Misty and the Single Dad

complications had crowded in, but she’d been so overwhelmed she’d made the offer before she thought. And now…

Now he’d accepted. Warily. So where to take it from here?

This was still sensible, she told herself. Stick to business. She needed to avoid looking at his body and remember what she’d planned to say.

‘You might need to think about it,’ she managed. ‘You…you’ll need to agree to my rent. And we’d need to set up rules. We’d live on opposite sides of the house. You’d look after yourselves. No shared cooking or housework. Separate households. I’m not turning into your housekeeper.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ He raked his fingers through his damp hair, looking flummoxed. ‘You’re serious?’

‘I think I am.’ Was she serious? She was probably seriously nuts-but how did a girl back out now? She couldn’t.

A sudden gust of wind hit the outside of the house and blew straight through the floorboards. This house was colder inside than out, she thought. Bailey shouldn’t be here and Nick knew it.

‘Would there be gossip?’ he asked.

So he knew how small towns worked. He was right. In most small towns, gossip would be an issue.

But there was never gossip about her, Misty thought, feeling suddenly bitter. She was Banksia Bay’s good girl. It’d take more than one man and his son to mess with the stereotype the locals had created for her.

‘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