A Ready-Made Family. Carrie Alexander

be so grateful.”

      “I don’t need gratitude for doing what Rose would want.” Jake figured he owed his sister, not Lia. He drained the bottle and set it on the ground beside his chair, then resettled himself, stretching out full length with his arms folded behind his head. “Your car shouldn’t be on the road anyway. I took a look under the hood while you were at the store. You’ve got bad brakes. The struts need replacing. Front tires are bald, too.”

      Lia’s face got that pale, drained look again. “That sounds expensive. I’m not sure the Grudge is worth that much repair. But I need a car.” She glanced his way. “Are you a mechanic?”

      “Not as a profession. But I can do the work.”

      “I couldn’t ask you to.”

      “You didn’t.” He eyed her. How could one small woman be so uptight and wrung-out at the same time? He’d seen from the start that there was something off about her arrival. Through dinner, she’d hushed the kids whenever they’d mentioned their previous life, which had only called his attention to her evasiveness.

      Jake wasn’t one to wait for explanations. But he sensed that Lia would bolt if he got too curious. This once, he could bide his time.

      “What I meant was that I can’t pay you,” she said.

      “I didn’t ask to be paid. We can figure something out. Do you have a job to get back to?”

      “No.” She was studying her lap again. “I quit my job. I was actually hoping to find work up here.”

      “In Alouette?” That explained the car stuffed with luggage and boxes. He’d figured them for heavy travelers.

      “Maybe.” She shot him an arch glance. “Don’t worry. We won’t count on your generosity forever. Just until I get a paycheck and can find a place to rent.”

      “It’s not so easy getting a job in this town. What do you do?”

      “I’ll do anything.” She moved restlessly. “I don’t have specialized training or a degree. I managed only a few college courses after Sam was born, before Lar—” She cut herself off again. “Since the divorce, I’ve worked at several jobs. Supermarket checker, office clerk for a used-car dealer, waitress. I’ll find something.”

      “Sure.”

      “You sound skeptical.”

      “It’s a small town. I can ask around for you, but I’ve been out of touch for too long. Been back only a few weeks.”

      “Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll go out tomorrow, first thing. There has to be some kind of job available for an untrained single mom.” She smiled bravely. Tension radiated off her.

      He leaned forward. “No rush.”

      “Maybe not to you, but I’m in a fix.”

      “You said you’re divorced?”

      “Yeah. For about three years now officially, but we were separated before that. I was pregnant with Kristen when we moved out of our house and next door to Rose. She was a good friend to me while I had the baby and went through the divorce mess. My ex fought it, so, uh, the process took a while.”

      He sensed a world of complication in the brief explanation. He had some vague memory of getting the rare letter from his sister that mentioned Lia, but he hadn’t paid close attention to the details. Now he wished he had. Something about her engaged his interest more than other women. Maybe the fortitude he sensed beneath her exhaustion. If he ever got involved again, it would be with a woman who had staying power.

      He continued to probe despite his usual disinterest in chitchat. “Don’t the wife and kids usually get the house?”

      Lia winced. “Not always.”

      “He was a son of a bitch, huh?”

      “To put it mildly.” Lia glanced over her shoulder. “We’re well rid of him.”

      Jake’s radar went ping. The look in her eyes…was it hunted, not haunted?

      Stay out of it, man. “I’m sure you’ll be okay from now on,” he said, feeling as if he was mouthing a useless platitude.

      She clutched her arms tight and shook her head.

      “Yes, you will.” He’d see to it.

      Jake bit back a groan. His resistance was low for damsels in distress. Always had been, even at age nine, when he’d attacked his own dad for yelling at his mother. He’d earned a cuffing for that, one that had taken out a couple of loose baby teeth.

      “Right,” Lia said, worn out but taking hold. “Of course. We’ll be fine.” She cocked her head, listening to the sound of the TV inside the house, where her two youngest were ensconced on the couch. Behind them, Sam was hunkered down in the car, attached to her iPod, reclining in the backseat with her feet dangling out the window.

      “We’ll be fine,” Lia repeated, trying to convince herself.

      Jake got to his feet before he found himself offering not only a house but his left arm, too, if it’d take the trouble from her eyes. “We should check out the cottage. It might need freshening up.” Plus a bug bomb, mousetraps and a scrub brush.

      He sniffed his hand, then held it out to Lia to help her up from the low-slung chair. She complied readily, though her small laugh sounded uncomfortable and she let go as soon as she was on her feet.

      “Do I still smell of skunk?” he asked. He’d been cutting onions and squeezing lemons for the fish.

      She grinned. “You smell like an especially pungent spaghetti sauce.”

      “Great.” He pointed to the first cottage to the west of the main house. “Here’s the one you want. It’s the biggest.” As they walked by the car, Sam’s blue-tipped head popped up. She’d probably snap if he told her she looked like a blue jay.

      Her glare bored holes into Jake’s skull, but he’d been glowered at by a two-star general with a Napoleon complex and hadn’t backed down. One sullen teenager could be conquered. Not that he had any intentions of getting involved in their lives beyond today.

      “Thank you for being so sweet to Howie,” Lia said on the crumbling cement doorstep. “And the rest of us.” She held the creaky screen door while he put his shoulder to the wooden door that had swollen shut.

      It flew open and Jake’s boot thudded onto the dusty floorboards. He coughed. “Sweet? What’s that? Hell, woman, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

      Lia wasn’t having any. “In case you didn’t notice, my son’s kinda dazzled by you. You’re like a G.I. Joe doll brought to life.” She continued past Jake’s snort of disapproval. “Anyway, I appreciate your tolerance. I’ll try to keep him out of your way as much as possible while we’re here.”

      “He’s no trouble.”

      She laughed drily. “You say that now, but just wait.”

      Jake brandished a hand at the interior of the house. “What do you think? It’s not much, but at least there’s a working bathroom and two double beds.”

      The cottage had a couple of rooms, plus the small bath. They’d stepped into the living room area, furnished by a thrift-store sofa and two of the rustic twig armchairs his father used to build in the off-season. Uncomfortable as hell for sitting. A couple of cabinets, a tiny sink, mini fridge and microwave made do as the kitchen. Thick stone walls and small paned windows overhung with ivy and climbing roses made the room seem dark and unappealing to Jake. He switched on the lone hanging light—a cast-iron chandelier with yellowed lampshades festooned with cobwebs.

      Lia saw differently. “Oh, wow. It’s charming, Jake. A real storybook cottage.”

      He drew a line through the dust on the floor. “Needs