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It didn’t make Jarrod’s suggestion any more palatable. She was a woman with a mission, imagined herself launched into a career in high-profile journalism. It was coming her way, and soon. She might already have been sent her one-way ticket to fame and fortune—if the anonymous letter she’d received in this morning’s post was to be believed.
“A man, Katie,” her brother repeated.
“You’re like a broken record or CD, these days.” Planting both fists firmly on her hips, she asked, “So what do you suggest? That I take in a roommate so that I don’t con my lazy, no-good, self-serving half brothers into doing odd jobs like fixing the dryer or the dishwasher or the car for me?”
A crooked smile tugged at the corner of Jarrod’s mouth. “Now, that’s an idea.” He swiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead and left a grease stain on his brow.
“Or should I just take out an ad in the personals, hmm? ‘Wanted: Handyman and part-time father. Must do light housework. References required.’”
“Maybe you should just get married,” he said, and Katie bristled at the thought.
She wasn’t interested in marriage with anyone. Wasn’t even dating. For a second her thoughts skipped to Luke Gates, then, horrified, she cleared her throat as well as her mind. “Our family has enough of that going around,” she grumbled as they walked toward the back porch where several wasps were busily constructing a muddy nest in the corner of the ceiling. Blue struggled to his arthritic legs, and his tail whipped back and forth. Katie couldn’t let the subject drop. “If you haven’t noticed, Jarrod, I don’t have time for another man in my life. Believe me, Josh is enough.”
“He’s one boy.”
“And a great kid,” she said automatically as she tugged open the screen door. A jagged tear in the mesh was getting bigger by the day, but she ignored it as she always did. She had bigger worries, but she wasn’t about to tell her older brother that she was concerned as all get-out about her son, that it was hard as hell to raise a boy alone, that sometimes it scared her to death. Nope, she’d somehow deal with Josh and whatever challenge he came with. He was worth it.
The interior of the kitchen was sweltering—nearly ninety degrees according to her indoor-outdoor thermometer. Though the window over the sink was ajar, no summer breeze slipped through to dissipate the smells of maple syrup and bacon that hung in the air from the breakfast she’d made hours before. Whining, Blue lifted his nose toward the sink where the frying pan was soaking in greasy water.
“Trust me, boy, you don’t want it,” Katie advised.
Swinging his gaze around what he called “a thousand square feet of chaos,” Jarrod asked, “Where’s Josh?”
“At soccer practice. Earlier he was at Tiffany’s. He and Stephen have kind of bonded, I guess you’d say.”
“Better than you and Tiffany?”
“Actually, Tiff and I are getting along just great,” Katie said. “She wants me to rent out this place and take over hers.” She explained quickly about Tiffany’s offer earlier in the day. “So Tiffany and I don’t have a problem.”
“Real sisters, eh?”
“Half sisters.”
“Close enough.” He winked at her, and she grinned. “Like you are to me.”
“Right.”
“So John’s getting his wish.”
“Not completely, but this ragtag family is finally coming together a little, I think. Tiffany has agreed to be in Bliss’s wedding, and I never would have thought that was possible.” There was still some envy on Tiffany’s part because Bliss was John Cawthorne’s only legitimate daughter, but things were working out.
Katie snagged a peanut from a bowl on the table and plopped it into her mouth. “I would never have thought that Tiffany would agree to be in Bliss’s wedding.”
“See? Finding a man didn’t hurt Tiffany’s disposition, did it?”
“Oh, get over yourself. So now men help women’s personalities? Come on, Jarrod, that kind of thinking went out with hula hoops.”
“I’m just pointing out a simple fact.”
“I’m not getting married, okay?” Biting her tongue before she said anything she might really regret, Katie took up her scratchy sponge and scrubbed the frying pan so fiercely, she wondered if she’d scrape the Teflon right off the metal. Though she relied on her brothers from time to time, they—especially Jarrod in his current older-brother mood—could be worse than irritating. “My marital status is, as they say, none of your business.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “But your car is.”
“Touché, brother dear,” she said with a sigh. “Want something to drink?”
“Got a beer?”
“Nope. Bottled water, tomato juice and grapefruit juice.”
