Tempted by the Single Mom

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘There were other people there on the beach, Ellie,’ he said softly, ‘and they were all running towards her. She wouldn’t have drowned.’

  ‘She could have done. It happens.’

  ‘I know. But she didn’t, just like the ceiling didn’t fall on them. Come on, let’s get a drink and go and lie down on the bed and chill for a while.’

  ‘Not the sitting room?’

  He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I twanged my hip a bit leaping up, and the muscles are screaming now. I could do with a lie-down.’

  She felt a wave of guilt at least as big as the wave that had knocked Maisie over. ‘Oh, Nick, you should have said! You’ve been on your feet for hours since then, what with the baking and cooking supper and everything. Where does it hurt? Show me.’

  ‘Oh, the usual place.’

  He ran his hand down over his left buttock and thigh, and she studied him thoughtfully. He was slightly crooked, the muscles pulling him sideways a bit. They definitely needed freeing off.

  ‘Want a massage?’ she offered tentatively. ‘I did a course once, when I was doing my orthopaedic rotation, and a physio showed me how. It might help.’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter, and shrugged. ‘You know what? That sounds amazing. I give in. Do your worst.’

  * * *

  Why? Why had he let her do this?

  He turned back the duvet, lay face down on the bed in his jersey boxers and pushed them down as far as they’d go, then felt her hands on him, warm and firm and familiar, exploring his muscles, kneading his buttock gently, the flat of her palm running over his thigh.

  And his body was revelling in it.

  It had been a long, difficult week since they’d moved in, with her just there every time he turned round, sweetly scented and enticing, all mother earth and wholesome woman, and it was doing his head in. He hadn’t had any respite from her at work, either, and he wanted her.

  He wanted her so badly he could taste it, but he’d gritted his teeth, kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself, and he did it now, lying there and letting her do her worst.

  And she did exactly that, with all the skill of a consummate professional, and for a moment he regretted it, but it was worth it just to have her hands on him.

  Well, mostly. He let out a grunt at one point, and she apologised and eased off, but he could feel it doing him good in a fairly hideous way.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘I’ll live,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Just be a little careful with the scar tissue.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It needs doing. I just haven’t found a physio up here yet. Looks like I don’t need to. You’re every bit as brutal.’

  She chuckled and carried on, her thumbs finding all the knots with deadly accuracy, and gradually he felt the taut muscles relax and stretch out again.

  ‘There. I think you’ll do,’ she said, and then she pressed her lips fleetingly against his skin as if she was kissing it better. ‘Sorry about the torture. You can get up now.’

  No way. The pain had settled his libido down, but it was over now, and since he’d felt the soft warmth of her mouth against his skin his need for her was back with a vengeance.

  He hoisted his underwear back up but stayed where he was. ‘I think I might just lie here like this for a bit,’ he said casually.

  He felt the bed shift as she got off it, then the light touch of her hand on his shoulder. ‘Sure. Can I get you a drink?’

  Bromide? Or maybe that malt whisky that he still hadn’t found...

  ‘Tea would be nice.’

  And it would take her a few minutes, which might give him time to get his mind sorted out and his body back in line.

  * * *

  To her surprise he came into the kitchen as the kettle boiled, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and bare feet.

  ‘Oh! You’re up. I thought you were going to stay there?’

  ‘No, I changed my mind. I feel a lot better. Thank you.’

  He smiled, touched a fleeting kiss to her cheek and reached for the last of the rock buns. ‘Fancy sharing?’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘No way. I ate my bodyweight in them this afternoon, and we’ve had supper. I don’t know where you put it. Right, here we go. Sitting room?’

  ‘Mmm. Why not?’ he said, and headed out of the kitchen.

  She followed him up the steps, and he lay down on one of the sofas, feet crossed at the ankle, and stared up at the timber ceiling.

  ‘What do you think I should do with those pine boards?’ he mumbled through a mouthful of rock bun.

  She studied them thoughtfully from the other sofa, then lay down to get a better view. ‘I don’t know. They’re a bit orange.’

  ‘They are, but they’re iconic. It’s a tough one, and it’s a one-way trip.’

  ‘But if you don’t like them...?’

  ‘I know. But what else?’

  ‘How about colour-washing them? You know, in a sort of whitey grey wash to mute them down a bit? Sort of New England meets industrial chic?’

  He chuckled, and studied them thoughtfully. ‘That would work. It’s a look I like. I’m going to paint the whole house white when I get round to it, and probably have neutral earthy grey carpet throughout.’

  ‘Carpet, or wooden floors?’

  ‘No, carpet. I don’t really want wooden floors because Rufus slips on them, but apart from that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s early days, I suppose, and I’m still getting used to the house. Maybe I need to give it time to talk to me.’

  ‘What, like mine, which has been shouting at me because it’s so inadequate for the last four years?’

  He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder, his smile wry. ‘Something like that. When do they start on yours?’

