Читать книгу Christmas With The Single Dad - Sarah Morgan, Michelle Douglas - Страница 12

AT TEN past six the next morning, dressed in running shorts and an oversized T-shirt, Nicola stepped out of the French windows of her generously proportioned bedroom and onto the veranda. She blinked in the morning sun.

Ten past six? She bit back a whimper. She’d never been a morning person.

Ten past six and it was already getting hellishly warm. It might even be too hot for a run and—

Stop that!

She lifted her chin. She would not sabotage herself before she’d even begun.

Puffing out a breath, she stretched to one side and then the other. She tried to touch her toes. She was here to change. She needed to change. She would change!

She’d exercise if it killed her. She would return to Melbourne better and brighter and smarter.

She gritted her teeth and stretched harder. She’d keep getting up at six a.m. if it killed her too. It gave her a good hour before she needed to make sure her young charges were up and at breakfast, and before the heat of the day settled over the place like a suffocating blanket.

At the thought of Ella and Holly, she couldn’t help but smile. The two little girls were delightful. While they might’ve presented her with the biggest flaw in her maintain-a-dignified-distance plan, she didn’t regret amending that plan to not include them.

Children didn’t pretend to be your friend and then tear the heart out of your chest with treachery and double-dealing.

The bitterness of that thought took her off guard. She brushed a hand across her eyes and straightened. Diane and Brad hadn’t meant to fall in love with each other. They hadn’t meant to hurt her. For heaven’s sake, it had all happened three months ago!

She scraped the hair off her face and pulled it back into a ponytail, concentrating on her breathing until the ache in her chest started to subside.

A lot of people who come out here are running away …

She wasn’t running away. It was just …

Seeing Brad and Diane together had become harder, not easier and she didn’t know why. She only knew she couldn’t spend this Christmas in Melbourne while continuing to maintain her sympathetic, understanding and oh-so-mature façade. She wasn’t up to indulging in the usual jolly Christmas with her friends this year. She was out of jolly.

But she’d find it again. Somehow.

She adjusted her cap as Sammy, Ella and Holly’s eight-month-old Border collie pup, came skidding around the side of the house to race up to her, full of excitement and delight at the sight of her. Children and dogs were the flaw in her plan. He rolled onto his back and she obligingly rubbed his tummy.

‘You want to come for a run, Sammy?’ She straightened and set off down the back steps. He scurried after her. ‘Perhaps you can give me some pointers—’ she sighed ‘—because I don’t think I have ever been for a run in my life.’

He cocked his head to one side and watched her when she halted and planted her hands on her hips. ‘Okay, Sammy, here’s the plan. We’ll jog to the perimeter fence—’ she pointed ‘—and then around to that point there.’ She indicated a second spot. Both spots were well away from outbuildings and cattle yards. ‘Then we’ll make our way back to the homestead.’

Nicola Ann, tell me you are not talking to a dog.

Nicola gritted her teeth and ignored her mother’s imaginary voice.

At least you’re finally going to exercise.

That almost made her turn back.

Sammy jumped up to rest his front paws against her thighs. She patted him. ‘You don’t care if I’m fat or frumpy, do you, Sammy?’ It was one of the reasons she loved dogs … and children. Sammy wagged his tail and it gave her an absurd kind of comfort. ‘Okay, then.’ She hauled in a less-than-enthusiastic breath. ‘Tally-ho.’

She started to jog. Her brand new sports bra was supportive, but not quite as supportive as she’d hoped. Maybe she needed to adjust the straps again. Though, if she tightened them any further she’d cut off the circulation altogether. The bra started to scratch and irritate the sides of her breasts. It hadn’t done that in the fitting room. ‘No pain, no gain,’ she muttered to Sammy. She’d bought an identical sports bra in a size smaller for Month Two when she’d lost some weight. Both bras had been horrendously expensive. When she’d paid for them she’d told herself the expense would provide her with an added incentive to exercise. She’d thought the expense would translate into comfort too. She’d been wrong about that.

By the time she and Sammy reached the fence she was gasping for air. She sagged against a fence post. It took a concerted effort not to sink to the ground. Oh God! She glanced at her watch.

Three minutes?

