Who can resist a neighbor in need?

Nathan Forester doesn’t know the first thing about kids. So when the daughter he never knew existed arrives on his doorstep, he needs help, fast! His unlikely ally is next-door neighbor and single mother Cheryl Henshaw. Nathan and Cheryl don’t exactly see eye to eye, but neither can say no to a helping hand.

Renovating Fitzgerald House is Nathan’s chance to finally prove he’s no longer the unreliable twin—and it seems possible with Cheryl by his side. Suddenly their practical arrangement has become something much more. Trust isn’t easy, but they’re stronger when they work together.

Nathan nodded, rubbing at the ache in his chest.

“I can’t screw up,” he said.

“You’ll figure everything out.” Pop slapped him on the back. “Just like we did.”

He couldn’t do this alone. He wasn’t prepared.

There had to be someone else he could tap to take care of Isabella.

He thought back to the women he’d dated in Savannah. There was Tracie, but she could barely take care of herself. Gabby—aptly named since she talked everyone’s ear off—was kind of an airhead. A nice airhead, but still not right.

He’d never been attracted to the motherly types.

The only mother he knew was...Cheryl. And they lived next door to each other.

He released a deep breath. Cheryl.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Fitzgerald House. Cheryl is finally getting her happily-ever-after.

I found the perfect man for Cheryl, but she didn’t agree. Nathan’s too big, too nonchalant and drinks too much. He’s a terrible role model for Josh, her six-year-old son.

Dyslexic Nathan believes he’s flawed. What’s worse, his twin brother is perfect. Nathan doesn’t let people get close, because then they will find out he’s stupid (he’s not). Nathan avoids kids, because second graders can read better than he can. So when he finds out he’s the father of four-year-old Isabella, he begs Cheryl for help.

On a flight last January, I sat next to a man who discovered he was dyslexic in sixth grade. Before that, he felt stupid. He willingly answered my questions. Do you forget names of lifetime friends? Yes. Do you have trouble with driving directions? Absolutely. He also told me his brain visualizes in 3-D. Amazing. I hope I captured what life as a dyslexic person is like.

I love hearing from readers. Contact me through my website, www.nandixon.com, where you can sign up for my newsletter. You can find me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/nandixonauthor. If you’d like to see the pictures that inspire me, check out my Pinterest page, www.Pinterest.com/nandixonauthor. The princess castle Nathan paints for his daughter is there.

Enjoy Savannah!

Nan Dixon

The Other Twin

Nan Dixon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NAN DIXON spent her formative years as an actress, singer, dancer and competitive golfer. But the need to eat had her studying accounting in college. Unfortunately, being a successful financial executive didn’t feed her passion to perform. When the pharmaceutical company she worked for was purchased, Nan got the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to pursue a writing career. She’s a five-time Golden Heart® finalist, lives in the Midwest and is active in her local RWA chapter and on the board of a dance company. She has five children, three sons-in-law, two grandchildren, one grandchild on the way and one neurotic cat.

MILLS & BOON

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To Mom and Dad always.

To my wonderful, fabulous family, thank you for supporting my writing. I’m dedicating this one to my guys: Nicholas, Matthew and my three incredible sons-in-law, Dan, Joe and John. I know you make my daughters happy. And of course the bright lights—Lily and Harper and grandchild #3!

Thank you to my Harlequin team: Megan Long, Victoria Curran, Piya Campana, Deirdre McCluskey and the wonderful group who help bring my books into reality. And of course, my fabulous agent, Laura Bradford. I appreciate your guidance, wisdom, humor and tweets!

My critique group challenges me to dig deeper. Thank you, Ann Hinnenkamp, Leanne Farella, Neroli Lacey and Kathryn Kohorst. And my Golden Heart sisters keep me sane—Dreamcatchers, Lucky 13s, Starcatchers and the Unsinkables. And my writing community—MFW, you’re the best.

And last—this book is for the group that started it all—my sisters. Mo, Sue and Trish.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“WE LIVE IN an apartment,” Cheryl said. “We can’t have a puppy.”

“Mom, I’d take care of it.” Josh’s pleading brown eyes were hard to deny. “I promise.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“We can move.” He tugged on her shorts. “All my friends live in houses. They all have dogs.”

“Not all your friends have dogs.”

Dogs were expensive. Where would she find the money to feed one?

Josh’s chin jutted out, reminding her of his father. When Brad had died in Afghanistan their lives had imploded. Now she and Josh lived in Savannah barely making it.

She wanted a better life for her son. That meant finding a better job, which meant training. Culinary school cost money.

Waiting to cross Bay Street, Cheryl switched the box she carried to her other hand and caught Josh’s arm. Mid-May and the temperature, along with tourist traffic, had soared. At Fitzgerald House, where she worked, all the rooms were full. She’d been lucky the day she’d found their ad for maid service. Now she cooked more than cleaned at the B and B.

Once she and Josh crossed Bay Street, he pulled away and ran to the River Street steps.

“Slow down! Hang on to the railing.” She sped up, not wanting to lose sight of his blond hair. “Josh!”

As she descended, the brackish scent of the river mingled with the aroma of onions and hot oil from nearby restaurants. Tourists clogged River Street checking out the shops and pubs.

Josh disappeared.

Her heart pounded. Six months ago he’d rarely left her side. Her life had been easier when he’d still been afraid.

Up ahead, she spotted a flash of blond hair as Josh stumbled on River Street’s flagstones. When they got to the apartment, they would have a long talk about safety.

She broke into a run, jostling a man as he exited a bar. The scent of bourbon washed over her. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, pretty lady,” he called. “Slow down. I’ll buy you a drink.”

She shuddered. Not in this lifetime.

She caught Josh as he stared into the candy shop.

“Don’t run off.” She grabbed his hand, panting from her rush. “I couldn’t see you.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re six.” And next week Josh would finish kindergarten. How had he grown so fast? “You know better than to run in this crowd.”

He pointed. “Can I get candy?”

“Not today.” Not after this behavior.

Scowling, Josh held her hand until they got to their warehouse apartment building.

She dug in her purse for her keys, longing to get inside. Her feet ached from standing and decorating two hundred cupcakes for this weekend’s wedding.

“How was school?” she asked.

“Okay. Tommy threw up.”

She winced. Don’t let Josh get sick.

Juggling a bag, her purse and the box, she unlocked the door. “Can you take the bag?”

They headed down the hallway to their apartment.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“Cupcakes.”

“Can I have one now?”

She shook out the apartment key. “Once you finish your chores.”

“Let me help with that.” The bourbon man from the street snatched the bakery box away.

How did he get into the building? She grabbed for the box. “We’re fine.”

He held it above his head. “I’m just being neighborly.”

Josh glared. “You don’t live here.”

The guy laughed, his alcoholic stench washing over her.

She jammed her key into the lock, pushed open the door and held out her hand for the box. “Thank you.”

He leaned close. Too close. He was big. Almost as big as her brother-in-law, Levi.

She shuddered. When Brad had died two years ago, Levi had invited her and Josh to live with him. Moving in with Levi had been a big mistake.

“How ’bout I come in?” His words were slurred.

The odor of cigarettes and booze threw her back to her childhood. The lead weight of memories pinned her in place. She was afraid to move. Afraid to push past him for fear he’d hit her like Mama used to.

“Mom!” Josh yanked on her hand.

“Kid, go inside,” the guy said. “I wanna talk to your mom.”

She inched back, bumping into the wall. No escape. She wanted to duck and curl into a ball. Then when the blows came, they wouldn’t hurt as much as a punch in the belly.

“What’s your name?” He caged her to the wall with his arms.

“Leave.” Her voice was a whisper.

Josh kicked the man’s shin. “Get away from my mom.”

“Cut it out.” The guy pushed Josh into the door.

“Don’t touch my son.” She tried to shout, but the words were as weak as her knees.

“What’ssss your name?” His slur grew.

“Move.” She couldn’t get past him to the apartment.

He sniffed her neck. “You smell like cookies.”

Her skin crawled. Why couldn’t she move? Shout? Save her son?

A door at the end of the hallway opened with a metallic clang.

“Go away,” she said a little more loudly.

“I jus’ want your name.” The man thrust out a finger. “Ya don’t hafta be a bitch about it.”

Josh came at him with a flurry of tiny fists. “Don’t call my mom names.”

“What’s going on?” a deep voice called.

“Help.” She shoved at the drunk’s chest but he was too big for her to move. “Help.”

He shoved her shoulder. Hard.

She smacked into the wall, crumpling to her knees.

Josh kicked and punched. “Leave her alone!”

“Hey!” Boots thumped on the tile floor.

The drunk stumbled away.

Josh’s arms wrapped around her neck and she clung to him. “Mommy.”

“Are you okay?” her rescuer asked.

She stared at work boots and then up a pair of long legs.

