‘It’ll be fine,’ she told him. ‘The town knows I’m respectable and they know I’ve been looking for a tenant for months. And people already know about Bailey. Believe it or not, I’ve had four phone calls already saying how can you-you, Nicholas Holt-take care of a recuperating child in this house, and why don’t I take pity on you and ask you to move into my place?’
And every one of those calls had been engineered by Fred. The old vet was a Machiavellian busybody.
She loved him to bits.
‘So all I need to do is tell the people who’ve suggested it how brilliant they are,’ she added.
And keep this businesslike, she added to herself, because, respectable or not, any sniff of anything else would get around so fast…
But, in truth, Banksia Bay might decide anything else was a good thing, she thought, letting herself wallow in bitterness a bit longer. The locals knew of her dreams, but they flatly rejected the idea she could ever leave. They’d approve of anything that kept her here.
Despite that, she was still fighting to get herself free. And this could help. Having people share her house. Share Ketchup.
Businesslike was the way to go, she told herself again. Adonis or not, involvement messed with her dreams.
As did the sight of Nicholas Holt’s bare chest.
But in her silence Nick had been thinking. ‘It could work well,’ he said slowly. ‘We can share Ketchup.’
Here was an echo of her thoughts. ‘Share?’
‘I told Bailey if we didn’t move into your house we’d get a dog.’
‘Dad…’ Bailey said, unsure.
‘We don’t need our own dog if we have Ketchup,’ Nick said. And all the colour went from Bailey’s face, just like that. All the joy. He’d opened the door for Misty looking puffed up like a peacock, a six-year-old with all the pleasure in the world before him.
Right now, he looked as if he’d been slapped.
‘But you said,’ Bailey whispered. Nick had seen Bailey’s colour fade. In two strides he was beside him, lifting him up into his arms. Holding him close. ‘Don’t you want to stay with Miss Lawrence and Ketchup?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but I want a dog of my very own,’ Bailey whispered.
‘We don’t need…’ Nick started but Misty shook her head. She’d looked at Bailey and thought yes, he does. He does need a dog of his own.
Sharing wouldn’t cut it.
Misty had had a solitary childhood, living out of town with her elderly, invalid grandparents. Her dogs had meant everything to her.
Last night she’d seen an echo of that. Noses on the beach. Ketchup.
Bailey was a great kid. She knew him well enough to realise he’d take great care of a dog.
So say it.
‘What if I give you Ketchup?’ she said, and both guys looked at her as if she’d just declared she was selling her grandmother.
‘But Ketchup’s yours,’ Bailey whispered, appalled. ‘He knows he is. He told me.’
‘I’ve only just got him,’ Misty said gently. ‘He doesn’t really know me. You and Ketchup had a wonderful game on the beach last night.’
‘I want my dog and Ketchup to be friends.’
And Nick obviously had qualms as well, but they were different qualms. ‘The vet says Ketchup’s close to ten years old,’ he said.
Now it was Misty’s turn to look at Nick as if he was selling his grandmother.
‘So?’
‘So he’ll…’
‘He’ll what?’ she said dangerously.
‘If we must get a dog, we’ll get a young one. Ketchup will cause you grief.’
‘Everyone causes you grief,’ she said. ‘That’s what loving’s about. Like you. You love Bailey so you promised him a dog.’
‘I didn’t actually promise.’
‘You did,’ Bailey said and buried his face in his father’s shoulder.
‘I believe I said if we didn’t live with Miss Lawrence.’
His explanation didn’t help at all. Bailey’s sob was truly heart-rending-and Nicholas looked at her as if she’d personally caused this.
Enough. This was crazy. She was starting to feel as if she was causing nothing but heartache.
The sight of Nick hugging Bailey was doing weird things to her. Nick with his gorgeous body. Nick with the way he loved his son.
And Bailey? Somehow this small boy had managed to twist his way right around her heart.
Bailey’s pyjama sleeve was hitched up as he clung round his father’s neck. She could see the savage mark of the bullet, and the scars from the surgery after.
