His-And-Hers Twins

Rite Away

for Hansum Daddi & Dorabl Twins

Must like anmuls and make chocwit chip cookies

Zeke Blalock 555-1200

Paige studied the girls—strawberry-blond hair, huge green eyes, with a smattering of freckles dotting their noses—they were adorable.

But why were they advertising for a mother?

She handed the flier to them. “I guess you need this.”

“Thanks, but you can keep it,” the girl in yellow said with a hopeful smile.

Her sister wrinkled her nose. “That is, if you don’t already gots some little girls of your own.”

“Can you make chocwit chip cookies?”

“Well, yes—”

“You don’t gots a daddy?”

The twin in blue poked her sister. “You mean a hus…bund. He’s our daddy.”

Paige smothered laughter. The little girls were obviously serious. Did their “daddi” know what they were up to?

“What are your names?” Paige asked. She noticed the one in yellow was missing a front tooth. Good, a way to tell the girls apart.

“I’m August,” the child with the missing tooth answered.

“And I’m Summer.” The twin holding the wagon pointed to herself. “Our mama named us that ’cause we was born in the summer.”

“But she wents away,” August said in a sad voice.

“And we don’t ever see her anymore,” Summer said. Both girls’ bottom lips suddenly trembled and Paige’s stomach clenched into a knot. They looked as if they were going to burst into tears any second.

“I’m Paige Watkins,” Paige said, deftly changing the subject as she petted the mutt’s head. “Great dog, you’ve got there.” Surely, the topic of the dog was safe.

“Her name’s Henrietta,” Summer said brightening.

“Yeah, first we called her Henry, but we found out he was a girl.”

“Girls are different from boys,” August said.

“See, boys gots a—”

“Yes, honey, I know the difference,” Paige said, with a grin. So, the dog topic wasn’t such a good idea either. “I haven’t seen you two before. Where do you live?”

The girls exchanged worried looks. One of them pointed in the direction of Paige’s house. “Thataway, I think.”

“In a brown house.”

“It gots a porch.”

“We just moved in.”

“We’d put the fliers up ’fore now, but daddy just bought us some new crayons.”

“He washed the others with his underwear. My red crayons turned his shorts pink.”

“I see.” Paige chuckled and glanced down the street. The only brown house on Maple Street was the one next to hers. These were her new neighbors! They were monsters, all right—adorable, precious little monsters.

“Do you gots a dad…I mean, a husbund?” August asked.

Paige’s heart squeezed. “No, honey, I don’t.” She studied the flier again. “Has your daddy seen this?”

Both girls shook their heads emphatically, their pigtails swinging wildly. Summer leaned toward her and whispered, “It’s a surprise.”

“’Sides, he was asleep,” Summer added.

“I see,” Paige said again, touched by the girls, but suddenly irritated with the man. What kind of father slept the day away while his children roamed the streets? And he’d given his children the idea he needed a wife so badly they’d advertised for one!

More than likely, he wanted a cook, maid, and baby-sitter. Maybe he was a geek who had trouble meeting women, she thought hopefully. But if he left the girls alone a lot…well, he needed to take responsibility for his daughters. And what about the girls’ mother? She’d actually deserted them! How could a mother do that?

Paige gritted her teeth as anger churned through her. “Let me walk you home.”

The girls traded looks again. “We’re not sposed to go with strangers.”

Paige patted Summer’s back. “That’s true. But I’m not really a stranger. I live in the yellow house beside yours. So we’re next-door neighbors.”

Both girls’ eyes danced with mischief, matchmaking wheels obviously turning in their little heads. A bad premonition sank in the pit of Paige’s stomach—the house was definitely jinxed. She couldn’t give the girls any false ideas about being their mother. She would walk them home. Then she would have a talk with their father, and be out of their lives for good.

ZEKE BLALOCK awoke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but between the move, unpacking and nursing an ailing golden retriever all night, he’d been completely exhausted. The silence in the house alerted him to trouble. He jumped off the sofa, shoved his tousled hair from his forehead and panicked. Where were the girls?

In the backyard with Henrietta—it’s fenced in, a quiet, safe neighborhood, that’s why you moved here—they’re fine.

But his heart pounded anyway, and he had to see his daughters’ darling, innocent faces before he could relax. Still blurry-eyed from sleep, he raced through the den, dodged the sleeping cat on the floor and almost stumbled over the maze of unopened boxes. Damn. He needed to finish unpacking. He stubbed his toe, but ignored the throbbing pain and rushed to the back door. His pulse raced when he spotted the empty yard and the gate swinging back and forth.

They were gone! Had they been kidnapped while he napped on his living room couch? Should he call 911?

He hurried up the stairs, yelling their names as he searched the house, but no answer. Remembering they liked to play hide-and-seek, he checked every closet, even under the bed. They were nowhere to be found.

Feeling sick to his stomach with panic, he almost yelped in shock when the doorbell rang. Who could be at the door? He didn’t know a single soul living on the street. Unless it was some salesmen. He sure as hell didn’t have time for that. Or maybe it was that nice elderly lady, Mrs. Spivy with some more pies. Or maybe she’d seen his children!

Unless the police had found his daughters and—

Don’t overreact. Maybe they’re playing in the front yard.