The wardrobe revealed a row of dresses and skirts.
He pulled open a dresser drawer. It was full of shorts. Another drawer revealed shirts—frilly shirts, T-shirts, shirts with scooped necks…with plunging necklines. In all the colours of the rainbow.
She stared at them. Then she backed up a step, her fingers flying to her top button. ‘No, thank you. I’ll make do with my own things.’
And then she turned and fled.
At the end of the working day Liam reached for the handle of the back door, but stopped short of opening it, suddenly aware of how his hand trembled and how his knees were none too steady.
He dragged in a breath. He was a grown man. A baby shouldn’t intimidate him.
How Lachlan and Lacey would laugh if they could see their supposedly fearless big brother now. His lips twisted. How Lucas would laugh.
He dragged off his hat, scraped a forearm across his brow, then hung the hat on its peg. He curled his fingers around the door handle, pulled it open and forced himself through it. And stopped short again.
Sapphie sat on the floor, her back against one of the kitchen cupboards, with her legs stretched out in front of her. Harry stood between her legs, his hands in hers for support. When he heard Liam, he fell onto his nappy-clad bottom and crawled into Sapphie’s lap. Her arms went about him in the most natural gesture in the world.
Can you love Harry like your own son? His gut clenched. He’d given up on the idea of children—had pushed the pictures that word evoked to the outer reaches of his consciousness, where he’d buried them.
He stared at the baby. Could Harry be his second chance? A part of him wanted to erect barriers around his heart, protect it against the possibility of disappointment…pain. But if he wanted to win Harry’s trust he couldn’t do that.
Can you love him like your own son?
He didn’t know. He wanted to say yes, but…
He didn’t know what to do. Sapphie was staring at him, a frown in her eyes. He didn’t know what to say. She pursed her lips and glanced down at Harry, and then she smiled. Just like that—easy and without hardship. Without caution.
‘Look, Harry, it’s Uncle Liam!’ She picked up one of Harry’s arms and waved it at Liam. ‘Hello, Uncle Liam.’
Liam waved back, tried to smile. ‘Hello, Harry. Hello, Sapphie.’ He lowered the bags he carried to the floor.
Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice cheerful and sing-song. ‘Are you still quite sure you want to make friends with Harry here?’
‘Yes.’ She might manage the sing-song thing, but he couldn’t—not when it felt as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. He had to prove to her that he could be a good father figure to Harry. He had to. For Lucas’s sake. For his entire family’s sake. He couldn’t let them down. ‘Yes,’ he repeated.
He had a feeling the raw need showed on his face, because her eyes softened. With one lithe movement she rose, Harry balanced on her hip, and sashayed over to him. ‘Right, let’s get on with it then.’
He stiffened. What the heck…?
She smelt of baby powder and chopped onions and some herb—rosemary. She smelt like home and rest.
‘Auntie Sapphie kisses Horsie.’ She seized the stuffed horse and gave it a loud kiss. ‘And now Uncle Liam kisses Horsie.’
She held out the stuffed toy to him, and for a moment her eyes danced with a delicious mixture of mischief and fun. Liam grinned. He couldn’t help it. He took the toy and planted a kiss to Horsie’s nose.
‘And Harry kisses Horsie.’
Harry had watched these proceedings with solemn caution. He glanced at Liam, and then at the toy. Very tentatively he took Horsie from Liam and cuddled it close, making loud smacking sounds with his lips.
‘Now Sapphie kisses Harry.’ She kissed Harry’s cheek. ‘And so does Uncle Liam.’
Liam started. She nodded her encouragement. He leant in and kissed the top of Harry’s head, then moved back again. Fast. He told himself he didn’t want his bulk to frighten the child.
Sapphie jiggled Harry on her hip. ‘And now Harry kisses Uncle Liam.’
For a moment Liam thought Harry really did mean to lean across and plant a wet kiss on his cheek. He held his breath and waited, but at the last moment Harry hid his face in Sapphie’s neck.
Sapphie grinned and winked. ‘That went better than I thought.’ She pulled out a chair and sat. ‘I’m just planting the idea in his head at the moment, letting him know who his friends are.’