Nathan Forester gazed down at her. He was the twin brother of Bess Fitzgerald’s fiancé and Bess was one of her bosses. Nathan had worked in this building off and on since last fall. Cheryl tried to avoid him as much as possible. He was so...large. But since they were connected through the Fitzgeralds, avoidance was impossible.

“We’re...fine.” A lie. Both she and Josh shook like they were standing in a walk-in freezer.

“Who was he?” Nathan peered down the hall.

“Some drunk.” Her voice squeaked.

Nathan held out his hand. His usual cocky grin was missing. A dirty white T-shirt tightened against the muscles in his chest and arms. Sheetrock dust covered his jeans. His ball cap was on backward, but thick blond hair curled on his neck. He was a modern-day James Dean without the cigarette. “Does that guy live here?”

“I don’t think so.” She put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “He followed me.”

Nathan’s eyebrows arched. “You shouldn’t let strangers into the building.”

Had she? “Oh, God. I forgot to pull the door closed.”

A door clanged again and Gray Smythe, the building owner, came down the hall. “Something wrong?”

“Some creep hassled Cheryl. I yelled and he hatted.”

Gray studied Cheryl. “You okay?”

She nodded, afraid any words she spoke would come out a muddled mess.

“Mr. Gray.” Josh threw himself at Gray. “I kicked the guy and he ran away.”

Cheryl backed into the apartment. She’d almost mastered not cowering around Gray. She shouldn’t be afraid of him. He was very kind and married to her boss, Abby Fitzgerald.

“I don’t like this.” Gray carried Josh into the apartment and set him down. Nathan followed and shut the door. With two men filling the entryway, she couldn’t breathe.

“He was mean. He pushed me.” Josh hung his backpack on the hook. “Can I have a cupcake?”

She looked around. “I dropped the box in the hall.”

“I’ll get it.” Gray headed for the door.

“What if the man’s still in the building?” Cheryl wrapped her arms around her waist as she headed to her small kitchen.

“He left,” Nathan said. “But I suppose another idiot could let him back in.”

“Idiot?” she gasped.

“Sorry.” But he didn’t look sorry. “With all the bars and pubs on River Street, you need to pay attention.”

“I do,” she protested.

Nathan raised an eyebrow as Gray handed her the smashed box.

With shaking hands, she pulled a plate from the cupboard. Only this time her hands shook because of Nathan. Idiot? She would do anything to protect Josh.

But, just like in her childhood, she’d frozen. Why couldn’t she be brave?

In the box, the bright pink and blue cupcakes had smashed together. “Have a cupcake?” she asked.

Josh grinned. “The colors mixed together and made purple.”

She grabbed glasses and filled them with milk. “Gray, I meant to tell you, the latch on the entry door isn’t catching.”

“This is the third time this month someone got in.” Gray took a cupcake and paced the small room. “I’ll replace the door.”

“How about adding a security camera?” Nathan selected a mostly blue cupcake.

“Maybe.” Gray nodded.

The two men discussed options and Cheryl backed into the corner, wishing they would leave.

“How often do you work late?” Nathan asked.

She frowned.

“How often do you come in late at night?” he clarified.

She rubbed her arms. “Once or twice a week.”

“Too often.” Nathan shook his head.

Gray’s blue gaze sharpened. “No one’s living in the B and B carriage house apartment right now.”

Nathan tipped his head. “I start the restaurant renovations next week.”

Ever since Cheryl had started working for the Fitzgeralds, a sister had always lived in the second-floor carriage house apartment. But just a few months ago, Dolley, the youngest sister, had moved out to live with her boyfriend.

“Will your crews work at night?” Gray asked.

“No.” Nathan pushed off his ball cap and rubbed his hair. “But it’ll be busy during the day and I don’t want to work around a woman and a kid.”

“Cheryl and Josh lived in this building during the renovation and I was glad for the extra security,” Gray said.

Nathan grimaced. “I guess.”

Gray turned to her. “What do you think about living in another work zone?”

Men working below her apartment? She looked at Nathan and chewed her thumbnail. Having him around most days might bother her, but she couldn’t explain that to Gray. She sank into a chair, not able to take this in. “Savannah’s safe.”

Nathan snorted. “Don’t be a fool.”

First he called her an idiot and now a fool.

“My mom’s no fool.” Josh glared.

Nathan held up his hands but didn’t apologize.

Nathan knew nothing. This place was a huge improvement from the apartment she and Josh had rented after escaping Levi. Drug deals had happened daily in the nearby Laundromat.

Living in a brand-new apartment had lulled her into a false sense of security. And she’d had to be saved—again. The story of her life.

Her son crawled onto her lap. “He’s a butthead,” he whispered.

“Josh,” she warned. Unfortunately she agreed.

But if Nathan hadn’t come along, her son might have been hurt. She shuddered and held him close. Josh had to be safe. That was her job as a mother. Living across the courtyard from work might be the perfect solution.

She swallowed. “I would love to rent the carriage house apartment.”

* * *

A BUMP ECHOED above Nathan’s head. The bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling swayed and dust drifted to the dirt floor of the Fitzgerald carriage house.

What were Cheryl and the kid doing, dropping loaded boxes from the top of the bunk bed?

They’d moved into the carriage house this afternoon, barely a week after she’d let the drunk into a secured apartment building. He’d helped unload the truck.

At least she’d be safer here than walking on River Street when the bars closed.

He checked the time on his phone, but the numbers didn’t make sense—6:08 p.m.? It was after dinner. The sun had set. It had to be after eight—8:06 p.m.?

The kid thought he was a butthead. Hell, maybe he was. He planned to keep his distance from the pair. Kids made him uncomfortable. They guessed they were smarter than him.

Everyone was smarter than him. First-graders could read better than he did. Nathan inhaled and choked on the dust.

He unrolled the architect’s plans and anchored them on his toolbox. Since he’d remodeled restaurants in Atlanta, he was in charge of this project.

Studying the blueprint, he willed his eyes and brain to work together for once. He planned to lay out the footings tonight. No way would he let the crew see him struggle.

His twin brother, Daniel, might think Mom and Pop had scraped the bottom of the barrel asking Nathan to return to Forester Construction, but he would prove his brother wrong. He’d grown up in the five years since he’d been kicked out of the family company. Nathan wanted back in, permanently, not just while Pop went through chemo in Texas.

For a week every month, Pop and Mom traveled from Savannah to Houston. Pop was enrolled in a clinical trial to help him beat back the monster Myelodysplastic syndromes. MDS. Cancer.

The thought of not being good enough for the family business still stung. All his life, Nathan had wanted to be normal. Was that too much to hope for? To read without getting confused? To remember the names of people he’d known all his life? Hell, just reading street signs would be nice.

He shook it off. He’d done okay in Atlanta. He’d coped.

Locating the back door on the plans, he calculated where the first wall support would be and recited the numbers into his phone. Then he grabbed a tape measure and a roll of flagging ribbon. Time to translate the plan into the actual space.

He moved to the kitchen area and tucked the end of the tape measure into a crack between the floor and the wall. Checking his phone, he walked straight back. He needed thirty feet. He looked at the numbers on his phone and the ones on the tape measure. The numbers swam and twisted. He closed his eyes and looked again, but it didn’t help.

He ripped off a piece of flagging tape and placed it on the floor, not willing to commit. Then he worked his way through the plan.

After he’d taken a half dozen measurements, he stepped away, comparing the markings with the drawing. The architect’s plan was a rectangle. His mess of orange tags looked more like a star.

“Damn it!”

He kicked one of the pillars supporting the second story. Why couldn’t he do this? He kicked the pillar again and dust rained down.

He’d be here all night and even then he might not get it right. The crew would show up at seven thirty tomorrow and he’d still be doing effing measurements a ten-year-old could do.

He headed to his toolbox, yanked open the bottom drawer and pulled out a flask.

The door to the courtyard creaked open. He tucked the flask in his back pocket and spun to see who was spying on his stupidity.

“Ooh.” Cheryl filled the narrow doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Working,” he snapped.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her plain gray T-shirt strained against the swell of her small breasts. Her faded cutoff jeans cupped her ass like a man’s hands would.

He fought to keep his eyes on her face. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. He’d only seen it brushing her shoulders a few times. It was straight and fine and would feel like silk in his fingers. Not that he would ever touch Cheryl’s hair.

“Abby told me the work wouldn’t start until tomorrow. It’s almost ten o’clock.” She hesitated before stepping inside. “Did you kick something?”

He swallowed. “The post.”

Her brown eyes grew as large as dinner plates. She stepped back. Yeah. Be afraid.

“What is that?” She moved into the room, pointing at the orange tape.

“A fucking mess.”

Her shoulders straightened. “I know you’re supervising this project. I’d appreciate you warning the crew that a six-year-old boy lives here. I don’t want him learning words like that.”

“Sure.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing off his cap. The same kid who called him butthead.

