Adding Up To Family

Figures, not families, were her forte. Yet somehow CPA Katie Williams found herself accepting single dad Sam Millwright’s desperate job offer to help care for his two young children. She took the job...temporarily. Because losing her heart to this love-starved family was definitely off the books.

Sam knew Katie was different from her first day on the job. In just a short while, the new nanny had coaxed a smile from his sullen daughter and got his silent son to speak. And she awakened a part of the widower’s heart he’d long since locked away. Still, Katie planned to leave—and Sam knew if he stood any chance of convincing her to stay, he had to show the temporary nanny that they could have a permanent future...together!

“Would you consider...being the nanny?”

“I don’t have much experience,” Katie said.

“I’ve got some flexibility in my schedule, and the kids are gone half the day at school, so it won’t be much time. I know they can be...overwhelming sometimes. Especially when they’re armed with finger paint and a hose.” He grinned.

Sam’s smile was a little lopsided, with a slight dimple in his left cheek. She liked his smile. Liked it a lot. Wouldn’t mind seeing it more often. And if he was going to be around to help with the kids... Was she seriously considering this job?

Her gaze traveled again to Libby, then to Henry, dwarfed by an oversize chair in the living room.

A feeling tugged at something deep inside of Katie, something she hadn’t even been sure existed until she’d walked into this house and met these children. This man.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

* * *

The Barlow Brothers: Nothing tames a Southern man faster… than true love!

Winning the Nanny’s Heart

Shirley Jump

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author SHIRLEY JUMP spends her days writing romance so she can avoid the towering stack of dirty dishes, eat copious amounts of chocolate and reward herself with trips to the mall. Visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com for author news and a booklist, and follow her at Facebook.com/shirleyjump.author for giveaways and deep discussions about important things like chocolate and shoes.

To my awesome, supersmart editor Susan Litman, who has made every one of The Barlow Brothers books better and stronger.

Working with her has been an honor and a pleasure.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The first time Katie Williams ran away from home, she was eight years old.

She packed her Barbie backpack with a clean T-shirt, a handful of granola bars and three stuffed animals (because she couldn’t possibly choose between Rabbit, Harvey and Willard), then set out into the world. Well, not the world, really, just the end of Seventh Street, where the alley met the back of the park. She’d settled into the dark, tight space under the stairs for the slide, and told herself she wasn’t scared.

Her brother, Colton, found her an hour later, hungry and weepy and cold. “I was gonna make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, Piglet,” he’d said, as if it were just another ordinary Tuesday. “And nobody wants to miss out on pancakes.” He wrapped her in the thick fleeced comfort of his sweatshirt, then carried her home piggyback. While he walked, his back hunched under her weight, he told her a story about a brave princess who lived in a castle high on a hill, with an ogre for a friend. Colton had carried her straight to her room, deposited Katie in her squeaky twin bed and bundled her under the thin blankets. He paused, then let out a sigh.

She did it again, Colton had said.

It wasn’t even a question. Katie nodded, afraid to say the words out loud. To tell her brother how their mother had lashed out at Katie again, for a sin no more egregious than asking if there was anything for supper. In those days, their mother drank more than she ate, and for whatever reason, had taken her anger out on Katie more than Colton.

Colton had given her a nod of understanding, a hug and a whisper in her ear, You’re a good kid. Don’t ever forget that. He’d talked to her until her tears dried up and then he’d tucked her into her bed, and left her with a sandwich he’d sneaked out of the kitchen.

She supposed it was kind of ironic that almost twenty years later, she was running away from home again, but this time toward her brother. And once again, he didn’t ask a single question when she showed up on his doorstep late in the afternoon in a tiny quaint town in North Carolina.

“Hey,” she said, when she walked into the Stone Gap Fire Department and found Colton standing by Engine No. 1, polishing the chrome. “I’m here.”

He stopped working, tossed the rag onto the counter and grinned at her. “Hey yourself, Piglet.” She’d never escaped his childhood nickname for her, but that was okay. “’Bout time you showed up.”

She propped a fist on her hip and gave her six-foot-two brother a well-practiced look of annoyance. He was seven inches taller than her and looked ten times stronger in his dark blue uniform. But that didn’t stop her from teasing him. “Just because you call and invite me to come visit you doesn’t mean I’m going to rush on down here.”

“I don’t know why not. Seeing as how I’m your favorite person and all.” His grin widened and he stepped forward, opening his arms and dragging her into a hug before she could protest. “Even if you are my annoying little sister.”

Katie drew back and squared her shoulders. She could have leaned into Colton’s hug forever, but if she did that, she was afraid the fragile hold she had on her emotions would crumble, and then she’d be a sobbing mess. If there was one thing Katie didn’t do, it was cave to emotions. She hadn’t gotten to be a partner at one of the largest accounting firms in Atlanta by acting weak. And she wasn’t going to get through the next couple weeks without staying strong.

After that, she should be fine. Or at least that was what she had told herself the whole way here. Two weeks, she’d decided, was long enough to find a new job, a new life, a new everything. And maybe, just maybe, stop hurting.

“All right, so now I’m here,” she said, brushing her bangs off her forehead, as if that action could brush the worry away from her mind, too. “You want to show me around this town you’ve raved so much about?”

Truth be told, Colton had done far more raving about Rachel Morris, the girl he was engaged to. He was clearly head over heels for the wedding planner he’d met a few months ago. He’d taken a job at the local fire department, and from what Katie could tell from his texts and phone calls, settled right into Stone Gap like he was born here. She shouldn’t have been surprised—Colton was the kind of guy who fit in anywhere, even with the half brothers he’d recently met. Katie, on the other hand, had never had the same kind of ease around people. Maybe it was from doing such a left-brained job, or maybe it was just that Colton had enough charm for the two of them combined.

“I can’t leave now, sis, sorry. I just started my shift and I’m on the clock for a full twenty-four,” he said. “But why don’t you head over to the Stone Gap Inn, and I’ll meet you there tomorrow night at suppertime? Tell Della I sent you. I stayed there until I rented a house in town. It’s awesome. If anyone knows how to be a hostess, it’s Della. She’s my dad’s wife, and I guarantee she’s going to make you feel like a long lost member of the family.”

Katie wasn’t so sure about that. Right now, all she wanted was a room to herself and some time to think. “Sounds like a plan. Say...six o’clock?”

“On the dot.” Then he winked. “More or less. You know you have to give me a ten-minute window, in either direction.”

She rolled your eyes at him. “I swear, you do that on purpose.”

Colton draped an arm over her shoulders and started walking her back to her car. “You are just a tiny bit too uptight, Piglet. Learn to loosen up. Run late once in a while. Get messy. Your life will be ten times more fun that way.”

“And your life would be ten times easier if you just got a little more organized and on time.”

Colton chuckled. “See you tomorrow, sis.”

Katie climbed into her car and started the engine. She waved goodbye to her brother, then drove two miles away from downtown Stone Gap before turning on a pretty side street lined with trees. She’d been in town only for an hour and already knew her way around—such a difference from the crazy congestion of Atlanta. Okay, so she’d also studied a Google map of the town before making the drive from Atlanta, and written down the directions to the B and B after Colton had referred her to it when she’d broached the idea of visiting. But overall, Stone Gap was easy—easy to drive through, easy to enjoy.

This was what she wanted and needed, she told herself. A quiet, picturesque seaside town where she could...forget. Move on. Take some time to process this, the doctor had told her. Don’t expect to bounce right back into your normal life. You’ve had a loss, and you need time to deal with it.

But how did one “process” a miscarriage? Katie’s hand strayed to her belly, as if touching the place where the baby had been would change anything. Everything about her life was different now, had been for two months. Two months where she had buried her feelings and told herself she was okay. Then had a major meltdown at work, and lost the firm’s two biggest clients. All in one day. The next day, her boss had sat her down and told her maybe it would be best for all involved if she moved on, a pretty little euphemism for being fired. Except Katie wasn’t sure what to do next. How to move forward or move on.