No!

She shook the watch. She held it to her ear. It ticked away in perfect working order. She swallowed. ‘Okay, Sammy, amended plan,’ she panted. ‘We jog for three minutes, then walk for three minutes.’

She set off again, fighting doubts and discouragement. She’d known this would take time. It wasn’t possible to undo a lifetime of couch-potato-ness in just one day. Besides, she had a lot of chocolate sultanas to shift from her hips and thighs.

To distract herself from bursting lungs and legs that had started to burn, she forced herself to gaze at her surroundings. The quality of the light would’ve stolen her breath if she’d had any to spare. The clear blue of the sky and the sun low in the sky behind her outlined everything in perfect clarity. It enchanted her, even as half her attention had to remain on the path she took to avoid tussocks of grass and rocks that had definite ankle-turning potential.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. ‘Time to jog again, Sammy.’

They set off at a jog, slower this time, and when her lungs started to burn again she reminded herself how much her new trainers had cost—four times what she’d paid for the bras. She was going to get her money’s worth out of them. She could keep running for another—she glanced at her watch—one and three quarter minutes. She glanced down at her feet to admire the way the red dirt had already tarnished the brand-new perfection of her trainers when Sammy chose that moment to leap in front of her in pursuit of a grasshopper. It happened too quickly for her to avoid contact with him, to dance out of the way, to regain her balance or for anything except a full-frontal plough on her stomach through red dirt. When she came to a halt she blinked and spat out the grit that had found its way into her mouth.

Very elegant, Nicola.

True. But she took a few seconds to savour the sweet stillness of her body until Sammy, distracted from his prey by her fall, chose that moment to plaster wet licks all across her face.

‘Sammy, heel!’

Sammy immediately obeyed as a shadow fell across her.

Oh, God! Cade. With a groan she rolled over and sat up. Why did her most undignified and humiliating moments have to occur in full public view?

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No.’

He turned and waved some signal and that was when she saw another two men—workers of Cade’s, she supposed—standing outside the barn. They returned to work. The realisation that so many people had witnessed her pathetic attempt at fitness, not to mention her clumsiness, made her cheeks burn and her hands clench.

‘C’mon.’ Cade held a hand out to her.

Scowling at him and telling him to go away obviously wasn’t an option, so she put her hand in his and let him haul her to her feet. He hitched his head in the direction of the homestead and didn’t release her until she nodded her agreement.

Wiping the dirt from her face and the front of her T-shirt … and her shorts and her knees, she managed to avoid his eye. ‘You don’t need to escort me back.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

His voice shook with laughter. She closed her eyes, more heat scorching her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what was worse—him being aware of her utter mortification or him thinking her cheeks were this red from such a pitiful amount of exercise.

‘I want to make sure you haven’t really hurt yourself—twisted an ankle or a knee—but you seem to be walking all right.’

If that was a cue to make her trip up, she had every intention of disappointing him. ‘I’m fine.’ Except for a bruised ego.

‘Good. Then you and I are going to have words.’

Her heart sank. Marvellous.

He made her sit on the back steps while he inspected her knees and elbows for scratches. ‘We’re a long way from a doctor,’ he said when she started to object.

She stared at the sky and tried to ignore the warmth of his fingers on her flesh.

Finally he subsided onto the step beside her. ‘So what’s with the jogging?’

Heat flared afresh in her face and neck. ‘Oh, I …’

She had to look away. There was something about those blue eyes that saw too much. He’d laugh at her. Her lips twisted. Just like her friends in Melbourne would’ve laughed if they’d seen her earlier this morning. The butt of oh-yet-another joke.

‘Nicola?’

What the hell? She lifted her chin. She was through with turning herself inside out to please other people. ‘I thought I’d take advantage of all the wide open space and fresh county air to …’ she swallowed in readiness for his laughter ‘… to try and get fit.’

She clenched her hands. Strong in body. Strong in mind. It might not happen overnight, but she could work towards it. She could change. She gritted her teeth. Losing her fiancé to another woman did not make her a loser or a failure.

‘Dry dusty air at this time of year more like.’

She didn’t say anything.

‘You didn’t have a water bottle with you.’

