From Bachelor to Daddy Read online

  ‘I’m having a cup of tea before I go to bed. I find it relaxes me. Do you want something?’

  Idiot!

  Fool!

  Imbecile!

  The words raged through her head, but it was as if this man had mesmerised her in some way.

  ‘I won’t, thank you,’ he said, and an unlikely feeling of disappointment descended like a cloud.

  He was turned towards her as he spoke and she turned her head away, hoping her feelings weren’t obvious.

  Apparently not because now he was getting out of the car and walking around to open her door. Well, hold the door because she’d managed to open it as soon as she’d realised what he was doing.

  She slipped out past him, far too close, said thank you and good night and hurried towards the front steps.

  He was waiting by the car, a tingling sensation up and down her spine telling her he was watching her go. Sheer politeness to see she got safely inside, she knew that, but...

  She turned at the top of the steps and waved, absent-mindedly patting the dog who’d heard her arrival and come to stand beside her.

  Marty waved back and drove off, while she stayed where she was and watched until the two red tail-lights disappeared from view—

  To be replaced within seconds by the glare of headlights, and what was unmistakeably Marty’s vehicle pulled up in front of her gate once more.

  The light was on above the door so she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen him, but as he got out of his car and came purposefully towards her, she felt her heartbeat accelerating as a kind of panic filled her body.

  ‘Something you forgot?’ she asked, doing her best to sound at ease.

  ‘Just thought I’d have that cuppa after all. I know we’re both tired but we don’t have to be up for an early shift, so we might as well relax together.’

  The last two words sent shivers through Emma’s body, although she knew perfectly well what he meant.

  * * *

  Idiot!

  Fool!

  Imbecile!

  The words ran through Marty’s head as he watched Emma bustling about in the big, country kitchen, taking what seemed like forever to make a pot of tea.

  Why on earth had he come back?

  What had drawn him?

  He had nothing to offer this woman, so surely the less he saw of her the better?

  Yet the car had barely reached the end of her street before he’d turned back, the fleeting expression of disappointment he’d caught on her face vivid in his mind.

  Now he was sitting at the kitchen table while she pushed a cup and saucer, the teapot, milk and sugar, and the remnants of the chocolate cake towards him.

  ‘I’d have thought if your boys didn’t finish it off, Molly and Mandy would have,’ he said, pouring his tea but waving away the cake. ‘Or this “puppy” of yours.’

  ‘Dad’s pretty strict about how much sweet things the boys eat,’ his hostess replied politely. ‘Especially close to bedtime. And I’m still not sure about the puppy being ours.’

  She didn’t look at him as she spoke, too busy pouring herself a cup of tea, although how much concentration did that really take?

  ‘He’s good with the boys? Your father?’

  ‘The best,’ she said, with not a hint of hesitation, but it was there again, a shadow in her eyes, nothing more.

  He closed his eyes briefly. Had he turned his car around—come back—for this? An inane conversation with a woman he barely knew?

  Not that she was keeping up her end—inane or not. His polite question had been answered—briefly—but she hadn’t picked up the conversational ball and lobbed it back to him.

  And now, when he looked across at her, she was frowning at him while the dog, sitting like a sentry beside her, studied him closely.

  ‘Why did you come back?’ she asked.

  He stared at her, willing words to come. Words usually came easily to him, and as for a simple chat over a cup of tea? Well, he considered himself something of an expert!

  But how could he tell her he’d seen something in her face, so fleeting he couldn’t even be sure it had been disappointment?

  Tell her whatever it was had touched him in some way?

  ‘For a cuppa?’ he suggested, and tried a smile, but knew it was a feeble effort.

  ‘And?’ she persisted.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ he said, resorting to honesty. ‘I just felt we’d parted wrongly, somehow. Felt that I should have had a cuppa with you. I suppose...you’re new in town, might need a friend, and I mean a friend, nothing more. You’ve probably heard the gossip—Marty doesn’t do commitment...’

  Aware he was burbling on, tripping over his words and actually saying nothing intelligent, he stopped.

  Emma studied him for a moment, then shook her head, and he read her tiredness in the gesture.

  ‘I’m sorry, you’re exhausted. You’ve had a tough introduction to Braxton. I’ll get going—leave you in peace.’

  He stood up, drained his cup and set it back down in its saucer.

  ‘But if ever there’s anything you need—anything I can do for you—just let me know.’

  She half smiled.

  ‘Because Stephen told you to look out for me?’

  Relief flooded through him—it was the perfect excuse. Far better than saying, You looked disappointed that I didn’t stay...

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But because we’re colleagues as well. Up at the hospital, we all look out for each other.’

  He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe him—well, not entirely—but how else could he explain the uncontrollable urge that had had him turning his vehicle and heading back to her house?

  ‘As I said, if there’s ever anything I can do, you only have to ask,’ he said, aware that his voice sounded rough.

  There was something about this woman...

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, oh, so polite, although the words seem to hold—what? Longing?

