The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads)

by Carol Marinelli

  She stared down, aghast. ‘Heavens, yes!’ Plonking Bailey down, she ran to the stairs as she called out to him over her shoulder. ‘I’d have gone, you know—if you hadn’t told me I’d be walking around the supermarket…’

  Her voice faded as she climbed the stairs, but instead of changing Bailey’s nappy, instead of trying to locate his wallet or checking the pantry for what was needed—everything—Hamish just stood there…

  ‘Dar-dot!’ Bailey stared at his dad, as if reading his mind. ‘Want Dar-dot.’

  ‘I know the feeling, buddy,’ Hamish said under his breath, then, picking up his son, he stared at the muddy footprints her gumboots had left the length of the hallway—like some decadent yellow brick road that he was tempted to follow. Her dog and cat sat forlornly at the bottom of the steps, waiting for her to come down, and at that moment both he and Bailey could have joined them.

  She’d spun into his world on her own self-fuelled tornado, filled his empty home with animals, laughter and gentle bullying—it was eight o’clock on a Saturday morning and here they were, heading for the shops. The spare room was painted, Bailey far happier than he ever had been, and as for Hamish…

  His stomach tightened with lust and something else which at the moment he couldn’t define, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  His good mood soon evaporated. For Hamish there was nothing attractive about Saturday morning at a super-market—early they might be, but every family in town had had the same idea and it took for ever to find a parking spot, then, attempting to pull out a trolley he discovered that since last he’d done this, he now needed a coin—which did nothing to add to his distracted and slightly testy mood. But Charlotte was in her element, loading Bailey into his little throne and steering her trolley like a woman on a mission.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Hamish snapped, as she replaced the loaf of bread he had picked up and replaced it with two of a different brand.

  ‘Buy one, get one free!’ Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out a huge silver bulldog clip holding together bundles of paper. ‘Coupons!’

  ‘You cut out shopping coupons!’

  ‘Of course I do! We’re not all on a consultant’s salary.’

  ‘This is bad enough, Charlotte, without having to…’ He peered through the mountain of coupons she had diligently clipped. ‘We’ll be here for ever.’

  ‘So relax and enjoy it!’

  Easier said than done.

  ‘Hamish!’ Well groomed, well dressed and, well, just a little pushy, one of the mums from crèche caught up with him as he was wrestling a huge box of nappies from the top shelf, as opposed to the small pack he usually purchased, while Charlotte checked out the gum gel. ‘No luck with the potty training, then?’

  ‘None,’ Hamish said grimly. ‘How did it go with Felicity?’

  ‘Great. She’s actually dry through the night now. Oh, hello!’ Despite her smile, there was defiantly a frown on her face and a rather awkward moment ensued as Charlotte came over, her hands full of lotions and potions, completely unable to make a choice.

  ‘This is Charlotte.’ Hamish started to introduce, then came another awkward moment when he realised he didn’t actually know Felicity’s mother’s name. ‘She lives with me.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Well sort of…’ Hamish offered, wishing he’d never agreed to come shopping.

  ‘I’m the live-in babysitter.’ Charlotte gave a warm smile. ‘And you are…?’

  ‘Lucy!’ The frown that looked as if it had been tattooed on faded just a touch. ‘So you two aren’t…’

  ‘Goodness, no.’ Charlotte laughed as the two vertical lines evaporated completely. ‘He’s way too miserable for me.’

  ‘You know, I bought Felicity a lovely potty. When she goes it plays a little song—of course she’s past that now, she’s sitting on the toilet.’

  ‘Fantastic!’ Hamish attempted.

  ‘You’re welcome to borrow it when you want to have another try with Bailey. Catch me at crèche drop-off one morning if you want it and you can call around and pick it up.’

  ‘Sure.’ Once she’d gone, Hamish gave a miserable sigh. ‘Maybe I should just buy the little pack after all and really give this potty training a go.’

  Still, after that, shopping was surprisingly easy—Charlotte made it surprisingly easy. Whipping out a little carton of apple juice from that oversized handbag when Bailey started grizzling, piling the trolley with food, essentials and an awful lot of goodies as she chattered on incessantly. Even the formidable queue was made bearable when finally he followed her lead.

  She was leafing through magazines, brazenly reading anything that caught her interest, then, without even a hint of blush, putting them back and moving on to the next one as the checkout operator gave her a baleful look.

  ‘You can’t just read them and not buy them!’

  ‘If more aisles were open, I wouldn’t need to read their magazines.’ Charlotte shrugged. ‘Ooh, I think I will buy this one—apparently my finances are going to improve and I’m going to fall head over heels in love…’ Screwing up her nose, she suddenly put it back. ‘It says to watch my health. What does yours say?’ Charlotte asked, inching the trolley along and starting to unload, smiling as he actually picked up a glossy and thumbed his way through it.

  ‘That if I’m not careful I’m going to be completely corrupted—Bailey, too…’ Hamish gave an apologetic nod to the now extremely irritated checkout operator as his son reached over and clamped his hand over a bar of chocolate. ‘No, Bailey!’

