blonde

seated at Alex's left, it looked like every other morning they'd

shared before school. Despite her cast, his mother bustled in

front of the stove, absently chattering as she prepared

enough food to feed a small village. His brothers mowed

down their pancakes like they might never taste another.

The only thing missing... His father should be at the head

of the table, his nose in the paper, deliberately ignoring the

ruckus going on around him.

And Jesse. Any minute now, she should pop in through the

front door, ready to carpool to school, and slide into the chair

at the counter, stealing bacon slices as fast as his mother put

them on the dish.

"It's about time you got up and moving," his mother

greeted. "I was just about to send Alex up to drag you out of

bed."

Clint gave her a false frown and moved to the coffee pot.

"Long night, Clint?" Alex called.

Too damn long.
He forced himself to grin. "I'm on

vacation."

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"Uh huh." Alex bent over his plate to shovel in another

forkful of pancakes. "I wonder if Jesse would say the same

thing."

Clint lifted his mug, hoping to hide any telltale evidence in

his expression, and braced for Heath's rejoinder. When it

didn't come, he glanced at Heath. He studied his plate, the

slow way he scooted his eggs around revealing his brother

was a hundred miles away.

Taking the blessing for what it was, Clint leaned against

the countertop. He propped a foot on Jesse's former chair and

smiled at his mother. "No crutches again?"

She threatened him with a shake of her spatula. "Eat while

you can. Zoe will be here any minute."

A distinctly feminine snort broke through the comfortable

din. "Is she bringing those hellions of hers too?"

Clint cut his gaze to Alex, waiting for his reaction. The

room fell silent. Immediate tension settled around everyone.

Alex set down his fork, but the firm set of his jaw belied

the amount of self-control his deliberate action required.

"Those are my children, Sydney," he ground out. His gaze

narrowed imperceptibly, warning his fiancee further comment

wouldn't be appreciated.

To Clint's surprise, Heath refrained from immediately

jumping in to diffuse a brewing argument.

When Sydney casually crunched her toast, Alex looked to

their mother. In a softer voice, he asked, "Zoe's coming by?"

Their mother nodded. "She's bringing samples of the

dishes she's planned for the reception. You two should be

present."

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"I need Alex to run me into town today," Sydney argued.

Clint lifted an eyebrow as both Alex and their mother

stiffened. He counted silently to three, waiting to see who

would be the first to object.

His mother beat Alex by a hair. As Clint's youngest brother

opened his mouth, she replied, "You'll have to go on your

own, Sydney. This is your wedding. One of you needs to be

present."

Resisting the urge to whistle low, Clint picked up a plate

and held it out to his mother so she could fill it with eggs. She

slid three on, and topped the stoneware with a handful of

crisp-fried bacon. He negotiated a seat next to Heath and

indulged in a home-cooked meal.

Time to change the subject. Since Heath didn't seem

inclined to step in, Clint took the duty on. He nudged his

middle brother in the arm. "Mom said you went with Nicolette

to a ceremony for Rudy last night? How was it?"

Heath blinked as if Clint had interrupted some deep

thought. He frowned, his fork poised over a piece of egg

white. "I didn't go with Nicolette. I saw her there. It was a

nice ceremony. Rudy would have been proud."

Rudy and Heath had been the best of friends growing up.

His death earlier this year had taken a toll on Heath. No

wonder Heath was distant this morning. It couldn't be easy

revisiting the past in front of a hundred people or more.

Still, Clint shifted in his chair. He'd left himself wide open

for a crack about ice-skating with Jesse. Alex would have told

Heath—especially given the way Alex teased the night before.

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The fact Heath resisted opportunity just didn't fit his

personality.

Alex abruptly stood. "Excuse me, Mom. Breakfast was

wonderful. I'm going to go shower and put some clothes on."

"Okay, honey." Amelia didn't miss a beat, answering as

she deftly pulled bacon off the skillet and added more

pancakes to the pile warming in the oven. "I've got breakfast

for the girls. You can spend time with them while Zoe's

setting up."

With a nod, Alex left the room. A second later, he poked

his head back through the entryway. "The keys are on the

table in the front room, Sydney."

"All right."

No kiss, Clint noted. No warmth what-so-ever. With their

vows four days away, they should both be as giddy as Jesse

had been last night in the snow. God, what was his brother

doing? Couldn't he see that marriage to this creature would

doom him to misery?

Sydney exited on Alex's heels, leaving through the

opposite entrance. She didn't bother with a farewell, nor did

she offer her future mother-in-law a word of thanks. As Clint

got up to refill his coffee, the front door thumped shut.

His mother passed him the spatula. "Pull the pancakes off

the griddle and turn it off, would you, dear? I want to talk to

Alex before Zoe arrives."

"Sure." He bent over to give his mother's cheek a kiss.

She grabbed her crutches off the wall and hobbled out of

the room.

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As Clint followed her orders, Heath rose from the table,

bringing his dishes to the sink. He turned around wordlessly,

the frown still tugging at his brow.

"Hey," Clint called before Heath could slip through the

doorway.

"Hm?"

"What's going on with you? You're a hundred miles away.

Everything okay?"

Heath answered with a short nod. "Yeah. Trying to adjust

to all the changes. You know. A lot's happened lately."

