The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads) (8 page)

‘Nothing.’ Hamish shook his head. ‘You’d better get on.’

Pulling out his laptop, sitting on the sofa, he was incredibly grateful to have been saved from his moment of madness when Bailey climbed up beside him.

‘Mum,’ he said, pointing to the screensaver and cuddling in.

‘That’s right,’ Hamish said, staring at the three of them, remembering Belinda taking the photo, babysitting for the very first time as they’d headed out to the consultants’ ball. Bailey a tiny smudge of pink peeking out of his bunny rug, himself uncomfortable in a tux and Emma stunning in an elegant black dress, her blonde hair swept up in a roll…Hamish was knocked out of his reverie when Charlotte appeared again.

‘Right, I’m off—how do I look?’

Like a rather gorgeous courtesan, actually!

He didn’t say that, of course, but as Charlotte teetered into the family room all sparkly and dressed up for her night on the town, never had Hamish felt more boring and staid or grateful for the very near miss that had, unbeknownst to Charlotte, just taken place.

They could never,
ever
have worked—he’d been an absolute fool to even entertain it. Staring up at her, he even managed a very dry smile—just imagine taking
that
as his date to the upcoming consultants’ ball!

Apart from lethal stilettos she was wearing a sapphire-blue satin skirt, with layers and layers of ruffles, her pert bosom on show in a very revealing top and about a gallon of eyeliner and red lipstick. Add to that spectacularly teased hair with a massive flower threaded into it, and for a second he wondered if she wasn’t teetering on the edge of a manic phase!

‘Very nice,’ Hamish managed, watching wide-eyed and tempted to cover Bailey’s as she picked up her
skirt and did a strange little dance for him. But luckily her lift arrived, a car tooting in the driveway, and with a quick goodnight Charlotte kicked up her heels and ran.

‘Pretty!’ Bailey clapped when the door slammed and their Saturday night’s entertainment was over. ‘Where’s Dar-dot?’

‘You’re too young to know,’ Hamish quipped, then shook his head. ‘And I’m definitely too old!’

‘Y
OU
must be getting excited about your animals arriving!’ Helen stretched her swollen legs out in front of her as she tapped away on the computer and tried to smother a yawn—a stint of night duty the last thing she’d wanted or needed. But at least the place was quiet and the day staff were starting to arrive.

‘I can’t wait!’ Charlotte nodded, a touch rushed this morning, given Hamish had been called in at six and she’d had to take Bailey to child care. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Trying to get the results of for some bloods for the patient in four—Hamish wants them before he rings Cardiology. The man’s ECG is still showing a normal reading, but Hamish is sure he’s had had a heart attack. The lab says they’ve sent them but the computer still says pending. I hate these things.’ she moaned. ‘Now it’s frozen on me. Why can’t they just ring down the results like they used to?’

‘Here,’ Charlotte said, plonking down her bag and pulling up a chair beside the technically challenged Helen. ‘I’ll have a go.’

‘Have you got those results yet, Helen?’ Irritated and gorgeous, Hamish marched into the nurses’ station as Charlotte tried to see what Helen had been doing.

‘They’re just coming,’ Charlotte answered, then carried on talking to Helen. ‘The journey will be tough on Scottie…’

‘He’s the old pony?’ Helen checked.

‘That’s the one.’ Charlotte nodded. ‘Here, we’re up.’

‘But it still says pending,’ Helen sighed. ‘Oh, I’ll ring the lab again.’

‘You have to hit the “refresh” button, Helen.’ Charlotte giggled. ‘If you want to update the results, you have to press “refresh.” I told you that.’

‘So you did. We’ve got them, Hamish.’

‘Right…’ Peering at the screen, Hamish gave a brisk nod. ‘He’s had an infarct—I’ll get on to Cardiology.’

