by Sue MacKay
Abbie laughed. And laughed. When she finally got some control she managed to splutter, ‘Now I know how rattled you are.’
‘I am not,’ Emma ground through her teeth. She hadn’t been, but she wondered if she was expecting too much. She shook off that though—now was the time to leap in and have some fun, maybe find love while she was at it. ‘Not rattled, bewildered.’ She held her hand up. ‘No words of wisdom, please. I’m going to work this out my way.’ Hopefully that would encompass another of those stupendous kisses. At least one.
‘Here, get this into you.’ Callum handed her a beer. ‘Since I’ve suddenly been replaced as—’ he flicked his fingers in the air ‘—quote, “daddy partner”, I’ll be the drinks waiter.’
He could stop laughing and all. Emma grabbed the beer and gratefully tipped a mouthful down her dry throat. Then nearly choked when Nixon looked across at her with such a smile of delight on his face as Rosie cheered loudly over a goal they’d scored. ‘He’s enjoying himself,’ she muttered.
‘What can I say?’ Abbie gloated. Then twenty minutes later she said, ‘Get that man a beer, Callum. The game’s finished.’
Rosie was trotting alongside Nixon trying to keep up with his long stride, her hand in his. ‘Mummy, did you see that? Nixon helped me kick a goal.’
‘Clever clogs. You played really well.’ Emma smoothed errant curls off her daughter’s forehead and leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering, ‘Did you thank Nixon for playing with you?’
‘Thank you, Nixon, for playing with me.’ Rosie was jumping up and down between her and Nixon. ‘I’m going to get a present, I’m going to get a present.’
Emma slapped a hand over her ear nearest that explosion, but too late. The sound reverberated through her head. ‘Jeez, Rosie, down a decibel or three, if you can.’
‘What’s a decibel?’
Nixon chortled. ‘I think your mother is saying you shout too loudly.’
‘That’s how I make her hear me.’ Rosie had an answer for everything since starting school.
‘Go on, join the other kids. The presents will be given out shortly.’ Emma patted her bottom.
‘Where’s Santa?’ Rosie’s face fell. ‘How will I get a present if he’s not here?’
‘You won’t miss out, my girl. Have I created a spoilt little monster by any chance?’ she asked the others.
‘It’s Christmas. This is what kids are like,’ Abbie reassured her.
‘Did you get her a muzzle by any chance?’ Nixon asked.
She nodded. ‘A permanent one.’ Somehow she’d stepped closer to Nixon, could feel him beside her without touching him. As if they were a couple—an in-tune couple, not a hit-and-miss pair of messed-up characters. A permanent kind of life. Oh, hell, what was she thinking? ‘The barbecues are being cranked up. You’ll stay?’
Don’t say no, please don’t say no…
‘Love to, but shouldn’t I have contributed something?’
‘There’s enough food to feed twice this many people, and I brought some beer so you’re all good. Anyway, you took me flying. Should I have paid half the plane rental?’ she asked sharply. It hadn’t occurred to her to offer when her mind had been on other things. ‘I never thought.’
‘I invited you to join me. I didn’t expect you to pay. The only stipulation was to have a great time, and you did that.’
Gazing at Nixon, she told him truthfully, ‘I certainly did. Way beyond my expectations.’ So was that kiss. ‘It gripped me. I felt I’d left everything on the ground for an hour.’
‘That’s how I feel most times.’ Back to smiling. Not that he’d really stopped since he’d arrived. ‘There’s a freedom up there like no other, away from people, except the ones yabbering in your ear from air traffic control.’
‘No white lines and pedestrian crossings.’
‘Sure you don’t want to take it up?’
‘Yes. I don’t do much for me what with Rosie and work, but it’s time I found something to get passionate about. Holding those controls gave me confidence and nudged me into thinking about a whole raft of things I might like to take up, but I keep coming back to owning my own horse one day. If that sounds like mumbo jumbo it’s because I spent so long getting over the past I forgot about the future.’
And you, Dr Wright, are shaking me up something shocking. Exhilarating even.
‘We’ll go up soon, take Rosie with us.’
‘Yes, please.’ Bring it on. The flying. And Nixon time.
