Wouldn’t she, as a teenager growing up, have given her right arm for the truth? She owed that much to her son.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“I hate to say it, Katie, but what you need is a man.” Jarrod Smith, Katie Kinkaid’s oldest half-brother, slammed down the hood of her old convertible and swiped at a mosquito that had hovered near his head. The minute she’d arrived home after dropping Josh at soccer practice, she’d called her brother to check under the hood. But she hadn’t wanted or needed his advice on the sad state of her love life.

“I think what I need might be a new car.” Katie frowned at her ancient two-door—a gem in its day—and wondered how she could possibly afford the payments on a newer model. Her gaze traveled from the single-car garage to her little bungalow, the place she and her son had called home for nearly a decade. Two windowpanes were cracked, the dryer was temperamental and the carpet should have been replaced years before. No, she couldn’t swing buying a new car right now.

“This”—Jarrod thumped a greasy finger on the faded finish of her convertible—“is the least of your worries.” Wiping the oil from his hands onto a soiled rag, he shook his head. Sweat dampened his brown hair and slid down the side of his face. “You’ve got Josh and—”

“And I don’t need a lecture. Least of all from you,” she said, irritated that the subject of her being a single parent was a matter for discussion. Just because their mother had married for the fifth time this summer and her two half-sisters were planning to “do the aisle-walk thing,” as the media now called it, didn’t mean that she needed to hook up with a man. Independent to a fault, she supposed people thought her, but she couldn’t imagine being tied down to one man. Not that she didn’t have a fantasy now and again. Raising a boy alone was no picnic, but she wasn’t sure a husband and stepfather would help the situation. In fact, she was certain it would do more damage than good. “No one ever needs a man, Jarrod,” she said, leveling a gaze at him that she hoped would burn into his hard-edged heart. “Least of all, me.”