It took a few minutes to get the tears stopped, to check both kids to make sure neither was actually hurt. The neighbor’s boy looked just like his dad-rugged, pure male, a kid-adorable version of the grown-up.

Her new neighbor showed up at the top of the stairs. “I found the dogs.”

“Where?”

“In the room I think is going to be your living room. Behind the couch. Slugger is now outside-I closed the front door, by the way, so we won’t have any immediate repeat of this. And it’s been fun, but I wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.” He held out a hand, and his son immediately climbed up and did a stranglehold on his dad’s neck. The other arm held his tomcat. Amanda could hear the hound baying and scratching at the front door from two stories up.

“Um…” She scratched her neck. How to end this impossibly awful first encounter? “Nice to meet you?”

“Actually we haven’t met. Which is maybe a thank-God.” He was already barreling down the stairs with both arms mighty full. His son was talking nonstop. The godforsaken cat was yowling in his other ear. “If you need help moving in, give a shout.”

“Thanks,” she said. She figured, after this, she’d ask him for help the day it rained money. “Same here.”

His brows arched as if he couldn’t imagine he’d need help from her or her household…yet his grin was still evident. A cheeky grin. A grin that said, “Hell, if you’re going to have an awful day, might as well do it full bore.”

An interesting man, she thought. The whole household looked slightly on the rascally side. The cat had more scars than a derelict. The dog had that hound smell, and its ears trailed the ground. All four of them could have used a bath and some clean clothes and a hairbrush.

But he could have yelled-the way most men did in a crisis. Or lost patience. Or made a point of finding blame, making it someone’s fault-undoubtedly hers.