For one brief moment—a handful of weeks, really—Katie had dared to consider a different life from the one she’d been living. She’d dreamed of detouring from the careful career path she’d been on. Quitting her job, because working eighty hours a week didn’t jibe with being a mom, and maybe going out on her own or working at a smaller firm. She’d flipped through baby magazines and surfed nursery design websites. She’d even set up a Pinterest account, thinking she’d want a way to organize and save all the things she had found.

And then one morning she’d woken up in pain, her stomach curling in against her like a fist, and she’d known, in that innate way a woman reads the whispers of her body. Later that day, the doctor had confirmed the wrenching truth Katie already knew.

The baby, the different life, the dream, were all gone. She laid a hand on her stomach and could almost hear it echoing inside. Katie had wanted to roll into a ball in that hospital bed and cry, but instead, she’d gotten dressed, checked out and gone to work.

Because she thought that would help her forget.

It hadn’t.

And now, here she was, in a town not much bigger than a postage stamp, looking for...peace. A direction. She’d start, she decided, small. At the Stone Gap Inn.

She pulled into the driveway of the address Colton had given her and looked up at the two-story white antebellum-style house before her. A long, columned front porch greeted visitors like a smile, anchored by a swing on one end and two comfy rocking chairs on the other. A rainbow of flowers flanked the walkway, leading a happy march up to a bright red front door. Katie half expected a girl in a corset and hoopskirt to step onto the porch and offer visitors some sweet tea.

Just as she rang the bell, the front door opened and a curvy red-haired woman in a floral apron greeted her with a wide smile. “Why, hello! You must be Colton’s sister. He called me and told me you were on your way. I’m Della.” She put out her hand and shook with Katie. “Della Barlow. I own this bed-and-breakfast, and run it with my best friend, Mavis.”

It was a fast, breathless, friendly introduction that rushed over Katie like a wave. “Uh, hi. Yes, I’m Colton’s younger sister and he said he made a reservation for me?”

“He did indeed. Come right in.” Della waved her in, and waited a beat while Katie stood in the foyer, mouth agape, and took in the grand staircase that zippered up the middle of the house.

It was like walking into the pages of Gone with the Wind. The staircase curved in at the center, with white risers marrying the wood treads and a carved railing that formed a graceful swoop up to the second floor. On the main floor, a formal parlor sat to the left, with a pair of vanilla love seats sitting on either side of an upright piano. Long, satiny cream drapes framed the floor-to-ceiling windows and a small rolltop desk against the far wall. The dining room was on the right, dominated by a long mahogany table with a wide spray of bright pink and white flowers at its center. The coffered ceiling provided the perfect backdrop to an elaborate chandelier filled with teardrop crystals. Shades of whites, creams and soft pastels filled every room, as inviting as sinking into a cloud. Katie loved it immediately.

“Welcome to the Stone Gap Inn,” Della said, as she walked up the stairs with Katie right behind. “We just opened a few months ago, so we might still have a hiccup or two. The house was abandoned for years before Mavis and I bought it. It still had strong bones, though, being pre–Civil War, one of the few that survived those years. My husband and sons helped renovate it, along with some help from my wonderful soon-to-be daughter-in-law, who restores old houses. They all worked on it, top to bottom, but we kept as many period details as we could. Don’t worry, though, we made sure all the plumbing and electricity is modern, along with Wi-Fi and satellite TV in each of the rooms.”

Katie laughed. “It sounds perfect. In fact, it looks perfect. The house is stunning.”

“Thank you. We love it, and so far, our guests have, too. They’ve all been so grateful to have a place to stay, ever since the original hotel in town closed up. The owner retired, moved to Minnesota to be near his grandkids, but was gracious enough to send all his customers to us. He said a B and B fits Stone Gap better, and I might be biased, but I happen to agree.”

“I do, too,” Katie said. “This place seems perfect for a small seaside town.”

“Thank you. Mavis and I were looking for something to keep us busy in our golden years, and the way business has been going, we got our wish.” Della laughed. “Anyway, I put you in the Charlotte Room,” she said, opening a door as she spoke. “I hope you like it.”

If Katie could have dreamed up a perfect bedroom, this would have been it. Pale green, bright white and accents of butter yellow made the room feel like a garden. A canopy bed dominated the space, looking more like a cloud than a place to sleep. Piles of pillows cascaded down the center of a thick white comforter. A low bench sat at the foot of the bed, with a basket filled with fluffy towels and soaps and bath salts on one end, a tray with mini bottles of water and a bowl of fresh fruit on the other. A ceiling-high armoire sat between the windows, and a thick white terry-cloth robe hung inside, just begging someone to slip it on, curl up in the armchair in the corner and read one of the books piled in the small bookcase.

Katie gasped. “Wow. It’s gorgeous.”

“I’m so glad you like the room. I’ll give you some time to get settled. If you want to join me in the kitchen for some coffee and fresh-baked cookies, come on downstairs.” Della placed a room key in Katie’s palm. “Welcome to Stone Gap.”

Katie sank onto the bed after Della was gone, and thought yes, this was exactly what she needed. Maybe, just maybe, here in this town that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, she could find a way to move forward again.

* * *

The scent of chocolate chip cookies drew Katie out of her nap and back downstairs an hour later. She’d slept better in that hour than she had in the last two months. It had to be the bed, or the total quiet that surrounded her, so unlike the constant hum of Atlanta.

In the kitchen, Della was at the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. She turned when Katie entered the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Do you have decaf?”

“I do indeed. Have a seat and—”

Katie waved off Della’s instructions. She felt useless just relaxing like this. “Please, let me help.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Bed-and-breakfast means you get a place to sleep and breakfast served to you. But an inn means you get all that and more.” Della grabbed a coffee mug and filled it with steaming brew. She placed it before Katie, along with cream and sugar in cute little cow-shaped containers. “Now, sit down and enjoy yourself. This is your vacation, dear.”

“Will you please sit with me?” Katie said. For some reason, she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe because when she was alone she tended to think, and that just brought everything back to the surface again. “Please.”

Della glanced at the stove, then at the small table’s empty chair. “I think I will. My feet are barking at me to take a few minutes to sit on my duff. Besides, that crab chowder is done enough to cook all by itself.” Della slipped out of the apron and hung it over the back of a chair, then poured herself a cup of coffee and added a splash of cream. “So, tell me, what brings you to Stone Gap?”

“Like you said, vacation. And...” Katie toyed with the mug. There was something friendly and open about Della Barlow that warmed the air between them and made Katie want to confide, a little, about all that was going on in her life. “And maybe find a job. I’m sort of between things and not sure where I want to go next. Colton raves about this town, and I thought I’d give it a couple weeks to see if it grows on me, too.”

“If you’re not careful, this town will wrap around your heart like ivy on an oak tree, pretty and strong. That’s what it did to me, more than thirty-five years ago, when I moved here with my Bobby. ’Course, it helped that the man himself was also wrapped around my heart.” Della smiled, clearly proud of her town and the man she’d married.

A man who had had an affair more than thirty years ago with Katie’s mother, an affair that had produced Colton. Katie had seen pictures of her mother from those years, before her drinking took its toll. Vanessa Williams had been beautiful, with long dark hair, deep green eyes and a wide smile. In the years since Colton and Katie had been born, she’d morphed into a sullen, resentful woman who considered both her children as unwanted burdens.

But Della Barlow—she was obviously the kind of mother everyone wished they could have. It was clear she loved her sons and her husband, despite the brief bump their marriage had hit more than three decades ago. Katie had no doubt staying here would be like coming home.

“So, Katie, what do you do?” Della asked. “Or, a better question, what do you want to do, since not all of us work at our first-love jobs when we’re young.”

It had been a long time since Katie had thought about her ideal career. She felt like she was in middle school again, lying on her bed and looking up at the cracks in the ceiling. When she was eleven, she’d imagined they were paths, creeping like a spider out in different directions. If she took this path, she’d end up there, by that missing chunk of plaster. That path, and she’d connect with that path and that one, and end up fading into the window frame. The world had seemed open and endless back then, filled with crazy ideas like becoming a veterinarian and an actress and a chef, all at the same time. “I... I don’t know. I’ve been an accountant for so long, I don’t know anything else.”