She was messing with Bailey by being here, she decided. Nick had had this sorted, and now she’d come in with an offer that was messing with Bailey’s dreams.
Nick would find somewhere else to live. She didn’t actually need these two guys in her house. Not if it messed with dreams.
‘I believe I need to rescind,’ she said before she could think it through any further.
‘Sorry?’ Nick sounded stunned.
‘My offer is withdrawn.’ She took a deep breath and met his gaze square on. ‘Bailey needs a dog.’
‘Not if he gets to share yours.’
‘He’s not sharing mine. I no longer want you as tenants. Not if it means Bailey misses out on a dog of his own.’
Once again, that look as if she had two heads. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘It is,’ she said, but then she thought that it wasn’t. She thought of the white-faced little boy on Friday night, grabbing his teddy as soon as he got home. She thought of him last night on the beach, touching noses with Ketchup.
A dog of his own would be perfect.
But Nick’s face…
How had this happened? He was stuck if he did, and stuck if he didn’t.
So help him out. Make his decision for him. She’d always fought for her students’ needs. For Bailey, there was never going to be a better time to fight than right now.
‘So you’re saying…’ Nicholas said slowly.
‘That I’m no longer offering you my house. Unless,’ she said softly, watching Bailey, ‘Bailey has his own dog.’
Nick’s face turned to thunder.
‘Henrietta Farnsworth runs the Animal Welfare,’ she said, briskly efficient now she saw her way. Or Nick’s way. ‘It’s only open weekdays, but on Sundays she feeds and cleans at eleven. You could go choose a dog and then accept my very kind offer by midday.’
‘This is blackmail.’ Nick’s growl was truly menacing, but Bailey had turned to look at her and his look strengthened her resolve. She grinned at Bailey and she winked.
‘I agree with Bailey. He needs his own dog.’
‘Dogs cause you grief. I don’t want Bailey to face that kind of hurt.’
‘You’re saying you won’t get a dog because eventually you might lose him? What sort of argument is that? You’re living in the country now. Country kids know about birth and death. Natalie’s dad’s cow lost one of her twins yesterday. Natalie will tell everyone all the gory details on Monday morning. It’s sad but it happens. You can’t shield Bailey for ever. Choose a young dog and take your chances.’
Silence. She let the silence run.
Nick set Bailey down and Bailey had the sense to remain silent. Nick raked his fingers through his hair again. She’d first noticed him doing it yesterday, when he was drawing his plans for her yurt. His long strong fingers, running through thick wavy hair, had made her feel… Was making her feel…
Uh oh. Let’s not go there.
But she was there. Maybe this man was going to live just through the wall from her.
She shivered, but not with cold.
But he was still coming at her with arguments. ‘I didn’t mean to promise Bailey a dog,’ he started.
She was ready for him this time, growing firmer. ‘Yes, you did or you wouldn’t have said it.’
‘It was a rash moment.’
‘You’ll love a dog. You saw Ketchup and Bailey together. You�
��ll both love a dog.’
‘But Ketchup’s recuperating.’ He was starting to sound helpless. Helpless and sexy. It seemed an incredibly appealing, incredibly masculine combination.
Stop it. She was a respectable schoolteacher, she told herself. She was a potential landlady. Listen to what he’s saying.
‘Ketchup doesn’t need company.’ His arguments were getting weaker.
‘Ketchup doesn’t need a rough companion,’ she agreed. ‘Or not at first. But we can keep them separate. Like you and I will be separate. I want tenants, not friends.’
‘Really?’
She drew her breath in on that one. Really?
‘We can meet on the veranda occasionally,’ she conceded.
‘And Bailey can play with Ketchup,’ he said, fast. ‘See, he doesn’t need a dog of his own.’
‘I do,’ Bailey said.
‘He does,’ she said. ‘But this is no longer my call. Talk to your son about it. I’m happy to welcome you, your son and your dog into my house, or I’m happy to continue living alone. I need to check on Ketchup. Let me know.’
