Carrie Alexander - A Ready-Made Family

A ready-made family.

BY ALL RIGHTS, LIA should have slept like the proverbial log, six of which Jake had hauled into the cottage and set up in the woodstove in the corner, saying they could have a fire if they got chilly at night. He’d showed her how to arrange the kindling and the logs and open the damper, with a fascinated Howie hovering nearby, taking everything in.

But it wasn’t the cool northern air that kept Lia from sleep or even the nightmare she sometimes had about being followed and cornered by a menacing figure. She’d have almost preferred the nightmare. No question where it came from.

Nope, what had awakened her from an already less-than-sound sleep was the disturbing way Jake had looked at her after they’d struck the deal about the cottage. Sober, speculative, far too intense. As if he’d seen something about her, something surprising, something…secret.

Had he guessed about Larry?

Icy prickles slid along her spine at the possibility and what that could mean if Jake was a law-and-order type. She hadn’t figured him out on that point. His military experience said he’d operate by the book and turn her in. Yet there was also an untamed, renegade aura about him. Vestiges of the wild brother from Rose’s tales of their adolescence, she assumed. Prone to fisticuffs and breaking the law.

Quietly Lia slid from the bed and into her robe.

The other possibility of what Jake had been thinking flickered at the back of her brain like a moth at the screen door. She couldn’t seem to brush it away.

It’s nothing. Just a biological urge. You’ve been without a man for too long.

She and Rose used to call themselves reluctant nuns. They’d goad each other into accepting occasional dates and then pick apart the poor men afterward, calling them “the slobberer,” “the mama’s boy,” “the braggart,” discarding them as if the two women were such prize catches themselves.

But Jake…

He was a man. A real man. A man’s man. The kind of guy she’d always been intimidated by, which was how she’d wound up with Larry, the supposed nice boy.

Stop it. You’re making too much of nothing. It was just one look.

She glanced at Kristen and Samantha. Sleeping like angels. Even Sam had been too tired—or too resigned—to complain about sharing a bed. Lia pulled the blankets up to Howie’s chin. He looked naked without his glasses. Younger, too. At times she forgot that he was only ten. Having a good, strong male influence like Jake in his life, if only for a short while, would be invaluable to him.

Jake. He simply refused to leave her mind.

She belted the robe and quietly let herself out of the cottage, easing the screen door shut on her fingertips. The trees grew together so thickly they cast one big, deep shadow, but dawn glowed between the uppermost branches.

Lia shivered on the doorstep in her stocking feet. So what if Jake had looked at her? He hadn’t said a word. Yet she couldn’t deny that she’d been shaken. She’d covered up by making a production about rounding up the kids, sweeping out the cottage, bringing in their gear.

She closed her eyes, sucked in the fresh, fragrant air. You’re on your own. Truly on your own. You can make it.

“I heard the screen door. Couldn’t sleep?”

Lia’s lids flew open. Jake stood on the path, wearing a thermal shirt with the sleeves pushed up, his hands tucked in the pockets of a pair of jeans. God, he looked good.

“I’m antsy, I guess.”

“Want some coffee? I’ve got a pot brewing.”

“Love some.” She stepped down. “You’re an early riser.”

“Habit.”

She sucked in a breath. “Smells good.”

His mouth twisted. “Me?”

Her eyes widened. “The coffee.”

“I took another bath.”

“I’m sure you smell good, too, but forget it—I’m not sniffing you again.”

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