Okay, I wasn't really planning on posting this story yet but what the hey :)

I'm a die hard RUCAS fan and I feel like there's not enough fanfic about them so let me help balance it out a bit. Don't hate me people :)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm an eccentric writer - I write rom-com then next minute I write supernatural romance then back to rom-com, what can I say? Nah, I just love to write so if you guys have a story idea let me know and I might just write it for you...Please check out my other story Let Me In because I can tell you guys, it's different but I guarantee you that you'll love it and if you don't then I owe you a sequel of what ever previous story I wrote...you guys get to choose. If I win...you never know...you just might get a full RUCAS novel in one shot!

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Riley Matthews was being watched.

She could feel it.

Closing her laptop, Riley rose to her feet just as a rock arched gracefully over a hedge of wild roses and landed with an impressive splash directly in the center of her fishpond, spraying her with water from head to toe.

Her shriek launched a flock of purple finches into the trees.

Two identical faces poked cautiously around the hedge, and Riley blinked. No, she wasn't hallucinating. Two golden heads. Two pairs of wide emerald eyes. The only significant difference between them she could see was that one of the boys sported a Band–Aid above his left eyebrow.

"Where did you come from?" Riley demanded.

The boys exchanged uncomfortable looks. "She's old. You'd think she'd know that by now," the one with the bandage muttered.

Riley felt the strangest urge to laugh, but she didn't. She'd moved into the neighborhood six months ago and knew no young children lived in the vicinity. The row of Victorian homes on Rose Street, as quaint and pretty as charms on a bracelet, were occupied by people who didn't care about whirlpool baths, oversize garages and how close they were to the school and the hospital. Those people built new homes in the subdivision cropping up on the outskirts of town. It was one of the main reasons Riley had chosen this neighborhood. The other reason was that she'd immediately fallen in love with the turn–of–the–century carriage house that Emily Friar, her elderly landlady, had decided to rent out.

"Where do you live?" Riley emphasized the last word so there was no mistaking her meaning this time.

The boy with the Band–Aid shrugged. "Here."

Riley took a deep breath. Patience. "That isn't true."

"We do, too." Identical scowls puckered their foreheads. Maybe she hadn't sounded as patient as she thought she had.

"I live here—" She started to correct them, but the scowls suddenly disappeared and the boys charged forward. Riley braced herself for an attack, but they streaked past her.

"Is that your dog?"

Riley shot a panicked look over her shoulder and saw Marley, her yellow Labrador retriever, lumbering toward them.

"Can we play with her?"

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Marley," Riley said distractedly. "And no, she doesn't play. She's too old."

Three pairs of eyes focused on her in disappointment. Riley clapped her hands and Marley reluctantly padded over and sat down beside her. But her tail continued to thump out a cheerful message to the boys in canine Morse code.

"Now." Riley winced. She sounded more severe than patient. But she had a deadline to meet and five precious minutes had already been spent on the pint–sized criminals who'd launched a missile into her pond. "What are your names?"

"James." The one without the Band–Aid inched closer to Marley and extended his hand. His extremely grubby hand.

"Jake." The other boy lifted his chin in a way that clearly told Riley she wouldn't get any more information out of him.

"And you came from—" Scratch that. "Why did you say you lived here?"

"'Cause we do." Jake's eyes narrowed. "We live with our Aunt Emily."

"She's our great aunt." Taking advantage of Riley's shocked silence, Jake flopped down and wrapped his arms around Marley's neck. Marley looked a little self–conscious, but gave his cheek a friendly swipe with her tongue anyway.

It couldn't be true. Emily wouldn't—couldn't—do this to her. She knew about Riley's looming deadline. She knew she needed peace and quiet. And two boys lobbing rocks into her pond certainly didn't qualify for that!

"Jake? James?" A muffled but definitely masculine voice penetrated the hedge. "Where are you guys?"

Riley didn't know much about children, but guessed the sudden tension in the boys' shoulders meant they were about to flee. She clamped one hand onto each shaggy head just as a man stepped into view.

It took Riley only a split second to match his features—his grown–up, drop–dead gorgeous features—to those of the boys wriggling in her grasp. She steeled herself not to return the stranger's warm smile as their eyes met across the pond.

She arched a brow at him. "I believe these belong to you."

Several thoughts collided in Lucas Friar's head.

Riley Matthews didn't look a bit like the quiet, reclusive children's book author his aunt Emily had described. For some reason, he'd expected someone much older. And she was beautiful, her glossy chocolate hair pulled back in a neat twist that accentuated classic features. Features enhanced by a pair of stunning brown eyes. She didn't look like the carefree, artsy type, either. She wore a conservative white blouse and knee–length floral skirt…spattered with murky brown water spots.

The spots could only mean one thing. She'd been formally introduced to the twins.

Lucas glanced at his sons, who stood frozen in Riley's grip. As usual, Jake's eyes sparkled with defiance—a sure sign he'd been the ring leader of this particular misadventure—while James dipped his head and refused to look Lucas in the eye. Guilty. No doubt about it.

He knew he needed to smooth things over. Fast. "You must be Riley Matthews. I'm Lucas—"

"Your…boys…threw a rock into my pond—" Riley cut the introductions short as she released them.

