Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

Mia Harlan

Blurb

She’s a hot mess. He’s a rubber duck.

When I become the guardian of my friend’s rebellious kids, I feel like I’m drowning. That’s when he floats into my life and offers to help.

The moment our eyes meet over the fence, the connection’s undeniable. Sig isn’t just my hot dreamy neighbor. He owns a sprawling water park and he has an effortless way with kids.

But beneath his perfect exterior lies a quirky secret: the man of my dreams spends his days as a floating bath toy.

Can I really fall head over heels for a rubber duckie? Only time (and a lot of bath time fun) will tell.

Copyright © 2024 by Mia Harlan

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art © Meraki Cover Design

Editing: Kaye Kemp Book Polishing, Sierra Cassidy

Proofreading: Pair of Nines Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Contents

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Epilogue

About Mia Harlan

Also By Mia Harlan

Chapter 1

Rachel

I march into the back yard and place my hands on my hips. Okay, who’s going to shower first?

Not me! Anna, who’s seven, shouts, her voice echoing across the back yard.

Me neither. Lisa—her twin sister—scowls at me.

Noah, their five-year-old brother, copies me by placing his hands on his hips. "I’m never going to shower."

All three kids are absolutely adorable—dirt, grime, and all—and they remind me so much of my best friend that it hurts. They have her brown, sun-kissed hair, those familiar, piercing green eyes, and the same sprinkling of freckles on their noses. They’re also a handful and a half, and they make me want to tear my hair out.

At least the twins are fraternal, so they can’t pull off the old switcheroo. Lisa’s taller by a full inch, and Anna’s cheeks turn bright pink whenever she’s upset.

I stare down at the kids and try to look tough. You can’t go to school like that. You’re covered in mud, and you don’t smell all that great. A definite understatement. What will your teachers say?

"That it’s Sunday, Rachel," Lisa says. Smart ass.

"Yeah, Rachel," Noah parrots.

There’s no school on Sunday, Rachel, Anna adds, but there’s no fire behind her words. Unlike her siblings, she doesn’t emphasize my name in that weird way they’ve adopted in the last few days. Poor thing looks like she’s going to cry.

I sigh. Tomorrow’s Monday. I can’t send you to school like this.

Not when they haven’t bathed or showered in five days. I already got a cringe-worthy lecture on personal hygiene from the principal on Friday, and a veiled threat to call Child Protective Services.

Lisa looks triumphant. We just won’t go to school until Nana’s back.

She clearly thinks she’s won—and maybe she has.

I almost give in. Almost. But if Ada’s grandkids don’t go to school, she’ll never trust me with them again. Not when I can’t even survive watching them for one week. And what if the school follows through on that threat, and the kids get taken away?

I take a deep breath. You like school, though, don’t you?

The three of them shake their heads ‘no.’

Okay, fair enough. I never liked school either. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

Except that it’s one hundred percent true. So how can I blame the kids for not wanting to go?

I nearly tell them exactly how much I think school sucks… until I remember that I’m the responsible adult. There’s only one week of school left before summer break. I bet you won’t have any actual school work. You’ll probably just watch a bunch of movies and hang out with your friends. Doesn’t that sound fun?

All three of them glare at me. Okay then.

I decide to switch tactics. "Don’t you want to shower? You must be so itchy."

We’re not itchy! Noah shouts.

The girls just shake their heads, though Anna’s response is a lot less emphatic than Lisa’s.

I press on. Doesn’t the smell bother you?

Noah doesn’t hesitate. Not one bit!

The girls take a second, but then they echo his sentiment.

Shit!

I’m way out of my element here. I don’t know how to parent one kid, let alone three. And I have zero clue how to get them to do what I say.

What was Janey thinking, leaving them in my care?

I instinctively touch my right ring finger, where the gold wave-shaped ring she always wore now sits.

I should have read some parenting books before offering to watch the kids so Ada could go on her trip. I should have stuck around and helped raise them.

Noah scratches his armpit. "We’re on a shower strike forever."

Noah! Anna hisses.

Lisa glares at me. We want Nana.

Anna’s eyes fill with tears. "Please…"

Oh, honey, she’ll be back before you know it. I try to pull her into my arms, even though she smells more zombie than human. She backs away, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.

Lisa scowls at me. Now look at what you’ve done!

Her words are like a slap to the face, and I suddenly feel like bawling right along with Anna.

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