  Definitely something, but what he couldn’t define.

  He walked down the front steps, feeling all kinds of a fool—coming back the way he had, confused, and slightly unhappy...

  ‘Bye.’

  He was at the bottom of the steps now and turned at the word, looking back up at the woman who’d spoken—at the dog by her side. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, and a tension he’d never felt before—or not within recent memory—filled his body.

  He was tired, that’s all it was.

  Yesterday had been a big day, today even longer...

  Maybe he was sickening for something.

  But as he got into his car and drove away, he knew it was none of these things.

  Any more than it was to do with whatever she wanted—or didn’t want—to talk about.

  This was different, internal somehow.

  Emotional?

  He was pretty sure it wasn’t love, because love didn’t—couldn’t, surely—happen like that, like a thunderbolt from the blue—but whatever he was feeling was something he’d never felt before.

  He loved Hallie and Pop and his foster siblings, but that was different. It had grown almost organically as he’d grown within the family.

  Which only went to prove love wasn’t thunderbolt stuff.

  But whatever it was he was feeling, he didn’t want to feel now...

  Definitely didn’t want to feel now!

  Of all the women in the entire world he should not be getting involved with, Emma was at the top of the list.

  Emma had children, and children meant commitment.

  And he didn’t do commitment—at least in his ramblings he’d managed to tell her that much.

  He just couldn’t trust himself to do commitment.

  An image he’d thought he�
��d banished forever flashed clearly through his mind—not the blow itself, or the blood that had flowed after it, but his father’s arm rising, slowly, menacing, then deliberately striking downwards.

  His own arm, many years later, rising the same way, hitting out at the man—barely a man—who’d stolen his girlfriend...

  It wasn’t the sins of the father handed down, but the genes...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE FOLLOWING DAYS were busy for Emma, but totally Marty-free. Not that she wanted to see the man who was causing so much confusion in her mind and body, but he’d been such a presence in her first few days at work, she couldn’t help but be aware of his absence.

  Molly and Mandy had called in after school one afternoon to play with the boys, and Emma had to wonder if it had been prearranged when Carrie came to collect them and joined her father for a beer on the veranda before taking them home.

  She couldn’t feel anything but pleased that her father had found an old friend, and if she wondered, as she lay in bed at night, just how friendly they might have been in the past, she dismissed the thought as none of her business. At least her father was happy...

  And her own social life was improving—slightly. She’d had a drink after work on Friday afternoon with Joss and a couple of other staff, Joss suggesting that she bring the boys out to her farm over the weekend.

  ‘We’ve a couple of orphan lambs and a poddy calf the boys might like to play with,’ she’d said. ‘Come tomorrow and stay to lunch.’

  Knowing the boys would be delighted with the farm animals, she’d agreed immediately, resolutely ignoring an inner whisper that she’d miss Marty if he happened to pop in.

  Something he hadn’t done for a couple of days, she had to admit.

  And why should he?

  He’d produced babysitters for her, found a friend for her father to help him settle back into town, and offered her friendship too—what more could she expect?

  Nothing.

  Why should she?

  Especially when he’d made it very plain that friendship was all he would offer.

  But when she arrived back from Joss’s place, two exhausted boys sleeping in the back of her car, and saw the familiar four-wheel drive parked outside the gate, why did her heart rate rise, while her mind wondered just how much of the farm mud that had liberally covered the boys had ended up on her nose or cheeks?

  ‘Good morning?’ he asked, coming down the front steps and offering to carry one of the boys inside for her.

  ‘Great morning, and I can manage,’ she said automatically, and stupidly as she couldn’t manage—not both boys at once—not now they were getting bigger.

  As he’d already unhooked Xavier from his car seat and was lifting him out, she hoped her words might have gone unnoticed, although the eyebrow he cocked at her as she leant in to free Hamish told her otherwise.

  ‘Kids look so innocent when they’re asleep,’ he said quietly as they stood and watched the boys settle into their cots.

  ‘Only if you don’t know what devils they can be when they’re awake,’ Emma told him, although seeing her children sleep always tugged at her heart.

  ‘I suppose,’ he murmured.

  The whispered words seemed to linger in the air, although they had been spoken as Marty left the room. His tone had been tinged with something she couldn’t identify—sadness?

  Regret?

  She knew from his footsteps he’d walked out onto the veranda and much as she’d have loved to have a shower—or at least check for mud—before she faced him, she knew she had to follow.

  Had he a reason for being here?

  Was it to do with her?

  ‘You look as if you had a good time,’ her father said, running his eyes over her farm-stained clothes.

  ‘The boys just loved it.’

  She looked from her father to Marty, who, she rather thought, was also taking in her appearance.

  ‘Did you want to see me?’

  Silly question—what if he said, no, he’d just called in to see her dad.

  Although her father had already drifted off, no doubt back to the garden that was becoming a passion with him.