He fell into the chair opposite, his heart pounding. ‘So I shouldn’t be mortally wounded by rejection, then?’
‘Not unless you want to be a drama queen about it.’
That had him grinning again. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d let a body get away with anything.
Maybe if she’d kissed him first, to set an example for Harry… His thought processes slammed to a halt as his mind lost itself in images of her kissing him…and him kissing her.
‘These things take time.’
He’d take her word on that.
‘Beattie get away okay?’
‘Yep.’ He’d just flown Beattie to Kununurra in the station’s single-engine Cessna. ‘She’s very grateful to you.’
‘Pshaw!’ She dismissed that with one flick of her wrist, and for some reason he found himself grinning again. Or was that grinning still?
He tried to ramp up the tension inside himself again, to maintain his guard, but it had been a long day, and the kitchen smelt so good that almost against his will his shoulders loosened. He glanced around. ‘Something smells great.’
‘Ah, that reminds me. I have a housekeeping question for you.’
Her eyes danced. Harry sat on her lap, quietly chewing one of Horsie’s ears, but at her tone he glanced up at her and his little face lit up with a smile. Liam found he couldn’t look away from either one of them. ‘What?’
‘Do cattlemen get sick of steak for dinner? I mean, you work with cattle all day—mustering them, drafting and branding them, not to mention breeding them. And, as I found a cold room today, I’m guessing you probably butcher your own meat. Don’t you get sick of all that…beef?’
‘Nope.’
‘Don’t you dream of a nice piece of fish or some crispy fried chicken? Or hanker for a Chinese takeaway or a pizza?’
He leant back and stretched his legs out. ‘Nope.’ Not strictly speaking true, but he found he enjoyed teasing her. His grin grew. Besides, in his book a juicy steak would always come out on top.
She shook her head in mock regret. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be sadly disappointed this evening, when you find out steak isn’t on the menu.’
He doubted that.
‘We’re having lamb stew. I didn’t know what time you’d get back, and I figured a lamb stew could just bubble away until we were ready to eat. I don’t care what you say—hot lamb stew beats cold steak any day. Oh, and I made cornbread.’
He blinked. ‘Cornbread?’
‘We need something to dunk in our stew. It always went down a treat when my mother made it at Jarndirri. When I saw the packet of polenta in the pantry I couldn’t resist.’
‘It sounds great.’ It did. And it made him realise how long it had been since he’d sat in this kitchen and felt relaxed…happy.
He glanced at Harry. Moved his gaze to Sapphie. His spine stiffened. This might look the picture of perfect domestic bliss but—
‘Stop analysing everything and just enjoy a well-earned rest at the end of a hard day’s work,’ Sapphie chided, as if she could see right inside his head.
The idea had him rolling his shoulders.
She rose to slide Harry into his highchair. Panic flashed across Harry’s face, and it reached right inside Liam’s chest to squeeze his heart in a grip that had him breathing hard.
Sapphie didn’t blink an eye. She clapped her hands and beamed. ‘We have to teach Uncle Liam what to give you for dinner, Harry.’
Harry didn’t
smile, but he clapped his hands to copy Sapphie and the panic drained from his face. Liam slumped. In a few short days Harry and Sapphie had bonded. How would he ever know what to do the way she seemed to? Could he make Harry happy? Make him feel secure and safe?
His thoughts whirled to a halt when Sapphie launched into another ABBA song, the most off-key rendition he’d ever heard. It built that grin back up inside him. She danced across the room to the cutlery drawer and returned with three spoons. She handed one to him, one to Harry, and dropped the third to the table.
She danced over to another cupboard and pulled out two jars of baby food. He didn’t know how she could radiate so much colour when she wore nothing but a pair of denim jeans and a big buttoned-down white shirt.
She broke off her song to hold the jars out towards the table. ‘Chicken or beef, Harry?’
‘Beef,’ Liam said promptly. Harry banged his spoon on the tray of the highchair. ‘See—he agrees with me.’