That was when it hit her—he hadn’t laughed yet. And one look at his face told her he wasn’t going to. He didn’t think her plan of getting fit was stupid at all. Instead, he was going to tell her off for not taking a water bottle. ‘I thought with it being so early and all …’

‘If I see you without a water bottle the next time you go jogging, we will have serious words, you understand?’

She swallowed and nodded.

He frowned. ‘It’s a bit early for New Year resolutions, isn’t it?’

‘Getting fit and losing weight was this year’s resolution,’ she sighed. ‘I’m trying to get it in under the wire.’

His chuckle held no malice or ridicule. It warmed her blood. ‘Getting fit is an admirable goal, but losing weight …’ He shook his head. ‘Seems to me women get too hooked up on that stuff.’

If she’d been half a stone lighter and had taken more care with her appearance, maybe Brad wouldn’t have dumped her for Diane.

Cade sent her a lazy appraisal from beneath heavy-lidded eyes and it did something ludicrous to her insides, made them light and fluttery. She didn’t like it.

‘Anyway, you look just fine to me,’ he said with a shrug.

Her hands clenched. She didn’t want to look just fine. She wanted to be gorgeous, stunning … confident. She wanted to knock a man’s socks off.

She had a horrid sick feeling that even if she did lose half a stone and took more care with her appearance, she would never be able to achieve that anyway.

His eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘I don’t want you getting obsessive about your weight while you’re out here, dieting and exercising to within an inch of your life.’

She understood where Cade’s concern came from. She wasn’t a primary school teacher for nothing. ‘I have no intention of being obsessive about anything. And I promise I will not send Ella or Holly any negative body image messages.’

He stared at her. It made her self-conscious. She made a show of looking at her watch. ‘It’s nearly time to get Ella and Holly up for breakfast.’

She stood and made her escape.

When Nicola and the children entered the kitchen a short time later, it was to find Cade seated at the kitchen table too. Nicola’s appetite promptly fled.

He glanced up. ‘You must be hungry after your morning’s exertions.’

His words emerged with a lazy unconcern, but his eyes were keen and sharp. She lifted her chin. ‘Absolutely.’

She might have no appetite to speak of, but there was no way she could refuse to eat breakfast. Not after their earlier conversation. The thing was, she had no intention of obsessively dieting. She just meant to avoid cakes and biscuits and chocolate sultanas and all those other yummy things while she was here.

She ate cereal and yogurt. She tried not to focus too keenly on Cade’s bacon and eggs and beans on toast. Cereal and yogurt—yum, yum.

Liar.

She might not be able to summon up much enthusiasm for a high fibre, low fat breakfast, but she was well aware that Cade took note of everything that passed her lips. So she ate. It should’ve irked her that he watched so closely. For some reason, though, she found it strangely comforting instead.

When they finished, he rose. ‘There’s something I want to show you, something I think you’ll be interested in.’

Wordlessly she followed him through the house. He wore jeans that fitted him to perfection. The material stretched across lean hips and a tight butt and she couldn’t drag her gaze away. Her throat hitched. Awareness—sexual awareness—inched through her. Her blood heated up and a pulse started up deep in the centre of her. She moistened her lips, curled her fingers and wondered—

No way!

She slammed to a halt. No way!

He turned back, frowned. ‘What’s up?’

Her racing pulse slowed as his expression filtered into her panicked brain. The denial in her throat died. She shook herself. This man didn’t see her as anything other than an employee. He certainly didn’t see her as an attractive, available woman. She might doubt her own strength, but she didn’t doubt his.

She’d come here to toughen up, to face reality and get stronger. Lusting after her boss was not the answer.

‘Nicola?’

She shook herself. ‘I just had one of those thoughts, you know? A bolt from the blue, but … Did I leave the oven on?’

He leaned towards her. ‘What? In Melbourne?’

She nodded.

‘And?’

‘No, I’m certain I turned it off.’

He frowned. ‘You sure about that? You want to ring someone to check?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m positive I turned it off.’

With a shake of his head, he continued down the corridor. He flung open a door near its far end and strode into the darkened room to lift the blinds at the window. She followed him in, glanced around and her jaw dropped. ‘You have a home gym?’