It landed at Cheryl’s feet. She picked it up, batted it against her leg to dust off the dirt and then handed it to him. “What are the orange tags supposed to be?”

He jammed his cap back on his head. “I was marking off the kitchen. We’re pouring footings tomorrow.”

Now he’d have to ask one of the crew to help. Apparently, he couldn’t measure and mark. The other option was to have his twin help. Perfect Daniel would give him the look. The one that said Nathan was an idiot. Besides, he’d lied and told Pop and Daniel he could do this.

Cheryl stared at the mess on the floor, frowned and then moved to the plans he hadn’t rolled up. She carried them to where he’d been measuring. “This is close.”

“Does it look like a rectangle to you?”

Her head snapped up at the snarl in his voice. Her brown eyes flashed. “Do you want help or not?”

She was willing to help him? Relief ran through him like a warm shower, easing the strain in his shoulders. “Yeah, I do.” Then he remembered her son. What the hell was his name? “What about your...kid?”

“Josh sleeps like a rock.” She turned. Clipped to her back pocket was some sort of monitor. “If he wakes, I’ll hear him.”

His eyes lingered on her lovely rounded butt. He wouldn’t mind wrapping his hands around those cheeks.

Too bad she had the kid. Josh. Josh always glared at him. Kids were a deal breaker.

“Let’s start over,” she said. “What’s the scale?”

He knew this. “It’s...” The words slipped away. His fingers formed fists.

She stared at the drawings. “Is it an eighth of an inch equals a foot?”

He nodded, afraid the words would tangle. The story of his life. His fingers flexed against his thighs.

“Wait. They already have the feet marked here. That’s what this means, right?”

She moved close, showing him the blueprint. She smelled like—apples. His mouth watered. When her head turned, her hair brushed against his arm, a silky, soft brush.

He’d known it would be.

She shook the blueprint. Using her thumb, she pointed to a number. “Is that the measurement from one wall to another?”

“Yes.” He choked out the word, hoping he’d answered correctly. Sometimes, as much as he concentrated, everything came out twisted.

“Let’s see where you went wrong.” She set down the plans. “Can you hold the other end of the tape measure?”

He headed to the wall to be a friggin’ anchor.

“This one’s right.” She tapped the first piece of tape he’d placed.

They slid along the wall.

“This one needs to be here.” She moved the orange tape. And kept checking and rechecking each measurement. He’d gotten half of them right. What had taken him thirty minutes took her five.

“That looks right, doesn’t it?” She held the blueprint and compared it with the tape they’d run and anchored.

He stood behind her, inhaling another whiff of apples. “Yeah.”

He could see the space now. There were the doors into the kitchen and more doors into Abby’s large storage area.

Cheryl helped him mark off the walk-in freezer, too.

“Now I can finish running the tape for the footings.” Relief eased out of him like a curl of wood from a plane. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She dusted off her hands. “Anything else you want to get done tonight?”

“I’ll mark the wall and doors.” That way, if the crew moved the tape when they did demolition, he’d know where everything was supposed to go. He’d developed tricks over the years to convince people that he was in control.

“Then I’ll head home.”

“Thank you.” Too bad Cheryl had a kid. Otherwise he would ask her out.

She moved to the door, stopped and turned back. “Do you...have trouble reading?”

Reality slapped him in the face. “I can read,” he growled. Sometimes.

“I could help.” She gave him a small smile. “At the army school, I worked with kids who had trouble reading.”

His face heated with shame. Kids. She’d helped kids. “I don’t need help.”

She jerked back a step at the snap in his voice. The woman was scared of her shadow. “It’s just...”

“Thanks for the help.” He pulled the flask out of his pocket. He wouldn’t admit his flaws.

Her face paled and she crept backward again. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t drink in front of my son.”

“I’ll bet you would.” He took a big swig. Not wanting her to see she’d hurt him.

She dashed outside. Her footsteps pounded the stairs to the carriage house apartment.

He twirled the cap back on. He’d been a jerk. But he didn’t need any help from a do-gooder like Cheryl Henshaw. His flaws couldn’t be fixed.

* * *

THUMP!

Cheryl jolted out of a deep sleep.

Josh? Had he fallen out of bed?

She raced into his bedroom. When she didn’t find him on the floor, she scrambled up the ladder. He was still asleep, his hand tucked under his pillow.

She rubbed her forehead as she headed back to bed. Maybe she’d been dreaming.

Her alarm clock flipped to six thirty. Her first morning to sleep in for five days and she was already awake?

Thump!

The noise came from the second floor.

It had been a week since she’d helped Nathan measure. Since then, the work crews always arrived at seven thirty and they only worked on the first floor. This noise was next door. A chill raced over her skin.

Cheryl threw on yesterday’s shorts, tucked in the T-shirt she’d worn to bed and grabbed her phone. Slipping her feet into her Keds, she hurried to the kitchen.

The carriage house apartment had two doors. The main door led to the outside steps and down to the Fitzgerald House courtyard. The kitchen door opened into the interior of the carriage house’s second floor.

Holding her breath, she put her ear to the kitchen door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

She dug out the dead bolt key from the kitchen drawer and paused in front of the door. The key jangled in her shaking hand. Who was back there? Thieves? A homeless person?

Forcing herself to breathe, she shoved the key into the lock. For Josh and the Fitzgeralds she had to be brave. The Fitzgeralds had done so much for her—saved her. It was her turn to stand up for them.

Before turning the key, she punched in 9-1-1 on her cell phone, but didn’t hit Dial.

Inhaling, she unlocked the door and twisted the knob. Nothing.

She pulled and tugged, then put her foot on the door frame and yanked. The door gave way with a soft whoomp. She stumbled, clutching the knob to stay upright.

In the dark hall, she waited for her eyes to adjust and her heart to stop pounding.

A screech of wood on wood came from around the corner. So did a sliver of light.

Cheryl tiptoed silently toward the light. Her childhood had taught her well. She touched the scar next to her ear. Mama had been a mean drunk.

Before she rounded the corner, she heard a deep voice swear. Her phone clattered to the floor. As much as she wanted to escape to the apartment and throw the bolt, she didn’t. She snatched up her phone and held her thumb over the dial button.

“Who’s here?” she called.

Silence.

She turned the corner. The door was ajar, weak light leaking out. “I’ve called the police.”

“Now, why would you do that?” A man moved into the hallway, blocking the light.

All she could see was big. Big man. Big shoulders. Big hands fisted on his hips.

“Get out before they arrive,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

“Cheryl.” The man moved closer.

The man knew her name. He rushed toward her.

She turned to run, pressing the dial button on her phone.

“Wait,” he said.

She knew that voice. “Nathan?”

“Did you really call the cops?” he asked.

She looked at her phone. The call had already connected.

She pulled it to her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...”

Nathan’s hands slapped against his thighs.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a woman asked.

“I...I don’t have one. I dialed accidently.” She forced the words out.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

There was silence on the line. Then the operator asked, “Do you need help?”

“I heard a noise, but it’s nothing.” At least she hoped it was nothing. What was Nathan doing here?

After the woman checked one more time, she hung up. What if they sent a patrol car anyway? The Fitzgeralds might decide she wasn’t worth all the trouble she always caused. She shivered. Only last year, Gray and Abby had saved her and Josh from her brother-in-law, Levi.

“You didn’t convince me nothing was wrong. And I know everything’s all right.” Nathan smacked the wall. “I’ll be lucky if I’m not in jail within the hour.”

She jumped. “Why are you here? You worked until almost nine.”

And not just last night, but for the entire week since she’d helped him measure. Not that she was checking on him. While tucking Josh in bed, she’d glanced out the window and Nathan’s truck had still been in the lot.

“I’m... I just...” Nathan shrugged. “I want to live here while working on this project.”

“Here?” she squeaked. No way.

“Yeah. In the carriage house.”

She hated the idea of Nathan living next door. Even in the dim light she caught his blush. “Why?”

“You saw how slow I am.” He paced into the room and then back. “This is the first major project I’ve handled for the company.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Story of my life.” His fingers rattled against his jeans. “If I’m living here, I can work more hours.”

“But no one’s lived here in years,” she said.

He waved her over. “What do you think?”

She nodded, wanting him to walk in front of her. No way was she letting him get between her and the door.

He rolled his eyes and held up his hands like he was harmless.

He wasn’t harmless, but she followed.

A trouble light hung off a fixture, the orange cord dissecting the room. The apartment was a mirror image of hers. The kitchens backed up to each other and the closed door was probably one of the two bedrooms. Sitting in the middle of the living room was a canopy bed that used to be in her apartment.

“What was the thumping?” she asked.

“I moved the bed to access the water valve.” He indicated an open panel in the living room wall.

“That’s a strange place to put water valves.”

“It’s probably here because the carriage house didn’t have running water when it was built.” He crouched next to a wrench.