“Was that your dream, working with numbers?”

Katie scoffed. “No. I sort of fell into it. I was good at math, and I got a scholarship to college, as long as I enrolled in the accounting program. I’ve been doing this job so long, I don’t know if I can do anything else.”

Della waved that off. “Honey, you are as young as a baby bird. You still have time to go after whatever dream you want. Heck, I’m in my fifties and just now embarking on my dream.” She gestured at the sunny yellow kitchen, the off-white cabinets, the wide plank floors. “Dare to do something different, while you aren’t tied down to a family and a dog.”

Dare to do something different. That was part of why Katie was here, because she didn’t know what else to do with herself, except for something different. She couldn’t stay one more second in Atlanta, where everything she looked at reminded her of what she had lost. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Della’s hand covered hers. “Start with cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“Of course. Everything’s better with cookies.” Della grinned. “And then, if you’re interested in something temporary, I know someone who needs some help for the next few weeks. It’s not a glamorous job, but I guarantee it’ll be fun and not at all like accounting.”

Katie took a bite out of a chewy chocolate chip cookie that melted against her tongue. Like the rest of the house and the owner herself, the cookies were the best ever. “What kind of job are you talking about?”

“Well...” Della took a sip of coffee, then wrapped her hands around the mug, “Sam Millwright is in need of a tutor. If you ask me, he needs a good nanny, too. I’ve met Charity Jacobs, the one working for him now, and she’s a dear girl, but in over her head.”

A tutor maybe, but a nanny? As in someone who watched kids all day? Katie had zero experience with children, unless one counted the couple summers she’d spent as a camp counselor. But that had been a team experience—never one where she was on her own, in charge of everything from sunup to sundown for a kid. She’d never had a younger sibling, never really babysat (okay, so she had watched her neighbor’s Pomeranians twice, and commandeered her cousins almost every holiday meal, but that wasn’t the same thing), never even watched a friend’s child, let alone helped anyone with homework. And the thought of being with a baby...

“Sam’s kids are just the cutest little things you ever did see. Libby just turned eight, and Henry is three,” Della said. “You’d love them.”

Three and eight. So not babies. Maybe doable. Maybe. But still, a nanny? Della was right, that was about as far removed from accountant as Katie could get. Except she had no desire to be a nanny, and not enough experience to even consider the job.

“Wait...did you say he needed a tutor, too?”

Della nodded. “Libby’s struggling in school. Ever since her mom passed away, she’s been having a hard time keeping up, poor thing. Sam’s doing the best he can, but it’s tough, being breadwinner and everything else at the same time. His regular babysitter up and quit a month ago, and Sam’s been struggling ever since to find someone to watch the kids. He’s got Charity filling in part of the time, but she’s...” Della made a little face. “Anyway, I had the kids over here yesterday, trying to take the load off Sam, but you know, it’s hard to run a business and watch two kids.” She smiled. “Even if they’re truly the nicest kids ever.”

Couple of nice, sweet kids. How hard could it be? Katie would have to tutor only one of them, it seemed. And the extra money would be a godsend while she was debating her next move. Not to mention, as Della had said, it wasn’t accounting. It wouldn’t be a job that would require her to remember a million details or figure out complicated tax structures. It would be almost as easy as just staying home all day, except she’d hopefully be too busy to think. If the girl was eight, it wasn’t like Katie was going to need a master’s in English to tutor her. What was that, third grade? She could handle third grade homework help. And surely the math would be a breeze for her. As much as Katie said she wanted time to think, to breathe, just the thought of all that time in her head...

She’d rather be working. Doing something that wasn’t difficult, but still kept her mind from spinning. “Sure. I’ll talk to him.”

“Lovely!” Della grinned. “I’ll give him a call quicker than a bunny running through a pepper patch.”

Della did as she’d promised, calling up Sam Millwright a second later. Katie caught only half the conversation, but it was full of “you’re going to love her” and “she’s delightful” endorsements of Katie. Della dropped Colton’s name into the conversation and that seemed to be the clincher. Della hung up the phone, then scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address,” she said. “He said to be there at eight thirty tomorrow morning and he’ll give you an interview.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Katie said, taking the paper. It wasn’t moving on or moving forward, but it wasn’t standing still, either, and for now, that was enough.

Chapter Two

It was only a little after eight in the morning and already Sam had resorted to bribery. “If you eat your breakfast, Libby Bear, I’ll let you have a cookie.”

Probably not the healthiest bribe, but at this point, after dealing with the kids for two hours—thanks to Henry waking up at the crack of way-too-early—Sam was desperate. Hell, most days he was desperate. Between the kids and an overly eager one-year-old golden retriever, Sam felt outnumbered, outmaneuvered and out of ideas.

“Miss Della’s cookies?” Libby asked with a wary look. “Because your cookies smell weird.”

As in eau de burned. Della Barlow had taken one look at the snack Sam had packed for the kids yesterday and baked them three dozen chocolate chip pity cookies. Thank God, because Sam couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag. He wasn’t much good at housework or doing ponytails or answering tough questions from a still-grieving three-and eight-year-old. What he was good at was corporate real estate. Or at least he had been, until the agency he worked for went belly-up. All the profits on million-dollar deals he’d brought into the agency had been frittered away by the owner, leaving the coffers dry when it came to making the payments on their own building. Sam had walked into work last Monday and found a for-sale sign on the door, and the locks changed, most likely by the bank. All his pending deals went up in smoke as panicked clients ran off to other agents, and the commission check Sam had been counting on to pay the bills had bounced higher than a new tennis ball.

It was partly his own fault. All the signs of a business in trouble had been there, but he’d been too distracted, trying to run a household and keep the kids fed and clothed and going to bed on time, to pay attention. He’d done the one thing he couldn’t afford to do—turned his focus away from his job—and it had nearly cost him everything.

He had an interview with the agency’s biggest competitor later this morning. The problem? He had yet to find regular child care. One would think it wouldn’t be hard, but the three nannies he had met so far had been like the Three Stooges: incompetent, irresponsible and insane. He’d hired Charity Jacobs a couple weeks ago. She was okay, but not exactly Nanny of the Year, nor was she interested in taking on the job full-time. She kept saying something about needing to see her boyfriend. Half the time, Charity looked terrified to be left alone with the kids. But so far she’d kept them fed and clean, and that was more than the others had done.

On top of that, there was Libby and the constant worry about her falling behind. Third grade was a pivotal year for math skills, her teacher had said, with the kind of impending doom in her voice that suggested Libby would end up a panhandler if she didn’t grasp the basics this year. She needed a tutor and Sam needed a miracle.

Thank God Della had called yesterday and promised the perfect candidate in Colton’s little sister.

Sam liked Colton. Liked all the Barlows, in fact. He’d met Colton, half brother to Mac, Luke and Jack, at a town picnic a couple months ago. There’d been a rousing and surprisingly competitive game of cornhole, which Colton was close to winning until Sam made his final shot. The two men had laughed, then shared a couple beers and found a common ground in fishing, something Colton had done a lot of recently with his future father-in-law and his fiancée. Sam and he had hung out a few times since, now that Colton had moved to Stone Gap on a permanent basis.

Libby hopped down off the chair and started twirling. Her skirt swung out around her in a rising bell. “I want ballet lessons. Can I have ballet lessons?”

Ballet lessons. Another thing he’d have to schedule and run to. Libby made a constant argument in favor of the lessons by wearing an old, tattered ballerina dress, a Halloween costume from years ago, pretty much every day. He’d wanted Libby to wear jeans and a T-shirt to school today. Libby had thrown a fit, pitching herself onto the floor and sobbing, saying that Mommy had bought her the ballerina dress and she really wanted to wear it—

And Sam caved. He’d also caved on letting the kids watch cartoons while they ate, though Bugs Bunny and friends hadn’t exactly inspired anyone to take a single bite yet.