How long before kisses weren’t going to be enough?
Settle, Emma. Getting ahead of yourself here. Until two weeks ago you weren’t interested in any guy, or having fun and kisses and—and sex.
Whoa. Sex? It did follow on from the kind of deep and meaningful kiss they’d shared. But sex—with Nixon? Why not? With all the aches her body had going on? She shuddered. Maybe not.
‘I’ll go help Callum at those barbecues.’ Nixon sauntered off.
‘He looks like he belongs here,’ Abbie muttered.
‘Shouldn’t you be watching Grace?’ Emma growled.
‘Just saying.’
Emma swallowed a laugh. ‘Can I have a hold?’ She reached out for Grace, who was staring up at her. ‘Hey, gorgeous. How’re you doing?’ Snuggle, snuggle. Sigh.
‘That sounded like a wish.’ Abbie was watching her, no longer smiling or teasing, now in concerned-friend mode.
‘Not for Grace, in case you’re worried.’ Yes, holding Grace still cranked up the hormones something terrible but it had got easier over the past few days. The gaps between feeling lost and needy for this baby were stretching longer and occurring less frequently. No, this feeling going on inside her involved Nixon and her own family. ‘If anything’s come of having Grace it’s that I’m missing out on so much. Would it be greedy to want another baby? No, let me rephrase that. A family. The whole shebang. Loving man, more children.’
‘What’s greedy about that? It’s what most of us want eventually, after we get the crazy stuff out of our systems. This anything to do with Nixon?’
‘Lots.’ There. She’d admitted it out loud. To the one person who’d treat it with the care it deserved. ‘But I’m scared. It doesn’t help that Nixon’s not ready and nothing’s going to happen.’
‘You could try enjoying the moments. One step at a time. Says the woman who was never going to find love again, and kapow!’
A sense of well-being encompassed Emma. Excitement, caution, need, independence. Every emotion in the book rolled through her without tipping her sideways, instead leaving her with an easy acceptance.
‘Very profound.’ Abbie chuckled. ‘We’re two mature, life-damaged women and we’ve arrived at that? I like it. What will be tonight is you and Nixon sharing overcooked steak and sausages off the barbecue along with soggy coleslaw made by our favourite elderly neighbour and baked spuds in tinfoil still hard in the middle. But, hey, you won’t notice, because you’ve hardly noticed a thing since he turned up. Then you’ll take Rosie home, tuck her in bed, and snog Nixon senseless. How’s that?’
Perfect. ‘Don’t expect me to report in with a running commentary.’ She handed Grace back to her mother with only a tiny backward glance. ‘Better go see how Rosie is doing. I got her a pogo stick for her present.’
Seems Nixon had beaten her to helping Rosie. He was holding the stick and Rosie’s arm as she tried to bounce along the path. ‘Don’t lift your feet off the step,’ he instructed. ‘That’s it. Now lift your legs and the stick at the same time. Like this.’ Without letting go of Rosie he did a good impersonation of bouncing on a stick when he didn’t have one.
Rosie wobbled on the stick, concentrating fiercely, then bounced. A tiny bounce, but it was real.
‘Go, girl,’ Emma encouraged. ‘Do it again. Yes, awesome.’
Nixon walked alongside Rosie, keeping her steady as she got the hang of the motion.
Then, ‘Let go, Nixon. I can do it on my own.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ But
he kept his hands close, ready to catch her if—when it all turned to custard. After three bounces. ‘Got you.’
He’d make a good dad for that baby she wanted. Bumps lifted on her skin. Far too soon, Emma. ‘Okay, you two, come and get some dinner.’ She couldn’t watch any more now that idea had struck. Nixon helping Rosie with her kite last weekend had started the hope rising, and today was lifting it to a whole new level. But Nixon would say he wasn’t used to playing with kids, and that he had a lot to learn. ‘You’re a natural,’ she told him over burnt sausages and well-done steak.
‘At what?’ he asked before loading dressing-laden salad into his mouth.
‘Being social.’ No need to scare the pants off him. Now there was a thought. Her eyes did a quick cruise over his butt. A brilliant thought. Tempting. And would certainly put the kibosh on being friends afterwards.