A wrench could do a lot of damage. Cheryl made herself smaller, less of target. And hated her actions. Her hands formed ineffective fists. All the good years with Brad and she was back to her childhood. Because of Levi.

“You’re shivering.” Nathan’s gaze dropped to the thin T-shirt she’d slept in. His nostrils flared. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine.” But the heat in his eyes made her shake harder. She wished she’d thrown on a bra.

“I think this apartment will work for me.” His gaze snapped back to her face. “I’ll talk to Abby.”

“Sure.” She backed out of the room. “I’d better check on Josh.”

She dragged her kitchen door closed, turned the lock and sank to the floor. Her nipples had pebbled from Nathan’s hot look. Only Brad had made her feel like she was desirable.

She didn’t want to feel that way about Nathan. He was trouble. With his swearing and drinking, he’d be a terrible role model for Josh.

She couldn’t let him live next door.

CHAPTER TWO

THIS COULD WORK. Nathan shut off the water and unplugged the trouble light.

He moved into the hallway just as Cheryl’s lock clicked.

She’d been shaking earlier. Fear? He’d heard some of what had happened last year. Her brother-in-law had been stealing her military survivor checks. Instead of stopping him, she’d run away but the asshole had found her at Fitzgerald House. Gray and Abby had protected Cheryl and her kid. He couldn’t imagine such a frightened woman standing up for herself.

But she’d checked on the noises he’d been making. Shoot, this morning she’d actually called the police. That was something.

Once Jed, his site supervisor, showed up, they mapped out the day’s tasks. Then he headed over to the B and B to catch Abby. He might even snag breakfast. Food was a perk of working at Fitzgerald House. Usually Pop or Daniel reaped those benefits.

The Fitzgerald sisters, Abby, Bess and Dolley, were like his sisters. The Foresters and the Fitzgeralds even spent holidays together, so he wanted to make sure Abby’s restaurant was perfect.

Cheryl also spent holidays with the Fitzgeralds, but he couldn’t think of her like a sister. This morning her T-shirt had been worn and nearly transparent. Her nipples had tightened as he’d stared.

He shifted, his jeans growing snug. He had to keep remembering—she had a kid.

But Cheryl’s body rocked.

He peeked in through the kitchen window and spotted Cheryl’s kid sitting on a small sofa, drawing.

The door was open; the scent of sugar and spices had his mouth watering. He grabbed the door handle.

“Did you ever hear noises in the carriage house?” Cheryl asked Abby.

Noises? He paused. Nathan should let them know he was listening, but he didn’t. What was Cheryl up to?

“Lots of creaking,” Abby replied. “Why? Has great-aunt Persephone been trying to scare you?”

Persephone was the mansion’s ghost. Pop had worked on Fitzgerald House for years. When Nathan and Daniel were small, they would come to work with him and try to find the ghost who haunted the old mansion.

“I hope not,” Cheryl replied. “Does she visit the carriage house?”

“No.” Abby laughed. “Are you worried?”

“I...” There was a pause. “The drunk getting into the River Street apartment shook me more than I thought.”

“Gray and I are right next door,” Abby said.

“I guess...it’s nice knowing there’s only Josh and me in the building.” Cheryl’s words gushed out.

What the hell? She was sabotaging his request before he’d even made it. No way! He pushed through the door.

The screen slapped shut and Abby turned. “Hey, Nathan.”

He moved to the counter, narrowing his eyes at Cheryl.

Cheryl’s mouth formed a little O. She slid away from him. “Josh, breakfast.”

The kid tucked his stuff into his backpack and headed to the table, snaking a wide path around Nathan.

“What’s up?” Abby asked him.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He raised his eyebrows at Cheryl.

“Sure.” Abby pulled a pan from the oven. “Can I get you breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” He leaned against the wall as she cut into the egg casserole. “Smells great in here.”

After dishing him a generous helping, Abby sliced the rest into squares.

Cheryl took the pan and put it on a cart along with other dishes and baskets of muffins. As she backed out the door, she shot Nathan a guilty look. “Josh, eat up. The bus will be here soon.”

Nathan took a bite of the egg dish and moaned. It was a Mexican fiesta in his mouth. “How come Gray isn’t fifty pounds overweight?”

Abby laughed and handed him a cup of coffee. “I won’t let him.”

He took a sip. Time to get down to business before Cheryl returned. Staying on-site was the perfect way for him to work long hours without anyone knowing. “I checked out the other carriage house apartment.”

Abby’s glance shot to Josh as he plowed through his breakfast. “Did Cheryl hear you this morning?”

“Maybe.” Yes. “I want your restaurant to shine. I’d like to be on-site, keeping everything on track. What do you think about me renting the apartment?” The words tumbled out of his mouth. He didn’t even worry that they might not be the right words or in proper order. “I’d be on top of everything.”

That might be a first.

“No one’s stayed there in years.”

“I checked the water. It works.” A little rusty, but that was from lack of use. “I could patch and paint the place for you.”

“You want to live and work on-site?” She picked up a wicked knife and cut melon slices. “In a place that’s been empty for a decade?”

“You live next door in the Carleton carriage house.” He nodded to Josh. “Now Cheryl’s in the Fitzgerald carriage house.”

Josh looked up at the mention of his mother’s name, daggers in his eyes. Or maybe they were lasers. Who knew what weapons kids used nowadays?

“I like the idea.” Abby hacked off the top of a pineapple. “I’ll talk to Dolley and have her work on a lease. Maybe with you next door, Cheryl won’t worry.”

Nathan doubted that. Maybe he should have talked directly to Dolley. She was the sister in charge of contracts. But Cheryl might have sabotaged his request if he’d waited.

A timer dinged. Abby patted his back and moved to the ovens. “Can I interest you in a muffin?”

“Sure.” He checked his watch. “I’ll take it with me.”

Cheryl hustled back into the kitchen. “Almost done?” she asked her son.

“Yup.” Josh scooted off the chair and took his dishes to the dishwasher without anyone reminding him. “Thank you, Miss Abby.”

Abby ruffled his hair. “You’re welcome.”

Cheryl handed him his backpack. As they headed out of the kitchen, Nathan followed. “Got a minute?”

Her back stiffened. “Josh needs to catch his bus.”

“One minute.” He wanted to see her reaction when she heard the news.

“Josh, wait on the porch. I’ll be right there.”

The kid stepped between Nathan and Cheryl. “It’s my first day of summer camp. I don’t want to miss my bus ’cause it’s only for two weeks.”

“You won’t.” Cheryl guided Josh down the hall. Then she turned and crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”

He almost smiled at her belligerent tone. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m your new neighbor.”

Her face went pale. “I...I...”

“You’d hoped your conversation with Abby would keep me from moving in?” He pointed a finger at her. “She thinks you’ll feel more secure with me living there.”

“It wasn’t that.” Her gaze swung away from him. She was lying.

“Nice.” He shook his head. “Guess I won’t be expecting a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ from you. I don’t know what I did to rile you up and I don’t care. I’ll stay out of your way. You and the kid stay out of mine.”

* * *

“THE BUTTHEAD’S MOVING IN,” Josh said under his breath, climbing into his chair.

Cheryl’s eyes went wide. “What did you say?”

Josh looked at her through thick blond eyelashes. “Nothin’.”

“Don’t you use that kind of language. Ever.” She slid a grilled-cheese sandwich on his plate and added celery and carrot sticks. It wasn’t the most creative meal, but now that it was June, the temperatures had skyrocketed.

“I can’t help what he is.” Josh squirted ketchup on his plate.

“Are you looking to lose television privileges?” Again.

What had happened to her compliant boy? She didn’t want him to be afraid anymore, but she didn’t want disrespect, either. Rubbing her temples didn’t stop the headache brewing.

“How was camp?” she asked.

He shrugged.

This wasn’t normal. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He swirled a carrot stick in his ketchup.

Yuck. She cut his grilled cheese into four triangles. “Something’s bothering you.”

He slammed his hand on the table. “Zach’s my friend. But he and Dustin ran off together. I didn’t have nobody help me find bugs.”

“Anybody.” She sighed. “Did you ask them both to work with you?”

He shrugged. “Zach didn’t keep his word. He’s a bu—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. At least she knew why he was in a bad mood.

“Zach and Dustin get to play together after camp ’cause they live next to each other. Why can’t we live in a house?” He smashed his sandwich into the ketchup. “Why do I have to live here? I never play with nobody. I want a dog.”

She took a deep breath, trying for calm. They’d had this conversation. “You can invite a friend over on my next day off.”

“You never get days off. Other guys have moms and dads. They do stuff all the time.” He jabbed his carrot into his sandwich. “I’m stuck here.”

“That’s not true.” Her teeth ground together. “I’m off Monday. You can have a friend come over Sunday night and we’ll do something fun.” Something that didn’t cost money.

