“Mommy, what if my teacher’s a man?” Nora whispered to Catherine’s shirt sleeve—a sleeve the girl had wiped her nose on three times already this morning. Catherine looked at the dry eggs, at the boys waiting for breakfast, then down at Nora. But Gunter, bless his intuitive soul, came to her rescue.

“All the teachers at your school are women,” he promised, carrying Nora to the table and setting her down in his lap. “And you’ll meet new friends. Some pretty little girls like yourself, who would love to have you for a pal. You went to school in Arkansas, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t you have fun? It’s more fun than hanging around this old farmhouse all day.”

“But who will help Mommy?” Nora frowned at Gunter. “She has to make a lot of food for you guys. She told me so. And she needs my help.”

Catherine smiled. Her poor daughter had washed potatoes, standing on a chair at the sink, until she had decided that she was going to be a nurse when she grew up and not a housekeeper.

“I want you to do something for me today,” Gunter told Nora. “I want you to come home after school and tell me the names of four new friends. And one of those friends has got to be a boy.”

“A boy!”

“Uh-huh,” Gunter said with a nod. “Boys make good friends. I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Nora returned, smiling now. “And I will. I’ll tell you the names tonight.”

“Good girl. Now, eat your breakfast so you won’t be late.”

“I can’t find my book bag,” Peter cried, frantically pawing through the group of them stashed by the door.

“It’s under the table,” Catherine calmly told him.

“Aw, hell. My favorite shirt’s got a tear in it,” Rick said with a groan. “And I don’t have any clean ones.”

“Yes, you do. They’re on hangers in the laundry room,” Catherine calmly told him.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s right. I forgot I left them there.”

“Mom, can I wear my boots to school?” Nathan asked, his mouth full of toast and peanut butter.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Catherine turned a motherly frown on her son. Those boots were rubber mud boots, and he was not wearing them to school. She told him so with her eyes.

He answered by shoving the rest of his toast in his mouth.

Despite her reservations, Catherine was taking Robbie’s advice and becoming committed. She would deal with Ron if he found her, and she would deal with these pesky womanly urges churning inside her. And maybe—just maybe—the next time he got too close, she would tap Robbie MacBain on the tip ofhis nose.

Robbie found two of his fingers being held by a tiny hand that had the grip of a quarterback. He and Nora were walking through the elementary school, just behind Nathan and Catherine, who was having to push the boy the whole way down the hall.

Principal Dobbs was leading the procession, pointing out all the interesting artwork on the walls.

“You’ll like Mrs. Jones, Nathan. She does a lot of projects and is always taking her class on field trips. Third grade is such an exciting year,” Mrs. Dobbs continued, oblivious to the tension following her.

Robbie didn’t know who was more nervous, Nathan, Nora, Cat, or himself. He had promised to keep them safe, but could he really do that when they were at school? He’d talked to the principal, told her a little about the situation, and the woman and her staff would be on the lookout for Ron Daniels.

But Catherine’s claim that her ex-husband could find them through a paper trail made Robbie curious. He was going to have to use a few of his old military contacts to learn more about Ronald Daniels, so he would know exactly what he was up against if the bastard suddenly showed up in Pine Creek.

They came to Nathan’s room, introductions were made, and after a rather lengthy, shaky good-bye, they headed to Nora’s classroom.

Nora’s grip tightened on Robbie’s fingers, and he squeezed her back reassuringly, surprised that the little girl had taken his hand at all. Truth told, this was one situation he felt a little unsure of. He’d never been a frightened little girl, so he was simply letting his gut be his guide—and taking some cues from Cat, who had also been surprised when her daughter had taken his hand.

“Nora, this is Mrs. Peters,” Cat said, squatting down in front of her. “And she’s going to introduce you to your new classmates. So try to have some fun today, sweetie,” she softly crooned. “And remember to learn those names for Gunter. He expects to hear them tonight.”

“One boy,” Nora reminded her, nodding her head and slowly letting go of Robbie’s hand. The young girl finally peeked into her classroom. “Oh, Mommy, look! It’s just like back home. And they got a snake!”

Well, that was that, Robbie discovered. Snakes, apparently, were just the thing. Nora forgot all about being scared, and she forgot all about waiting for her teacher to introduce her. She ran into the room and right up to the startled young boy who was watching the snake.

“Hi. My name’s Nora. What’s yours?”

Robbie would have burst out laughing, except that Catherine was looking so lost, he merely tucked his hands behind his back and rubbed together the two fingers Nora had been holding.

He wanted to take Cat by the arm and lead her away, since it appeared she was going to plant herself here for the day, but he wasn’t up to causing a scene in the hall. So, smiling at Mrs. Peters and nodding at the principal, Robbie gently urged his housekeeper out the side door of the school.

“Can you get back in through that door?” Cat asked, eyeing it.

Robbie tried the knob. “No, why?”

“Just checking. Schools are supposed to keep all the doors locked except the one at the office, so strangers can’t come in during the day.”

“Cat, they’ll be safe here. The principal and staff won’t let anyone take them from school except you or me.”

She looked up, startled. “What did you tell them?”

“You’re not the first divorced mother they’ve seen, Catherine. For a noncustody parent to take any child, they need written permission from the custodial parent. Unfortunately, custody battles are not exactly an uncommon occurrence today.”

“Oh. I see. Yes. I know Nora and Nathan will be fine. And—and thank you for coming with me today. I think I’ll just go do some shopping before I head home.”

Robbie lifted a brow. “And just how are you planning on getting back? We rode in together, remember?”

“I’ll run.”

“From town?”

“You said it’s only six miles.”

He looked down at her clothes. “You’re not dressed for that kind of running.”

“Yes, I am,” she told him, moving her jacket aside and peeling back the waist of her pants. “I’m wearing running shorts under my jeans.”

“Cat,” Robbie said softly. “You can’t hang around town just to be near your kids.”

She immediately ducked her head, which told Robbie his guess had been right on the mark.

“But I still want to run back.” The smile she gave him was rather provoking. “I might even beat you home.”

“Do you carry mace?”

“What?”

“Do you usually carry protection when you run?”

“No.”

“Are you crazy?”

She widened her smile. “I can outrun just about anyone. If someone bothers me, I’ll just head for the woods.”

Well, okay. She had a point there. But he was still going to pick her up a canister of mace, one with a clip, so she could clip it to her waistband.

“So you’ll run straight home? You won’t get lost?”

“Now who’s being a worry wart?” she teased, walking over to the truck.

And that was when Robbie’s jaw dropped—right along with her pants. She shed her jacket, boldly unfastened her jeans, kicked off her shoes, and stripped down to her bare legs. She tossed the jeans and shoes in the truck, then pulled out her backpack, found her running shoes, and—dammit to hell!—bent over to put them on.