‘He’s just so-o-o cute,’ Charlotte said dreamily, as Hamish did a double-take while he picked up the phone. ‘Scottie, not you.’ She winked. The fact they were sharing a house was general knowledge now, and at work at least Charlotte was still incredibly discreet, but given that apart from them the nurses’ station was empty and Helen was a good friend of Hamish’s, in front of her they chatted more easily. ‘You know, Bailey could have a little ride on him. He’s such a gentle old thing.’

‘Bailey’s not to go near him,’ Hamish said sternly.

‘But Scottie wouldn’t harm a fly.’

‘I do not want my son anywhere near the stables,’ Hamish barked, then, turning his back, he spoke to the cardiology reg.

‘Leave it, Charlotte.’ Helen was practically doing semaphore signals across the nurses’ station in an effort to quiet her. ‘I’ll talk to you in a minute.’

‘It would be good for him,’ Charlotte still insisted, as Hamish put down the phone.

‘I decide what’s good for my son,’ Hamish retorted, stalking off and calling over his shoulder, ‘You’re the live-in help—remember that. You follow
my
rules.’

‘Sourpuss!’ Charlotte muttered, but only when he was safely out of earshot.

‘With good reason on this occasion.’ Helen took a deep breath then spoke in a low whisper. ‘His wife died as a result of a riding accident—she fell off and was trampled, right there in front of him. He was making up a bottle for Bailey in the kitchen and he saw it all.’

‘Oh.’

And Helen waited, waited for Charlotte to colour up and give a mortified moan, as anyone would. ‘You can say sorry to him later,’ she added kindly, ‘when he’s calmed down a touch!’

‘Me? Say sorry! Did you hear how rude he just was?’ Charlotte spluttered, giving Helen a queer look and logging out of the blood results. Despite the presence of her boss, she logged onto her emails and quickly checked out her free tarot reading for the day before they headed over to check the drugs. ‘It’s awful that he’s lost his wife and that Bailey’s lost his mother, it truly is, but all I can say is that it’s just as well Emma didn’t die in motor vehicle accident or I’d
still
be pushing Bailey in his stroller all the way to day care!’

Even if they were both still smarting, when her friend arrived at the crack of dawn with her beloved animals and a mountain of boxes, despite himself Hamish did pull on some jeans and boots and head out to help Charlotte unload.

‘Poor Scottie, he’s just exhausted from his journey…What he needs is a good rest and a nice feed.’

What Scottie needs is a bullet
, Hamish thought, staring in astonishment as the oldest horse, or rather pony, he had every seen limped his way down the ramp—woefully underweight, his hips were protruding and Hamish wondered how his think shaky legs managed to hold him up. His hooves were encased in leather bootees, thanks to a prolonged bout of laminitis, and he was neighing in terror as Charlotte urged the old boy on. No, he wasn’t just old, Hamish decided. On closer inspection this was the Father Time of the horsy world—to call Scottie a pony was almost a sin itself. Quite simply, Scottie was ancient.

‘Poor old boy,’ said Trevor, Charlotte’s friend, who had driven two hours out of his way just for her, and was now helping her to get him in the stable. Hamish, tentatively at first, found himself joining in. ‘I’ll go and check on Fitz and unload the last of your boxes. You stay with Scottie. He’ll soon settle now he’s got you.’

‘Oh, I hope so.’ For once Charlotte actually looked upset, hugging Scottie’s neck and shushing him to calm down. ‘Maybe the journey was too much for him.’

‘Well, you couldn’t just leave him where he was,’ Trevor pointed out, rolling his eyes at Hamish as the two men walked out of the stable. He added, in a voice
that wasn’t meant for Charlotte’s ears, ‘Thanks to her bloody mother.’

Fitz was fine, his head peering out of the stable door, sniffing at the new air and nudging Trevor for a treat when he passed.

‘I’m sure Charlotte’s got plenty waiting for you!’ Trevor said.

‘Fancy a cuppa?’ Hamish offered as they dumped her boxes in the corner of the family room—and not only because it was the polite thing to do. He was rather hoping Trevor might elaborate on what he’d said earlier.

‘That’s be great—then I’d better head off.’

‘There’s no rush,’ Hamish said. ‘Stay for some breakfast?’

