“Do we have to do this?” Nathan asked with a groan.

“Yes. You need chores of your own. We live here now, so we all have to do our part.

Everybody works.”

“I made our bed this morning,” Nora boasted.

And a sorrier bed she’d never seen, Catherine thought. “And you did a wonderful job.

But you have to let go of my leg, sweetie,” she said, peeling her off her again. “And come see the nests. This is where you’ll find the eggs. Your job will be to bring the basket down every evening and gather them up.”

She turned to her son, only to have to pull him back into the henhouse, as he’d slowly been inching his way outside. “Nathan, you keep their water bucket and grain feeder filled. And when the grain gets low, tell Mr. MacBain, and he’ll buy some more.”

Nathan’s eyes rounded. “Can’t I tellyou, then you can tell Mr. MacBain?”

“No,” Catherine said firmly, her heart breaking at the sight of his pale face. “That’s part of your job. Mr. MacBain is the boss, and everyone goes to him when they need something.”

“But he’s big,” Nathan whispered.

“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “Most men are. Gunter’s big. Cody and Peter and Rick are big.

And Nathan, when you grow up, you’ll be big, too.” Catherine hunched down and looked her son square in the eye, then pulled Nora closer. “You know I wouldn’t stay here if it wasn’t right for us. Try to look at Mr. MacBain and the boys as protectors, like guardian angels.”

“I like Gunter,” Nora confessed shyly. “He was nice to me when I was scared of the horse the other night.”

“I like Gunter, too,” Catherine said, giving her a squeeze.

Yes, the softly spoken Gunter had taken Nora onto his lap and wrapped his coat around her for the ride down the mountain two nights ago.

“Mommy, look! There’s some eggs already!” Nora squealed, which caused several panicked hens to flap wildly.

Which finally caused Nathan to bolt out the door. He ran into the legs of a tall, masculine body. “M-Mr. MacBain.”

“Good morning, Nathan. Getting henhouse-raiding lessons from your mom?”

“I—we—I was just going to get the hens some water, sir.”

“Maybe you should take the bucket with you.”

His face flushed scarlet, Nathan bravely ventured back into the henhouse and picked up the water bucket. Keeping his head down, he quickly moved around Robbie and ran to the house.

“I’m collecting eggs,” Nora piped up, feeling proud of herself and her two oval prizes.

She was also feeling safe behind her mother’s legs. “It’s my new job.”

With an indulgent smile, Robbie nodded to the girl and then turned his questioning, smiling eyes on Catherine.

“I want my kids to have their own chores,” she told him, her own face reddening. “And chickens are a good place to begin. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Robbie nodded, looking as if he couldn’t decide if he dared to laugh or not. Which brought the heat up another notch in Catherine’s cheeks. “Is it okay?”

“You’re their mother. If you want to give them chores, then by all means do.” He canted his head. “You up to a trip into town?”

“To shop?” she asked. “As in what women do best?”

Robbie MacBain at least had the grace to wince. “I guess that was a pretty sexist remark, wasn’t it? But I truly do hate to shop,” he confessed by way of apology. He straightened from the door and let her out, along with Nora, who was clutching her two eggs to her chest. “I have to go pick up a well pump,” he continued, walking beside them. “I can drop you off at the market and then pick you up when I’m done. How would that be?”

“Just let me get Nathan and Nora ready,” she agreed, moving swiftly away from him, hoping it would help her breathe normally again. Good God, the man really was big.

“Ah… about the kids. Would you be willing to leave them here?” he asked.

Catherine spun around and stared up at him. She bit her lip and pondered. She didn’t want to, but she and her childrenhad been living in one another’s pockets for the last two and a half months. Nathan and Nora were fast becoming clinging vines. Finally, she nodded.

“They’ll be fine here, Cat. Gunter and Rick will keep an eye on them. They’ll be safe.”

She nodded again, having nothing else to say. Holding on to Nora’s shoulder, Catherine led the silent girl back to the house to put her eggs away. Then she would start to snip some of those vines tying her family together. Her kids weren’t going to like it any more than she did, but they were safer here than they had been on the mountain when she’d gone to get food. They would survive.

And, she hoped, so would she.

Condoms?

Somebody had put condoms on the list, just below a request for a three-bladed razor.

Condoms. That was all. Nothing was written beside it—not what kind or how many.

Catherine’s face burned beneath the fluorescent lights of the supermarket. Already her cart was full of shaving cream, razors, deodorant, and athlete’s foot medicine. Now it appeared she was also expected to buy rubbers.

There were several different handwritings on the list, obviously put there by several different boys in need. So who needed condoms? She had seen Robbie adding to the list.

Did the man expect his housekeeper to buy his sexual aids? And how many? Three? A dozen?A gross?

Catherine kept her eyes on her cart, willing her face to cool, and made her way over to the aisle of personal stuff. She found what she was looking for right next to the feminine douche and panty shields. Well, darn it. She was a mature, twenty-nine-year-old woman. She could do this. She only wished she knew who she was buying them for. Did Robbie have a girlfriend? She snorted. Of course he did. He was handsome, wasn’t he?

All handsome men had girlfriends.

Did he think she was going to be one of them? Not in this lifetime. She’d sworn off men three years ago. She’d been lying in the hospital at the time, but she’d still had enough sense to make a vow against the entire adult male population.

Looking up and down the aisle, then finally back at the display, Catherine began to read. Lord, what a variety. Plain ones, gold ones, and ribbed ones in various sizes. Heck, there were even some that glowed in the dark! Looking up and down the aisle again, she finally grabbed a package of each. Then she smiled, grabbed two packs of the ones that glowed in the dark, and wished she could be a fly on the wall when the person asking for condoms claimed hisnecessities.

She quickly rearranged her cart to conceal her purchases and headed to the front of the store, determined to get through the checkout without blushing herself to a sunburn.

As the many different cans of shaving cream went down the conveyor belt, followed by the many different deodorants, followed by the condoms, the lady running the register widened her eyes with each purchase. The condoms finally caused the woman to look up and raise an eyebrow. “Having a pajama party?”

Cat raised her chin. “Want to be invited?”

The grandmotherly woman sniffed and went back to checking items—until the truck pulled up in front of the store, nose in. That was when the woman looked from Catherine to the truck, then back at Catherine. Her eyebrow rose again.

Catherine looked for a giant hole to crawl into. The bug shield on the truck sported bold lettering that said “FOUR PLAY.”

Catherine had seen the moniker when she’d climbed into the truck this morning. Lots of people lettered their bug shields, and the truckwas a four-wheel drive, so the wording made sense. But it made a different kind of sense when a person considered that the large Suburban belonged to a bachelor.

Robbie walked into the grocery store, his hat pulled low over his eyes against the sun, and found his housekeeper standing at the cash register, her face scorching red. He approached the checkout in time to see the grocery boy toss several familiar-looking packets into a bag as the youth asked Cat, “That your ride, lady?” nodding his head toward the door.