He glanced at the still untouched waffle on Libby’s plate. “Libby, you need to eat your breakfast so we can get to school and I can get Henry over to the community center.” He had just enough time to give the tutor a quick interview, drop the kids at school by nine and get to his interview at nine fifteen.

Libby let out a sigh that sounded way too grown-up. “We don’t have school today.”

“Of course you have school today. It’s Tuesday.”

Libby shook her head. “Miss McCarthy said we didn’t. There’s some big meeting for the teachers or something.”

Sam crossed to the fridge, moving menus and notes and drawings around until he finally found the school calendar, tacked in place by a thick magnet. He ran his finger down to today’s date—

No School. In-Service Teacher Day.

He started to curse, then stopped himself. Now what was he supposed to do? He pulled out his phone and texted Charity. No school today. Need you ASAP.

“And Uncle Ty said the community center is closed today. ’Cuz he had to fix the bathroom or something.”

“There’s no storytime today?” What else could go wrong this morning?

Libby shrugged. “Can I go play?”

“Eat your breakfast first.” While I come up with a miracle. He had forty-five minutes until his interview. Forty-five minutes to get Charity over here and interview this new girl for the tutor job.

Libby shook her head. “I don’t like those waffles. I like the ones...”

Her voice trailed off, but Sam could fill in the blank himself. She liked the ones her mommy had made, before Mommy had been killed by a drunk driver. The year and a half since then had passed in a blur, with Sam juggling a job and the kids and babysitters and his grief. He’d thought he was doing a good job, until he lost first Mrs. Rey, the best nanny in the world, who had moved to Florida to be with her grandkids, then a few weeks later, his job. He’d tried to step in and do it all, but he wasn’t much good at being two parents in one. Time, he told himself, time fixed everything.

Except when he was running late. “Libby, you need to eat because I need to—”

She stopped spinning and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

Lately, Libby had mastered defiance. She wasn’t outright disobedient, just enough to add another stress to Sam’s day.

From his booster seat at the other end of the kitchen table, Henry let out a shriek of support. Sam turned to his son. “Hey, buddy, want to eat breakfast?”

Henry shook his head.

“Do you want something else? Just say it, buddy, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Henry stared at his father for one long moment. Sam waited, his heart in his throat. Maybe this time...

Instead, Henry picked up his waffle and flung it on the floor. Before Sam could react, the golden retriever dashed in and stole a bonus meal.

That made Libby laugh, while she tossed her waffle at the dog, too. “Get it, Bandit. Get it!”

“Libby—”

But she was already gone, tearing off to the living room to snatch up the TV remote and raise the volume to deafening levels. Henry saw his own opportunity for escape, and clambered down from the chair and over to the giant box of Legos that Sam had forgotten to put up on the top shelf. Before Sam could say “don’t touch that,” Henry had knocked it onto the floor, releasing a cavalcade of miniature bricks.

And then the doorbell rang.

The dog started barking. Libby started peppering her father with questions about who was there, was it Miss Della, was it the mailman, was it Barney the dinosaur. Sam closed his eyes for a too-brief second, then strode down the hall and pulled open the door.

One of the most beautiful women Sam had ever seen stared back at him, with big brown doe-like eyes peeking out from under long dark wavy hair. She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her curves, a satiny pink blouse and dark pumps that raised her from what he guessed was a normal height of about five foot three. “Uh, I’m Katie Williams,” she said, while he continued to stare. “I’m here to interview for the tutor position? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes early.”

The tutor. Of course. Already, he’d forgotten about her appointment. Maybe he was the one who should have eaten his breakfast. Or, for that matter, had a cup of coffee. Thus far, Sam was lucky he’d had enough time to throw on some clothes and brush his teeth. And given that Charity hadn’t responded to his text yet, that meant he still didn’t have anyone to watch Libby, and his interview was in less than forty-five minutes... “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I—” He threw up his hands and gave up trying to formulate any kind of excuse. How did he encapsulate months of feeling overwhelmed into one sentence? “It’s been a morning and a half. Katie Williams—Colton’s little sister, right?”

“Yes.”

Which made her probably only a couple years younger than Sam. He didn’t know why that mattered so much, but it suddenly did. “Colton’s a great guy.”

“Who’s here?” Libby skidded to a stop beside him and poked her head around the door. “Hi. I’m Libby.”

Katie bent down. “Hi, Libby. I’m Katie.” She raised her gaze and peered at the space behind Sam. “And who’s that?”

Libby turned. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Henry. He’s shy.”

Katie wiggled her fingers in Henry’s direction. “Hi, Henry. I’m Katie.”

Henry stood at the corner for a second longer, then dashed back into the living room. He never uttered a peep. Not that Sam had expected him to. Henry had almost completely stopped talking after his mother died. Sam had taken his son to doctor after doctor, spent hours searching the internet, but the conclusion was the same—Henry would talk when he was ready.

Lord, how Sam missed the sound of Henry’s voice. The curiosity in the lilting questions he used to ask. Sam’s heart ached, literally ached, for the things he had lost. The things he couldn’t change.

Libby, the more outgoing of the two kids, just kept looking up at Katie with obvious curiosity. “Do you like dogs?” Libby asked.

Katie smiled. “I love dogs.”

One point in favor of Katie Williams. Hopefully, she liked dogs with plenty of puppy energy, because he could feel Bandit nudging past him. Just as Sam reached for the dog’s collar, Bandit leaped, paws landing on Katie’s chest. She stumbled back, and for a long, heart-stopping second, Sam thought she was going to fall down his porch stairs. Visions of hospitals and lawsuits popped into his mind. He reached for her, caught her hand, just as she recovered her balance and swayed forward. But then she overcorrected, and swayed straight into his chest.

“Oh, God. I’m... I’m sorry,” she said, jerking away from him.

He knew he should say the same, but for one long second there he hadn’t been sorry at all that she had touched him. Maybe it was because he’d been alone for so long, or maybe it was because she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, but either way, a little frisson of electricity had run through Sam when Katie touched his chest. It was chased by a wave of guilt. Wendy had been dead for only a year and a half. What was he doing, reacting to another woman like that?

“I’m the one who needs to apologize. My, uh, dog is still learning his manners,” Sam said, and thought it would be a good thing if his owner remembered his. “But please come in, have a seat while we talk. I can lock Bandit up if you want.”

“Oh, no, the dog is fine. I love dogs, remember? Really.” Katie started to follow Sam into the house, with Bandit hot on her heels.

“You can come with me,” Libby said. She put her hand in Katie’s and tugged her down the hall. “My father says I gotta be nice to people who come over to the house.”

My father. Not Daddy. He hadn’t heard Daddy, or even Dad in a long time. He bit back another sigh.

“And he’s supposed to be nice, too,” Libby added, giving Sam a pointed glare.

Katie looked up at Sam and smiled. She had a nice smile. A really nice smile. “Is that so?”

“Yup. ’Cuz sometimes he’s grumpy,” Libby added, thumbing in the direction of Sam.

Sam groaned. That was the problem with kids. They said too much and always at the wrong time. “I’m not grumpy. Just...stressed.”

“How come?” Libby asked.

He ruffled his daughter’s hair. She stiffened, an almost imperceptible amount, but the distance was there. The easy relationship he’d had with his eldest had also disappeared in the last year and a half. Sam put on a bright face, pretending, as he always did, that he didn’t notice. That they were all just fine. “Because some people feed their breakfast to the dog.”

Katie bit back a laugh. “My brother used to do that.”

“Not you?”

“Of course not. I was the good one.” Katie smiled when she said that, which sent his mind spiraling down a couple paths that were not appropriate for interviewing the tutor. Yeah, he definitely had been alone too long. That was all it was.

Sam cleared his throat and gestured toward the dining room table. The kitchen was a mess—as was typical pretty much every day of the week—with dirty dishes piled in the sink, breakfast crumbs scattered across the table and countertops, and a set of muddy paw prints running circles around the table. They never used the dining room, which meant it was relatively clean, if he ignored the light coating of dust on everything. “Libby, go watch cartoons with Henry.”

“But I wanna—”

“Go watch cartoons with Henry. Please.” He prayed Libby wouldn’t argue, that she would just do what he said.

