Misty and the Single Dad

CHAPTER EIGHT

MISTY visited Gran, who was so deeply asleep she couldn’t be roused.

Discomfited, worrying about Gran and worrying almost as much about the guys she’d left at home, she made her way to the yacht club. There was no need for her to go home to change. She kept her gear here.

‘Hey, Misty, how’s the boyfriend?’ someone called, and there was a general chuckle.

She didn’t flush. She didn’t need to, for the words had been a joke. But inside the joke made her flinch. Was it so funny to think Misty could ever have a boyfriend?

It had been four years since she’d had any sort of relationship, she thought, as she fetched her sailing clothes from her locker. She’d been twenty-five. Luke had been her friend from kindergarten. He’d been away to the city, broken his heart and come home to Misty. He’d wanted to marry, settle on his parents’ farm and breed babies and cows.

She’d knocked him back. He’d married Laura Buchanan and they had two babies already and four hundred Aberdeen Angus.

Since then… Misty was twenty-nine and for four years she’d lived alone with her scrapbooks and a list. Miss Havisham in the making?

‘What’s he like?’ someone called, and she tugged herself back to the here and now. ‘The boyfriend.’

‘Wildly romantic,’ she threw back, figuring she might as well go along with it. ‘I’ve seen him in his pyjamas. Sexy as.’

She hadn’t seen him in his pyjamas. She’d seen him in his boxers. He was indeed sexy.

Let’s not go there.

‘Woohoo,’ someone called. ‘Our Misty has a life!’

Only she hadn’t. She changed into her yachting gear and the old frustrations surged back.

Nick had kissed her. Misty has a life? Maybe she had. If she wanted it, a relationship was beckoning.

But why had he kissed her? He was attracted to her because she was Misty, the safe one.

Luke had broken his heart and come back to her.

To Misty. To safe.

She glanced out at the bay and saw a gentle breeze rippling the water. It was perfect sailing conditions, but she didn’t want perfect. She wanted twenty-foot waves, a howling sou-easterly and trouble.

‘My turn to win this time,’ someone said and it was Di, the local newsagent. At sixty-five, Di was still one of the town’s best sailors. She’d represented Australia in the Olympics. She’d travelled around the world honing her skills.

Misty had stayed home and honed hers.

She and Di were competitive enough. In this bay she could often beat her. But if she ever got out of this bay…

Who knew? She certainly didn’t.

Don’t think about it, she told herself. Concentrate on beating Di.

And not thinking about Nick?

The race didn’t start until two. Mostly the yachties sat round the clubhouse talking, but Misty bought a sandwich and launched Mudlark. She sailed out to the entrance to the bay-looking for trouble? But conditions outside weren’t any different to inside.

No risks today. Safe as houses.

What was wrong with safe? she demanded of herself. Get over it.

Thoroughly unsettled, she sailed her little boat back inside and spent an hour practising, pushing herself so she had Mudlark so tuned to the wind she was flying.

Finally, it was time to make her way to the start line. She’d win today.

There was nothing else to aim for.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, what was wrong with her? If Gran could hear her now she’d give her a tongue-lashing. What was the point of complaining about something you couldn’t change?

What was wrong with settling for dogs and a lovely tenant-a tenant who’d kissed her…?

The boats were tacking backwards and forwards behind the starting line, trying to gain an edge. There were up to thirty Sharpies who raced each week. The yacht club kept some available for hire, so visitors to the town could join in. That made it more fun; often an out of town yachtie could surprise them. But no out of town yachtie could beat them.

Di had the experience. Misty had the local knowledge. It was Di or Misty, almost every week.

She checked Di’s boat. Di was geared up, ready to go.

The starter’s gun fired. Mudlark flew, streaming across the water, her sails catching the wind at just the right angle.

The wind was in her hair, on her face. She was sailing fast and free. If she couldn’t have her list, this was the next best thing.

And Nick? Was he the next best thing?

A boat was edging up on the same tack as Mudlark. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and was surprised. She’d expected to be well in front by now.

And then… Startled, she realised it wasn’t Di. It was one of the little orange Rentaboats.

Hey, an out-of-towner pushing her. That’d do to keep her mind off things. She tightened the jib, read the wind, tightened still more.

