Chapter 2

Lucas couldn't believe he'd brushed a smudge of dirt off Riley Matthews' chin. Her prickly personality didn't exactly invite a person to get up close and personal.

One more black mark against him on their new neighbor's list—somehow, Lucas knew she had a list. She reminded him of someone else who'd been a slave to their day planner. Someone else who'd become so focused on a goal that everything else faded away.

"Dad?" James darted up to him, Jake close behind. "Do you think she'd let me take Marley for a walk?"

Lucas hated to crush James' hopes, but the phrase "when pigs fly" seemed to be the most appropriate answer to that question. "I think we need to talk about it."

"That means no," Jake predicted.

Lucas shot his older–by–three–minutes son a meaningful look. Jake never minded crushing James' hopes. In his mind, that was what brothers were for. "It doesn't mean no. It means we have to set some guidelines."

Jake scowled. "Rules."

"We already have to floss our teeth every day." James looked pained. "And make our beds."

"Yeah, I know I ask a lot of you guys," Lucas said dryly, "but hear me out. I'm not sure we made a very good impression on Miss Matthews."

"She didn't make a good impression on me, either," Jake mumbled.

Lucas grabbed him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. "You remember what we've been talking about during campfire time."

James heaved a sigh. "Love your neighbor."

"But that was easy when we lived next to Mike and Lottie," Jake said, referring to the elderly couple who'd been their neighbors in Austin. "Lottie made cookies, and Mike watched football with us."

"God didn't tell us to love our neighbor only if they do nice things. Or if they're nice people. It starts with us, guys. All you have to do is watch for opportunities."

"Like what?" James asked.

"Maybe giving her some time to adjust to having new neighbors." Who catapult rocks into her fishpond. "And respecting her privacy."

"He wants us to leave her alone," Jake translated.

James scuffed a furrow in the grass with his toe. "Okay."

Lucas detected their reluctance, but decided not to push the issue. In spite of their boundless energy, mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity, he trusted the boys to follow the rules.

Aunt Emily waved to them from the porch. "Your contractor just called, Lucas. He said there's a problem with the electrician."

"Thanks, Em. We'll take a drive over there." A cloud of his aunt's rose–scented perfume surrounded Lucas as he reached the bottom step. Everything in the house was either pink or smelled like Emily's favorite flower. That morning, Jake had refused to take a shower with soap shaped like roses.

Lucas loved his father's sister, though. And he knew the boys would, too. As a child, Lucas had spent a lot of time at her house, but after he'd left for college and then settled in Austin, he hadn't kept in close contact with her. But she'd faithfully sent birthday cards and Christmas letters. Then, after Nicole died, Emily's frequent phone calls and encouraging notes had helped him through the worst days. He was glad his boys would have the chance to get to know her.

"Did you get acquainted with Riley?" Emily asked.

Something in her way–too–innocent tone made warning bells go off in Lucas' head. Emily wouldn't be trying to play matchmaker. Not between him and Riley Matthews. Would she?

"She is such a gifted young woman. And pretty, too. Don't you think so?"

Lucas stifled a groan.

On second thought, maybe she would.

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"I'm sure I mentioned Lucas and the boys were moving in for a few weeks," Emily frowned as she dropped a sugar cube into a delicate teacup and handed it to Riley.

Riley was sure she hadn't. That in itself was odd. Not only was Emily in good physical health, she was also as sharp as the proverbial tack. Riley had never witnessed any lapses in her landlady's memory. Until now.

The minute Riley saw the black pickup truck ease out of the driveway, she'd made her way across the yard to Emily's house, maneuvering through a veritable minefield of sports equipment and catapult–making tools, to politely inquire about her new neighbors.

"It's just the three of them now." The lines mapping Emily's face deepened. "Nicole, Lucas' wife, died in a car accident several years ago. Such a loss—and those sweet little boys only four years old at the time. I have to tell you, it was an answer to prayer when Lucas called and told me they were moving here. "

Riley hadn't known. She may have rented the carriage house from Emily Friar, but she'd been careful to keep her distance. On purpose. They exchanged friendly waves if their paths crossed in the gardens or on their way to the mailbox. On the rare occasion Riley accepted Emily's invitation to join her for a cup of tea, she deliberately kept the conversation from becoming too personal.

Riley tamped down the rush of compassion that welled up inside her at the thought of Lucas raising his sons alone, and reminded herself that it was his job to keep his children under control. She'd signed a yearlong lease with Emily because she needed a place to work. Without distractions. If she'd known two active little boys hung upside down from the branches of Emily's family tree, she might have looked for another place to live.

"Lucas bought a place just outside of town," Emily chatted on, assuming Riley would be interested in his plans—and she was—but not for the reason Emily thought! "The farmhouse needs some work, but the contractor promised Lucas it would be finished by mid–July."

Riley tried to hide her relief. A few weeks. She could survive a few weeks. True, her manuscript was due close to the same time, but Emily knew Riley didn't like to be interrupted. Even though Lucas Friar might be a little on the lackadaisical side when it came to keeping the boys out of trouble, Emily would be there as a buffer.

"The timing is perfect." Emily lifted a delicate shortbread that Riley baked earlier. "They'll have the whole house to themselves while I'm in New York City."

Riley choked. "New York City! You're going…away?"

"Oh, dear." Riley blinked. "Did I forget to mention that, too?"

"Yes." Riley forced the word out through gritted teeth.

Emily had jumped shipped. How…convenient.

Riley gnawed on her lower lip. For a multitude of reasons, she hadn't been able to write a word since the fishpond incident that morning. Marley, ordinarily content to laze the day away in a patch of sunlight, had paced the living room floor and whined at the door. And the noises coming from the other side of the hedge—the dull thud of a hammer, the scrape of a saw and the cheerful serenade of someone whistling—only broke Riley's concentration and not the case of writer's block she'd been suffering from for the past few days.

Riley took a deep breath. "When are you leaving?"

"Day after tomorrow. My friend Mary has been after me for years to go to the Big Apple with her. I finally gave in."

Riley's eyes narrowed. What perfect timing.

Emily chuckled. "But don't worry. If you need help with anything, let Lucas know. I'm sure you'll be good friends by the time I get home."

I don't want a friend, Riley wanted to argue. Instead she scraped together her good manners and managed a smile as she rose to leave. Before Lucas and his sons returned. "Enjoy your trip."

She'd simply barricade herself in the house for the next two weeks. She wouldn't have to deal with little boys. Or catapults. Or damaged clothing.

Or the warmth in Lucas Friar's smile.