  She sat up again so she could see him better. ‘Monday, apparently. They pack everything and put it in storage, and it comes out when it’s done, but I can get access to it if I need to. The trouble is, I need clothes for work and I haven’t really got anywhere to put them, or the children’s clothes. I wonder if they’d deliver my chest of drawers here? Would you mind?’

  He turned his head again and looked at her as if she’d said something really weird. ‘Why on earth would I mind? Of course I don’t mind, but you don’t need a chest of drawers, there’s a spare one in the garage. We can get your stuff tomorrow if you like. I’m sure we’ll find somewhere for it.’

  ‘Are you sure? I just feel we’re moving in wholesale.’

  He laughed and looked away again. ‘Don’t be silly. Bring whatever you need. We can find room for it. The playroom’s got lots of space.’

  How easily he said that, as if it had always been a playroom, but she supposed it hadn’t ever been anything in the three or four weeks he’d lived there before her housing crisis.

  What on earth would she have done without him?

  * * *

  ‘Coffee?’

  She glanced up from the repeat prescriptions and smiled at Nick. ‘Mmm, please. You’re a saviour. I haven’t had time. It was a bit of a rush, what with meeting the builders on site before I started. Thank goodness nursery could take them for longer. Oh, I’ve got news about Judith Granger, by the way,’ she told him.

  ‘Oh. Bad news?’

  She shook her head. ‘No—well, a sort of guarded no. Polyps. She’s on the waiting list for a colonoscopy. They’re going to remove them and send samples for histology to see if any of them have turned cancerous, so at least it’s being dealt with. I should hear a few days after she has it, but I don’t know when that’ll be.’

  He put the coffee in front of her and sat down opposite.

  ‘So what’s wrong, then?’ he asked softly.

  How did he know? She looked up, and he tilted his head on one side and raised an eyebr
ow.

  She glanced across at Dev and Brian, and shook her head. ‘It’s not important now. Thanks for the coffee. I might go back down—I’ve got a few letters to write.’

  He nodded and stood up. ‘Yes, so have I. See you, guys.’

  They walked out together, and he followed her into her room and shut the door.

  ‘Come on, then. What is it?’

  She felt her shoulders sag. ‘I heard from David. He’s coming up this weekend to see his parents, and obviously he wants to see the children, but they don’t feel ready to have them staying there. Steven’s struggling with the arrhythmia and the pain, and Liz is exhausted, so—well, I wondered if it’d be all right if they stayed with you.’

  ‘They?’ He looked confused. ‘Where will you be?’

  ‘Well—at yours, of course. Where else? Assuming that’s all right?’

  He gave a tiny huff of laughter. ‘Of course it’s all right. So why would it be an issue if the children stay as well?’

  ‘Because I just don’t want to take you for granted. You do so much for us, and I thought you might have been looking forward to a weekend without them.’ A weekend like the others they’d shared...

  He smiled, his eyes tender and a little rueful. ‘I was—but not because of them. It would just be nice to spend time alone with you. I’ve missed it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  His mouth quirked a little. ‘That I’ve missed it, or that I don’t mind?’

  She chuckled. ‘That you don’t mind.’

  ‘Absolutely. Honestly, it’s not a problem.’

  She felt relief wash over her, and she smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You say that a lot, you know.’

  ‘Because I mean it. I don’t know what we would have done without you.’

  ‘You would have found a way.’

  He cupped her shoulders in his hands and stared down into her eyes, and then he bent his head and kissed her.

  Just lightly, just enough contact to reaffirm their relationship, and then he let her go. ‘I’d better get on, and so had you. I’ll see you later.’

  * * *

  On Friday David arrived in time to pick the children up from nursery and spend the afternoon and early evening with them, so she took advantage of that to check on the builders, see what progress had been made and then blitz Nick’s house while she had the chance.

  She was just loading the washing machine for the second time when Nick came home, and he propped himself up against the utility room doorframe and smiled at her.

  ‘More washing?’

  ‘Always. It’s relentless. I hate to think what it’s doing to your energy bills.’

  He waved a hand dismissively. ‘What time are they coming back?’

  ‘I’m picking them up at seven.’

  He glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s in ten minutes.’

  ‘I know. It’s fine, they’ll still be eating if I know them. They have a flexible attitude to bedtime, which doesn’t always work with Evie.’

  ‘Are you driving?’

  ‘Yes. They’re always tired on a Friday after nursery.’ She shut the washing machine door, pressed a button and straightened up. ‘Right, time to go. Our supper’s in the oven, I’ve cleaned the sitting room and kitchen, vacuumed the bedrooms and walked Rufus round the block.’

  ‘You’re a star. Thank you.’

  ‘Just my side of the bargain,’ she said with a wry smile, and squeezed past him. Or tried to, but he caught her shoulders, pulled her up against him and kissed her.

  Not like he had this morning, but that had been at work. This kiss was lingering and full of promise, and he lifted his head and gave her a wry smile.

  ‘You’d better go and get them,’ he murmured, and she nodded and walked out of the door, her lips tingling and her whole body mourning the fact that they didn’t have their weekend.

