Katie had tried to broach the subject of Dave several times since she’d first told her son about his father, but Josh had retreated into disgusted silence and had spent his time either at school or with his friends. When he was at home, he kept to his room, watching the small television, playing video games and generally indulging his bad mood. But, the good news was that he was off crutches for good; the doctor had called the Monday after Bliss’s wedding with a report that the specialists who had read his X ray had found no indication of fracture in his ankle and physically he was solid again.

And today was different. They were moving and she’d forced Josh into a halfway-decent mood. He’d even offered to help her pack up her desk. A small olive branch, but one that she’d quickly accepted.

Their lives were changing in other ways. As of this day, Katie would live next door to Luke.

Which was another problem.

She’d seen Luke several times since the late afternoon when they’d made love. Each time, he’d been cordial and warm, a sexy, affectionate smile creasing his jaw whenever they’d run into each other. But he hadn’t called and hadn’t so much as touched her again.

It was almost as if something had come between them, an invisible barrier she didn’t understand. She filled another cardboard box with memorabilia from her kitchen, piling in knickknacks and pictures, cookbooks and a few pot holders.

She heard the truck before she saw its rear end back into the drive. As it slowed and parked several feet away from the garage, she heard her half-brothers’ shouts.

“Start with the big things—washer and dryer,” Jarrod ordered as he climbed out of the cab. “And don’t forget the refrigerator.”

“As if I’d let them forget anything.” Katie stepped onto the back porch as her twin brothers leaped past the two steps and barreled into the kitchen. “But don’t worry about the refrigerator. It stays with the place.”

“Good. Just point us in the right direction,” Nathan told her. His hair was a dark brown, stick straight and flopped over a high forehead beneath which intense hazel eyes bored into her.

She followed her brothers inside and from the archway in the kitchen looked down the hallway to where Trevor was already unhooking the hoses to the washing machine that was wedged into what was euphemistically called a “laundry closet.”

Jarrod pushed open the screen door and frowned at the torn, jagged mesh. “I think I made some wild promise about fixing this,” he said, sticking a finger through the hole.

“That you did.” She winked at him. “And just because I’m moving doesn’t let you off the hook, you know. This is still my house and you made a promise.”

“Consider it done.”

“Oh, sure. Promises, promises,” she quipped blithely.