Midwives' Christmas Miracles: A Touch of Christmas Magic / Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss / Her Doctor's Christmas Proposal. Scarlet Wilson
stark white room. Thank goodness for the wooden floorboards. They added a little warmth about the place.
She shuffled over to the case, Freya still attached to her waist. It was clear her little girl was feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation. And to be truthful—she was too.
He had no idea what he’d let himself in for. Once she opened those cases his beautiful, pristine house would never look the same again. It wasn’t that she was messy—she would never be messy staying as a guest in someone’s house. It was just—once she opened the cases—things would start to get everywhere, as if they had self-migrating powers. And she wasn’t quite sure how Jacob would feel about that. She let out a sigh and sat down on the bed, pulling Freya along with her. The comfortable mattress almost swallowed them up.
This place was a thousand times better than the motel. Here, she wouldn’t be worried about Freya’s asthma flaring up. The house was warm without being too hot. It was clean. It was spacious. They had their own rooms—they almost had their own floor.
Money. The thought came out of nowhere and she sat bolt upright. She hadn’t offered him any money. There was no way she could stay here rent-free. It was quite obvious that Jacob was putting himself out for them. She would have to find a way to bring it up. But she had a bad feeling about how it would go.
Jacob. It was strange being in his house. His home. But that was just it. It didn’t really feel like a home.
The white everywhere made it seem almost clinical. She would have imagined him staying in some brand-new luxury penthouse flat—not an old Victorian town house. It was beautiful. There was no doubt about that, and she hadn’t even seen the kitchen yet.
But there were no pictures. No family photos. He hadn’t even mentioned his family yet. There was no little sign of ‘him’ anywhere in the house. Who was Jacob Layton?
She ran her fingers across the bedspread. That was what was wrong. This was a beautiful house. But it didn’t feel like home. Why?
A house like this should exude warmth, character. And Jacob’s house wasn’t like that. She had the overwhelming urge to change the curtains in the lounge, to buy some different bedspreads for the white rooms and to add some accessories—some red towels in the white bathrooms, some pictures along the walls in the hall. A splash of colour was just what this place needed. She shook her head. This wasn’t her home and she should just be grateful to have somewhere to stay. It was none of her business how Jacob chose to decorate his beautiful home.
‘Come on, pumpkin. Let’s leave the cases for now and go and find some dinner.’ She took Freya’s warm hand in hers and led her downstairs, blinking as she entered the kitchen. Just as she expected. White and chrome, all gleaming and sparkling.
But there was one nice little touch. The worktop wasn’t granite like most designer kitchens. The worktop was a thick wooden polished surface that led to a deep white Belfast sink. It offset the rest of the white and chrome, giving the kitchen a little more warmth.
There was no kitchen table, just a central island with high black bar-style stools. She positioned Freya carefully on one and looked in the freezer. No—not a single thing.
She frowned and opened the fridge. Two steaks. One steak pie, some bacon, some eggs and two carefully wrapped bundles from the fishmongers. One labelled as cod in breadcrumbs. Even the fish fingers were posh round here.
Jacob appeared at her back as she was hunting for some oven trays and baking foil. ‘Are you getting on okay?’
She nodded and smiled. ‘We decided to eat first and unpack later. We both had first days today and we’re pretty wiped out.’
He opened a cupboard and took out some wine glasses, then glanced at Freya and swapped one for a tumbler. ‘Would you like some wine?’
She shook her head. ‘Honestly? I’m just too tired. I’d love a cup of tea though. And I still need to empty our cases. Could you show me where the washing machine is? I’d appreciate it if we could do some laundry.’
He stood up and opened a few cupboards. ‘My housekeeper always buys some fruit and some biscuits—they’re in here. Tea and coffee is here. If you turn the red button down on the tap you’ll get boiling water.’
‘From the tap?’
He nodded. ‘Saves boiling the kettle—’ he glanced sideways ‘—and it’s too high up for Freya to reach. There’s a proper cappuccino maker next to the oven if you prefer.’ He gave a little smile. ‘To be honest there’s too many buttons. I’ve never used it. But the instructions are there—you’re welcome to christen it if you wish.’
He pointed behind her as he ducked into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of diet cola. ‘Utility room is through there. There’s a washing machine, tumble dryer and dishwasher, as well as another toilet and the door to the back garden. Freya’s welcome to play out there if it’s warm enough.’ He gave a little grimace. ‘I think the only thing you’ll find out there is an old football.’
‘Don’t you have a dog kennel?’
They both turned to the unexpected little voice. Freya had been silent since she’d come downstairs. Jacob moved over next to her. ‘I told you that in the car, didn’t I? There is an old kennel out there. It must have belonged to the people who owned the house before I did. It still has the dog’s name above the kennel.’
‘What was his name?’
‘How did you know it was a boy?’ he answered quickly.
She shrugged. ‘I guessed.’ Bonnie was amazed. Freya had seemed a little overwhelmed earlier. But maybe she was starting to feel a little more comfortable in the house. She was glad that Jacob was making an effort with her daughter. She already felt as if they’d have to tiptoe round about him. Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as awkward as she’d thought.
‘Well, you were right. It was a boy. His name was Bones.’
Freya wrinkled her nose. ‘Bones? That’s a rubbish name for a dog.’
Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh at her blunt response. Jacob leaned his elbow on the island. ‘Really? That’s what I thought too. What would you call a dog?’
Freya thought for a few seconds. ‘Sandy. I’d like a little dog. One that’s white and sandy coloured.’ She leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially. ‘That’s why I’d call him Sandy.’
Bonnie tapped Jacob on the shoulder as she poured the diet cola into Freya’s tumbler. Not the ideal drink for a five-year-old—but she was just thankful that Jacob had anything at all that was suitable. She set about making a cup of tea for herself. ‘Don’t give her any ideas. One day it’s a bichon frise, the next it’s a terrier, the next a Havanese. Let’s remember that most places we’ll be renting won’t accept pets. I keep trying to tell her that.’
He smiled conspiratorially at Freya and pretend whispered to her. ‘I think you need to tell Mummy to find a house that takes dogs.’ She almost fell over. She hadn’t thought he had it in him. Jacob was full of surprises.
He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a silver tray. ‘Do you want to have fish too? My housekeeper seems to have bought plenty. She seems to have decided to feed me up. It will only take fifteen minutes.’ He slid the sea bass into the oven next to Freya’s fish fingers, then grabbed an oven tray, covered it in silver foil and tipped something from a plastic tub into it. He gave a shrug, ‘Mediterranean crushed potatoes. I’m rubbish at shopping and cooking. My housekeeper always makes a few back-up meals for me. She says it’s the only time my kitchen is put to good use.’
She gave an awkward nod and sat up on one of the stools, warming her hands on her teacup. This was all a little strange.
Jacob looked at her as he poured himself some wine. ‘You okay?’
She sighed. ‘It’s been a big day. This morning I dropped my daughter at a brand-new school, took a bus ride through