Libby stood her ground a moment longer, but then the sounds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck drew her into the other room. Sam had a brief moment of peace in his house, which meant he’d better get this interview done fast, before Katie realized things here were actually more like a zoo, and she ran out the door, like more than one nanny he’d interviewed.

“Is there any chance you also want to be a nanny?” he asked, only half joking. Still no text back from Charity.

“I’ve never been a nanny, or a tutor,” she said. “I’m a CPA, but I’m...looking for a new direction for now. I’m in town for a couple weeks while I think about my career options.”

A CPA? What had Della been thinking? Talk about overqualified for the job.

“Do you have any experience with kids?” He should have realized that when she showed up on his doorstep. Any tutor in her right mind wouldn’t be wearing heels and a figure-hugging pencil skirt.

He glanced at his phone again. Nothing from Charity. Damn. The last thing he wanted to do was take the kids with him. He’d had to do that a few times with client appointments and the results had been...disastrous to say the least. He was still paying for the marker decorations that Henry had drawn on a custom-made leather sofa in one client’s office. It was almost impossible to carry on a conversation of any kind of substance with the kids in the room. And for him to show up at an interview with them...

He might as well kiss the job goodbye. “You know, maybe we should reschedule. This is a crazy busy morning for me. If you could come back—”

“No!” Libby’s shriek cut through the air like a knife. “No!”

Sam bolted out of the chair and charged down the hall, his heart a tight ball in his throat. He never should have left the kids alone in the living room. This was how awful things happened, and if there was one thing that would break Sam, it would be one of his kids getting hurt. Or worse. Please be okay, please be okay.

It was probably only ten yards from the dining room to the living room, but to Sam, it felt like ten thousand. “Libby? You okay?”

“Henry took my bear when I was playing with it! He’s hurting him! Tell him to stop!”

It took Sam a second to process the fact that Libby and Henry were both fine. Just engaged in a tug-of-war over a stuffed bear. Libby’s voice was at decibels usually reserved for rock concerts, the sound nearly outpaced by Henry’s screams. No words, just the frustrated screams that Sam had heard too much of in the last year and a half.

“Henry, give Libby back her bear.”

But Henry didn’t listen. Instead, he tugged harder, at the same time that Libby tugged in the opposite direction. There was a horrible tearing sound, and then an explosion of fiberfill in the air. The kids tumbled onto the carpet, each holding half a bear, like some kind of biblical division of property.

The sobs multiplied in volume. Libby was screaming at Henry and Henry was screaming back, and Sam just wanted to quit. Quit being a terrible father. Quit being the chief everything when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Just run away somewhere that was quiet and peaceful and clean.

His wife would have known what to do. Wendy had had a way with the kids, a calming presence that seemed to bring everyone back to earth in seconds. God, he missed her, and how she could handle all these things that he sucked at. Wendy would have known whose bear that was, but Sam—Sam couldn’t even remember buying the bear.

“No!” Libby screamed again. “Look what you did, Henry! You ruined him!”

While Sam stood there, at a loss, with two kids in the throes of tantrums, Bandit ran into the fray and grabbed a chunk of bear, then darted into the corner like he’d scored a new chew toy. And Libby started to sob.

Great, just great. Now how was he supposed to fix this?

He stayed immobile, frozen with indecision, afraid of doing the wrong thing, making it worse. Katie brushed past him. “Don’t cry, Libby. I can sew this,” she said, bending down in the space between the kids. “Fix him up as good as new.”

Libby swiped at her nose with the back of her arm. “You can?”

Katie nodded while she gathered up the fiberfill and began stuffing it into the bear’s belly. Henry quieted, too, and just watched, eyes wide. “I learned how to sew when I was your age. If you want, I can teach you how.”

“He doesn’t know how to sew,” Libby said, jabbing another thumb in her father’s direction.

Katie shot Sam a grin. “Some daddies don’t and some mommies don’t. But if I teach you, then you’ll know and next time you can fix—” she tapped the bear’s decapitated head, then turned to Henry “—what’s his name?”

Henry just stared at her. His fist clenched around the puff of stuffing.

“A bear’s gotta have a name.” Katie smiled at Henry, then inched closer. Sam started to go in there, to stop her, to tell her Henry was just going to run from her, but Katie kept talking, her voice calm and soft. Mesmerizing. “When I was a little girl, I had a bear like this one. I used to get scared a lot when it was dark, and my big brother, Colton, would find my bear and bring it to me. He would tuck me in and tell me stories until I stopped being scared and I fell asleep. I shared my bear with my brother sometimes, too, and Colton even gave Willard his own nicknames. My bear was my bestest friend when I was little, and I bet this guy is your friend, huh?”

Henry nodded.

“My bear’s name was Willard, but my brother nicknamed him Patch, because he was fixed so many times he had a patch over his belly. He wasn’t near as nice as your bear. So,” Katie said, giving the bodyless bear a little tap on the nose, “what’s his name? I gotta know his name so I can fix him, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.”

Henry shifted from foot to foot. Even though Libby knew the answer, she stood silently behind Katie, staring, waiting, just like Sam was. Katie just gave Henry a patient smile.

Then, very slowly, Henry held out his hand and uncurled his tight fist. A pouf of fiberfill sprang up like a daisy in his palm. “Henry help fix George?”

Henry’s little voice rang like a bell in the quiet of the living room. Libby turned to her father, mouth agape. Sam put a hand on his chest, sure he was hearing things.

Henry had spoken. A handful of words, but to Sam, it might as well have been the Gettysburg Address. Henry had spoken—and Sam’s heart was so full, he was sure it would burst just like the bear.

Katie nodded. “Of course Henry can help. And for the record, I think George is a terrific name for a bear.”

“T’ank you,” Henry said quietly, then he dropped the puff of stuffing into Katie’s lap.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t give a damn that Katie Williams had come in here looking like she was walking into court. He didn’t give a damn that she didn’t have much, if any, experience. If she could get through to Henry, he had little doubt that she could get through to Libby, too, and restore his daughter’s love for school. Katie had brought about a miracle that no one else had. She’d shifted the tides in a family too long on a rolling ocean, and for Sam, that was résumé enough. “You’re hired.”

Chapter Three

Katie wasn’t so sure she’d heard Sam right. She was hired? Just like that?

And did she even really want the job?

She’d be with these two kids for at least an hour at a time if she became Libby’s tutor. Small children with winsome faces and those little-kid voices. The very thing she had been looking forward to, before—

Could she do it? Or would it be too painful?

Katie was still kneeling on the floor between Henry and Libby, holding the tattered remains of George the teddy bear. Libby, who seemed ten times older than her age, came over and stood in front of her. She propped her fists on her tiny hips and cocked her brown curls to one side. “Are you gonna stay?” Libby’s eyes, so like her father’s, clouded. “Just ’cuz, you know, ’cuz our mommy died and...and... I really wanna fix George.”

The naked honesty and pain in Libby’s face was almost too much to bear. Katie could see the yearning for a mother, the way that loss had impacted the little girl in a thousand ways, in the empty shadows in Libby’s eyes. Katie’s heart broke for Libby, and for little Henry, standing there silently, his thumb in his mouth, just watching her. Katie had no doubt Sam loved his kids, but he was clearly overwhelmed, and these two little ones needed someone. Being a tutor wouldn’t be all that tough, she figured, and she could help people who clearly needed help.

And given the way the two kids were staring at her, with a mix of hope and wary trust in their faces, she knew they wanted that someone to be her. It felt nice to be needed, even if only for this little while. Katie knew what it was like to crave a parent who engaged. Who cared. Katie wasn’t going to be their parent, but maybe she could help fill some of the gaps.

“Okay,” Katie said to Libby. “I’ll stay. We can fix George, if you have some thread and a needle?”

Sam put out his hands. “If we do, I have no idea where.”

“No problem. I’ll pick some up this week.” She bent down to Henry’s level again. “George is gonna need some special thread to be fixed. Can you wait for me to bring that over?”