Enough. She’d thrown her hat into the ring.
Now it was up to him.
‘Up to you,’ she said and she turned and walked back down the veranda steps and drove away.
What had she done?
Nicholas Holt had just backed himself into a very small corner.
Maybe he’d be angry. Maybe he’d decide that yes, he’d buy a dog, but they wouldn’t move into her place. If he thought she was a blackmailer, they just might.
Maybe he’d tell Bailey that yes, he’d buy him a dog, but not till, say, Christmas. Or when he reached twenty-one.
Ketchup was awake and watching for her. He hopped stiffly out of his basket, balancing on three legs as he nudged her ankles. He had a world of worry in his eyes.
‘That makes two of us worried. But I don’t know why I am,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want them to move here. It’d cause complications.’
But she was lying. She did want them to move here. She wanted complications.
‘Only because I can’t have my yurt for a while longer,’ she muttered. ‘I need to let it go.’
She had let it go. And maybe she’d just let prospective tenants go.
‘I’ve pushed him too far,’ she told Ketchup.
Maybe he wasn’t as wealthy as the Internet suggested. She knew the guy who owned the house he was in. He’d have demanded rent in advance.
Nick was already paying an expensive veterinary bill. He hadn’t asked her how much she intended charging. Maybe… Maybe…
Maybe she was a complete fool. And the way he made her feel… What was she doing, hoping the phone would ring?
The phone rang.
She let it ring five times. It wouldn’t do to be eager.
On the sixth ring she lifted it. ‘Yes?’ She was gearing herself for a blunt refusal. Anger. Maybe he had the right to be angry.
‘You need to help me,’ Nick said, sounding goaded.
‘How can I do that?’
‘You need to help my son choose a dog,’ he said. ‘What time did you say this woman will be at the Shelter? And then you need to give me a key to your front door. I believe you have two new tenants. Three, if you count our new dog.’
CHAPTER SIX
NICK drove towards the Animal Shelter and beside him Bailey’s face glowed. He held his teddy, but he was looking forward, all eagerness, to what lay ahead.
‘A dog of my own,’ he whispered as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. ‘And living with Miss Lawrence…’
‘Next door to Miss Lawrence.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m getting a dog.’
Dogs had germs. Nick could still hear the echo of his mother’s horrified response when he’d asked for a dog thirty years ago.
Germs. Heartbreak. Loss. This was a risk-but Misty was right. He couldn’t protect his son from everything. He needed to loosen up.
And his son would be safe with Misty. The sensation that caused was wonderful. It was like going into freefall, but knowing the landing was assured. And maybe the landing was more wonderful than the fall itself.
For, dog or not, once he’d agreed to her conditions, he felt as if he was landing. He was finding a home for his son-with Misty.
He was finding a home beside Misty, he reminded himself, but that wasn’t how his body was thinking.
She’d teased him this morning. She’d backed him into a corner and she’d enjoyed doing it.
He’d been angry, frustrated, baffled-but he’d loved her doing it.
He turned the corner and she was already parked outside the Shelter. She was standing in the dappled sunlight under a vast gum tree, in her faded jeans, a sleeveless gingham shirt and old trainers. Her hair was caught back with a red ribbon and the sunlight was making her chestnut curls shine.
‘Isn’t she pretty?’ Bailey whispered and he could only agree.
Beautiful.
‘She has Ketchup,’ his son added, and Bailey was right. She had her dog in her arms. Why did she have him here?
‘We need Ketchup’s approval,’ she explained. ‘If these dogs are to live next door, we can’t have them growling at each other.’
‘I want a running dog,’ Bailey said.
‘Fast is good,’ Misty agreed. She wasn’t looking at Nick. Her attention was totally on Bailey and he was caught by the fact that he was sidelined.
From the time he’d won his first design prize, aged all of nineteen, Nick had moved among some of the wealthiest women in the world. His boat owners had money to burn and the boats he designed meant he had money to match them.
