His Miracle Bride. Marion Lennox
to. But Pierce does it now.’
‘Didn’t your mummy die when Bessy was born?’
‘Just after,’ Donald said.
This was stuff she didn’t understand. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to try. ‘Isn’t it bedtime?’ she asked weakly, and Pierce nodded.
‘It surely is.’
‘Will Shanni tell us a bedtime story?’ Abby asked.
‘I will,’ Pierce said gruffly.
‘We want Shanni,’ Wendy said.
‘I’m washing up.’ Shanni was feeling completely confused. What was going on here? Pierce looked defeated. Battle weary and exhausted. And he’d slept today.
‘Your dad reads you bedtime stories,’ she managed. ‘That’s his job. I’m the housekeeper—I keep house. It’s up to Pierce to keep kids.’
Pierce took almost an hour to read them their stories. When he finally came downstairs, Shanni was sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by stuff.
The more he looked at her, the more he remembered that ten-year-old Shanni. She’d made him smile then and she had that power still, just by sitting in the middle of his kitchen floor. Which was dumb. Dangerous, even.
‘What you doing?’ he managed.
‘This isn’t a fridge, it’s an ecosystem.’ She carefully didn’t look at him. Instead she held up a jar where purple fuzz fought with green slime. ‘Didn’t Fleming invent penicillin this way? Are you searching for a patent cure for chicken pox?’
‘Leave it.’
‘Hand me a rubbish bag,’ she said. ‘Left to breed, this could take over the world.
He found a rubbish bag and held it out. She scooped in so much stuff that even he was hornswoggled.
‘I’m usually neat,’ he said defensively, and she nodded.
‘I remember you at fifteen. You were…neat.’
He glowered. ‘I believe I was wearing a suit.’
‘Blue pinstripe if I recall.’
‘That the rest of the boys thought was…’
‘Poncy. Yeah, I remember you were teased.’
He gazed down, trying to figure things out. Where did she fit? He couldn’t remember. Ruby had simply referred to her as ‘our Shanni’. Our Shanni would love to come and help out.
All he could remember was the oversized bow and the stomping foot and the smile. Mostly the smile.
‘I can’t exactly remember the connection,’ he said apologetically.
‘My dad is Ruby’s younger brother.’
‘So you are…?’
‘Lucy and Will’s daughter. They’re academics. They’re currently in Switzerland.’
‘I don’t remember Lucy and Will. But I remember you.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘You stood on Mac’s toe.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ she said, and grinned at the memory. ‘He’s grown up to be a used-car dealer. Ruby says he married a woman who’s a real harpy. Good old Mac.’
‘Why did you come?’
‘Aunty Ruby asked me.’ She held up something greenish. ‘Courgette?’
‘Cucumber.’
‘A bit past its use-by date, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I—Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you had five kids?’
‘I don’t believe I told you anything.’
‘But Ruby didn’t say.’
‘Ruby doesn’t know.’
‘Ruby doesn’t know you have five kids?’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t tell Ruby?’
‘I barely see Ruby. There’s no need to tell her everything.’
‘Yeah, so omit a little something. Like four kids. Something’s rotten here and I don’t know what.’ She’d been foraging in the rear of the fridge and now she emerged triumphant. ‘No, this is dried out. I’m sure it’s a courgette.’
‘Could we cut this out?’
‘Cleaning?’
‘The inquisition.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘And will you get off my floor? I hardly know you.’
‘You know me enough to trust me with your kids.’
‘I had no choice. I had a doctor’s appointment and there was no other available appointment until tomorrow. I loaded the kids in the car, then realized the tyre was flat and so was the spare. You were coming. Ruby said you were trustworthy. So I trusted.’
‘You left me alone deliberately?’
‘No,’ he roared, so loudly that there was a whimper from above their heads.
‘You’ve woken Bessy,’ Shanni said.
‘Shush.’
They both shushed. Bessy whimpered again, and then settled.
‘Take that outside,’ Shanni said, motioning to the rubbish. ‘It’s disgusting.’
He did. It gave him room to take a few deep breaths. He stared up at the night sky and counted to ten. Then he decided to count to a hundred.
Finally he figured he’d better return. Shanni was still cleaning his fridge. All he could see of Shanni was one very cute, denim-clad butt emerging from his refrigerator.
He took a couple of moments to admire the view. Hell, he missed women. Twelve months now of enforced celibacy. Twelve months down and how many to go?
Not months. Years. What had he let himself in for?
‘You want a whisky?’ he asked the butt, and the butt stilled.
‘A whisky?’
‘Don’t say it like I’m the local lush,’ he said. ‘I allow myself one whisky when all the kids are in bed. Surely a man can have that without being accused of child neglect?’
‘Hey, I didn’t say…’ She was backing out of the refrigerator, butt wiggling.
‘You didn’t have to say. You were implying.’
‘Actually I wasn’t,’ she said, sitting up and wiping a strand of wilting lettuce from her nose. ‘I wasn’t implying anything. I was about to say that a whisky would be very nice indeed. And if it turns into two then I’m not going to report anyone to Social Welfare. Just so long as I can share.’
She smiled.
He stared. It was the cutest smile. Wide and white and cheerful, green eyes dancing behind it.
Hey, cut it out. This was not appropriate.
Hell, he’d lost sense of what was appropriate or not. He ran his fingers through his hair again—yeah, he’d meant to get a haircut but when was there ever time? Then he decided he was staring at her and wondering about haircuts when he should be pouring whisky.
He turned on his heel and headed for the living room. He poured two decent tumblers, decided ice was for sissies and headed back to the kitchen.
She was still on the floor.
‘You want to sit at the table?’
‘If