“I can?” Josh looked her in the eye.

“Yes.” Was she bribing her son into a good mood?

“I’ll call Zach after dinner.”

The rest of the meal was normal. At least, Josh was happier.

After they cleaned the dishes, Josh took her cell phone into the living room.

She pulled out a basket and added fruit, cheese and some sausage. It already held cookies and banana bread. Tying on a big yellow bow, she smirked. He didn’t expect a “welcome to the neighborhood.” Wouldn’t Nathan Forester be surprised?

Josh was still on the phone with his friend, a big smile on his face.

“I’m taking this next door,” she said.

He nodded, his hands waving as he talked to Zach.

She unlocked the door and hoisted the basket. Time to greet—or irritate—her neighbor.

The banging had stopped. Maybe Nathan was gone and she could leave the basket at his door.

She rounded the corner and found his door wide open. Luck was never with her.

The only time she’d been lucky had been when she’d met Brad. Being with him had made her forget Mama’s drinking. And Josh was her lucky charm. He made her count her blessings every day.

She knocked on the door frame.

“Come on in,” Nathan called.

Boxes filled the hall. In the living room, Nathan sprawled in a recliner, a bottle at his lips. Empty beer bottles, along with a six-pack and a pizza carton, sat on a stack of boxes.

He’d stripped off his T-shirt. Good lord, the man was ripped. A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts.

She lifted the basket. It blocked the view of the six-pack. Both six-packs. “Welcome.”

Nathan grinned. Then shook his head as if he’d gotten water in his ears. “You brought me a basket? With a big bow?”

Since she didn’t see any table space, she set it on the floor. “Enjoy.”

She turned to leave.

Before she could go, he was out of the chair and had grabbed her hand. “Thanks.”

She wrenched herself out of his grasp.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He held up his hands. “I forgot. You don’t like to be touched.”

She scooted back and hit the living room wall.

“Or crowded.” He shoved his hand through his hair. The blond mass looked like he’d been doing that all night. “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day.”

“It’s...fine.” She straightened, pretending his closeness didn’t bother her. But her chest was so tight she could barely draw a breath.

“It’s not fine. My mom would have my head.” He sighed. “I thought you were trying to get Abby not to rent to me.”

“Oh.” He was right. “I brought a peace offering.”

He pointed at the basket, a grin lighting his face. “What did you bring me?”

“Healthy snacks,” she said primly.

“Healthy?” His smile faded. “Um, thanks.”

She laughed. “And maybe cookies.”

“Cookies.” He crouched at her feet and dug through the contents. “Sausage. Cheese. I can deal with fruit.”

“Like I said, enjoy.” She shuffled sideways but there was nowhere to go. Nathan and the basket had her caged next to the wall.

He looked up. “Do you want a beer?”

She couldn’t hold back a shudder. “I don’t drink.”

“Ever?”

“Maybe once a year.” She’d sipped champagne at Abby’s wedding.

He frowned. “Are you an alcoholic?”

“No!” But based on all the empty bottles, he might be.

This was a bad idea. She’d wanted to show him she was the better person. And, to be truthful, she was feeling guilty. She’d hoped Abby would turn him down. So sue me.

He dug out a cookie and took a bite. His eyes closed and he gave a little moan. “What are these?” he asked, his mouth full.

“Snickerdoodles.” Josh’s favorite.

“Thanks for this.” He stood and his gaze caught hers.

She’d never been this close to him. Golden sparks flickered in his coffee-colored eyes. Her fingers ached to push his unruly sun-kissed hair away from his forehead.

Had to be a mother’s instinct and not the desire to stare into his eyes.

She hadn’t been this close to a man since...since Levi attacked her. Now that she looked closer, his eyes were bloodshot. She inhaled and caught a whiff of the beer.

Just like Levi.

“I’ve got to go.” She pushed past him, brushing against his chest even though she made herself as small as possible.

She hurried down the short hall between their doors and flipped the lock behind her. She and Josh didn’t need the kind of trouble Nathan could bring.

* * *

NATHAN PRESSED THE trowel against the concrete they’d poured a couple of hours ago. “It’s setting up,” he called to Jed.

Jed wiped his arm across his face. “Amazing in this humidity.”

While the crew built the next forms, Nathan moved to the floor next to the exterior wall. In the still-drying concrete, he sketched a steaming cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Then he added his initials below. If anyone spotted it when the job was over, they wouldn’t have a clue who NEF was, but drawing in the concrete had become a tradition on all his jobs.

Maybe the Fitzgeralds would want to do the same thing?

Nathan moved over to Jed. “You got this?” he asked the supervisor.

Jed watched the chute as the concrete spilled into the next section of floor. “Yup.”

“I’ll be right back.” Nathan headed across the courtyard.

He knocked and stepped into the kitchen. “Anyone here?”

“Me.” Abby moved into sight. “What’s up?”

“We’re pouring the restaurant floor. I wondered...” Now the idea sounded stupid, like most everything that came out of his mouth.

She wiped her hands on a towel hanging off her apron. “Wondered what?”

“Do you want to...write something in the concrete?” He let loose a breath. “Your initials?”

She grinned. “I’d love to!”

Maybe his instincts had been right. “Are Bess and Dolley around?”

“I’ll find them.” She nodded. “When do you want us?”

“In about two hours.”

“We’ll be there.” She touched his arm. “I’m glad you asked.” Then she frowned. “How come Daniel didn’t ask me to do the same thing when they poured the floor in my house?”

“Because I’m the nice twin,” he lied. But the tension in his body eased.

“That you are.” She grinned. “You just earned the crew afternoon cookies. What kind do you like?”

He’d devoured the cookies Cheryl had given him a couple of days ago.

The cookie name wouldn’t come. Something about laughing? No. He inhaled. Sometimes a deep breath helped his brain to sort out words. Sneaky? That described him, not a cookie.

“Whatever you bring over would be great.” Because his stupid brain couldn’t remember the name of the best cookie he’d tasted in months.

Tension slammed back into him. “So. Come over in...” He’d just told her how long it took to cure. Now no words would come.

“Two hours?” She checked her watch.

“Yeah. Yeah. Two.”

“See you then.”

In the courtyard he wanted to kick something. Anything. He needed an interpreter between his brain and his mouth.

Thankfully, between pouring the floors and checking the forms, he didn’t have to say much to the crew. Two hours passed more quickly than he expected.

“We’re here.” Abby carried a tray, Bess a thermos and Dolley her camera. Cheryl and Josh carried in a table.

“We brought cookies. Snickerdoodles,” Josh said. “My favorite.”

Snickerdoodles. Nathan shook his head. That was the name he couldn’t dig out of the spaghetti that was his brain.

“We’ll set up,” Abby said.

“There’s lemonade,” added Bess.

The crew honed in on the table like wasps on a Coke can. That was okay. They’d worked hard today.

“Hey, guys, look over here.” Dolley snapped pictures of the crew and space. “Okay if you end up on the website?”

“Sure,” they agreed.

Abby tapped Dolley’s arm. “Let’s get our initials in the concrete before it sets.”

“Follow me.” Nathan led the Fitzgerald sisters back to the kitchen area. “I thought you could do your thing at the service entrance. There won’t be tile here.”

“Come on.” Abby waved to Josh and Cheryl. “You’re part of this, too.”

“Really?” Josh ran over. As he rushed by, he stubbed his toe and went flying.

Nathan lunged and caught the kid before he face-planted in the cement. “Hang on there.”

“Nice catch, Nathan,” Jed called.

Josh squirmed in his arms like an eel. “Let me go.”

Nathan moved away from the concrete and set Josh on his feet. “You can’t run in a construction site.”

“Miss Abby needed me.” There was a stubborn set to the kid’s chin.

“No running. We talked about that two minutes ago.” Cheryl took Josh’s hand, smiling at Nathan.

That was a first. Usually she looked scared.

“No harm done.” He handed out carpenter pencils. “Here.”

“Thanks.” The kid started to run.

Cheryl called, “Slow down.”

Josh huffed out a sigh. “I want to draw a picture.”

“Only if you follow the rules.” Cheryl and the kid knelt, blond heads together.

“I wish Zach had slept over last night instead of Sunday.” Josh grinned up at his mother. “This is cool.”

The sisters knelt on the second drop cloth he’d laid down. Their fiery red Fitzgerald hair gleamed in the harsh work lights.

This was a bigger production than he’d expected. The sisters debated wording, Josh had his tongue tucked in between his teeth as he drew and Cheryl watched.

Might as well get a cookie. Snickerdoodle. Snicker-doodle. Laughing drawing? He’d never remember.

The crew hovered next to the treat table.

“Hope you left me some crumbs,” Nathan joked.

“These are good,” Jed said. “But I wouldn’t let these savages eat them all.”

Jasper, one of the crew members, elbowed Jed in the ribs. “I told you to leave some for Nathan.”