Henry gave her a reluctant nod.

Libby ran into the other room, then hurried back. She thrust a stuffed dog into Henry’s arms. “Here. You can play with Puppy until then. But don’t break him.”

Henry grinned, then clutched the stuffed animal close to his chest.

“That was very nice, Libby,” Katie said.

“Thanks.” A slow smile spread across Libby’s face, then she turned and grabbed Henry’s hand. “Come on, Henry. Let’s watch SpongeBob.” The two of them plopped on the sofa, with Libby working the remote to switch to the underwater cartoon.

Katie rose and turned toward Sam. She’d accepted a job she wasn’t sure she wanted, without knowing a single thing about the hours, the pay, anything. That was as far outside the realm of how she normally operated as she could get. “So, maybe we should discuss the details.”

He grinned. She liked his smile. It was warm, friendly, like the way brownies made you feel when you first pulled them out of the oven. He was a handsome man, six foot two, trim and muscular, with close-cropped medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that seemed molded to his chest—not that she was complaining—and a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare, and there was just something about the intimacy of that that made Katie feel like she was intruding in his space. From the moment she’d seen him, standing at the door, annoyed and flustered, she’d felt this warmth in her gut that rippled through her veins.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down. “My appointment was just moved to nine thirty, which means I have time to finally have a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

“Coffee would be great.” And maybe with a mug in her hands she’d stop staring at the hot widower’s body. She followed him out to the kitchen, which looked pretty much like the tornado from The Wizard of Oz had just blown through. Dirty dishes teetered in the sink, a stack of newspapers lay scattered across the counter, crumbs littered the floor and the space around the toaster, and there was a pile of dirty laundry bulging out from the laundry room door like an impending avalanche.

Yup, Sam was clearly stressed. A lot stressed.

“Uh, sorry, I think I have a second clean cup here.” He opened a cabinet door, another, then finally unearthed two mugs from the back of the third cabinet he looked in. Sam poured her a cup of coffee, then held it out. “I don’t have any cream, but I do have milk and sugar.”

“Black is fine. Thank you.” She sipped the coffee, a surprisingly rich and good brew, and kept her back to the counter rather than taking the only free chair at the kitchen table. The others had stacks of mail and toys piled on them, as if the rest of the house was coming for lunch.

“Uh, sorry.” Sam rushed forward and scooped a pile of things off one of the chairs. He started to put it on the table, then thought better of that and pivoted to the left, depositing the toys and books onto the floor by a drooping and browning potted plant. “It’s, uh, been hard to work and watch the kids and...well, my last nanny quit a few weeks ago and the new one isn’t as good as the other one, and...” He let out a breath. “Mostly, I’m just not good at this juggling thing.”

She laughed. “It’s fine, really. And made all that much better by a man who admits he can’t do it all.”

“I definitely can’t do it all.” Sam gestured toward the empty seat and waited for her to take it before he sat opposite her. “At work, I can juggle multiple clients and deals, but here, I’m bested regularly by a three-year-old and a third-grader.”

“You seem to be doing fine.” Okay, so maybe she was generously stretching the definition of the word fine.

He ran a hand through his hair, a move that made him seem more vulnerable somehow. “I’m not, but thanks for saying that. I really need some help, at least until Libby gets caught up. It’s a short-term job, if that’s okay. Feel free to say no. You are incredibly overqualified to teach math to a third-grader.”

She didn’t want to get into the reasons why an overqualified CPA would take on a tutoring job. “That works for me. I wasn’t really looking for anything permanent, so I’m flexible with whatever schedule you want.” It shouldn’t be too hard, right? Though the thirtyish man across from her didn’t seem to have it under control, so why would she think she could do it better?

“Aren’t you here on vacation?” Sam asked. “I’d hate to take up whatever free time you have. You said two weeks, which, if you can work with Libby regularly, should give her a good head start on getting caught up. I’ll worry about a more permanent solution once I find one.” He sighed. “Anyway, I really don’t want to monopolize your time off.”

“It’s only sort of a vacation.” How did she begin to explain the meltdown in the office, the clear signs that she needed to get away, to leave town, to start over? How once she’d arrived here and had more than five minutes of quiet, all those thoughts and memories and emotions she’d been avoiding washed over her like a tidal wave? And how the one thing she was banking on with being Sam’s tutor was that it would leave her too busy to think? “This job works perfectly with my plans.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that.” Relief washed over her at his words. He mentioned a decent hourly rate, and she agreed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, then read the text on the screen. “Thank God. Charity is on her way over. Normally, I bring Henry to storytime at the community center my uncle runs, and Charity picks him up from there. But since Libby doesn’t have school today, it’s easiest if I just leave Henry here. She can watch him while you work with Libby. If it’s at all possible, do you think you could start with Libby today?”

“Today?”

“If you can’t, well, I understand, but Charity is still new and though she’s great, she gets overwhelmed when she has both kids. With you here, that should help her out. I’d take them, but I have this job interview and I can’t take the kids because I’m still paying for Henry’s ‘creativity’—” Sam rolled his eyes and made air quotes “—at the last place I interviewed at.”

She bit back a laugh. Sam was so clearly out of his depth with these kids that she couldn’t help but want to make it easier on him. Plus, if she started today, she wouldn’t have a long, endless day stretching ahead of her with nothing to fill the hours. Colton was sleeping, after getting off his shift at the fire station, and wouldn’t be available until dinnertime. “Today sounds perfect.”

“Great. Thank you.” He glanced over at the sofa. “The kids are quiet right now, so if it’s okay, I’m going to run upstairs, take a shower and get ready. Charity should be here in ten minutes, but I have to leave in...eleven. If you don’t mind waiting, I’d appreciate it. Give me five minutes. Ten, tops. Okay?”

“I think I can handle this for ten minutes.” She gave him a soft smile, and tried to pretend a part of her wasn’t thinking about the hunky man before her taking off his clothes and stepping into a shower.

When Sam went upstairs, Katie wandered into the living room. This space, too, looked like the aftermath of a tornado, complete with a second carpet of tiny little bricks. Now that it was just her and the two kids, she wasn’t quite sure what to do or how to engage them. She glanced at the television. Some cartoon sponge-shaped guy was running around in his underwear and letting out an annoying nasal laugh. “Hey, guys, what are you watching?”

“SpongeBob,” Libby said. “He lives in the water. With Mr. Krabs. And Patrick.”

“Sounds, uh...educational.” Whatever happened to Sesame Street? The Electric Company? Shows she remembered and understood.

A commercial came on and Libby turned toward Katie. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh...no.” She’d had a boyfriend. Who had dumped her the second he found out she was pregnant. She’d never in a million years thought nerdy Leonard Backstrom, another accountant at the firm, would be the one to break up first. He’d talked a lot about wanting to settle down, buying a house in an up-and-coming neighborhood, then starting joint retirement and 529 accounts. One stupid night when they both had too much to drink, and his tune had changed. He was, apparently, all talk and no real action. Last she heard, Leonard was dating Meredith the receptionist. He’d never even called Katie after she told him she was pregnant, as if he figured it was all her problem now.

After Katie had accepted that she was pregnant, she’d begun to think of a future with a child. A future of just the two of them. Those thoughts had grown into dreams, a plan—

Until she’d started cramping ten weeks later and lost everything.

So yeah, that was the complicated answer to do you have a boyfriend? Probably best to keep it to uh...no.

“My father says I can’t have a boyfriend until I’m thirty,” Libby said, and once again, Katie was struck by how mature she sounded. She sat down and Libby leaned closer. “Are you thirty?”

Katie laughed. “Almost. I’m twenty-nine.”

“My father is thirty-four.” Libby held up all her fingers, then flashed the digits three times. “That’s old.”

“You won’t think so when you’re thirty-four.” Interacting with these kids wasn’t so hard. She could do this. And she and Libby seemed to get along okay. The tutor thing should work out perfectly. In and out, an hour at a time. No biggie.

Libby considered that, then glanced over at Henry. “That’s my brother. He’s three.”