The twins bolted to safety and attached themselves to Lucas' leg like barnacles.

"We didn't throw it." Jake dared to contradict the woman now that he was beyond her reach. "We catapulted it. I made this really cool catapult—"

"Be that as it may." Riley's voice could have kept a gallon of milk cold for a week. "I have fish in the pond and the rock could have—"

"Fish? Like trout?"

"I have a fishing pole. Can I get it?"

"Dad cooks them in butter with their heads still on—"

Lucas saw the color drain out of Riley's face and held up his hand to prevent Jake from launching into a detailed description of how Lucas cleaned a fish. The boys could be a little overwhelming even to someone used to the way they spoke in high–definition surround sound. Maybe moving in with Aunt Emily while their new house was being renovated hadn't been such a good idea. It was going to be a challenge to keep his active sons out of trouble. And, from the looks of it, away from the neighbor they'd be sharing a yard with.

"You can't fish for them. They're koi, not trout," he said. Riley looked confused at the sudden change in topics.

Welcome to my world, Lucas thought wryly. If it wasn't for his daily conversations with God and frequent requests for strength and patience, Lucas knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

"So?" Jake's frown clearly said a fish was a fish.

"So they're like…pets," Riley explained.

Identical faces wearing identical expressions of shock tipped toward Lucas. And both questioned their new neighbor's sanity.

Riley's eyes accused him of being responsible for this gap in his sons' education. "They have names. And they swim to the edge of the pond and they eat out of my hand."

"No way." Jake said under his breath.

Lucas hoped she hadn't heard him. At the ripe old age of seven, Jake was starting to develop an edge. This was one of the reasons Lucas had decided to leave Texas and move the boys to New Jersey. Not that New Jersey was without problems, but it was still a smaller and better place than Austin.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to change my clothes and get back to work," Riley's expression communicated exactly how she felt about the interruption to her day. And the cause of it.

"Boys." Lucas' soft prompt let his sons know he expected them to apologize.

"We didn't mean to get you wet," James said quickly.

"Yeah. Sorry," Jake muttered. "But it was a cool catapult."

For a moment, Lucas thought he saw a smile tip the corners of Riley Matthews' lips. But then her eyes met his over the twins' heads and the message in their cool brown depths didn't exactly say welcome to the neighborhood. More like private. Keep out. No trespassing.

Lucas buried a sigh.

Strike one against the Friar family.

Riley pivoted sharply, and Marley, with an apologetic look at the boys, fell into step beside her as she walked back to the house.

She glanced at her watch. Now she'd have to take time to throw her clothes in the wash and find something else to wear. Thanks to her laptop, the spare bedroom or one of the comfortable chairs in the flower garden served as her office, but dressing in business casual put her in "work" mode and helped her focus on her daily page goal.

"She's crabby." The childish declaration, delivered by the boy named Jake, came out louder than his apology.

Riley sucked in a breath.

Well, how did they expect her to respond when they launched a rock into her fishpond? It could have ended up in her lap. She blamed their father. Lucas. If he kept a closer eye on his boys, maybe they would have gotten off to a better start—

Start?

Riley caught herself. There was no start. She had to talk to Emily and find out what was going on.

A terrifying thought whipped through her mind. Emily was close to seventy. Had she sold the house to her nephew? Was Lucas going to be her landlord? His son had sounded quite emphatic when he told her that they lived there. If they were just visiting for a day—or a weekend—wouldn't he have said so?

And if the little hooligans built working catapults, who knew what other creative inventions they could create that had the potential to disrupt her life?

"I like her dog." James' voice—a clear soprano—carried across the yard.

Riley looked down at Marley. "At least you scored some points."

Marley grinned.

Just as Riley got to the door, a large hand tinted brown from the sun, reached around her and opened it. Startled, she spun and found herself looking directly into Lucas' eyes.

From the expression on his face, he knew she'd heard his sons' comments. Riley's face burned. She told herself she didn't care if they thought she was crabby; maybe they'd keep their distance. And she'd get to finish her manuscript.

"I just noticed you're carrying a laptop. It didn't get wet, did it?" Lucas glanced down at the computer tucked under her arm. He was probably worried he'd have to replace it.

"I closed it…right before the geyser blew."

Lucas' lips twitched. "I can tell you're a writer.

Riley looked at him suspiciously. Why? Because of the computer? Or because he thought she was exaggerating? She decided she didn't want to know. If she didn't make her goal today, she'd have to skip lunch.

"It's fine. Thank you for your concern…" Her voice sputtered and died.

Lucas was staring at her lips.

Riley couldn't remember the last time a man had stared at her lips. Ah, possibly never? She tried to move, but Marley wedged her wide doggy frame between Riley and the wall. Which had to be the reason Riley suddenly had trouble breathing.

"I…ah…" Need some air. That was it. She needed air.

Lucas' hand lifted and his thumb brushed the curve between her lower lip and her chin.

Riley choked.

Lucas reacted as if Marley had bit him in the ankle. "Ah, you had some…dirt…there." He backed away. Quickly. "Habit. You know. The boys hate it when I do that. Sorry."

He made a quick getaway. Riley escaped into the house and sagged against the wall.

Maybe she'd been foolish to think that Lucas Friar's sons were the ones who were going to turn her life upside down!