A Ready-Made Family. Carrie Alexander

with herself, Lia reached inside her shirt to rescue a fallen bra strap that was held together by a pin. She’d once been a genuinely cheerful girl—a cheerleader, even—with shiny blond hair and a set of days-of-the-week underpants. The most important appliance in her life had been her curling iron. So how had her life turned into a wreckage of broken-down motors and tatty undergarments?

      She was startled by a deep male voice. “Find anything good in there?”

      Her fingers clenched on the bra strap. A deflated but still serviceable pair of 34Cs was the answer that popped into her mind before she realized the man was referring to her spying through the window.

      “I was looking for Rose.” She withdrew her hand from her shirt and tucked it in the pocket of her shorts. “Rose Robbin? Am I in the right place?”

      The man gave her a once-over, his blunt, stony face betraying none of his thoughts. He was tall and rawboned, thick with muscles in the way of a hard worker who’d developed an iron-hard physique with years of physical labor. He wore heavy boots and khaki cargo pants despite the warm weather. The open collar and cuffs of his shirt displayed a strong neck and massive forearms inscribed from wrist to elbow with complicated tattoos. There was something not quite civilized about him.

      Lia’s heart beat a little faster. Rose’s brother, she presumed, but was it the ex-con or the military man? What direction had he come from? And where were her kids?

      She sidled over a couple of steps. “I didn’t mean to snoop. Well, yes, I suppose I did, since I was snooping. But I didn’t mean to be rude. I wondered where everyone had gone, that’s all. The house seemed deserted. I, um, that is, we—me and my kids—came for the wedding.”

      “You’re late.”

      “I know. My car broke down.”

      “The wedding was yesterday.”

      “I’m sorry we missed it.”

      He scanned her again, apparently not happy with what he saw, because he scowled, the color in his tanned face getting even darker. “Rose is on her honeymoon.”

      “Oh.” The dregs of Lia’s last hope leaked out of her. She realized what a bind she’d put herself in. No cash, nowhere to stay. Only a small amount of wiggle room remained on her credit card. “I figured it was something like that. But we had a long drive and it was too late to turn back.” She crossed her fingers inside her pockets. “So we came anyway.”

      “How many is we?”

      “I have three children. Oh—I didn’t introduce myself.” But then, neither had he. She didn’t stick out her hand. He looked as if he might bite it. “I’m Lia Howard.”

      “Jake Robbin.” He didn’t budge an inch.

      “You’re Rose’s oldest brother. She’s mentioned me?”

      “No, ma’am.”

      “She invited me to the wedding a while back. I told her then I couldn’t make it, only I changed my mind at the last minute. We were neighbors several years ago.” She was babbling.

      His nod was neither an acknowledgment nor an agreement. “Too bad you missed her.”

      “Yes, too bad,” she said. The sympathy on his face was underwhelming. “We’ll move on, of course.” She gritted her teeth so the desperation wouldn’t show. “We wouldn’t want to put you out.” Not that he’d offered. “My kids can be quite a handful.” She gestured toward the front yard, embarrassed to see Kristen’s stretchy pink-lace-and-glitter ponytail holder around her wrist like a bracelet. “They’re over there—”

      On cue, Kristen came chugging around the side of the house with her hands flapping. “Mom! Mom! Howie found a skunk!” She barreled into Lia’s legs. “It’s gonna bite him.”

      Lia winced. “Do skunks bite?” she asked Jake. Before he had time to answer, she hurried off the way Kristen had come.

      Jake loped beside her, ducking tree branches because he was so tall. “Probably not. Unless it’s rabid.” He put out his arm, slowing her down as they reached the path to the cottages. “Don’t run. Sudden movement will scare it, and—believe me—you don’t want that to happen.”

      Kristen had caught up to them. She stared up at Jake with a finger in her mouth. She took it out. “What happens if we scare the skunk?”

      Jake’s firm lips twitched. He squeezed two fingers on the tip of his nose and said, “Pew.”

      Kristen giggled, copying the gesture. “Pew!”

      Lia blinked. “Did you say pew?”

      “Haven’t you ever smelled skunk?”

      “Of course. I was— Never mind.” She was amused by the word, that was all. Maybe he wasn’t a hard case all the way through. “Let’s rescue Howie before he’s sprayed.”

      “I’ll go,” Jake said. “You keep the little girl out of range.”

      Lia almost laughed at the way Kristen’s upper body swayed forward. Her lower lip protruded. “I’m not a little girl. My name is Kristen Rose.”

      Jake was moving silently along the path, but he stopped to look back at them. “Kristen Rose, huh? Pretty name.” He shot a look at Lia. “After my sister?”

      She nodded. “I told you we were friends.” When she’d gone into labor, Rose had stayed home from work to look after Sam and Howie while Lia delivered the new baby. During the especially tough times immediately after her divorce, Lia had learned to treasure such small acts of kindness.

      Howie’s voice floated from the trees. “Mo-om?”

      “Don’t move, Howie,” she called. “Stay there and tell us where you are.”

      “I’m sitting on the step of one of the little houses.”

      Lia crept after Jake, trying to keep Kristen behind her. They moved past the first two cottages and came to the third, where Howie perched on the doorstep, his arms and legs pulled close to his skinny body. A skunk sniffed through the long grass at the cottage’s foundation, barely two feet away from the boy. Its silky tail swept the ground. A faint but distinctly bitter aroma scented the air.

      Jake stopped. He rested his hands on his hips, as casual as if they were on a Sunday afternoon stroll. “Howie? Don’t move, okay?” He spoke in a soft, even voice. “I’m Jake. I live here and I’ve seen this skunk before. Don’t worry. He’ll go on his way in a minute.”

      The creature lifted its head. A moist black nose twitched in Howie’s direction.

      He cringed. Behind the glasses, his eyes were big and scared. “It’s gonna spray me,” he whispered in a quavery high pitch.

      Jake moved closer. He squatted. “No, see how his tail is down? The skunk’s curious about you, but he’s not afraid. He uses his sense of smell and hearing because he can’t see very well. He needs glasses like yours.”

      Lia chuckled to ease Howie’s fear, but he didn’t seem to be persuaded that this was a laughing matter. “You’re sure he won’t spray me?”

      “Yep,” Jake said. “Only if he thinks you’re going to hurt him.”

      Howie’s chest hitched. Lia’s heart melted at how brave he was trying to be. “Uh-huh. I kn-know that. I read about skunks in my science and nature book.”

      “What else did you read?”

      Howie watched warily as the skunk lowered its head and the tail came up slightly. “I read—I read—” He closed his eyes. “Skunks are mammals. And they’re nocturnal.”

      “What does that mean?” Jake asked gently.

      Howie squinched his nose. “They sleep in the day. So how come—” He gasped