*
Rosie was exhausted after her exciting afternoon and went to bed unexpectedly early without a whimper. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’
‘I want Nixon to tuck me in.’
Take a back seat, Mummy.
‘Nixon, you’re required.’
He strolled into Rosie’s bedroom, taking up all the space, and leaned over the bed. ‘Hey, sport, you did good on that pogo stick. And you got a soccer goal.’
‘I’m clever, aren’t I?’ Rosie gave an impish grin and held out her hand to high five.
‘Very clever. But it’s time you went to sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow.’
Emma choked. Nixon sounded like a regular dad. He’d probably got it from his uncle speaking to him as a child. The number of times she said things to Rosie, told her off for a misdemeanour or praised her, in the exact same words and tone as her mother had used with her had her expecting to find her mum was sitting on her shoulder putting the words in her mouth.
Moving to the other side of the bed, she bent down and kissed her gorgeous girl. ‘Goodnight, darling. Sleep tight, make sure the bedbugs don’t bite.’
‘There’re no bugs in my bed.’ Rosie shuffled further down the bed, tucking the blanket around her cute little face. ‘Night, Mummy…night, Nixon.’ Then, ‘Mummy, is Santa coming tomorrow?’
‘Not for some more days.’
‘He’s taking for ever,’ Rosie sighed. ‘I can’t wait that long.’
‘You’re going to have to, my girl.’
Out in the kitchen Emma put the kettle on. ‘Tea or coffee? Or there’s beer if you want some.’
‘Coffee, ta.’ He came to stand beside her, that enticing butt parked against the edge of the bench. ‘I enjoyed today.’
‘Nothing wrong with a good old street party with the kids and oldies all mixed in. Abbie and I started it our first year here. Some of the older folk don’t have family in the area and the busy build-up in the weeks before Christmas with parties and celebrations seemed lonely for them so we went door knocking and told everyone let’s have a barbecue on the street.’ Now it was an annual event.
‘What I meant was I enjoyed hanging out with you and Rosie, with your friends. It was comfortable and fun, and…’ he raised a hand to lift a curl off her cheek ‘…and perfect. I could get to wanting to do it regularly.’
Knock me down. ‘You can join in any time you like.’
‘It’s that simple?’ He breathed out the question.
Emma shook her head. ‘It’s getting to be, the more time we spend together.’
‘Is that how you approach everything, Em?’ His eyes locked onto hers. ‘You didn’t mind stepping out of your comfort zone and going flying with me. You obviously love your job and nothing seems to daunt you there. You’re bringing up Rosie single-handedly for all the world like it’s a breeze. But I see moments of wariness and worry clouding your eyes when you think no one’s watching. I know you have trust issues, and understandably so, but are you really so at ease with me, with us?’
‘Blimey. Don’t hold back, will you?’ He was asking things he would not answer if she reciprocated. She spooned coffee into a mug and dropped a teabag into another. ‘Everyone has moments of uncertainty. I’ve told you some of mine. Having Grace gave me a huge jolt and got me thinking there was more out there if I’d just grab it. I’ve been afraid I’d get it wrong again if I ventured into the world of men and love, but suddenly I’m sick of hesitating. I want to put my toes in the water and to hell with the consequences. I’ve survived the past. I can survive the future.’
‘You kissed me. Should I take that as a compliment?’ Serious face on. Meaning?
‘You’re the first man I’ve kissed in many years.’
‘Definitely a compliment.’ A teasing smile appeared.
Emma dropped the teaspoon and leaned closer to him, drawn in by that smile and the intensity in his eyes, by the muscular body dwarfing her small frame, by the man scent pervading the air between them. ‘You like compliments?’ she whispered.
‘Let me give you one.’ Then his hands were on her arms, bringing her close, his head dipping to find her mouth. His lips covered hers, possessed hers, sent need spiralling out of control to every corner of her taut body. Melting against him, she returned the kiss, gave herself to him with no barriers in the way. Nothing but them. Together. Kissing. Needing. Wanting. Complimenting each other.
‘Mummy, I’m thirsty.’
