Husband Under Construction. Karen Templeton

offered to help since things are slow, taxwise, right now,” Noah said. “Maybe Jesse, too.” Noah glanced down, then back up at her with a little-boy grin. “And we figure there’s a lot you could do, too. If you’re amenable.”

      She wasn’t sure what was making her heart beat faster—the grin, the eyes or the proposal. To gather her thoughts—and break the mesmeric hold Noah had on her gaze—Roxie frowned at her uncle.

      “And you’re okay with this?”

      “Heck, yeah.”

      “Even though three days ago you were ready to throttle me for even thinking of changing anything in the house…oh.” She sighed. “Mae?”

      Her uncle’s smile faltered for a second before he gave a vigorous nod. “It’ll be like an old-fashioned barn raising! Or one of those HGTV shows! So whaddya say, Rox? You up for ripping off some wallpaper? Slapping on some paint?”

      Roxie sighed. On the face of it, it was a brilliant plan. In some ways it could even be fun. But…working alongside Noah? Hot, sweaty, sexy, gentle-to-old-men, major player Noah?

      Who strangely reminded her of someone who’d broken her heart ten times more than sorry-assed Jeff could even dream about?

      “It won’t work without you,” Noah said, sounding even more reluctant about the whole idea than she. If that was possible.

      Oh, boy. Part of her would rather dance naked with African bees. But as much as her uncle and she got on each other’s nerves, she loved the old grouch. And she really did worry about the house falling down around his ears. So…if she sucked it up now, she could leave later with a clear conscience. Right?

      Not only that, but considering what she’d put him and Mae through after her parents died? She supposed she could deal with Noah’s hotness for a few weeks.

      “I’d have to see what I can work out with the clinic,” she said. “But sure, why not?”

      Charley let out a whoop and clapped his hands, his wide grin warming her heart—even as Noah’s twisted it like a wrung-out washcloth.

      Family dinner nights at Noah’s parents’ were not for the faint of heart. Especially as his brothers’ broods grew and the noise level increased exponentially. However, unless somebody’s wife was giving birth or there were flu germs involved, there was no “will not be attending” option.

      So here Noah slouched on the scuffed-up old leather sectional in the relatively quiet family room, his belly full of his mother’s pot roast and his head full of Roxie—even though he had a date later that evening with some chick he met while working on a project in Chama—all by his lonesome. Well, except for his father’s old heeler seeking refuge from way too many shrill little voices and eager little hands, and Eli’s sacked-out, newborn son hunched underneath his chin.

      That he was even thinking of canceling only went to show how messed up he was. Wasn’t as if he’d never had more than one woman on the brain at once, for heaven’s sake. Not that he’d ever two-timed anybody, exactly—he was capable of monogamy, especially once getting naked was involved, and as long as nobody was talking long-term. Except, truth be told, things went down that road a lot less often than people assumed. Having a few laughs, kicking up his heels on the dance floor, simply enjoying a pretty gal’s company…that’s about as far as the vast majority of his dates went. And sometimes, when things were totally casual…his mind wandered.

      Or, he thought morosely as the baby squirmed and gurgled softly in his sleep—and Blue lifted his head to make sure The New One was okay—got stuck someplace it shouldn’t. Tonight, much to his consternation, he couldn’t blast Roxie out of his head.

      “Aw—don’t you two look adorable?” his sister-in-law Tess whispered, still cute as all get-out despite the bags under her deep brown eyes. He supposed she and his next older brother, Eli, qualified as high school sweethearts, despite the ten years of Tess’s subsequent marriage to, and two children by, someone else. But now here they were, together again and blissfully adding to the world population. Somebody shoot him now.

      At the sound of his mama’s voice little Brady let out a “feed me” squawk. Smiling, the brunette carefully peeled the kid and receiving blanket off Noah’s shoulder. “You’re such a good uncle.”

      “And don’t you forget it,” he said, telling himself he didn’t miss the warmth, the slight weight. The trust. Knowing he didn’t miss the responsibility at all.

      No sooner had Tess left, however, than his dad came in, dropping with a satisfied groan into the brown La-Z-Boy recliner that had been around longer than Noah.

      “Your mother will be the death of me one of these days,” Gene said, his hands clamped over his stomach, “but damn, she can cook.”

      Noah regarded his father for a moment, thinking about how tangled his and his father’s relationship was, that they could be so close and yet butt heads so often. And so hard. “I take it your stomach’s okay then?”

      “What? Oh. Yeah, yeah, fine. Couldn’t be better.”

      “Glad to hear it,” Noah said, leaning forward to push himself off the sofa. But his father’s hand shot out.

      “Hang on a minute, I want to talk to you.” Grunting, he curled over the arm of the chair to dig the remote out of the pocket. The clicker found, he aimed it at the flat-screen TV, talking to the screen instead of Noah. “Why’d you jack up the figures for Charley’s job?”

      Sneaking a glance at his watch—it was too late to cancel now without looking like a sleazeball—Noah lowered himself again to the edge of the sofa, his hands linked between his knees. “Because you’d cut them too close,” he said over some crime show he never watched. “If any of our supply prices had gone up, you’d've been screwed. And Silas agreed with me,” he added before his father could protest.

      “Damn repeats,” his father muttered, clicking the TV off again before meeting Noah’s gaze. “Except Charley doesn’t have that kind of money.”

      “I understand that. Since I was the one who discussed the budget with him. So we all came up with a solution.”

      “We all?”

      “Silas and me, mostly. But Roxie, too. That if a lot of the demo work got done for free, Charley’s contribution would still cover materials and the crew’s wages. There’s like zip profit margin, but it won’t take you under, either.”

      His father looked at him steadily for several seconds. “What about your salary?”

      “I’m good for a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t take any longer than that.”

      More staring. “Why?”

      Noah knew what he was asking. “Because I know how much Charley means to you.”

      His father broke the connection first, shifting in his chair and turning the TV back on. “Roxie know you’re doing the project gratis?”

      “No. Why should she?”

      The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by Donna Garrett’s hearty laugh from the dining room, where she was supervising dessert for a batch of grandchildren. “Guess that could work.”

      Noah knew the grudging acknowledgement was as close to a thumbs-up as Gene was going to give under the circumstances. Before he could reply, however, his father said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I should spend some time with your mother.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Get away.”

      “Oh?”

      “Except…what if I did want to go traipsing around Europe or take your mother on a cruise or something? Who’d handle things while I was gone?”

      And here we go again. “Actually…probably the same people who handle things now.” When his father frowned at him, Noah said, “Dad.