  ‘Oh, he’s been so good, just let him have it,’ Charlotte said, peeling off the wrapper and handing it to the checkout assistant, dazzling her with her smile as she unloaded their groaning trolley. ‘How are you?’ Charlotte beamed before the assistant even had a chance to deliver the weary question of her own. ‘Worn out, I’ll bet, with these queues and everyone moaning about delays. Why on earth don’t they open more checkouts and make things a touch easier for you?’

  And somehow she did it again. The miserable, irritable checkout operator was now gratefully taking the opportunity to moan about management and customers and people who thought their children could help themselves to whatever they wanted at the checkout.

  ‘Not like you, of course…’ She gave the three of them a fond smile as she tore off the receipt. ‘At least you remembered to hand over the wrapper. You make a lovely family.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Charlotte said, steering the trolley towards the café, ignoring Hamish’s sudden dark mood. ‘Ooh, smell that bacon.’

  ‘Let’s just get home.’

  ‘Surely we can have just a quick coffee!’

  Which for Charlotte meant the full breakfast! Sitting down with her laden tray in the cosy café, she ignored Hamish’s baleful look.

  ‘You shouldn’t have said that,’ Hamish said when finally she was organised and tucking into a mountain of bacon, eggs and beans. Bailey was happily chomping on a large muffin.

  ‘Said what?’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some breakfast?’

  ‘That we were a family.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Tearing open a roll, she ignored the shake of his head and crammed it with bacon and handed it to him. When still he shook his head, she popped it on a side plate and left it on the table in front of him. ‘And you did so well with Lucy—you practically told her I was your new lover.’

  ‘Well, I’ll know better next time,’ Hamish snapped. ‘But you let that woman think we were actually a family…’

  ‘She was just making conversation, for goodness’ sake. What was I supposed to say to the poor woman? “Well, actually, he was widowed last year, the little guy hasn’t got a mum—oh, and while we’re on the subject my mum actually just sold the family home and flew off with her latest lover to Queensland, technically leaving me and all my pets homeless…”

  ‘Oh, Helen! Over here!’ Charlotte stood up and waved as Hamish tried to sink lower in his seat
as their strange living arrangement was suddenly outed again.

  ‘You said you were discreet!’ Hamish hissed. ‘What the hell did you have to call her over for?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Charlotte blinked as Helen gave a delighted wave and made her way over. ‘Everyone knows anyway!’

  ‘But we look like…’ He stared around the café, at all the tables filled with couples and toddlers and groaning trolleys, but Charlotte missed his point.

  ‘We’re not snogging.’ She giggled. ‘We’re not sitting holding hands across the table while I feed you with my fork. We are allowed to eat, you know, and shop. Relax, would you?’

  He had no intention of relaxing!

  None at all, though when Helen barely turned a hair, just gave a vague ‘hi’ to him then proceeded to chat to Charlotte about a new shoe purchase, he wasn’t left with much choice but to give in, give up his bad mood and drink his coffee.

  ‘I took your advice and got them, Charlotte…’ Helen rummaged in the carrier bag. ‘You like my new shoes, Hamish?’

  He was about to give a polite nod and smile when Helen pulled out a pair of brown flats, or whatever shoes sixty-year-old women wore, but as Helen pulled out a pair of very high, very red stilettos, somehow he knew he mustn’t catch Charlotte’s eyes, knew that if he did, he’d start laughing.

  ‘They’re…nice.’

  ‘Gorgeous.’ Charlotte beamed. And Hamish decided that the world had gone mad!

  And finally he did relax, taking the roll and biting in to it, chatting to Bailey yet glancing over every now and then as Charlotte oohed and ahhed with Helen.

  Trying and failing to make her out.

  Today was the first time she’d even so much as indicated that her own life was less than perfect, the first time he’d even glimpsed at what went on behind that happy, scattered thought process, and Hamish, finally admitted to himself that he wanted to hear more…really wanted to get know the real Charlotte.

  And later, when the groceries had long been put away and his whole day had been spent avoiding thinking, he walked into the family room to see her curled up, reading on the sofa, idly eating an apple and wearing glasses he’d never seen her in before. Weak in the knees with longing, finally he could avoid it no more, condensed his thoughts just a touch further…

  He really wanted her…

  ‘Where’s Bailey?’ Smiling quizzically at him just standing there, Charlotte looked up from her book.

  ‘Teasing the cat!’ Hamish gave a tight smile, feeling like a lech for being caught staring, feeling like an idiot just standing there, but his mind was working overtime, wondering if he could ring Bel and ask her to babysit, then wondering what the hell he would do then! He hadn’t asked a woman out in over a decade! And if he did ask her and she said no, how awkward would that make things? And if he did ask her and she said yes…

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Six.’ Hamish stared down at his watch. ‘Charlotte, I was just thinking—’

  ‘Six!’ Horrified, she jumped up. ‘Oh, God, I got lost. I’ve been reading for hours! I’m going to be late! Sorry…’ Spinning out the room, she paused momentarily. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘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!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘YOU 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 sem
aphore 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.