‘Thanks anyway, but I’d really better make a move. I think the wife’s got a few jobs line up for me today.’

‘Whereabouts are you picking up the other horses from?’ Hamish watched as Trevor frowned then laughed.

‘Oh, that’s what I told Charlotte—she’ll be wanting to pay me otherwise. Always giving out favours, that one, but she doesn’t know how to take them herself.’

‘Sounds as if Charlotte’s taken a lot on…’ Hamish’s throat went dry as he fished a little further. ‘What with her mother leaving so quickly and everything.’

‘Josie?’ Trevor rolled his eyes—eggs and bacon clearly not required to get him talking! ‘Blooming minx!’ Hamish gave a noncommittal smile and spooned some sugar he didn’t take into his brew. ‘You know, since her marriage broke up it’s been one fancy man after another. Still, I was just saying to the wife that this
one should keep her quiet for a while—given that he comes with all the trimmings.’ He registered Hamish’s frown. ‘You know, the fancy car, the boat…’ He tapped his fingers as he worked through the list. ‘You’d think they’d see through her; though…’ Trevor leant over the table ‘…and I would never say it to the missus, of course, but I can see how Josie wraps them around her little finger—I mean, she’s a good-looking woman, and always laughing and having fun. Not that she’d even look at old goat like me—unless she needed something!’

‘He seems to be settling.’ Trevor abruptly stopped talking as Charlotte came into the kitchen. ‘Thank you so much, Trevor, you’ve no idea how grateful I am for your help. Now, how much do I owe you?’

‘Nothing,’ Trevor said, shaking his head as she pulled out her purse. ‘I already told you I was coming down this way.’

‘You’ve been over every day, feeding them.’

‘It’s no big deal!’

‘Let me give you the petrol money at least,’ Charlotte insisted, but Trevor was having none of it, quickly changing the subject.

‘I was looking through the windows of your house when I picked up the boys—it looks as if there’s a lot of work to be done there before the new owners move in on Monday. Do you need a hand? I can come and help with some of the heavy stuff.’

‘Nope—it’s all under control. I’m off Thursday and Friday. I’ve got a charity shop coming first to take their pick of what’s left and I’ve rented the biggest skip in
the world, and if I work like a maniac, by five o’clock Friday I’ll be handing the keys to the real-estate agent.’

‘What about cleaning the place?’

‘I’ve got it all under control—I’m hiring a cleaner for a few hours on the Friday.’

‘You’re not hiring anyone,’ Trevor scolded. ‘I’ll be there to help on Thursday and the wife will be there seven o’clock Friday morning to help with the cleaning—it’s all been arranged, so no arguments!’

Scottie did seem to settle in quickly—it was Bailey who was fretful. Sensing the activity outside all morning, he grizzled to get out there, pointing his finger and dancing on the spot as Hamish refused to understand what it was he was asking to do. Even dancing along with him to his favourite video barely raised a smile.

‘What are you two doing, cooped up in here on such a glorious day?’ Her hair damp with sweat, her face muddied and dirty, Charlotte still pack a punch as she opened the fridge.

‘We’re fine,’ Hamish snapped. ‘Have you seen Bailey’s potty? I was going to give the toilet training another go.’

‘Why?’ Charlotte blinked.

‘Because that’s what you do at this age.’

‘What? Chase him around with a red potty? He thinks it’s a game, you know.’

‘I know,’ Hamish groaned—exhausted from his attempts. ‘But I’ve got the mothers at crèche all on at me offering me advice—you heard that Lucy, telling
me about some bloody potty that plays music when he goes. Maybe I should buy one.’

‘It would be cheaper to just say “good boy!”’ Charlotte mused, ‘but you know I
really
don’t think the mothers at crèche could actually give two hoots whether Bailey’s still in nappies or not.’

‘And Helen said…’ Hamish ignored her ‘…that she used to put table-tennis balls in the loo for target practice and her husband…’ His voice trailed off as Charlotte just stood, buttered knife in hand, poised over the roll, an incredulous expression on her face.