She heated the jar in the microwave and then danced back over to the table and set about feeding Harry. Liam turned the spoon he held over and over in his fingers.
In between silly baby talk with Harry, Sapphie told Liam everything she and Harry had got up to that day, while he’d been flying back and forth from Kununurra. They’d explored the house, the veranda and the garden; they’d had a picnic under the pepper trees. He found himself half wishing he could have stayed here and… And what? He pushed the thought away.
When Sapphie spooned out the last of the baby food, Liam suddenly remembered. ‘I brought presents back.’
‘Ooh, Harry—presents!’ Sapphie rubbed her hands together. ‘I love presents!’ She grinned at Liam. ‘So you remembered the caramel topping, then?’
He had—it had been her special request. She’d said that if she was staying for a whole fortnight she couldn’t do without caramel topping. He lifted it out and set it on the table. ‘But that’s not the present. Who first—you or Harry?’
Her eyes went round. ‘You bought me a present?’
That settled it. He reached into the bag at his feet, rifled through the newspapers and farm journals he’d bought as well, then pulled out a DVD and handed it to her.
Her face lit up. ‘Mamma Mia! I love this movie. Ooh, Harry, guess what we’re watching tomorrow afternoon.’ She did a little dance in her seat and Harry smiled and banged his spoon some more. ‘I found the theatre room. It’s wonderful.’
The theatre room. He hadn’t been in there since… ‘We had it put in after Lucas’s accident.’ He’d hoped the big screen and surround sound would…
‘Liam?’
He shook himself. ‘Now for Harry’s present.’ He pulled a stuffed toy cow from the bag. Harry’s eyes went as wide as Sapphie’s had. He stared at the toy, and then at Liam, in wonder. Then he held out his arms, and very gently Liam placed the stuffed animal into them.
‘Ta!’ Harry said, without being prompted.
Liam’s chest puffed out. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘Only we are not calling it Cowie.’ He reached over and pressed the cow’s ear, and a deep ‘moo’ filled the room.
Sapphie burst out laughing. Harry swung to her and held out his new toy, a grin stretching across his face. ‘Moo-Moo,’ he said.
‘Moo-Moo is the perfect name,’ she agreed. ‘Now you have a friend for Horsie.’ She turned to Liam. ‘Thank you, that was really thoughtful.’
Liam surveyed Harry, pursed his lips. ‘When is he going to smile at me?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
The precision of her reply made him blink. He snorted. ‘You can’t know that.’
She leapt up to rummage through the cupboard again. ‘Why not?’
‘You could be wrong.’
‘Ah, but you can’t know that.’
He closed his mouth. She was right.
‘Ta-da!’ She waved a tin at Harry. ‘Chocolate custard!’
Harry waved his arms and kicked his legs, his whole face lighting up. A swell of protectiveness surged through Liam, leaving him breathless, boneless.
Sapphie winked at him. ‘The way to a man’s heart…’
‘His stomach?’
‘Absolutely! Chocolate custard is to die for.’
She peeled back the lid, scooped out a spoonful and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes in what looked like ecstasy, and Liam went breathless and boneless all over again.
‘Come on—your turn.’
He came to to find Sapphie holding out a spoonful of custard for him.
‘All Harry’s friends eat chocolate custard.’
He figured that was a hint…or a warning. He opened his mouth and let her feed him the custard. And all he could think was how her lips had closed around this same spoon, how slowly she’d pulled this spoon from her mouth…how ripe and full her lips were.
Their eyes locked. Hers went round and huge. They dropped to his lips and his stomach tightened.
She pulled back with a squeak.
‘Yum,’ Harry announced to Liam.
Liam didn’t know if it was a question, a statement, or a demand to be fed. ‘Yum,’ he agreed. He watched as Sapphie fed Harry two laden spoonfuls.
‘Yum,’ Harry said again.
Liam nodded. ‘Yum.’ He couldn’t remember what the custard had tasted like, only the look in Sapphie’s eyes. And Harry was right—yum.
‘Ooh, Uncle Liam knows this game.’ Sapphie pushed the tin into Liam’s hands. ‘You finish feeding Harry while I get his bottle ready.’
