Читать книгу Angels In The Snow - Sarah Morgan - Страница 12

IT SNOWED for the next four days and they were so busy in the emergency department that when she finally had a day off, Stella slept late.

Relishing the thought of a whole weekend ahead of her, she decided to check whether Patrick needed any help preparing for his trip.

Dressing in warm clothes, she picked her way gingerly across the snow-covered yard and banged on the door.

Daniel yanked it open. One of the kittens shot past him and out of the door and Stella stooped and caught it. She was so shocked to see Daniel there that she was glad of a reason to hide her scarlet face.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ She cuddled the kitten close and then looked at Daniel, trying to keep her expression neutral. ‘I didn’t know you were here. I was going to talk to Patrick …’ Her voice tailed off as she saw the red streak on his cheek. ‘What happened to you? Are you bleeding?’

Daniel lifted a hand and scrubbed at the mark. ‘It’s probably paint. Posy is painting. She doesn’t appear to have a very good sense of direction with the brush. Thanks for catching the kitten. I keep forgetting I’m not supposed to open the door.’

‘Right.’ The situation felt horribly awkward. ‘Is Patrick around?’

‘He’s gone into town to get a few things for his trip. I’m having a practice run with the children.’

Stella looked at the paint on his cheek. ‘And how’s that going?’

‘Both kids were still alive last time I looked.’ His lazy drawl was a contrast to the tension she saw in his eyes.

‘You’ll be fine.’ Stella’s eye caught movement behind him. ‘That red paint you mentioned—Posy appears to be painting on the wall. Is that what you had planned?’

Daniel turned swiftly, growled deep in his throat and made a dive for Posy. ‘How did she get there? I left her safely occupied at the table.’

‘Three-year-olds don’t always stay where you put them.’ It was impossible not to laugh. ‘How are your decorating skills?’

‘About the same as my childminding skills.’ Daniel prised the paintbrush out of Posy’s chubby hand. ‘On the paper, Posy, not on the wall. The paper. ‘

Posy’s lip wobbled and Daniel scooped her up in his arms. ‘Don’t cry. No one cries on my shift. Understand?’

In response to that rough command, Posy plopped her head on his shoulder, her blonde curls a stark contrast to Daniel’s dark masculinity. As the child curled her arm round his neck, Stella saw his mouth tighten and a muscle work in his lean, hard jaw. But his hand came up to steady her and he rubbed the child’s back awkwardly.

‘I don’t deserve that cuddle,’ he said gruffly, and Stella suddenly found it impossible to swallow. Emotion stung her eyes and pricked at her throat and she found herself thinking things she didn’t want to be thinking.