Bree stood in the doorway of her mother-in-law’s spare room watching Harley with his sons—one of whom was about to have his wet nappy changed. The other was giving his dad a running commentary of unsolicited advice. None of her three guys had spotted her observing what was rapidly turning into a Three Stooges routine.

“Are you gonna be a man about this?” Harley braced his palms either side of Tāne’s wriggly little body and leaned over.

Tāne gurgled and bicycled his bared chubby legs which pummeled Harley’s chest. Bree had to admit it didn’t sound like an affirmative gurgle.

Between Harley and Carter they’d managed to unbutton and free the baby’s lower half from his snuggly romper without objection. This was mainly because Tāne adored his big brother’s repertoire of face-pulling expressions and the endlessly fascinating game of peekaboo. But they were onto the tricky stage of getting a clean nappy secured when Tāne would much rather go au naturel.

Harley grabbed a foot, held it out of the way, and blew a raspberry on the baby’s stomach. Tāne let out a belly laugh and caught a fistful of his dad’s hair.

“Ow—” Harley’s hand shot out sideways toward Carter. “While he’s distracted torturing me, pass the nappy.”

Carter slapped a fresh nappy onto Harley’s palm with the efficiency of a surgical nurse. “Better hurry before he pees on us like last time.”

She sealed her lips together to prevent a burst of laughter from escaping. Day one of Carter staying with them for the holidays, Harley had roped him into helping with a nappy change only for the baby to catch them both off guard.

“My son has impeccable aim and timing, don’t you, mate?” Harley managed to untangle his hair from Tāne’s fists. He unfolded the nappy and slid it under the baby’s bottom. Tāne immediately began bucking like a mini bronco.

Some of her amusement must’ve slipped out or else it was the uncanny connection she and Harley had, because he looked up from the squirming baby, his gaze locking onto her with unerring accuracy.

“Carter and I have this under control,” he said.

Knowing that Tāne would really go ballistic if he heard her voice, Bree merely raised her eyebrows. But she couldn’t prevent her gaze from skimming over the play of muscles on her husband’s shoulders and back. He’d taken to changing Tāne without a shirt since the first time the baby had shown off his impressive firing power.

The arc of Harley’s smile went from delighted new father to sensuous in a heartbeat. It made her seriously grateful that they wouldn’t be sleeping in a tent again tonight but would instead be tucked up in their big comfortable bed with Tāne in his nursery and Carter in the spare room. She’d show her sexy husband who was really in control.

“We’ll be ready to head home in two,” Harley added.

Of course, it was more like ten by the time Harley and Carter got the baby taped into his nappy and then dressed and fastened in his car seat. Tāne was already getting drowsy again after an afternoon of being fussed over by his grandparents, uncle, and auntie. Bree took the back seat—Carter had called shotgun—and watched as Harley secured the car seat in place beside her. His strong fingers strapped the seat down, gaze fixed unwavering on their baby’s face. There was a flash of white teeth in a sharp smile when Tāne let off a machine-gun rattle fart, likely filling the nappy Harley and Carter had just changed. Harley was the kind of father she hadn’t dared dream he would be back when she’d found herself alone and pregnant with Carter. Her heart gave a familiar sickening lurch at the thought of how much Harley had missed out on with Carter as a baby.

“You okay?” Harley asked.

Drawn into unpleasant memories, Bree hadn’t noticed Harley had stopped fiddling with the seat belt and was looking at her with a furrowed brow. She nodded, berating herself as her vision grew watery. “Just getting nostalgic.”

Harley wedged his upper body over the car seat and drew her in for a lingering kiss. His lips still had a trace of the strawberries he’d stolen from his mum’s fridge on the way out. Juicy and sweet, Bree couldn’t get enough of him. She threaded her fingers though his dark hair and hung on, teasing him with just a little tongue.

“Ewww. Enough with the kissing, you guys.”

Harley broke the kiss by pulling back far enough to shoot a slitted glance at the front seat. “Mate, we talked about you being my wingman.”

“Kissing in front of us is just gross—you’ll scar us for life.” Carter scrunched his nose up then grinned, looking more like Harley’s mini-me than ever.

Although Carter referred to them as Harley and Auntie Bree, the boy had chosen to treat his birth father more like an older brother than an uncle. Harley never overstepped his boundaries with Carter, always deferring to his adoptive dad, Paul, but he allowed the boy to slot him into the role he was most comfortable with.

“Damn.” Harley kissed Bree’s nose and folded himself out of the car. “We’d better start saving for all the therapy you boys’ll need.”

They drove toward home to the chatter of Carter talking about the upcoming cricket season. Bree reached over to stroke Tāne’s wispy curls as they passed by Ford and Rob’s workshop and the beautiful mural Harley had painted of the Maori legend Ranginui and Papatūānuku, Earth Mother and Sky Father, who were separated and forever reaching for one another. That could’ve been Bree and Harley, but thank God the two of them had realized in time that they were stronger, better, and happier together than they were apart.

Harley parked in their driveway. “We’re not going inside. There’s a surprise for you in the studio.”

Carter’s eyes lit up. “Does it have two wheels and a 100cc engine?”

“It better not.” Bree unclipped her seat belt, sending Harley a mock glare before switching it to Carter. The boy had been bugging his parents and Harley about getting a kid-sized dirt bike for Christmas. “Or your mother and I will feed Harley and your dad to the great whites.”

“You heard her,” Harley said. “Don’t mess with the Findlow sisters.”

“Whatever,” Carter said glumly.

They climbed out of the car, and Harley unclipped his sleeping son from the car seat and tucked him against his chest.

Bree slung an arm around Carter’s shoulder as they headed down the side of the house toward the studio. “Yoooou…better watch out,” she sang then laughed when Carter clapped his hands over his ears and groaned.

She was still laughing when Harley unlocked the studio and hit the lights. Her giggles tapered off to a shocked silence as her eyes tried to take in everything at once.

“Wow, cool!” Carter shouted, ducking around Harley and into the big airy room.

Harley had been busy. He’d moved all their canvases and painting equipment to the edges of the room and transferred the Christmas tree from the living room into one corner of the studio. In the center of the room were two freestanding pop-up tents, one with two unrolled sleeping bags, the other with a sleeping bag and a set-up portable crib. On the other side of the tent was a plastic sandpit filled with golden sand and a variety of sand toys, and above them—oh, above them. Bree’s mouth sagged. Strung above them were multiple strands of delicate fairy lights that sparkled like a star-studded sky.

Bree slid her arm around Harley’s waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Oh, Harley. I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled down at her, and she guessed the little boy inside him was delighted at surprising her.

“Since I couldn’t get us to the beach to camp this Christmas, I thought I’d bring a little of the camping experience inside.” He kissed her temple. “Actually, it’s more glamping than camping since we’ve got running water, heating, and a toilet in here. You’re welcome.”

Carter crawled out of the second tent. “So me and Tāne get this tent?”

“Yep,” Harley said. “You okay with being responsible for your brother?”

Carter’s chest puffed out. “Of course. I’m the best big brother in the history of big brothers. Plus, he doesn’t snore like you do.”

“An added bonus,” Bree said. “And as his roomie you get to eat his share of the toasted marshmallows that I see are set up by the fireplace.”

“Score!” Carter ran over to the coffee table where sticks and marshmallows were ready to go.

“So separate sleeping bags, huh?” Bree said.

Harley lifted his eyebrows. “Sleeping bags that zip together to make one big sleeping bag—if you don’t mind us being very close together.”

Bree rose on tiptoe and kissed her sexy, thoughtful, and creative husband. “Oh, darling, I don’t mind a bit.”