There was a treadmill, an exercise bike, a rowing machine and a weight machine. Oh, this would be perfect! She walked about the room, her fingers trailing across the equipment. ‘This is amazing,’ she breathed. ‘Is it okay if I use it?’

‘Sure.’ Then his face tightened up. ‘Someone may as well. I don’t think anyone has been in here, except to clean, since Fran left.’

Fran?

‘My ex-wife and the girls’ mother,’ he said, answering her unspoken question.

He didn’t smile. His face remained tight and it warned her not to ask questions. He obviously had his demons too. It took an effort of will not to reach out, though, and place her hand on his arm in silent sympathy. When he turned and left, she counted slowly to ten before she closed the door and followed him.

‘How was your day?’

Nicola blinked and then lowered her knife and fork when she realised Cade had directed that question at her. It was nearing the end of her second full day at Waminda Downs and they were all seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. She and Cade had barely spoken since he’d shown her the home gym yesterday. ‘I … um … good. Thank you,’ she added belatedly. ‘And … uh … you?’

He ignored that. ‘Have the girls given you any trouble?’

‘No!’

‘So … you’re settling in okay?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She glanced at Ella and Holly and a smile built inside her. The three of them had enjoyed a fabulous day. ‘Your daughters are delightful. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy their company.’

One side of his mouth hooked up. ‘You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face.’

Was it? She sat back. Maybe that was something she should add to her list of personal-attributes-to-work-on-and-improve. She didn’t want to be so easy to read. She didn’t want to wear her heart on her sleeve.

She wanted to be coolly poised and self-possessed.

‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ he said quietly.

Definitely something she needed to work on!

She tried to smooth her face out into a polite smile. ‘I wanted to thank you for letting me use the home gym.’

He shrugged her gratitude aside, but his eyes started to dance. ‘How’s the treadmill turning out? Managing to stay on your feet?’

She nearly spluttered her mouthful of iced water across the table, but the grin he sent her made her laugh. ‘That was below the belt!’

‘I couldn’t resist.’ He took a long pull on his beer. ‘Have you been having any problems with any of the equipment? There must be instruction manuals somewhere around the place.’

‘It all seems to be in perfect working order. I might loathe it, but the treadmill is a cinch to operate and I don’t hate it as much as that darn rowing machine.’

He stared and then he threw his head back and laughed. Harry chuckled. Ella laughed too, although Nicola suspected she had no idea what she was laughing at. She just wanted to join in. Not to be outdone, Holly let forth with a squeal

Nicola Ann, must you sound so gauche?

Inside, she cringed. She was supposed to be developing polish and self-possession, not blurting out the first thing that came into her head and sounding like an idiot, becoming the butt of the joke.

Frustration built inside her. She clenched her hands so tight her fingernails bit into her palms. Why couldn’t she manage one simple thing—to think before she spoke? Was it really that hard?

Failure. Loser. Doormat.

The insults flew at her, thick and fast. Not just in her mother’s voice either. Her own was the loudest.

She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. I just meant …’

He raised an eyebrow. He’d stopped laughing but he was still grinning. That grin made her heart beat a little harder. It made it difficult for her not to grin back. She swallowed and lectured herself for the umpteenth time about dignity. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with any of the equipment. It’s just that exercise and I have an ambivalent relationship.’

‘Love, you ain’t the only one,’ Harry said with a consoling pat to Nicola’s arm. ‘Now, how about I bathe the littlies while you stack the dishwasher?’

It was obvious Harry adored Ella and Holly and, if the expression on her face was anything to go by, she enjoyed bath time too. Nicola was happy to divide the chores. ‘Deal.’ She rose and started to clear the table.

‘You promised to read me a bedtime story, Nic!’ Ella reminded her. ‘Don’t forget.’

She planted her hands on her hips and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. ‘How could I forget something as important as that?’

With a giggle, Ella allowed Harry to lead her away.

A glance back at the table confirmed that Cade watched her. She couldn’t decipher the expression in his eyes, but it made her break out in gooseflesh and turned all her fingers to thumbs. She opened her mouth to fill the quiet, but shut it again. That kind of rattling on was neither dignified nor self-possessed. She stacked the dishwasher, and suffered his examination in silence.

