“Do you gots a dad…I mean, a husbund?” August asked.
Paige’s heart squeezed. “No, honey, I don’t.” She studied the flier again. “Has your daddy seen this?”
Both girls shook their heads emphatically, their pigtails swinging wildly. Summer leaned toward her and whispered, “It’s a surprise.”
“’Sides, he was asleep,” Summer added.
“I see,” Paige said again, touched by the girls, but suddenly irritated with the man. What kind of father slept the day away while his children roamed the streets? And he’d given his children the idea he needed a wife so badly they’d advertised for one!
More than likely, he wanted a cook, maid, and baby-sitter. Maybe he was a geek who had trouble meeting women, she thought hopefully. But if he left the girls alone a lot…well, he needed to take responsibility for his daughters. And what about the girls’ mother? She’d actually deserted them! How could a mother do that?
Paige gritted her teeth as anger churned through her. “Let me walk you home.”
The girls traded looks again. “We’re not sposed to go with strangers.”
Paige patted Summer’s back. “That’s true. But I’m not really a stranger. I live in the yellow house beside yours. So we’re next-door neighbors.”
Both girls’ eyes danced with mischief, matchmaking wheels obviously turning in their little heads. A bad premonition sank in the pit of Paige’s stomach—the house was definitely jinxed. She couldn’t give the girls any false ideas about being their mother. She would walk them home. Then she would have a talk with their father, and be out of their lives for good.
ZEKE BLALOCK awoke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but between the move, unpacking and nursing an ailing golden retriever all night, he’d been completely exhausted. The silence in the house alerted him to trouble. He jumped off the sofa, shoved his tousled hair from his forehead and panicked. Where were the girls?
In the backyard with Henrietta—it’s fenced in, a quiet, safe neighborhood, that’s why you moved here—they’re fine.
But his heart pounded anyway, and he had to see his daughters’ darling, innocent faces before he could relax. Still blurry-eyed from sleep, he raced through the den, dodged the sleeping cat on the floor and almost stumbled over the maze of unopened boxes. Damn. He needed to finish unpacking. He stubbed his toe, but ignored the throbbing pain and rushed to the back door. His pulse raced when he spotted the empty yard and the gate swinging back and forth.
They were gone! Had they been kidnapped while he napped on his living room couch? Should he call 911?
He hurried up the stairs, yelling their names as he searched the house, but no answer. Remembering they liked to play hide-and-seek, he checked every closet, even under the bed. They were nowhere to be found.
Feeling sick to his stomach with panic, he almost yelped in shock when the doorbell rang. Who could be at the door? He didn’t know a single soul living on the street. Unless it was some salesmen. He sure as hell didn’t have time for that. Or maybe it was that nice elderly lady, Mrs. Spivy with some more pies. Or maybe she’d seen his children!
Unless the police had found his daughters and—
Don’t overreact. Maybe they’re playing in the front yard.
The bell rang again and he bolted, not caring that he was barefoot and his oxford shirt was unbuttoned. He swung open the front door and squinted through the screen. A gorgeous redhead stood on the front stoop, wearing a scowl the size of Texas. Was she selling something? If so, she certainly needed to perfect her demeanor.
“Mr.—”
“Daddy!”
“Girls!” Relief ballooned inside him at the sight of his daughters. He yanked open the screen door, dropped to his knees on the porch, and pulled them into his arms. “Where have you two been? I told you to stay in the backyard.” He leaned back to examine each of them, spot-checking to see if they’d been injured in any way, totally forgetting about the frowning woman standing in his doorway. They looked okay. They sounded okay. They hadn’t been kidnapped. “I was worried about you,” he said in a firm voice.
“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Summer said.
“Yeah, but we was busy,” August argued.
Zeke frowned and adopted his serious-dad expression. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You gave me a scare. The rule is you don’t leave the yard without me. Do you understand?”
Both girls bowed their heads and studied their colored sneakers. “Yes sirrrrr,” Summer said.
“August?”
“’Kay, Daddy.”
“But we found somebody.” Summer pointed to the woman. “She lives in the yellow house.”
“Right next door,” August added. “She walked us home.”
Zeke glanced up to see the woman still standing on the stoop. Her frown had disappeared, and her light green eyes seemed troubled.
“Thanks for bringing them home,” he said.
August pulled at his sleeve. “Her name’s Paige. Like a book.”
“This is our daddy,” Summer said proudly. “He’s a mess today, but that’s ’cause we was unpacking, and he didn’t sleep last night ’cause he’s a dog doctor.”
“A beterinarian,” August clarified, wrinkling her nose. “Daddy, your face is all fuzzy.”
Zeke ran a hand through his dark brown hair, trying to smooth the disheveled ends, suddenly conscious of his unruly appearance. He needed a shave, his shirt was hanging open and his jeans were full of holes. On top of that, he was running on two hours of sleep, max. He probably looked like a stray animal that had been digging in the yard. Leave it to his daughters to bring home a beautiful female when he looked his absolute worst.
He hurriedly buttoned his shirt, aware an undercurrent of tension stretched taut between him and the red-haired woman who seemed to be avoiding looking at his bare chest.
Finally he felt clothed and extended his hand. Maybe now she would look at him. “Hi. Uh, I’m Zeke Blalock.”
“Hello. Paige Watkins.” She drew in a deep breath and her short cropped T-shirt stretched tight across her small but ample breasts. For the first time since he’d opened the door, he noticed her running attire. Bright red letters boasting the slogan Free To Be Me emblazoned the front of her shirt. Black running shorts hugged her slender thighs and she wiped at a bead of perspiration on her forehead. Was she hot, or nervous?
“I hope my girls didn’t disturb you,” Zeke said.
“We didn’t, Daddy,” August said.
“No, they were fine,” Paige said. “Actually—”
Henrietta flopped onto the porch and whined. “My dog didn’t dig up your flower bed or something, did she?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Paige reached for some papers in the wagon. She was selling something.
“We’re gonna go play,” Summer said.
“Yep,” August agreed.
“Girls, wait,” Paige said.
Uh-oh. They had done something. He’d hoped he’d be lucky enough to find neighbors who liked kids. Maybe Paige Watkins didn’t. “Look, Ms. Watkins, if the girls upset you, I’m sorry, they’re just—”
She handed him a flier. “The girls were putting these