  To her amazement the children had finished eating when she arrived at her mother-in-law’s house, so she bundled them into the car and drove straight back to Nick’s. As they stepped through the front door they were bubbling over with what they’d done with their father, including a walk past her house to see how the builders were getting on, apparently, which left her mildly irritated as it was none of David’s business.

  Nick just raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged and chivvied them along the hall to their bedroom, Evie on her hip.

  By the time they were ready for bed there was a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen. He must have taken the casserole out of the oven and checked it. It had better be ready, she was starving...

  ‘Anybody need a bedtime story?’

  ‘Me, me, me!’ Maisie shrieked, and Ellie turned and looked up at him, standing right behind her.

  ‘Are you volunteering?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  She laughed softly. ‘You are such a sucker. I tell you what, why don’t you read one to Maisie and Oscar, and I’ll settle Evie, and then I’ll read you two another story, OK?’

  They nodded, delighted by the two-story promise, and as she scooped up the grizzling Evie from the floor and headed towards her room, she could hear the soft rumble of his voice and the shrill, piping clamour of their responses.

  Then a laugh, and another bit of conversation, and then it all went quiet and he started to read.

  ‘Come on, baby,’ she said, picking up her bottle off the bedside table and settling down against her pillows. ‘Let’s read you a story, too. Shall we have this one?’

  Evie snuggled down in her arms, the bottle in her mouth, but she was asleep before she was halfway down it, the story barely started.

  ‘Poor tired baby. Have you had a busy day?’ she murmured, and dropping a tender kiss on her smooth, soft brow, she eased the bottle out of her mouth and laid her carefully in her cot. She gave a tiny, sleepy cry of protest, rolled onto her front with her bottom in the air and was silent.

  Ellie gave it a moment, listening to the soft sound of her breathing and the low rumble of Nick’s voice from next door, and then he said, ‘The end,’ very softly.

  Silence.

  She tiptoed out and met him in the hall, his finger on his lips. He tipped his head on one side, hands together in the prayer position under his cheek, and she nodded and slipped past him, tucked them up, kissed them both goodnight and tiptoed out again, all without disturbing them.

  ‘They’re good sleepers,’ he said when she joined him in the kitchen.

  ‘They are. It’s their saving grace. Thank you for doing that. It’s always a juggling act at bedtime, and I usually end up having to read two because they always want different things.’

  ‘I got away with it lightly, then. Must be the novelty. Supper’s ready, by the way. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Starving. Let’s hope it lives up to the smell.’

  ‘It does. I tested it—well, I had to,’ he said with a grin. ‘It might have needed seasoning or something.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Come on, then, let’s have it. My stomach’s eating itself.’

  * * *

  They were up with the lark in the morning, and she prised herself out of bed and went into their room and shushed them, but she needn’t have bothered. Nick was already there, and he turned to her and gave her a wry grin.

  ‘They’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today,’ he said drily, and she muffled a laugh and apologised, then kissed them both good morning.

  Maisie was kneeling up on her bed and bouncing excitedly. ‘Daddy said we might go to the farm park today if it’s a nice day,’ she said, and Ellie felt a little flicker of relief. If they were doing that, there was no chance of them popping in here on the way to or from the beach, which meant they’d have privacy. She just hoped the weather played ball.

  Nick obviously clocked that, too, and he opened the
curtains and one of his eyebrows twitched. ‘Well, it’s a lovely day,’ he said with a smile. ‘What time are you dropping them off?’

  ‘Nine o’clock. Why?’

  ‘Perfect. We’ll have time to walk Rufus round the block before you go. You like that, don’t you, guys?’

  ‘Can I hold his lead?’ Maisie asked, and Oscar immediately said he wanted to, and if Nick hadn’t calmly intervened there would have been a riot.

  ‘You can take turns. And don’t start arguing about who’s going first, we’ll toss a coin.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘Get dressed nicely for Mummy, and I’ll show you. I’m going to have a shower.’

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later they were gathered in the kitchen, and he was showing them a coin.

  ‘OK, so that’s the head, and that’s the tail.’

  ‘But it hasn’t got a tail,’ Maisie said, as if she suddenly didn’t believe a word he said.

  ‘Ah, well. Look at Rufus. What’s at this end?’ He swivelled the dog round so he was facing them.

  ‘His head.’

  He turned him back again. ‘And this end?’

  ‘That’s his tail.’

  ‘Exactly. The coin is the same. There’s a head on one side, so the other side’s called the tail.’

  ‘But it doesn’t have a tail,’ Maisie said again, with that stubborn look on her face he was beginning to recognise, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Ellie, hand over her mouth, eyes creased with laughter.

  ‘I know. Silly, isn’t it? But it doesn’t matter, because we know that, and so long as we can tell the difference that’s all that matters.’

  ‘But why does it matter?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, picking up the coin and flicking it into the air, ‘when it lands, it’s got to be one way up or the other, and if it’s the one you chose, then you win.’

  ‘Why?’ they chorused, and he gave up.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said, utterly exasperated, ‘whoever’s ready at the door first with their shoes on has the first go. Deal?’