“Then no running girdles up the flagpole,” Robbie suggested. “And no live fishing bait stored in the fridge.”

Gunter snorted. “I doubt the lady wears a girdle,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee.

Robbie took a sip of his own coffee, that Catherine had poured for him, realizing it was more than any of the other housekeepers had done. Hell, none of them had ever been up early enough to make a pot!

Catherine walked out of the downstairs bedroom, where she and her kids had slept last night, stopped in the middle of the kitchen, and hesitantly smiled. “Good morning,” she whispered, her face turning a warm pink. “I bet you’re both starved,” she said, going over to the stove and filling two plates with bacon and eggs and toast.

“Good morning,” Gunter said when she set one of the plates in front of him. “And thank you.”

“Thank you,” Robbie echoed. “And good morning.”

She murmured something in reply, and hearing the pounding of feet on the stairs, poured three more cups of coffee and filled three more plates, setting them on the table as each one of the boys came down, their eyes blinking and their mouths watering.

“Oh, Lord,” Cody groaned. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. Will you marry me?” he asked Catherine, his hand over his heart as he eyed his breakfast.

“Are you asking me or the eggs?”

“Both,” Cody affirmed, his morning grin rusty but visible. Then he spotted Robbie.

“Hell, man, you look like you ran into a train.” He turned incredulous eyes on Catherine. “I retract my proposal,” he whispered. “I don’t want to mess with anyone who can do that to him.”

“I did it to myself,” Robbie said, fingering the bruise on his cheek. “When I fell.”

“Hey, lady. I hate scrambled eggs,” Peter growled, pushing his plate away and glaring at Catherine.

Robbie went to rise from his chair, ostensibly to kick the boy in the butt, but at the sight of Catherine’s returning scowl, he sat back down. Maybe he shouldn’t be too quick to intervene but should simply sit back and watch. After all, this could prove to be interesting… or the worst idea of his life.

“My name’s Catherine, to those of you who are interested. But I will respond to ‘lady’ or

‘ma’am’ or ‘hey, you,’ so long as the tone is civil. Now, boy, if you tell me how you like your eggs, I’ll fix you some new ones.”

Well, damn. If that didn’t beat all. Peter actually looked contrite. The rest of the guys looked startled.

“My—uh—my name’s Peter. And I prefer my eggs over easy, with catsup,” he quietly informed her.

She rewarded Peter with a smile and then looked at the others. “I know you introduced yourselves last night, but I can’t put faces to names this morning. I was… it was a bit confusing last night.”

“I’m Rick, and I’ll take my eggs any way you want to cook them. And he’s Gunter,” he said before Gunter could open his mouth. “But don’t pay him no mind. He only looks scary.”

“My name’s Cody, and I’ll eat anything.” Cody darted an accusing look at Robbie.

“Well, almost anything. So long as it ain’t burnt or covered with grit.”

“And you can call me Catherine,” she offered, darting a shy look at Robbie before she turned back to the boys. “And my son’s name is Nathan—he’s eight. And my daughter’s name is Nora—she’s six.” She took a steadying breath. “If they act shy with you, please try to be patient. They haven’t been around many strangers, and never around so many men.”

Themen label scored the woman several points, Robbie noticed. So, Catherine wasn’t going to talk down or tread lightly around them. That was good. And she definitely could cook. All the plates were cleaned in record time and chairs scraped back and school things quickly hunted up. Until Peter suddenly groaned.

“Damn!” he cursed, slapping his head with his hand as he tossed down his school bag.

“I had an assignment for Mrs. Blake. She’s going to have my ass if it’s not in today.”

“Oh! I’ll write you a note,” Catherine said, rushing over to the counter and grabbing a pen. “I’ll explain how you spent the night rescuing us.”

Robbie quietly sipped his coffee. Hot damn, he was a smart man. Already Catherine was acting more like a mother than a housekeeper. The three younger boys were giving her incredulous looks, and Gunter was smiling again. And damn if the woman didn’t scribble the note, send them off, and disappear into her bedroom before Robbie could finish patting himself on the back.

Aye. He was seriously thinking of proposing to her himself.

Quietly, careful not to wake her exhausted children, Catherine unpacked her suitcase and put their meager belongings in the large bureau and closet.

Breakfast had gone well, she decided. She’d managed to serve five males without having one panic attack and gotten four of them out of the house without incident. The fifth one, her new boss, would head into town soon, she hoped, to see a doctor.

Then she’d be able to start breathing again.

Had she lost her mind last night, agreeing to come here and be their housekeeper? No, she had been desperate. She knew she couldn’t keep running. She’d dropped ten pounds in the last two and a half months, and her children had lost the sparkle in their eyes. Pine Creek was the end of the road for them, and six hundred dollars a week, plus room and board, was nothing to spit at.

Robbie MacBain, apparently, was as desperate as she was.

But Lord, did he have to be so handsome? Not only was he tall, but when she’d cleaned him up and sutured his wounds, Catherine had had plenty of time to notice how ruggedly male he was. And he had the most compelling gray eyes she’d ever seen. But more than his looks, the man emitted an aura that screamed testosterone. It was the way he comported himself. The way helooked at a person. He was staring straight into their souls when he turned those beautiful gray eyes on people. She could see it when he looked at one of his boys and could feel it when he looked at her.

Robbie MacBain was ten times the man Ronald Daniels was—ten times bigger and stronger and handsomer. And ten times more potentially dangerous.

Last night, he had offered her sanctuary. And he’d given his word that she would be safe in his house. Oh, she dearly wanted to believe him.

Catherine sighed, walked back out to the kitchen, and stared down at the empty plates, the spilled catsup, and the drying egg yolk on the tablecloth. Then she looked around.

Then she shuddered.

She had only peeked in the living room this morning, before anyone had gotten up, but that room had looked no better.

Robbie walked into the kitchen from outside, kicking the snow off his boots, and stopped when he saw her.

“Did we get much snow?” she asked, reminding herself to breathe, forcing herself to relax.

“Only about five inches.” He pointed to the living room. “Your backpack is sitting beside the hearth, and everything’s still in it. Nathan and Nora might want to take advantage of the caps and mittens and play in the snow today. It will probably be gone by tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Are you headed to town to see a doctor?”

“No. I’m riding back up the mountain to see Father Daar.”

“But you can’t.” Catherine advanced on him without thought. “You need to be checked out. Twenty-four hours ago, you were nearly dead.”

He held up his hands, stopping her. “I’m fine, Cat. Still weak and a bit sore, but I’m mending just fine.” He gave her a crooked grin. “You do good work.”

Catherine realized that she had just scolded the man and immediately stepped back.

Robbie stepped closer. “About my little accident,” he said. “I’d rather no one knows I got hurt. If anyone calls today, especially my father, introduce yourself as my new housekeeper, but let’s keep how we met between you and me, okay? I don’t want to worry my family.”