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.

Zeke pressed his hand over his racing heart as he mentally counted mailboxes. What would the neighbors think?

“You’re never gonna find us a mommy if you keep talkin’ like that,” August whispered with a frown.