‘How bizarre!’ Charlotte finally said, then with a little shrug started buttering the rolls as she chatted. ‘Is there any reason it
has
to happen soon? I mean, have they suddenly found out he’s a genius and he’s going to be going to school next week and you don’t want him to be the only kid in the school in nappies…?’

‘Ha, ha,’ Hamish said. ‘You’re not the one who has to chat to proud mums at crèche and find out their kids are already dry at night
and
sleeping through.’

‘Good for them!’ Charlotte shrugged. ‘I love getting up to Bailey at night—we have great fun, don’t we, darling?’ She blew Bailey a kiss, who blew one back, and then carried on chatting. ‘They’re flirting with you, Hamish.’

‘Who?’

‘All those mums offering advice.’

‘So Helen’s flirting with me?’

‘Well, not Helen,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘But I can assure you the others are. This Lucy—is she single?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, I bet she is—or she fancies a bit of afternoon delight!’

‘She was being nice,’ Hamish protested.

‘
Nice
people pop the potty in a plastic bag and leave it at the crèche with a little note with your name on the top, instead of…’ Hand on hip, Charlotte stuck out her chest and batted her eyelashes as she lowered her voice. ‘“If you want it, Hamish, why don’t you pop around get it?” And, oh, boy, would you get it.’

‘Oh, no!’

‘How about stripping off and going out for a picnic? I meant stripping off Bailey,’ Charlotte explained patiently to his rather stunned expression, ‘and bring him and the potty outside—you can give the poor carpet a break. I’ll make a nice picnic.’

‘We’re fine,’ Hamish retorted as Bailey jumped up in glee.

‘Suit yourself.’ Charlotte shrugged and after she’d gone Hamish sat with his face set, drumming his fingers loudly as Bailey grizzled to join his new friends, his little faced pressed against the glass door as Charlotte, the dog and the cat all headed off to the stables.

‘Dar-dot!’ he wailed, giving in and plonking his bottom on the floor and howling at the injustice of being left behind. ‘Want Maisy!’

‘How about some noodles?’ Hamish offered his favourite lunch, but a whole morning of being mollified had had little effect and Bailey just quadrupled his efforts, knocking his noodles on the floor, screaming and kicking as Hamish lifted him over his shoulder and took him upstairs for a nap.

‘No!’ Hamish said firmly as Bailey tried to hurdle out of his cot, laying him back down for the umpteenth time then heading for the window to close the curtains and show Bailey that this time he meant business.

Only he didn’t.

Because, staring out of the window, seeing her lying on the grass, staring up at sky as her pets dozed beside her, Hamish wanted to be out there, too. Wanted to be out enjoying the glorious afternoon instead of shut up inside, trying to pretend to Bailey that the stables didn’t exist—not full ones anyway.

‘Come on, mate.’ Heaving Bailey out of the cot, as if turning off a tap, Bailey’s tears halted. Realising he’d got his way, he even sat patiently on the kitchen floor as Hamish buttered a few rolls and grabbed some drinks and fruit from the fridge.

‘What kept you?’ Smiling, she didn’t even open her eyes as, a little bit late but still very welcome, her lunch dates arrived.

‘I was buttering rolls.’

‘But I’ve already made plenty.’

‘We’ll have rolls for dinner, too, then,’ Hamish answered, sitting down and pulling out a bag of grapes and offering them to Bailey. But the toddler’s attention was elsewhere, pointing in glee at Scottie, who was poking his head over the stable door, and squealing in delight. And Hamish couldn’t be bothered to argue any more. Fighting the fear that welled up in him when he pictured his beautiful son with the pony, he picked him up and headed over, letting him stroke Scottie’s head
and even letting Charlotte show Bailey how to hold out his hand flat. Hamish laughed out loud at Bailey’s shocked but delighted expression as big lips nuzzled for the tiny grapes, watching his eyes shining brightly and his pink lips laughing, and for the first time in ages Hamish was treated to a rare glimpse of Emma in his son’s expression