1. Chapter 1

Rachel

I march into the back yard and place my hands on my hips. "Okay, who's going to shower first?"

"Not me!" Anna, who's seven, shouts, her voice echoing across the back yard.

"Me neither." Lisa—her twin sister—scowls at me.

Noah, their five-year-old brother, copies me by placing his hands on his hips. "I'm never going to shower."

All three kids are absolutely adorable—dirt, grime, and all—and they remind me so much of my best friend that it hurts. They have her brown, sun-kissed hair, those familiar, piercing green eyes, and the same sprinkling of freckles on their noses. They're also a handful and a half, and they make me want to tear my hair out.

At least the twins are fraternal, so they can't pull off the old switcheroo. Lisa's taller by a full inch, and Anna's cheeks turn bright pink whenever she's upset.

I stare down at the kids and try to look tough. "You can't go to school like that. You're covered in mud, and you don't smell all that great." A definite understatement. "What will your teachers say?"

"That it's Sunday, Rachel," Lisa says. Smart ass.

"Yeah, Rachel," Noah parrots.

"There's no school on Sunday, Rachel," Anna adds, but there's no fire behind her words. Unlike her siblings, she doesn't emphasize my name in that weird way they've adopted in the last few days. Poor thing looks like she's going to cry.

I sigh. "Tomorrow's Monday. I can't send you to school like this."

Not when they haven't bathed or showered in five days. I already got a cringe-worthy lecture on personal hygiene from the principal on Friday, and a veiled threat to call Child Protective Services.

Lisa looks triumphant. "We just won't go to school until Nana's back."

She clearly thinks she's won—and maybe she has.

I almost give in. Almost. But if Ada's grandkids don't go to school, she'll never trust me with them again. Not when I can't even survive watching them for one week. And what if the school follows through on that threat, and the kids get taken away?

I take a deep breath. "You like school, though, don't you?"

The three of them shake their heads ‘no.'

"Okay, fair enough. I never liked school either." Shit. I shouldn't have said that.

Except that it's one hundred percent true. So how can I blame the kids for not wanting to go?

I nearly tell them exactly how much I think school sucks… until I remember that I'm the responsible adult. "There's only one week of school left before summer break. I bet you won't have any actual school work. You'll probably just watch a bunch of movies and hang out with your friends. Doesn't that sound fun?"

All three of them glare at me. Okay then.

I decide to switch tactics. "Don't you want to shower? You must be so itchy."

"We're not itchy!" Noah shouts.

The girls just shake their heads, though Anna's response is a lot less emphatic than Lisa's.

I press on. "Doesn't the smell bother you?"

Noah doesn't hesitate. "Not one bit!"

The girls take a second, but then they echo his sentiment.

Shit!

I'm way out of my element here. I don't know how to parent one kid, let alone three. And I have zero clue how to get them to do what I say.

What was Janey thinking, leaving them in my care?

I instinctively touch my right ring finger, where the gold wave-shaped ring she always wore now sits.

I should have read some parenting books before offering to watch the kids so Ada could go on her trip. I should have stuck around and helped raise them.

Noah scratches his armpit. "We're on a shower strike forever."

"Noah!" Anna hisses.

Lisa glares at me. "We want Nana."

Anna's eyes fill with tears. "Please…"

"Oh, honey, she'll be back before you know it." I try to pull her into my arms, even though she smells more zombie than human. She backs away, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.

Lisa scowls at me. "Now look at what you've done!"

Her words are like a slap to the face, and I suddenly feel like bawling right along with Anna.

What was I thinking, coming here? Of course, the kids don't want me around. I abandoned them when they needed me most!

I should have stuck around five years ago, after the car accident. I should have kissed their booboos, helped with homework, and tucked them in at night. But Noah was just a baby, and the twins were two, and I freaked out. So the moment Ada offered to take them in, I ran.

I was young and foolish, and I convinced myself the three of them would be better off without me. But the travel, the parties, the random hookups… none of it meant anything. The kids do. And I plan to make up for not being here. Which means either I figure this out or I throw in the towel and call their nana.

Ada would drop everything for her grandkids, no questions asked. One phone call and she'd be on the first flight home. But what if she tells me to go back to doing what I'm good at: traveling the world and having fun?

But then why did I bother studying and getting IT certified so I could find a boring, steady job? Why did I promise myself I'd be a responsible adult? Why did I spend the past year trying to convince Ada to take this trip?

I'm hyperventilating when Ada's hot-as-hell muscles-for-years neighbor peeks over the fence. "Is everything okay over there?"

"No!" all three kids shout at the same time.

I barely pay them any attention, I'm so focused on the man next door. His voice envelops me like a warm, cozy blanket and makes my spiraling thoughts short-circuit.

He's got that just-rolled-out-of-bed look that makes me wish I'd been rolling in it with him. His dirty blond hair is in desperate need of a comb and a cut, but I'm willing to tackle anyone who comes at it with a brush or scissors. Or go to beauty school for the chance to run my fingers through it myself.

He's only visible from the chest-up, but the fence is tall, which means so is he. Is it bad that a part of me is hoping he's naked from the waist down? Yes. That is bad. And weird and wrong, and I'm definitely not imagining long, tanned legs and a hard…

Stop it, Rachel! Not in front of the kids!

Don't picture him taking off his blue polo shirt to reveal huge, delicious pecs that are just begging to be licked. No, don't! Stop. Stop. Stop!

My eyes snap up to his face—look at me being all PG—and oh boy, that face is as gorgeous as the rest of him. His angular jaw, covered in stubble, and those twinkling blue eyes do something funny to my insides. And when his lips curve up into a slow smile, I'm gone.

My belly does somersaults. My heart rate accelerates. My womb shouts ‘breed me' when it should be running for the hills.

After the week I've just had, having more kids is not the answer. Not even with him.