  ‘I did,’ Marty said, and, no, her heart didn’t skip a beat! ‘I know it’s a bit short notice, but the Mid-Coast chopper has offered to cover our area tomorrow and I’d like to do a winch refresher session. I know you’re up to date with your winch protocols but our aircraft is new to you and it’s possibly a different winch to one you’ve used before. We’ll all be involved and if we can get through it in the one day—maybe even the morning—we’re right for six months.’

  He paused, as if waiting for some response, but Emma was too busy hiding the dread she always felt about winch work to answer him. Why it still happened when she was extremely proficient at it she had no idea.

  ‘All the crew do six-monthly refresher training,’ Marty continued, ‘but we’ve got out of sync, so if we can all do it together, it’ll save having special days for one or two crew members.’

  He obviously needed an answer, so Emma managed a nod, then, realising that might be a little wishy washy, went for a word.

  ‘Super!’ she said, though it was far from how she felt and was not a word she could recall using before that moment. ‘What time and where?’

  ‘Seven, at the base. Best to get started before the wind gets up. We’ll just do a lift and lower for each of us and if we’ve time a quick carry, just clip on and lift then down and unclip.’

  He grinned and added, ‘Pilots included.’

  As if that made it better! Those men threw themselves around in the sky as if it was their playground. Dangling on a rope—well, a wire—thirty, forty, fifty feet above the earth wouldn’t bother them at all.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she said, then thought of something.

  ‘Can I go first?’

  She didn’t add, because it would be stillest, instead using the boys as an excuse.

  ‘That way I can get back and spend most of the day with the boys.’

  ‘You could bring them,’ the ever-helpful Marty said. ‘They might like a flight.’

  ‘No way!’ Emma told him, aware of the blood draining from her face at the thought of the boys in a helicopter. Helicopters crashed...

  * * *

  With a promise he’d see her at seven, Marty departed, but not before wondering just how nervous Emma was about her children.

  She’d certainly seemed shocked at the thought of him taking them for a ride, though he knew small boys usually loved being airborne.

  Did she worry herself when she flew?

  Dislike flying?

  If so she’d hidden it remarkably well on the trips they’d already taken together.

  Although winch training was always a test of a person’s mettle. For someone who didn’t like heights or flying, it would be a nightmare.

  She wasn’t due for a refresher—he’d checked her CV and knew she had a couple of months to go—but life was so much easier if they could all do the refresher in one day and with the offer of cover from the Mid-Coast team, it seemed too good to pass up.

  But he’d keep an eye on her...

  The unspoken words elicited a groan from deep inside his body. Metaphorically or not, he needed to see less of Emma, not more, and keeping an eye out for her?

  Definitely seeing more!

  It was because he was between girlfriends that he was attracted to her. It had to be that. Nothing to do with the way her eyes would twinkle at him when she laughed, or the pinkness that came into her cheeks when she was embarrassed, or the earnest way she always thanked him when he did the smallest thing for her...

  This feeling of attraction was very different somehow.

  Caring.

  Protective.

  That was it; he felt protective of her.
Protective was far better than attracted...

  And if he found a new girlfriend...

  Wasn’t there a new female assistant manager at one of the banks?

  Hadn’t he heard that somewhere?

  Plus, if he could get Emma hooked up with someone else, that would be even better. It would remove her from all consideration in the most positive way.

  His mind began listing eligible single men—well, eligible men rather presumed their single status...

  Rob Armstrong would be good. Marty had heard Rob had been in hospital recently and although he had a bit of trouble with atrial fibrillation, it responded to treatment.

  But did it weaken his heart?

  Ned had told him about Emma’s husband—about his sudden death from cancer six years earlier. Could she handle losing another husband who might die before his time?

  And just why, if he wasn’t attracted to her, did the unspoken word ‘husband’ cause constriction in his chest?

  He’d scrap Rob, but there was that new bloke on a cattle property further west—rich family sending junior to learn the ropes on one of their smaller properties.

  Marty had done a bit of heli-mustering for him. He could drop in and mention the barn dance.

  Better yet, he could phone the bloke, ask if they could do their practice lifts out of one of the gullies on his property. Most of his cattle were in the back country so they shouldn’t be disturbed. He’d get the bloke—what was his name?—to act as the patient and have Emma do the lift. Clinging together at the end of the wire, who knew what chemistry might happen...?

  Shane—his name was Shane.

  Marty’s old vehicle lacked Bluetooth so he pulled over to the side of the road and checked the contacts in his phone. Best to do it right now.

  Before he forgot.

  Or changed his mind...

  * * *

  Hiding the dread in her heart at the thought of the winch training session, Emma went in search of her father, finding him digging in the old vegetable garden out the back.

  ‘Did you really have a good time today?’ he asked shrewdly, and she smiled.

  ‘Well, the boys did but I rather think Joss had been doing a bit of unsubtle match-making. A friend of hers, an engineer at the local council who’d been in hospital earlier in the week, also called in and it seemed a long way out of town for just a casual visit.’