‘Nicola,’ he said, finally breaking the silence, ‘you don’t strike me as the gym-junkie type.’

No, she was more a curl-up-on-the-sofa-with-a-good-book-and-a-block-of-chocolate type. Admitting that certainly wouldn’t be dignified, though. ‘I think we’ve definitely established I’m not the jogging-outside-in-the-fresh-country-air type either,’ she managed with a wry, hopefully dignified smile. ‘Despite what I said, I do understand the benefits of regular exercise and I am grateful for the use of your home gym.’

She poured detergent into the dishwasher and then switched it on. ‘I have every intention of continuing.’

He stood. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

Last time he’d said that he’d showed her a home gym.

He grinned at her hesitation. ‘You’ll love it, I promise.’

Nicola smelled like strawberry jam. He’d first noticed it when he’d helped her to her feet yesterday morning. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of it out of his head. He’d been craving another hit ever since. Walking beside her now towards the stables, he could drag that scent into his lungs unimpeded and drink in his fill.

Still … He glanced across at her. There was no denying that she was a hell of a puzzle. When she let her guard down her blunt honesty and self-deprecation made him laugh. She was completely unguarded around the children. She was much more reserved around him and Harry. Especially him.

And the shadows in her eyes haunted him. They reminded him of last Christmas, with all of its bleak despair and bitterness. He didn’t want reminders of last Christmas. He wanted festivity and merriment and all-out Christmas cheer.

His lips twisted. He had a hunch that plugging away every day on that darn treadmill and rowing machine weren’t going to improve Nicola’s Christmas cheer. It might just cement those shadows in her eyes for good!

Exercise-wise, he had her pegged as a team player—basketball, cricket, softball, it probably wouldn’t matter which. There wasn’t a chance he’d be able to organise that out here, though. At least, not until the rest of the family arrived in a week and a half’s time.

Which left him with one other option to win her over, and help dispel those shadows.

He ushered her through the door of the barn. She glanced up, spearing him with those amazing eyes. She opened her mouth, and then shut it again. He sensed the effort it took her and wondered why she didn’t just ask what she so obviously wanted to.

He took her arm to guide her through the early evening dimness of the barn and through a connecting door to the stables. Her eyes widened as they walked along the line of horse stalls. Her breath quickened and beneath his fingers her skin suddenly seemed to come alive.

He dropped his hand, shook it out, and told himself to stop being stupid. Halting at a stall halfway down the row, he gestured to the horse inside. The mare whickered softly and nuzzled his hand for a treat. He fed her the lump of sugar he’d stolen from the kitchen.

‘This here is Scarlett O’Hara.’ He glanced down at Nicola, who was staring at the horse as if she’d never seen one before. ‘She’s yours to ride for the duration of your stay at Waminda Downs.’

She stared at him as if she hadn’t understood. The hair at his nape started to prickle. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Did he have her pegged all wrong? It was just …

She liked kids. She liked dogs. It made sense that she’d like horses too.

He hunched his shoulders. ‘I mean, if you don’t want to ride that’s fine. But if you do, I’m happy to teach you.’

Her eyes filled and he backed up a step. Darn it all! She wasn’t going to cry, was she? He was trying to instil Christmas spirit, not histrionics.

She clasped her hands beneath her chin. ‘Do you really mean that?’

Just for a moment, she reminded him of Ella. He rolled his shoulders and eyed her warily. ‘Sure I do.’

She swallowed. Her eyes went back to normal. If amazing could be called normal. ‘All my life,’ she whispered, reaching out to rest a hand against Scarlett’s neck, ‘I’ve wanted to learn to ride.’

Her eyes suddenly shone. Her whole face came alive. She smiled. The same way she smiled at Ella and Holly. A full and open smile. A wholehearted smile. At him.

The impact hit him square in the middle of his chest. The ground beneath his feet tilted. Fire licked along his veins to pool and burn in his groin. Desire stirred inside him for the first time in sixteen months.

He took a step away from her. ‘First lesson at six-fifteen sharp in the morning,’ he rapped out. Then he turned on his heel and fled. He couldn’t even respond to the thank you she called after him.