Nathan grabbed the last two cookies and took a bite. As good as he remembered.

“Nathan?” A woman’s voice called from behind him.

He turned, searching for the source.

“Nathan Forester!” A blonde wearing a tight T-shirt waved from the doorway.

He knew her. But the name wouldn’t surface. Was she a high school friend? Acquaintance? From some bar?

“Hey,” he said.

The crew watched with undisguised interest.

He moved to cut the woman off before she entered the work site. “How are you?” Who are you?

Her lips formed a straight line. “I’m Heather.”

“Sorry.” Heather. Right. He shook his head. Wait. They’d dated years ago, when he’d first moved to Atlanta. “How did you find me?”

“I heard you were working for your family. Some lady told me what job site you were at.” This wasn’t the pretty blonde he remembered. Her skin was ashen, her hair lank. She’d loved to party—hard. So had he. It looked like partying had taken its toll.

When they’d been together, her long nails had been her pride and joy. She’d jabbed them into his skin more times than he cared to remember. Now her fingernails were chewed to the quick.

He took Heather’s arm and moved out to the courtyard.

“How long has it been? Three years? Four?” he asked. And why was she here?

“Closer to five.” She shifted on her feet.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Looking for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

She paced the path, the action jerky—nervous. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”

He sniffed. She didn’t smell like she’d been drinking, but he’d always suspected she might have done drugs. “Sorry?”

“I never told you.” She bit her thumb, her gaze darting around. “I didn’t know when I moved and then—” She shook her head.

He rubbed his neck. He needed to get back to work. “What are you—?”

“You’re a father,” she interrupted.

“What?” The word whispered out. His heart stopped. Then started pounding.

“You’re a daddy.”

His knees gave out. He collapsed on a nearby bench. Daddy? He could barely remember being with her. “We used protection. Always.”

“There was that one night.” Tears streaked her cheeks.

Crap. “The condom broke,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Surprise.”

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “No way am I a father.”

“You are.” She wiped her face with her hand. “I should have told you, but I’d moved. By the time I knew, I was living with Thad.”

“What do you want? Money?” He pushed off the bench and shifted away.

She laughed, a watery, snotty sound. “No.”

He let his head sink to his chest. “What?”

“I...I have to get away. I mean go away.” She scanned the courtyard. Again. “Um...to treatment.”

He pushed his hand through his hair.

She clutched his hand. “You have to take Bella.”

“Are you crazy?” A kid? This had to be a nightmare. Wake up.

“There’s no one else. You have to.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve had her for four years. It’s your turn now.”

He shook her hand away. “I don’t do kids.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Until she came along, neither did I.”

“Why can’t—” words and names jumbled in his head “—whoever the guy you’re living with take care of...her?”

“Her name is Isabella.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Thad’s gone.”

Nathan swore. “I should just take your word this is my kid?”

Her eyes filled with fire. She jabbed him in the chest. “I know who my daughter’s father is.”

“I don’t. I need a...a paternity test.” The words exploded out of him.

Heather waved her hand in a come-here motion.

No. Fucking. Way. She’d brought the kid here? Each breath he took seared his lungs like a welding torch.

“Nathan, turn around,” Heather said.

If he turned around, it would be real. This child would be real. “I can’t.”

“You have to.” Heather tugged on his hand. “Bella has no one else.”

He took in a deep breath, turned and looked down.

The kid had ratty blond hair. Her shirt was streaked with stains and was too small, showing a thin belly. Her shorts were grayish white. Wrapped around her shoulders was a blanket that might once have been pink.

Brown eyes looked into his. Brown eyes just like his. Like Daniel’s. Shit. It was like looking at a picture of himself as a child.

Heather knelt. “Bella, this is Nathan.”

The kid didn’t say a word.

He swore. “I can’t...” He waved his hand, words tangling and looping in his head. “Don’t...”

“You have to.” A metal chair screeched across the stone over by the fountain and Heather jumped. “A little on-the-job training won’t hurt.” She rattled the words out like a nail gun.

It might hurt the kid. What was her name? It wouldn’t work its way through the maze in his mind.

Heather stroked the kid’s hair. “You’ll stay with Nathan. He’s your daddy.”

Tears trickled down the kid’s face.

Heather grabbed two grocery bags and shoved them at him. “Here’s her stuff.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she hissed.

“But...” Nothing came out past the lump in his throat. Nothing.

“Remember what I told you.” Heather knelt in front of the crying girl, pressed a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead. “Be good for your daddy.”

This couldn’t be happening. His life couldn’t be...this screwed up. “Don’t.”

She pointed at the bags in his arms. “Her birth certificate is in there.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.” He turned to set the bags on the bench.

Scuffling noises sounded behind him. When he spun around, Heather was sprinting to the side gate.

“Stop!” He started to move, almost knocking the kid down. Setting her on the bench next to the bags, he stuck a finger in her face. “Stay.”

Nathan dashed along the courtyard paths. Where was Heather?

Tires squealed on the street. He headed for the noise. She couldn’t leave...the kid with him. No way. Hell, he couldn’t even remember her name.

A truck with blackened windows raced past him. He caught a glimpse of Heather through the cracked windshield just before she turned the corner.

“Wait! Stop! How do I reach you? What’s your phone number?”

His boots pounded on the sidewalk, echoing the hammering of his heart. His lungs burned, his legs ached. She couldn’t do this.

She turned the corner. By the time he got there, she’d vanished.

He swore. If words could form clouds, they’d have been black and thundering above his head.

He trudged back to the courtyard. Each foot weighed a ton. What the hell was he supposed to do with a kid?

The girl sat where he’d left her, staring at him with eerily familiar brown eyes. Tears washed her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound.

“Kid.” Damn it. What was her name? He dug through the first bag and pulled out a packet of papers. Flipping through them, he found what he assumed was a birth certificate.

His name was in the middle of the page, next to what looked like the word father. What the hell?

He scanned the jumble of letters. Belisala. No. He exhaled and tried again. Isabella. That rang a bell.

He looked at the girl. He couldn’t take care of a kid. Kids were smarter than he was. He shoved his hat off his head. What about work? He needed every hour to make sure he didn’t screw up Abby’s restaurant.

He was too stupid to be a dad.

Mom. Mom would know what to do. Mom could take care of...Isabella.

CHAPTER THREE

CHERYL SMILED AS Josh laughed at something one of the workers said. His belly laugh warmed everything inside her. The Fitzgerald sisters joined in.

She inhaled. With Nathan gone, she could take full breaths again. She didn’t like being near big men. But the other crew members were almost as large and didn’t make her belly quiver like Nathan did.

“Time to let the crew get back to work,” she called to Josh.

“Mom.” Exasperation laced his words.

“Miss Abby wants her restaurant built,” she said.

Abby nodded. “But thanks for drawing that wonderful picture in the cement.”

“I’ll grab the table,” Cheryl said.

“Thanks.” Abby picked up the tray and the three sisters headed out.

“Come on, Josh,” Cheryl said.

“Mr. Jed said I could pour concrete.”

She looked at Jed. “I don’t know.”

“Couple of minutes?” Jed asked.

“I guess.” She folded up the table.

Nathan entered the carriage house and she swore the temperature shot up. Where was the woman who’d come looking for him?

The men started to pour, letting Josh push the cement down the chute. Nathan headed to Jed and they talked in hushed voices.

“I need to get back to work,” Cheryl called to Josh after a few minutes.

“They need my help,” Josh insisted. “It’s summer vacation, Mom.”

She tipped her head. “Now.”

Josh kicked the floor but joined her. She could almost hear the pout in his footsteps. Nearing the door, she spotted a little girl with tears hanging from her eyelashes. “Are you lost?”

The child looked around. A tear plopped onto her T-shirt.

“Are you a guest?” Cheryl knelt next to her. “Where are your parents?”

A silent sob racked the little girl’s chest.

Looking at the men, Cheryl asked, “Is your daddy here?”

The girl pointed at Jed and Nathan. Jed’s daughter? Why would she be at a dangerous work site?

Josh inched back to the men near the concrete mixer.

“Josh.”

“One more minute.”

“One.” Cheryl held out her hand. “Let’s see your father.”

It took a few seconds but the girl put her hand in Cheryl’s and they walked over to Jed and Nathan.

“Jed?” she asked.

Both men looked up.

“I wasn’t sure where you wanted your daughter to stay,” she said.

Jed’s eyes went wide. “She’s not mine.”

Cheryl’s mouth dropped open. She shifted her gaze. “Nathan?”

“I...I...” His face paled. “I guess.”

“You guess?” No one had hinted Nathan had a child. How could he be so indifferent to Josh if he was a father?

“Is-Isabella. She’s m-mine.” Nathan looked miserable. “Her mother...left her.”

She herded the child next to Nathan, but the girl clutched her hand, forcing her to peel the girl’s fingers out of her grasp.

