ZEKE BLALOCK awoke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but between the move, unpacking and nursing an ailing golden retriever all night, he’d been completely exhausted. The silence in the house alerted him to trouble. He jumped off the sofa, shoved his tousled hair from his forehead and panicked. Where were the girls?

In the backyard with Henrietta—it’s fenced in, a quiet, safe neighborhood, that’s why you moved here—they’re fine.

But his heart pounded anyway, and he had to see his daughters’ darling, innocent faces before he could relax. Still blurry-eyed from sleep, he raced through the den, dodged the sleeping cat on the floor and almost stumbled over the maze of unopened boxes. Damn. He needed to finish unpacking. He stubbed his toe, but ignored the throbbing pain and rushed to the back door. His pulse raced when he spotted the empty yard and the gate swinging back and forth.

They were gone! Had they been kidnapped while he napped on his living room couch? Should he call 911?

He hurried up the stairs, yelling their names as he searched the house, but no answer. Remembering they liked to play hide-and-seek, he checked every closet, even under the bed. They were nowhere to be found.

Feeling sick to his stomach with panic, he almost yelped in shock when the doorbell rang. Who could be at the door? He didn’t know a single soul living on the street. Unless it was some salesmen. He sure as hell didn’t have time for that. Or maybe it was that nice elderly lady, Mrs. Spivy with some more pies. Or maybe she’d seen his children!

Unless the police had found his daughters and—

Don’t overreact. Maybe they’re playing in the front yard.

The bell rang again and he bolted, not caring that he was barefoot and his oxford shirt was unbuttoned. He swung open the front door and squinted through the screen. A gorgeous redhead stood on the front stoop, wearing a scowl the size of Texas. Was she selling something? If so, she certainly needed to perfect her demeanor.

“Mr.—”

“Daddy!”

“Girls!” Relief ballooned inside him at the sight of his daughters. He yanked open the screen door, dropped to his knees on the porch, and pulled them into his arms. “Where have you two been? I told you to stay in the backyard.” He leaned back to examine each of them, spot-checking to see if they’d been injured in any way, totally forgetting about the frowning woman standing in his doorway. They looked okay. They sounded okay. They hadn’t been kidnapped. “I was worried about you,” he said in a firm voice.

“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Summer said.

“Yeah, but we was busy,” August argued.

Zeke frowned and adopted his serious-dad expression. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You gave me a scare. The rule is you don’t leave the yard without me. Do you understand?”

Both girls bowed their heads and studied their colored sneakers. “Yes sirrrrr,” Summer said.

“August?”

“’Kay, Daddy.”

“But we found somebody.” Summer pointed to the woman. “She lives in the yellow house.”

“Right next door,” August added. “She walked us home.”

Zeke glanced up to see the woman still standing on the stoop. Her frown had disappeared, and her light green eyes seemed troubled.

“Thanks for bringing them home,” he said.

August pulled at his sleeve. “Her name’s Paige. Like a book.”

“This is our daddy,” Summer said proudly. “He’s a mess today, but that’s ’cause we was unpacking, and he didn’t sleep last night ’cause he’s a dog doctor.”

“A beterinarian,” August clarified, wrinkling her nose. “Daddy, your face is all fuzzy.”

Zeke ran a hand through his dark brown hair, trying to smooth the disheveled ends, suddenly conscious of his unruly appearance. He needed a shave, his shirt was hanging open and his jeans were full of holes. On top of that, he was running on two hours of sleep, max. He probably looked like a stray animal that had been digging in the yard. Leave it to his daughters to bring home a beautiful female when he looked his absolute worst.

He hurriedly buttoned his shirt, aware an undercurrent of tension stretched taut between him and the red-haired woman who seemed to be avoiding looking at his bare chest.

Finally he felt clothed and extended his hand. Maybe now she would look at him. “Hi. Uh, I’m Zeke Blalock.”

“Hello. Paige Watkins.” She drew in a deep breath and her short cropped T-shirt stretched tight across her small but ample breasts. For the first time since he’d opened the door, he noticed her running attire. Bright red letters boasting the slogan Free To Be Me emblazoned the front of her shirt. Black running shorts hugged her slender thighs and she wiped at a bead of perspiration on her forehead. Was she hot, or nervous?

“I hope my girls didn’t disturb you,” Zeke said.

“We didn’t, Daddy,” August said.

“No, they were fine,” Paige said. “Actually—”

Henrietta flopped onto the porch and whined. “My dog didn’t dig up your flower bed or something, did she?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Paige reached for some papers in the wagon. She was selling something.

“We’re gonna go play,” Summer said.

“Yep,” August agreed.

“Girls, wait,” Paige said.

Uh-oh. They had done something. He’d hoped he’d be lucky enough to find neighbors who liked kids. Maybe Paige Watkins didn’t. “Look, Ms. Watkins, if the girls upset you, I’m sorry, they’re just—”

She handed him a flier. “The girls were putting these up in the neighborhood. I wondered if you’d read them.”

The girls had made fliers? Guilt flashed onto his daughters’ faces as they backed off the porch. “We’re taking Henrietta to the backyard,” August said in a low voice.

“Yep.” Summer dropped her chin forward, avoiding his eyes.

“Wait, girls.” Zeke motioned them to stop as he recognized the familiar crayoned writing. Then he read the words and the sun grew hot on his neck and the porch spun in circles.

“Oh, my God!” The paper rattled in his hands as Zeke waved it at the girls.

August poked his arm. “Daddy, you’re not sposed to say that.”

“’Cept in church,” Summer added.

Zeke glanced in horror from one innocent set of green eyes to another, then back at Paige. A smile curved her lips and he momentarily forgot his daughters’ latest stunt. Attraction hit him square in the gut. Paige was breathtaking. Sunlight glinted off her auburn hair, and he had the insane urge to reach out and touch it.

Summer tugged at his sleeve, bringing him back to reality. “Daddy, Paige don’t gots a husbund.”

“And she can make chocwit chip cookies.”

“Daddy, be nice.” August cupped her hand to her mouth and stood on her tiptoes. “And comb your hair. You look like a poodle-head.”

For the first time in his thirty years, a blush crept up his neck and scalded his face. He wanted to throttle his darling daughters, then crawl in Henrietta’s doghouse in the back and hide. Instead he gestured at the flier. “Uh…I didn’t know anything about this.”

Paige’s light green eyes twinkled. “That’s what the girls said. I thought you might want to see it before they finished distributing them.”

“Giving them out?” Horror struck Zeke anew. Exactly how many had they displayed? He turned to the twins, trying desperately to control his soaring temper. “Summer, August, where did you put these fliers?”

Summer chewed her lip in thought and shuffled from one foot to the other.

August piped up. “In the mailboxes.”

“All along that street,” Summer added.

“How many did you give out?” he asked, his vision blurring at the thin stack remaining in the wagon.

“I dunno know,” August said, twirling her pigtail around her finger.

“’Bout a hundred,” Summer said.

“Oh, my God!” Zeke’s stomach rolled.

“Daddy!” both girls shrieked.