Emma jerked away from Nixon, her cheeks flushed, her heart disappointed. ‘The real world of a single mum.’ She sighed and grabbed a glass to fill with water. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s how it is. Real.’
The smile Nixon gave her took the strength from her knees, leaving her incapable of moving while she took some deep breaths. Real? Was this sensation of losing her grip on reality real? This need for love and family clawing through her? Was that real? Should she be following up or heading for the hills while she could still think?
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I should be heading home before we take this too far.’ There was a load of regret behind his words negating her sense of being dumped when things were heating up. ‘You have a child in the next room we have to be mindful of.’
‘It’s not just about us.’
‘No, Em, it’s not.’
How many men would’ve considered Rosie when wanting to get close to her mother? They’d have been focused on that kiss and heading down the hall to her bedroom if the altering shape of Nixon’s jeans was anything to go by. He wanted her. Her. The woman who’d had a baby not long ago and wasn’t looking slim any more. Stretching up on her toes, she caressed his chin with her lips. ‘Thank you. And goodnight.’ She’d just fallen even further into the pool.
CHAPTER TEN
‘THE CHOPPER CAME in as I padlocked my bike to the rack,’ Nixon told Emma the next morning. He’d been watching out for her at the hospital car park, feeling like a lusty teenager any time one of his staff went past and he didn’t walk in with them. But he was busting to see her face, listen to the cadence of her voice. Yeah, right, what he really wanted was a repeat of last night’s kisses. Out in the car park? Got it bad, man. Then Emma arrived and he couldn’t deny the happiness spreading throughout his body.
‘Wonder what we’re getting.’ Exhaustion flattened her voice.
‘Not much sleep last night?’ Sleep had been elusive for him with a certain nurse bouncing around inside his skull. Watching her with Grace yesterday had settled something within him. Emma was coming to terms with what she’d done. Her bravery and strength stole his breath away and yanked at his heartstrings. She was one courageous woman. The kind of woman he could imagine spending the rest of his life with—if he found the same courage to let go of his lifelong hang-ups. How did he learn to do that? If he’d really copied Henry to becoming the man he was there were no examples to follow out of the quagmire.
‘Darling daughter was up and down all night. Demanded drinks, needed the bathroom, wanted a story—didn’t happen—had to talk. Wanted Santa to visit.’ Emma shivered. ‘The joys of motherhood.’ The soft smile she wo
re belied her shudders.
‘Nights like that happen often?’ How did she cope with work when they did?
‘Sometimes she has a run of them then sleeps through ten hours for weeks on end.’ Emma tried stifling a yawn, but it won out. ‘I thought I’d have trouble waking her up this morning.’
Nixon’s phone pinged. A quick glance, and, ‘We’re on. The chopper’s patient is being taken into ED.’ There was a spring in his step as they headed inside. Being an emergency specialist made him useful and needed. Helping people at their most vulnerable gave him huge satisfaction. Add in a weekend filled with Emma and it was surprising his feet even touched the floor.
Then he saw his patient and the gloss diminished. Trish and her husband Bill owned the greatest little bagel cart, his favourite go-to for quick, delicious food when on a bike ride. ‘Trish, what brings you here?’ Nixon walked beside the stretcher being pushed into the department.
Callum filled him in. ‘Trish was walking her dog when she fell down the power track out at Arrowtown. We airlifted her to avoid a three kilometre hike out with the stretcher. Suspected broken ankle and sprained wrist. Obs are normal so it doesn’t appear likely an event precipitated the fall.’
‘Punch saw a hedgehog and took off, and I ran after him,’ Trish grumped.
‘Where’s the dog now?’ Her white and brown bitsa was a legend for lapping up attention outside Trish and Bill’s cart.
‘One of the ambulance crew that walked in took him out to meet up with Bill.’
‘Bill’s not here?’ Nixon asked.
‘He’s coming in when he’s arranged for someone to staff the cart,’ Callum said before giving Nixon more medical details.
‘Let’s get you sorted, Trish. I’ll check your ankle, but judging by the angle it’s at you’re headed to Radiology. We’ll get pictures of that wrist too. Any other sore spots?’