Henry sat there, a blanket curled in one hand, just watching the exchange. He was a quiet kid. Probably easy to handle, Katie was sure. “He seems very nice.”

Libby’s nose wrinkled. “He smells funny and he takes my toys and he makes a mess with his food.”

Katie laughed. “My brother was like that. But you know, he grew up to be really cool. Henry probably will, too.”

Libby’s nose wrinkled more. “My father makes me eat vegetables.”

“Vegetables are good for you,” Katie said.

“Are you gonna make me eat vegetables?”

“I don’t think that’s in my job description.”

“Good. Because I don’t wanna eat them,” Libby said.

“Libby Bear, be nice to Katie. She’s only here to help you with your schoolwork. No broccoli involved.” Sam’s voice came from behind Katie. She turned in her seat and her pulse did a little skip.

If she’d thought he looked handsome in a T-shirt and jeans, he was positively devastating in a suit and tie, with his hair still wet from the shower, smelling of fresh aftershave and soap. He was adjusting the cuffs on his white shirt, and for some reason, she thought that was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. Everything from the dark blue windowpane-pattern suit to the crimson tie at his neck and the black wingtip shoes gave him an air of power and manly confidence. Like a lion stepping onto the prairie and claiming his turf.

“I don’t want to do schoolwork!” Libby sat back on the couch, crossed her arms over her chest and let out a huff. “You’re mean.”

“Yup. I am.” He gave Katie a grin. “Still want the job?”

A job that came with perks like seeing Sam in a suit? Sign her up. “Yes, yes. I... I do.”

Good Lord, she was stammering. The confident partner at the accounting firm had been replaced by a hormone-crazed teenage girl. She got to her feet, smoothed her skirt and cleared her throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we went over any additional rules or expectations now.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, then he seemed to refocus, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

She followed him out to the kitchen and they took the same seats as before. “So, do you have a list of things that Libby needs to work on?”

“Her teacher said she needed help with times tables and three-digit addition and subtraction problems. The whole carrying the one thing, you know? Then there are word problems, which I swear were created to stump parents.” He laughed.

“Lucy has seven cantaloupes and Dave has three apples, so what time will the train arrive at the station?” Katie asked.

“Exactly.” He crossed to a pile of papers on the back kitchen counter and riffled through it. “Her teacher sent home a list that I’ve got here somewhere. My late wife was the planner and organizer. Since she’s been gone, I’ve just kind of...held on for dear life. I’m not very good at this whole juggling act.”

“My childhood was like that. I guess it’s why I’m the opposite. I like everything to add up, and for all the columns to balance.”

He pulled a sheet out of the pile, then handed it to Katie as he sat down again. “Well, one thing I’ve learned about having kids, no matter how organized and planned you make your days, you’re never going to get everything to add up perfectly. Kids...” His voice trailed off and his gaze drifted to the sofa, where Libby and Henry were laughing at the antics of the sponge and his starfish friend. “Kids change everything.”

“Yes,” she said softly, and her hand strayed to her empty belly, “yes, they do.”

He turned back and his gaze met hers, and held, for one long second. “Thank you.”

The praise made her shift in her seat. “I haven’t even done my job yet. Why are you thanking me?”

“Because...” Sam’s face clouded and his eyes filled, and his voice grew rough. “Because you got Henry to talk. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time.” Then, as if the emotion was too much, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the middle of the table. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper. “I’m going to write down my cell number. Call or text me if you have any problems. I’ll be back after the interview, and Charity will be here any second, so you should be fine. Libby has a folder of practice sheets in her backpack that her teacher needs her to work on. If you and Libby get along, and this works for you, we’ll talk about a schedule for the next week when I get home. Sound good?”

She rose, too, and closed the gap between them to take the paper, adding it to the one from Libby’s teacher. “Sounds good.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her eyes. “And...thank you.”

She was close. Too close to him. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move in reverse. “You...you said that already.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just...distracted.”

She wanted to ask him if that was because of her or the job interview or something else, but the doorbell rang just then. The dog started barking, the kids started shouting, and a second later, a sullen twenty-year-old was in the kitchen, and the moment was gone. Charity looked about as happy to be there as a grandparent at a death metal concert.

Sam made the introductions and filled Charity in on Katie’s role. “Call me or text me if either of you have any problems at all. I’ll be back before you know it.”

A few minutes later, Sam was gone. Charity leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her slim frame. “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just third grade math and reading.”

Charity scoffed. “Yup. And with Libby, that’s about as much fun as negotiating a nuclear war. So I say again, good luck.”

Charity stalked out of the room, scooped up Henry and took him into the backyard to play on the swing set. Katie turned and saw Libby standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.

Good luck.

Chapter Four

“Welcome to the team, Sam.” Hank Osborn got to his feet and put his hand out. “We look forward to working with you.”

Relief filled Sam. He had a job again. Thank God. If there was one worry that had consumed his every thought, it was how he was going to provide for his family. There was no wife to fall back on for an additional income, no partner to help pick up the slack. It was all on Sam’s shoulders, a weight that damned near seemed to kill him some days. The house, the kids, the bills, the...the loneliness. That was a place in his mind he didn’t dare dwell upon. That hole in his world, that empty spot in his bedroom, his bathroom. The way he missed Wendy’s chirpy good mornings and her sweet, whispered good nights.

Sam pushed those thoughts away. One thing at a time—right now, he had the job. That alone made him want to shout from the rooftops. Instead he settled for a professional smile and a nod of gratitude.

“When I looked back over some of your deals, I was really impressed,” Hank went on. “You did a great job negotiating that multi-property deal in Raleigh. One of my guys was trying to win that battle, but you had that creative idea to find tenants before the negotiations started, and we were out of the running before the race even started. That was one hell of a deal, son.”

“Thank you.”

“And I expect the same kind of ingenious thinking while you’re working for me. I like a man who thinks outside the box. Sound good?”

“Definitely, sir.” Sam was glad to find Hank was a lot like him when it came to getting the deal done. It was part of the reason he had liked the gregarious older man immediately. Hank had owned Osborn Properties for thirty years, and brought it from a small one-man operation up to a three-office company with two dozen brokers, serving all of North Carolina and parts of the rest of the South. It was a big step for Sam, going from the small company he’d been at before to this one. The opportunities and support structure would be better, but the performance expectations were also going to be higher.

“I’ll put you on the Midway Mall project right away,” Hank said, handing Sam a file folder. “We have five open spaces in there, and want to get them filled before the mall opens in two months. One hundred percent capacity by opening day. Nothing less. Think you can do that?”

A huge task. It would mean working a lot of hours, and he still had a shaky child care solution. But the last thing he wanted to say to his new boss was no. “Yes, sir.”

“One more thing,” Hank said as he came around the desk. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and walked with him to the door. “Don’t call me sir. That’s for my dad or my grandpa. Around here, I’m just Hank.”

“Sounds good... Hank.” Sam shook hands with the other man one more time, then said goodbye and headed out the door. It wasn’t until he got in his car that he allowed himself a giant exhalation of relief.

The loss of his job had weighed on him like a ten-ton Mack truck. But now, with Hank’s offer—even if it came wrapped up in some pretty high expectations—that weight had been lifted. He had a job, Libby had a tutor—a beautiful and capable tutor at that—and life was finally improving, a little at a time.

He wound his way through the bucolic, hilly roads of Stone Gap, mentally running through a list of potential clients to call for the mall project. If he could talk to Charity and convince her to sign on long-term for babysitting, then achieving Hank’s goal was doable. Plus, if things had gone well with Katie today, then all the better—it would get Libby back on track in math and reading, and reduce the number of arguments he had with his daughter.

Not to mention how Katie had transformed his little family in the space of a morning. Sam could still hear the echoes of Henry’s voice in his head. His son had turned a corner today, thanks to Katie Williams, and it was one that Sam hoped spelled good changes ahead.

Such a small thing, one that too many people took for granted, but oh, how he never would again. He owed Katie something huge—something impossible to grasp—for bringing his little boy back from the world of silence. Even if it was only a tiny step forward, and lasted only a moment, Sam would be eternally grateful.