“Josh.” She backed away. “Time to go.”

Her son smoothed wet cement. “Just a little longer.”

“Now,” she insisted.

For once Josh didn’t talk back. The man he was helping gave him a high-five.

“Call if you need me,” Nathan said to Jed.

She hurried to get out the door ahead of Nathan and his daughter. But Josh said goodbye to every man in the carriage house. Everyone except Nathan.

At least Nathan and the girl were heading to the parking lot. She watched their body language. The little girl dragged her feet. Nathan’s shoulders were stiff as granite.

Not her business. She had wine-tasting appetizers to prep.

Nathan opened his truck door and lifted the girl into the front seat.

“What are you doing?” Even though she should mind her own business, she rushed over. “Where’s her car seat?”

Nathan rubbed his forehead. “Car seat?”

“You can’t put her in the front seat. The airbag could...hurt her.” She grabbed Nathan’s arm. “And she needs to be in a car seat, otherwise the seat belt could injure her, too.”

“Sh—” Nathan pressed his temples. “I mean shoot.”

Josh moved beside her. “Every dummy knows you need a car seat.”

Nathan glared so hard at her son, Cheryl put her arms around Josh’s shoulders.

“I don’t have one.” Nathan paced a few steps away. “I just...”

The man was pale. This didn’t look like a clueless father—he was too panicked for that. He looked lost.

“Josh’s booster seat is in my car,” she volunteered.

Relief softened his face. “Could I borrow it?”

“It’s hard to get the clips undone. Just...take my car.” She dug in her pocket for her keys. “She might not weigh enough for that booster seat. You need to get the right seat for her right away. What’s her name again?”

He dug through a bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Isabella. Isabella,” he repeated, as if memorizing the name.

What was going on?

Nathan picked up the girl and carried her like a Ming vase. He set her next to the car.

Cheryl hurried over and unlocked the door.

Josh touched the little girl’s hand. “You have to climb into the seat.”

The girl nodded.

“Let me show you how to buckle her in.”

Cheryl demonstrated, then unbuckled her and let Nathan try.

“Thank you.” His eyes were glazed.

“Why didn’t he know her name?” Josh asked as they watched the car drive away. “Is he stupid?”

“Don’t call people names.”

He kicked at the pavement. “But he’s dumb.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

The little girl hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t much younger than Josh. Something was wrong.

Cheryl chewed on her thumb. Poor thing. But Isabella wasn’t her problem.

* * *

“I’M TAKING YOU to your grandma and grandpop.” Nathan couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. A kid. Isabella.

She didn’t speak. Just looked at him with her deer-in-headlights eyes.

Hell. How old was she?

“Can you talk?” He turned so he could see her.

She nodded, tucking the dirty blanket next to her face. That was something.

At his parents’ house, he pulled out the birth certificate. And stared. Father—Nathan Forester. He checked the birth date then counted on his fingers. He didn’t trust his brain. Four. He thought the kid was four.

That made sense. It had been five years or so since he and Heather had been together. But his memory was as holey as a pegboard, especially under stress.

He clicked open the booster seat latches. Isabella ignored his outstretched arms and scrambled out of the car. It was freaky the way she never said a word.

“Anyone home?” he called, leading her into his parent’s house.

The scent of lemons greeted them. “You’re in luck. Mom must be baking pie.”

Isabella popped her thumb in her mouth and stared.

His mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed. How did he introduce Isabella to his parents? New evidence he was a screw-up.

“I...I brought someone to meet you.”

Mom’s gaze dropped to the girl standing next to him. “Who is this?”

“Mom, meet Isabella.” His voice cracked.

His mom looked between the girl and him. Her mouth dropped open. “Nathan?” she whispered.

“Can you say hi?” Nathan touched the kid’s shoulder. Isabella shook her head.

Mom knelt and brushed back the dirty hair covering her eyes. “Hey there, Isabella. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

Isabella nodded.

Mom took her hand. “Let’s wash up and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

Nathan headed into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped the cap. Swearing under his breath, he took a big gulp, then another.

“Put that down.” His mother’s voice was drill sergeant worthy.

“What? Why?”

“Because you drove a little girl here.” Mom helped the kid onto a chair.

Isabella’s hair was brushed and her face and hands were cleaner now. Thank God.

“Talk to me.” Mom pulled out bread, butter and leftover ham. She made a quick sandwich and cut it into four triangles.

The girl watched Mom with brown eyes that dominated her tiny face.

Nathan waved a hand. “Go ahead and eat.”

Mom poured a glass of sweet tea and stood next to him. “Who is she?”

“She’s...” God, he wanted that beer. And maybe another six. “She’s my daughter.” The words flew out of his mouth.

His mother’s face paled. She grabbed a chair, sinking in it. “Daughter?” Her voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.

He nodded. “I thought about doing a test.”

Mom shook her head. “Look at her. She’s the spitting image of you and Daniel.”

He stared as Isabella devoured her food.

“When did you find out?” Mom stroked a hand down Isabella’s hair.

“About twenty minutes ago.”

“Today?”

He nodded.

“I have a granddaughter.” Her voice filled with wonder.

Good. He needed Mom’s enthusiasm.

Mom touched Isabella’s shoulder. “How old are you, honey?”

She held up her hand and pulled her thumb down.

“Four?” Nathan hoped the numbers weren’t jumbling in his head.

The girl nodded and took another sandwich triangle.

Mom hustled over to the cupboard, found a small glass and poured milk. Then she diced pieces of ham and slid them onto the plate.

“Where has she been?” Mom asked.

“I...” Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Heather dropped her off and left. She said something about going into treatment.”

Mom hugged his shoulders. “You get to take care of this precious girl.”

“I can’t.” He was panicking just thinking about it. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“No parent does at first.” Mom squeezed his hand. “You’ll learn. There are plenty of books that can help.”

All his muscles tensed. “I can’t read.”

“It takes you longer, but you can read.” She frowned. “You could try books on tape, too.”

“I don’t have that kind of time.” He had a restaurant to build.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “For children, you make the time.”

“I was h-hoping you’d help,” he sputtered.

“Of course I will.” She grinned. “I have a granddaughter.”

“I mean...” He waved his hand around. “Have her live here. With someone who knows about kids.”

“She’s your daughter.” The smile slipped off his mom’s face. “You need to get to know her.”

“I will.” He paced.

Her chair squeaked as she stood. She headed to the fridge and brought back the milk carton. “She’ll live with you.”

He ripped at his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll learn.”

“Learn?” His voice grew louder. “Me? Impossible.”

Isabella stopped eating. Her gaze bounced between Nathan and his mom.

Pop came down the back stairs, rubbing his neck like he’d just taken a nap. He probably had. His chemo treatments were brutal. He stopped, looking between Nathan and his mom as they faced off.

Then Pop spotted the kid. “Who do we have here?”

Mom took Pop’s hand. “Samuel, meet Isabella, our granddaughter.”

“Our...” Pop’s gaze shot to Nathan. Disapproval tightened the lines around his mouth. “Our granddaughter?”

Nathan swallowed. Not able to find the words, he nodded.

“Nathan just found out,” Mom added.

Pop crouched in front of the girl, his knees popping. “What’s your name again?”

“Isabella,” Nathan and his mom said together. Nathan set a hand on the kid’s trembling shoulder. “She doesn’t say much.”

“Debbie, do I smell pie?” Pop asked.

Mom nodded.

“Well, why don’t we try some of that?” Pop asked Isabella.

The kid nodded. She’d already finished the sandwich and extra ham. Hadn’t Heather fed her?

While Mom pulled out plates and the pie, Nathan whispered, “I don’t know how to care for a kid. How about you and Mom handle that for me?”

Pop raised a bushy white eyebrow. “I’ve raised my kids.”

Nathan rubbed at the ache in his chest. “I can’t screw up.”

“You’ll figure everything out.” Pop slapped him on the back. “Just like we did.”

He couldn’t do this alone. He wasn’t prepared.

Mom set a piece of pie in front of him.

Nathan stabbed at the slice, bringing a forkful to his lips. The tart lemon made his mouth water.

There had to be someone he could tap to take care of the kid.

He thought through the women he’d dated in Savannah. There was Tracie, but she could barely take care of herself. Gabby—aptly named since she talked everyone’s ear off—was kind of an airhead. A nice airhead, but still not right.

He’d never been attracted to the motherly types.

The only mother he knew was...Cheryl. They lived next door to each other.

Hope had him releasing a deep exhale. Cheryl.

* * *

CHERYL COULDN’T AFFORD to pay for her next culinary class. She swallowed back a sour taste. She would have to apply for grants and financial aid.

She stared at the paperwork scattered over her kitchen table. Well, not her kitchen table—the Fitzgeralds’. She’d left all her furniture behind when she’d run from Levi.