Women reacted to him. Even when he’d been married, women had taken notice of him. But now it was clear he came a poor second to his son and he thought the better of her for it.
More than that, the sensation had him feeling… Feeling…
Now’s hardly the time to think about how you’re feeling, he told himself. Not when you’re about to move next door to her. You’re here to choose a dog for your son.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ he muttered, and Misty looked at him in astonishment.
‘Don’t sound so severe. This isn’t a trip to the dentist.’
‘It might as well be.’
She’d started walking towards the Shelter but his words stopped her. She turned and met his gaze full on. Carefully, she set Ketchup down on the grass and she disengaged her hand from Bailey’s.
‘If you really don’t want a dog, then stop right now,’ she said, her voice suddenly steely. ‘The dogs in the Shelter have had a tough time-they’ve been abandoned already. They don’t want a half-hearted owner. Bailey, if your daddy doesn’t really want a dog, then of course I won’t insist. You can still share my house, and you and I can share Ketchup.’
She was angry?
She was definitely angry.
‘I got it wrong,’ she told him, still in that cold voice. ‘I thought it was just your stupid qualms about germs and risks. But if it’s more…say it now, Nicholas, and we’ll all go home. Bailey, if your father doesn’t really want a dog, honestly, could you be happy with Ketchup?’
Bailey stared up at her, surprised. He looked down at Ketchup, who looked back at him. Kid and dog.
‘Dad says we can have a dog,’ he whispered.
‘He needs to prove it. Why don’t we leave it for a bit so he can make up his mind? Owning your own dog is a big thing. I’m not sure your dad’s ready for it.’
He was a bright kid, was Bailey, and he knew the odds. He looked up at Nick and he tilted his chin. And then, surprisingly, he tucked his hand into Misty’s.
‘It’s okay,’ he told his father. He swallowed manfully. ‘Miss Lawrence and I can share looking after Ketchup.’ He sounded as if he was placating someone the same age as he was-or younger. ‘If you really, really, really don’t want a dog just for us, then it’s okay, Dad.’ He gulped and clutched his teddy.
It
only needed this. Nick closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were still looking at him. Misty and Bailey. And Ketchup. Even Teddy.
If you really, really, really don’t want a dog just for us…
Misty’s gaze had lost its cool. Now she looked totally nonjudgmental. She’d backed right off. She’d given him a way out.
Behind them, a woman was emerging from the Shelter. Glancing across at them. Starting to lock up.
Was this Henrietta, finishing early? She was letting him off the hook as well.
He felt about six inches high.
What had he got himself into?
He glanced once more, at his son and his son’s teacher, and suddenly he knew exactly what he was getting into.
‘You want to go home?’ Misty asked and he shook his head.
‘I’m an idiot,’ he told her. And then… ‘Are you Henrietta?’ he called before any more of his stupid scruples could get in the way of what was looking more and more…he didn’t know what, but he surely intended to find out.
‘Yes,’ the woman called back, cautious.
‘Can you wait a moment before you lock up?’ he asked her. ‘If it’s okay with you… My son and I are here to see if we can choose a dog. We both want a dog and we’re hoping we can find one, right now. A dog that’s fast. A dog that’s young and a dog who can belong just to Bailey.’
And in the end it was easy.
Misty and Nick left things to Henrietta and Bailey. ‘Henrietta knows her dogs,’ Misty told Nick. ‘She won’t introduce him to one that’s unsuitable.’
Bailey walked along the pens, looking worried. He looked at each dog in turn. They barked, they whined or they ignored him, and Bailey looked increasingly unsure.
But then he came to a pen near the end, and he stopped.
‘This one’s a whippet,’ Henrietta said. ‘She’s fast. She’s hardly more than a pup and she’s a sweetheart.’
‘She’s hurt her face,’ Bailey whispered.
‘Most dogs in here have scars,’ Henrietta told him and she was talking to him as if he was an equal and not six years old.
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