Did she really trust him to feed Harry? The little spoon, the little tin—they felt tiny in his big hands. He glanced at his nephew. Would he even let Liam feed him? It shocked him to realise how much it meant. Harry stared at him, then opened his mouth, obviously impatient for the next mouthful of custard.
Liam managed to manoeuvre a spoonful of the stuff to Harry’s mouth without mishap. Harry smacked his lips together, swallowed, and opened his mouth for more. Liam’s back straightened and his chest puffed out. He hadn’t experienced such a sense of accomplishment in…
He couldn’t remember when, and he didn’t bother trying. For once he meant to do what Sapphie ordered and just enjoy the moment.
Sapphie leant against the kitchen bench and watched Liam feed Harry…and tried to stop her insides from turning to mush. There was something about a big broad-shouldered man with a little baby that tugged at a woman’s insides.
There was something about Liam that tugged at her all over.
No! What on earth was she thinking? Sleep deprivation—that had to be it. She must still be sleep-deprived because…
Her throat tightened. Her heart started to pound. She tried to drag her eyes from the vee of Liam’s workshirt, with its intriguing glimpse of curling dark hair, tried to shake off the languor that stole over her limbs. She didn’t get things for flesh-and-blood men. She kept real men well and truly at arm’s length. She only got things…crushes…for unattainable men—film stars, rock stars.
She would not develop a thing for Liam Stapleton!
It hit her then. Being alone with Liam in this big old homestead for the next fortnight. It didn’t frighten her. Not the way it ought to. When he’d helped her to the steps yesterday, when he’d rubbed the cramp from her leg, anxiety for her personal safety had not been the emotion uppermost in her mind.
Because he’s not the kind of man who would force a woman.
He was the kind of man who sang to help settle a baby to sleep.
She recalled how gently his fingers had probed her ankle…and she recalled the way he’d just looked at her over that tin of chocolate custard. The heat from his eyes had almost raised steam from her skin. He’d looked at her the way a man looked at a woman he desired. He did chaotic things to her blood.
She didn’t want that!
She would not let that kind of chaos loose in her life.
What she had to do was help Harry and Liam bond—end of story. Anything else was…impossible.
She had to turn back when Liam started making train noises, though. All his grimness had fallen away. Hope had sprung to his eyes, softening the lines that bracketed his mouth and fanned out from his eyes, making him look younger, giving her a picture of how he must have been before Lucas’s death.
She found herself having to swallow a lump. ‘Don’t forget to feed Harry’s friends. Horsie and Moo-Moo love chocolate custard as well.’
He knew that game too. He pretended to feed Harry’s stuffed toys, and her insides turned to mush all over again. Get the baby’s bottle ready, she ordered herself. Stop ogling.
She turned with the bottle just as Liam scraped the tin of custard clean. He held it up. ‘I think he could go another tin of that stuff.’
She bit back a grin. ‘I think you mean you could.’
He shrugged, and looked so delightfully nonplussed it took all the strength she had in her to not lean over and plant a kiss on the top of his head.
A crazy thought.
She wiped Harry’s face clean and then lifted him out of his highchair. The longing on Liam’s face made her pause. ‘Are you starving yet? Do you want dinner now, or can you hold off for a bit?’
‘I can hold off.’
‘Then go get your guitar and meet me in Harry’s room.’
His smile vanished just like that. His shoulders tensed. It was as if she’d flicked a switch that had turned all the lights out and plunged him into darkness.
He shot to his feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’ He nodded towards Harry without looking at him. ‘Take your time. I’m in no hurry for dinner.’
With that, he strode from the room. She stared after him, and all her previous warmth drained out of her.
He hasn’t been in the nursery since…
Since when? She now wished she’d asked Beattie. Since his wife had left? Five years ago?
A chill crept through her. ‘Oh, Harry, this isn’t good.’ If Liam refused to face his demons then…then this next fortnight was an exercise in futility. Liam was Harry’s best hope. If he failed, Harry would be placed in the care of strangers.
The Cattleman, The Baby and Me Page 7