What a sorry life. The only things she and Josh owned were their clothes and a car. And the bank owned most of the car. A car Nathan still had.

It was after seven. What was he doing? She’d planned to go grocery shopping after work. She needed her car.

“Bath time, Josh,” she called.

“I took one last night,” he yelled from the living room.

“And today you poured concrete and moved dirt for Miss Bess.”

Josh came into the kitchen. “Can I take a shower?”

“If you promise to scrub. Everywhere.”

He looked offended. “Promise.”

She turned on the shower taps while he stripped. “In the hamper, please.”

Back in the kitchen, she straightened her papers. She had to apply for loans online, but didn’t have a computer. Luckily, the Fitzgeralds didn’t mind her using the business center. She’d head over in the morning.

There was a knock at the kitchen door and Cheryl jumped. Couldn’t help it. No one knocked on that door. Even though it had to be Nathan with her car keys, her belly did a little flip.

She was safe. Levi was in prison. “Who is it?”

“Nathan.”

Unlocking the dead bolt, she pulled on the swollen door to find Nathan and Isabella on the other side. Nathan’s face was drawn and solemn.

“I could fix that for you.” He examined the sides of the door.

“I don’t use this door.”

His gaze snapped over to hers. “Can we come in?”

She wanted her keys. Stepping back, she let them into the kitchen. Isabella swayed on her feet. “Shouldn’t she be in bed?” Cheryl whispered.

Nathan shook his head. “I...I don’t have a bed for her.”

He helped Isabella up onto a kitchen chair. She crossed her arms on the table, put her head down and closed her eyes.

Cheryl gnawed her lower lip. “She’s old enough not to fall out of bed if she sleeps with you.”

“I don’t know what to do with a kid.” He paced to the table and stared at the papers. “I need help.” He held her gaze with those deep brown eyes.

“What?” She wanted to sweep up the loan paperwork so he wouldn’t see her financial state.

“You have a bunk bed.” He stepped closer. “Can she sleep here?”

“Here?” Her voice squeaked.

“Could you help me out?” His body slumped. “Please?”

His issues weren’t hers. She had problems of her own.

Isabella whimpered. Nathan didn’t comfort her.

Cheryl’s resolve cracked. The child shouldn’t suffer because Nathan didn’t know what he was doing. “Just for tonight.”

A smile broke over his face like a sunrise. She hated the gooey feeling it gave her.

“When Josh is done in the bathroom, you need to give her a bath,” she warned.

His smile evaporated. “But she’s a girl.”

“Yes.” She shook her head. “Does she have pajamas?”

“I don’t know.” Nathan sighed. “I’ll check.” He escaped to his apartment.

Cheryl stroked Isabella’s back. The girl blinked, but didn’t say anything. That was...different.

“Are you ready for a bath?” Cheryl asked.

Isabella nodded, her eyes heavy. Cheryl held out her arms and the girl reached up. Josh was so sturdy, but Isabella felt like she would float away.

The shower was off. Cheryl knocked, then bumped the bathroom door open with her hip, still holding the sleepy girl.

Josh was brushing his teeth. “What’s she doing here?” he asked, his mouth full of foam.

She should have asked Nathan to look for a toothbrush for Isabella. “She’s sleeping in the bunk bed tonight.”

“A girl?” He shook his head. “That’s for my friends.”

Maybe Cheryl needed to set more play dates with both boys and girls. The few kids Josh had asked to sleep over were all boys. That was fine but she didn’t like his attitude. “She’ll sleep there tonight.”

Josh finished with his teeth and started to leave.

“Hang up your towel.” She turned on the faucet and filled the tub. “And please bring Isabella a towel and washcloth from the closet.”

He grumbled but came back with a towel set she’d used when he was a baby. The memory was bittersweet. That had been such a wonderful time. Brad had been in-country and they’d been happy.

“Thank you.” She stripped the dirty T-shirt off Isabella. “You can read until I bring Isabella in.”

Josh grumbled but, as she undressed Isabella, she heard the ladder creak as he climbed to the top bunk.

Cheryl could count Isabella’s ribs. Even at their worst, she’d always made sure Josh had enough to eat.

“Climb in, honey.” She helped the little girl sit in the tub.

The pop of the swollen kitchen door announced Nathan’s return. She turned, hating that her back was to the door.

He came in with a grocery bag. “I couldn’t find any PJs, but there’s shorts and T-shirts.” The clothes he held up were obviously dirty.

“We’re not putting her in those. I’ll...find something of Josh’s.”

“Thanks.” He backed out the door.

“Where are you going?” Cheryl kept her tone mild because Isabella watched them.

“I thought I’d...” He pointed down the hall.

“You need to give her a bath.”

His eyes widened.

“She needs a toothbrush, too.” She poured soap on the washcloth. “Here.”

“You want me to scrub?” Nathan’s eyes were huge now.

She handed him the washcloth. “She’s your daughter.”

Squeezing past him, she inhaled his scent. He smelled good. Citrus and woodsy.

“Mom, what’s this word?” Josh asked as she came into his room.

She stood on the edge of the bottom bunk to see. “Kayak.”

“Kayak.” He giggled. “It’s a funny word. Shouldn’t it be pronounced like ‘kay’ in okay?”

“I guess it didn’t want to be plain.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you to the moon and back.” He hugged her.

This was her little boy. The one who gave hugs and told her he loved her. Why can’t he always be this way?

She dug in the box of his outgrown clothes and found a pair of PJs with ducks all over them.

“Those are mine.” Josh quacked.

Brad had always quacked when Josh wore those PJs. Cheryl couldn’t believe he remembered. “Isabella’s going to borrow them,” she choked out.

“Yuck. They’ll have girl cooties.” Josh wrinkled his nose.

She shook her head and moved back to the bathroom.

Nathan knelt next to the tub, filling the space.

“I guess we need to wash this hair.” Nathan grabbed the plastic cup she used for Josh and dipped it into the tub. “Ready?”

Isabella covered her eyes with her hands.

Nathan didn’t tip the girl back, just dumped the water over her head. And she didn’t complain. He picked up Cheryl’s shampoo.

“Not that one. It’ll sting.” She reached over his head and grabbed the baby shampoo from the corner rack. Her breast brushed the top of his head.

He took in a breath. She scrambled back.

“Here.” She held out the bottle, her face hot.

He had to stretch to get the shampoo. Squirting a little in his hand, he held it up for her inspection. “Enough?”

She nodded.

Nathan bit his lip and rubbed the shampoo through Isabella’s wet hair. His actions were so slow and gentle it was possible nothing was getting clean. Isabella kept her hands over her eyes.

Another time she would suggest he make shapes with Isabella’s soapy hair. Josh used to like being a dragon or a lion. He’d spend his bath time roaring.

Her son was only six and Cheryl was already reminiscing about his childhood.

She got closer, making sure she didn’t bump into Nathan. Hard when he took up so much space. “Why don’t I help you rinse?”

“Thanks.” He let out a deep breath.

“Lean back.” She tipped Isabella down. Nathan filled the cup and carefully worked the soap out of Isabella’s hair.

After sitting her up, Cheryl found a comb and ran it through the girl’s wet hair. “Is everything clean?”

“Yup,” Nathan said.

“I brought some PJs.” She handed Nathan the towel. “Let me find a toothbrush.”

By the time she came back, Nathan was struggling to pull the top over Isabella’s head.

Cheryl checked on Josh. “Time to call it a night, sport.”

“But they’re on the lake and they’ve lost their paddle.” His voice was thick with sleep.

“You’ll save them tomorrow.” She climbed up and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you.” His eyes closed. “Don’t tell my friends a girl slept here.”

“Humph.” She set the book on the nightstand and clicked off the light.

Enough light spilled from the hallway to guide Nathan to the bunk bed. Cheryl pulled back the sheets on the lower bunk and Nathan set Isabella in the bed. She brushed a kiss on Isabella’s forehead. “Good night, angel.”

Isabella whimpered and thrashed, as if searching for something.

“Does she have a blanket or a toy that she sleeps with?” Cheryl asked.

“God. How would I know?” He stumbled out the door. There was rustle of paper. He rushed back into the room. “I found the blanket she was carrying, but it’s filthy.”

Isabella grabbed it, hugging it to her cheek. Nathan winced.

“It’ll be okay.” Cheryl started to pat his shoulder, but that was too intimate in the darkened room. “You can wash it tomorrow.”

Nathan knelt and touched his daughter’s shoulder. “Night, Isabella.”

Cheryl didn’t stay to see if he hugged or kissed the girl. Heading back to the kitchen, she filled the kettle for her evening cup of tea.

Without turning, she knew from the way the air changed in the room that Nathan stood in the doorway. She asked, “All tucked in?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “How much would I have to pay you to keep her?”

“Your daughter?” Horror raced through her like a wildfire.

“How much would you charge to take care of her for the next couple of months?”

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