It sounded reasonable enough. But something didn't feel

right. The way Heath avoided eye contact only reinforced

Clint's instinct. He'd hardly touched his food too, and Heath

never missed a meal when someone cooked for him.

From the front room, the phone rang. Distantly, Clint

heard their mother answer, "Hello?" A few seconds of silence

passed, then she exclaimed, "Oh, my goodness, dear. So

wonderful to hear from you. Yes. Yes, he's right here. Hold

on."

Every nerve ending he had rose up and twitched. Jesse?

He tamped down the burst of excitement with a long drink

from his mug. He couldn't let Heath catch on. Wasn't quite

ready to face that inevitability.

"Heath! Phone, for you," Amelia called.

"Coming." Heath hurried out of the room.

His brother's voice drifted away on hushed murmurs that

Clint couldn't decipher. He stared at his food, debating how to

handle the rest of the day and this new twist in things.

Nothing good could come of this—that much was for certain.

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But did he dare indulge? She was right there for the taking...

warm, ready, and oh so willing.

The ringing of the doorbell forbade Clint from dwelling.

Chaos erupted in the front room, not the least of which came

from his brother as an oath started, then cut short. Hearty

laughter rumbled with the merry sound of little girls laughing.

Moments later, three pairs of feet pounded into the

kitchen. "Uncle Clint," the girls cried in unison.

Clint chuckled as three little girls threw their arms around

his legs. He wobbled, unbalanced by their unexpected attack,

and caught himself on the countertop. No wonder Heath had

almost cursed. Their coordinated tackle was better than a

linebacker's. "Whoa. Easy there. You three want some

pancakes?"

"Yes!"

In unison, they let go, giggled, and scrambled to the table.

As he served their plates, he studied each of their faces.

Identical, save for one who had a tiny scar above her right

eye, the triplets mirrored Alex. Black hair glimmered with a

touch of auburn in the early morning light, and their

enigmatic smiles made them look even younger than their

four years. Shy certainly wasn't part of their vocabulary—a

trait he could attribute to what he remembered of Alex's

former wife, Zoe.

"Morning, Clint. It's good to see you."

Speaking of Zoe—Clint turned around to find her, or whom

he assumed to be her, standing in the doorway, her arms

laden with two heavy bags and a small plastic sack. He

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hurried to help her with the dishes, forbidding himself to

gawk.

She looked nothing like he remembered. She'd shed her

previous weight, an accomplishment that gave way to a figure

many women would die for. Still busty, generous curves

complimented a narrow waist. She'd done something with her

hair too—maybe changed the color? He couldn't be certain.

Whatever she'd altered, it accented high cheekbones and

made long lashes stand out.

Catching himself staring, he let a grin break free. "You look

good, Zoe."

She let out a light laugh as she unpacked her bags.

"Thanks. Running after these three has its benefits."

He glanced at the girls, chuckling when he caught them

whispering in a huddle. He could almost read trouble in their

bright expressions, hear it in their giggles.

"How have you been?"

"Good. The catering business keeps me busy. How have

you been? I hear you're raising Thoroughbreds?"

"Yeah. Trying to, at least."

Her dishes neatly aligned on the countertop, she dusted

her hands off and fixed him with a bright smile. "Let me

introduce you to your nieces."

"Please."

With the deftness of a mind reader, Zoe moved behind the

girl closest to her and swiftly snatched a cup of milk away

from the edge of the table. Passing the child the glass, she

set her hand on the girl's head. "This is Macey. She's my

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klutz. If you have something breakable around, don't leave it

where she can reach it."

Clint grinned. "All right. Noted."

Moving to the middle child, she set her hands on the girl's

shoulders. "This is Michaela. She's a bit like Jesse—I can't get

her into a dress to save my life."

At the reference, Clint couldn't hold in a short laugh. But

the thought gave way to Jesse in a skirt and heeled boots,

and his gut clamped down tight. She sure knew how to wear

one now.

Zoe stepped behind her third daughter and smoothed the

girl's long hair. "And this is Mia. She's my little princess."

Clint dipped his chin, acknowledging all three at the same

time. "Do you like horses?"

"Yes!" they cried in unison.

He looked to Zoe for approval as he asked, "Maybe your

mom will let me take you over to the barn to see mine before

I go back to Kentucky."

All three turned cherubic faces to their mother, bright eyes

pleading.

Zoe chuckled. "Of course. But not today. You're not

dressed for it."

"I have to run over and check on her real quick. When I

get back, ladies, we'll go into the front room and play a game

so your mom can work."

"Checkers! I wanna play checkers," Macey cried.

"We always play checkers," Michaela protested. "I want to

play Go Fish."

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"How about Chutes and Ladders, Uncle Clint? Gramma said

she bought it for us," Mia asked.

Clint chuckled. "If you eat a good breakfast, maybe we can

do all three."

Like he'd waved a magic wand, the triplets turned their

attention to their food and shoveled in a bite. He looked to

Zoe, shaking his head in amusement. "Adorable. My brother

produced that?"

Zoe flushed. She bobbed her head, and hurried back to the

countertop, her hands fluttering over the various dishes she'd

brought with her.

"I heard that," Alex remarked from the doorway.