For the first time in a long time, Sam allowed himself an emotion he thought had died in that car accident with Wendy—

Hope.

He pulled into the driveway, parked the car, then got out and paused a moment in the driveway. The sound of children laughing, of Bandit barking, filled the air.

Life was good. In this moment, in this space. It was something he’d been trying to work on—learning to appreciate the small moments. After the dark days he and the kids had gone through, every small moment seemed like a miracle.

Sam allowed himself another smile, then circled around through the side gate to the backyard. “Sounds like you guys are having a great—”

His step faltered. For several long seconds, he was sure he was seeing things. But no, there was Katie, mud-spattered, her hair a wild jumble around her head, trying to clean up a spilled pot of red finger paint on the patio, while Henry and Libby ran barefoot through the grass, taking turns aiming the hose at each other and the dog.

“You’re home!” Katie got to her feet, and brushed at her hair with the back of her hand, but all that did was smear a long streak of red paint across her temple. “That’s so...great.”

He tried not to laugh at the paint on her face, the clear relief in her features. He glanced around the yard again, and when he noticed one less person than he’d left here this morning, alarm bells went off in his head. “Where’s Charity?”

“She’s inside. She said she had to make a call.”

He’d had a feeling Charity wasn’t going to last long when he hired her, but he’d hoped she would at least make it until he found a suitable replacement. He’d have to talk to her about taking personal calls when he was paying her to watch his kids. “Did the kids dip her in paint and mud, too?”

“No. That was all my doing.” Katie laughed. “After Libby and I finished working on her math, I got them the paints because they were complaining that they were bored, and I didn’t want to just park them in front of the television. I asked Charity, and she said she thought it was a good idea to do a craft. Except I’m not exactly the crafty type.” Katie gave him a sheepish grin. “Libby got paint on her hands and wanted to clean it off, but I didn’t think you’d want her to do that in the bathroom sink, so I turned on the hose and...” She waved at the yard and grimaced.

Sam could read that look of being overwhelmed from a mile away. How many times had he felt totally over his head when it came to the kids? He’d been so used to putting it all into Wendy’s hands, into letting her take the lead while he worked too many hours. When his wife was gone and the family who had hovered over him for the first two weeks after she died had left, Sam was left floundering, beleaguered and clueless.

A lot like Katie looked right now. Actually, she looked kind of cute with the mud and paint peppered all over her shirt and skirt. She’d kicked off the heels, and there was something about her bare feet on the grass that just seemed...sweet. A part of him wanted to just draw her against his chest and kiss that spot of paint right above her brow.

“Come on,” he said to Katie, waving toward the door. “Why don’t you go inside and clean up? I’ll corral the wild beasts and then we’ll all get some lunch.”

“Are you sure? I can clean up this mess out here first.”

“I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

Katie gave him a grateful smile, then headed inside. Sam watched her go for a moment, then dragged his gaze away from the intriguing woman crossing his yard.

The guilt washed over him again. He shouldn’t be concentrating on anything other than his kids and his job right now. The kids needed him—needed a parent who kept his crap together, not one who got distracted by a pretty woman with mud on her face.

He headed for the kids, reached out and took the hose from Libby just before she turned it on her brother again. Both kids were dripping wet, sodden messes from head to toe. He was about to chastise them, when he looked down and realized something else.

Both kids were happy. Goofy grins filled their eyes and brightened their cheeks. “We had fun!” Libby said. “Can we do that again?”

Beside her, Henry nodded. His face was a blur of paint, half of it smeared by the water and now running crimson into his orange T-shirt. There was no trace of the somber, withdrawn boy who had appeared the day Sam had sat on the sofa and hugged his kids to him and told them Mommy was never coming home again.

He glanced over his shoulder at the house. It was amazing what a few hours of Katie in their lives could do. And that was a very good thing.

* * *

When the pain hit her, it hit her hard and fast.

For three days, Katie had been coming to Sam’s house for an hour or two at a time after school, to work with Libby. They had slowly winnowed down the pile of papers her teacher had sent home and she had nearly mastered her times tables. Then, when they were done with schoolwork, Katie would draw with both kids, a break Charity seemed to welcome, because the nanny immersed herself in her phone the second Katie appeared. Maybe because Charity was there a longer portion of the day, picking up Henry from storytime at the community center and watching him until Libby got home from school.

The kids had kept clamoring for more finger painting, so Katie had finally caved today. This time without the need to hose off in the yard.

Everything had been going fine until Charity announced she was quitting. She said she’d gotten a call back from a job at the mall, and was done being a nanny. She was gone two minutes later, leaving a stunned Katie alone with the kids for a half hour until Sam came home.

It was in that thirty minutes that things had changed. Maybe it was because it was just the three of them, or maybe the kids were starting to bond with Katie, but just as she was helping Libby mix up some purple paint, Henry had leaned in and put his head on Katie’s arm.

A simple movement, really. She’d looked down and seen this little boy curving into her like he’d known her all his life. Then Libby turned to Katie and said, “Our mommy used to draw with us. I’m glad you do, too.” A pause, then Libby’s eyes met hers, wide and serious. “Are you gonna stay, Katie?”

Katie glanced up and saw Sam standing there, his face filled with a mixture of surprise and something unreadable.

Katie had scrambled out of the seat, made up an excuse about needing to clean up, then barreled toward the bathroom. One second she was soaping up her hands, and the next, a sharp fissure pierced her chest. Her breathing tightened, her heart crumpled into a fist and tears rushed into her eyes. She braced her still dirty hands on either side of the sink, heedless of the soapy, purplish drops puddling on the tile below.

She glimpsed her face in the mirror, looking harried and messy and so out of her normal buttoned-up world. This is what a mom looks like, her mind whispered, and these are the kinds of things a mom does.

Wham, the pain had hit her.

She wasn’t a mom. She might never be a mom. The one chance she’d had to be a mother, her body had failed...no, she had failed. She’d lost the baby and all those hopes and dreams she’d had. What had made her think she could be here, around these kids, and not be reminded of that fact? Maybe she should tell Sam she couldn’t tutor Libby. Or maybe she should just keep working here, because maybe it would force her to confront all those things she had run from.

Yeah, and considering how often in her life she’d confronted any of the things that bothered her, those chances were pretty slim.

A light rap sounded on the door. “You okay in there?” Sam’s voice, warm and concerned. Just four words, but they seemed to ease the tightness in her chest.

Katie released her grip on the porcelain, drew in a breath, then nodded at her reflection. Another breath, then she could speak. “Yeah, just cleaning up.”

“Okay. Just checking. I was afraid you might have climbed out the window and run off, especially since Charity quit.”

That made her laugh. “Nope, I haven’t left. Not yet.”

“That’s good.”

She paused, sensing Sam lingering outside the door. A moment later, she heard the fading sound of footsteps as he headed back down the hall. She finished rinsing and drying her hands, then emerged from the bathroom. In the kitchen, Sam was bent down, Libby standing before him, with one of the pictures she had painted that day in her hands. Libby’s face held a hushed hesitancy.

Katie’s chest squeezed. In a split second, she was eight years old again, standing in front of her mother with a test she’d brought home from school. Her first A in math class, decorated with a giant smiley face sticker. She’d wanted her mother to be as proud as Mrs. Walker had been, wanted to hear those same words you did it, kiddo.

“This is awesome, Libby Bear,” Sam said to his daughter, taking the picture and pointing at the center. “I love the rainbow. And the flower.”

Libby frowned. “I thought the flower was kinda messy.”

Sam cupped his daughter’s cheek. “It’s not messy. It’s perfect.”

Katie waited for that echoing grin of pride to appear on Libby’s face, for her to acknowledge she’d heard the words she wanted to. The you did it, kiddo.

Instead, Libby shook her head and stepped back. “It’s not! It’s messy!”

She yanked the picture out of her father’s hand and dashed out of the kitchen. The screen door closed behind her with a hard slap. Sam watched her go, then let out a long sigh and slowly straightened.

He turned and saw Katie. “Sorry about that. Sometimes Libby is...” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

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