Playing house was just a little too easy for Hope Daniels. Her special chicken casserole waited in the oven, covered with foil; butter beans were simmering on the stovetop; and the yeasty smell of baked rolls hung in the air. Over by the living room window, six-month-old Sam cooed happily from his Pack 'n Play.

She walked over to him, smiling, as her friend's baby kicked happily on his back, making the monkeys on his mobile dance.

"Whatcha doing, sugar? Oh, you're so cute. Yes, you are. Yes, you are! Your daddy sure hit the jackpot with you."

Sam gave a toothless grin, his pudgy cheeks bunching up, his blue eyes sparkling, and she couldn't resist a second longer. She scooped him up and buried her nose in his fresh, clean baby smell.

"Where's that daddy of yours, huh? He's just so late! He's a hard worker, isn't he? Oh, yes, he is!"

She treated Sammy to a session of rapid-fire neck kisses until he was belly-laughing. Oh, this baby! Brady had offered over and again to pay her for watching the little darling, but she'd be darned if he shouldn't be charging her.

A text dinged in.

Sorry! Customer running late. Be in soon.

She one-handed a text, assuring him all was well, and pocketed her phone. "Daddy'll be home soon for some snuggles, won't he, little Sam."

"Ma, ma, ma!"

Hope's smile drooped a little as she pressed a kiss to Sammy's forehead. It was just babbling, she knew. Probably meaningless. But the idea that he might be missing his mama made her chest ache.

Audrey, Brady's ex-wife, had passed suddenly in a car accident just shy of four weeks ago. Hope — and most of Copper Creek — had no love lost for the woman. Audrey hadn't been a very kind soul, but by all appearances she'd been a decent mother.

Now Brady was juggling full-time fatherhood along with his booming auto repair business, which he ran out of his old barn.

Hope was happy to watch Sam when she wasn't filling a shift at WKPC in Atlanta. Other ladies about town had pitched in too, for a morning or an afternoon. But that couldn't go on indefinitely. Brady really needed to find full-time care for the little guy. Sammy needed stability. Routine.

The baby tugged on her ear, fondling it for comfort the way he did sometimes.

"Where's Boo Bear, huh? Where's your little lovey?" Hope wandered back over to the crib and bent for the blue stuffed bear that wore a fraying woven hat.

"Here he is."

Sam clutched Boo Bear, and Hope settled in Brady's recliner, a comfy leather thing that all but swallowed her up. She set Sam on her lap, supporting his weight with her crossed leg — he wasn't quite sitting up by himself.

She played pat-acake with him, chuckling when he did. She couldn't help it. He had the most infectious laugh. "Wheels on the Bus" was next. He liked the swish, swish, swish and the beep, beep, beep parts best, so she did those twice.

"Oh, you are just such a happy guy, aren't you?" He was faring much better the past couple of days. She smoothed down his freshly shampooed hair. It was light and fine and baby soft. His skin like a rose petal.

He stared at her with wide, blue eyes that melted her heart. Then he felt for his pacifier, hanging from a ribbon attached to his sleeper, and plopped it into his mouth.

"Getting sleepy, little guy?" It was only eight o'clock, but he'd awakened early from his afternoon nap, and she knew he hadn't been sleeping well at night. All she had to do was look into his daddy's tired eyes.

Sam laid his head on Hope's shoulder, setting his chubby little hand over her heart. Her womb gave a heavy sigh. Oh yeah, this was just a little too easy.

* * *

Brady Collins closed up his barn as Mr. Lewis started his candy-apple red Ferrari 488 GTB. The businessman regularly put the twin-turbo engine to the test at the track in Dawsonville, and the engine had been in need of general maintenance.

Brady gave the man a wave as the car turned down the gravel drive, letting his ears fill with the hum of a perfectly tuned engine. Music to his ears.

He snapped the padlock and started toward his house, checking his watch. Shoot. He felt bad running late like this. Hated taking advantage of a good friend, being dependent on Hope and everyone else. He had to find a nanny or something.

It had been a month now. He should be doing better than this. Single moms did it all the time and made it look easy as pie. But when he was at work he felt guilty he wasn't with Sam, guilty he was putting out one of his neighbors. And when he was at home he worried about shirking his job. He'd worked long and hard to build a reputation with the local sports car enthusiasts. He didn't want to blow it now.

But his heart broke for his son. Sammy had regressed when Audrey died. He'd been fussy and restless the first couple weeks and was no longer sleeping through the night. The pediatrician had assured him nothing was physically wrong. It was just so hard to watch his boy go through this and feel so helpless to comfort him.

Brady reached the walk that led to his two-story farmhouse. The sun was only now sinking behind the north Georgia mountains, offering a reprieve from the sweltering June heat. He swiped his palm across his forehead, probably greasing himself up good. He needed a shower and food, but that would have to wait till Sammy was down for the night.

His pace picked up at the thought of his boy. Hard as this full-time father gig was, it was his son he longed for at the end of a busy day.

The kitchen light was on, shining through the window over the sink, beckoning. He liked it best when Hope tended to the baby. Not only did she come to the house, making it much easier on him, but she clearly enjoyed taking care of Sammy.

Brady opened the back door and pulled off his boots. Heavenly smells wafted his way, making his stomach growl. Something savory, a hint of garlic and yeast. Whatever it was, it was sure to beat the Hot Pocket he'd been fixing to zap in the microwave.

"Hope?" He padded across the kitchen, the wood floor squeaking in predictable spots. He stopped on the threshold of the living room and took in the sight.

Hope was curled in his recliner, sleeping. Sam was out like a light, his little hand holding a fistful of Hope's dark locks. The lamplight cast a golden glow over them, and heaven's bells if it wasn't the most beautiful sight he'd seen in months.

Hope's hand rested on the baby's back protectively, and her long eyelashes swept over the tops of her cheeks. Sam was tucked under her chin, his mouth slightly parted, the pacifier dangling precariously.

Brady approached quietly, not wanting to give her a fright. "Hope?"

The floor squeaked again, this time louder, and her eyes opened. They darted around before lighting on him, awareness settling in her green eyes.

"I fell asleep," she said quietly. "What time is it?" "Eight thirty. Sorry I'm so late."

"You're fine." She shifted, glancing down at Sam. "I should wake him, or he'll be up in the night."

"Let's not. He didn't sleep well last night. Probably needs the extra z's."

Brady reached for Sam, and his heart skipped a beat as the back of his hand grazed her inappropriately. "Sorry." He shifted his hands, his face heating, but there wasn't a better way to pick up the baby.

She gave an awkward laugh as she lifted Sammy, placing him in Brady's...