She passed the marker buoy. Brought her round. The Rentaboat was closing in. What the…?

No matter. Just win. Tug those sails in. Go.

Rentaboat was almost to the buoy and, as she caught the wind and sailed back, she passed within ten yards.

‘Hey, Miss Lawrence, we’re racing you.’ The high, excited yell pierced her concentration and Misty came close to letting go of her stays.

Bailey.

Nick.

‘Go faster, Dad, we’re catching up,’ Bailey yelled and Misty saw Nick grin.

Her heart did this stupid crazy leap.

Nick was racing. Nick and Bailey…

Bailey was crouched in the bow, whooping with excitement, bright with life and wonder. Nick was at the helm, intent, a sailor through and through.

‘Miss Lawrence!’ Bailey yelled across the water. ‘Miss Lawrence, we’re going to win.’

Maybe they would. Her jib had slackened. She was tightening, tightening. Of all the…

She and Di were competitors with each other. Occasionally something happened and another local took line honours, but to concede honours to a Rentaboat…

Pride was at stake here.

She tuned and tuned, every sense totally focused on the boat, the water, the wind. But no, that was a lie because overriding everything else was the awareness that Nick was in the next boat.

He’d brought his son sailing.

A risk…

Hardly a risk. They were both wearing life vests; of course they were. They’d not be allowed to race without them. They were surrounded by a fleet of small boats. Even if they capsized, they’d be scooped up so fast there was never a hint of risk

But still…it was a start, Misty thought.

No, she corrected herself. Getting Took had been a start. This was simply the next step.

As finding Ketchup had been her start. Her start of retreating from her list, from her dreams.

What was her next step?

The wind rose, just a little. She should have seen it coming. Maybe she had seen it, but she was away with her lists. The sudden gust caught her unaware, pushed her sideways, dropped her speed.

Nick surged ahead.

‘Hurray, we’re winning,’ Bailey yelled and they would; the finish line was in sight. But then…

Di. Misty hadn’t even noticed her coming up on the far side of Nick. Di’s Sandpiper edged just ahead. Nosing over the line.

Local pride was intact. Di first. Nick and Bailey second.

Misty third.

But a win had never felt as good. It felt fantastic. It was as if she’d been granted the world.

Was it silly to feel like this?

Thoroughly disconcerted, she reduced sail, manoeuvred her little boat back to dock and was inordinately pleased to see Nick had trouble. You needed to know the currents around the clubhouse to get in tight. He didn’t know the currents and was having to take an extra run.

Di was calling to him, congratulating him over the water. On the dock, Fred, the vet, was watching. Fred’s son sailed. Fred usually watched his son but he was watching Nick now, and she remembered Fred’s reaction when he’d heard Nick was a painter.

Nick would be painting for Fred’s beloved repertory society in no time.

He’d be a local.

That was great. Wasn’t it?

Befuddled, conflicted, she pushed her little boat into shore, then tugged her out onto the hard. Nick needed to go further along, to return his Rentaboat. It gave her time to get her thoughts together, so when Bailey came hurtling through the yard gates and whooped towards her she could laugh and swoop him up into her arms and hug him. And smile over his shoulder to his father.

‘You beat me.’

‘Your mind must have been on other things,’ he said, smiling back, and he looked…fantastic. Faded sweatshirt. Jeans rolled up to his knees. Strong, bare legs. Bare feet. Wind-tousled hair.

He was smiling straight into her eyes, and something was catching in her chest.

Your mind must have been on other things. Really? What could they have been?

‘We should have warned you,’ he said, and she wondered if she was blushing. She felt as if she was blushing. Was it showing? ‘I believe Bailey’s yell might have distracted you.’

‘You really can sail,’ she managed.

‘It’s what I do,’ he said softly. ‘It’s what I love. I just…needed reminding.’

‘That it’s safe.’

‘That it’s still possible to have fun. We’ve forgotten a bit.’

‘And now you have a dog and a sailing club,’ she said, a bit more sharply than she intended, and then wondered why she’d snapped. What was wrong with her? She should be pleased for him. She was pleased for him. She was delighted that he was starting to loosen up, become part of this community.

But there was something still not right. Something…

‘Speaking of dogs… Did you leave them home?’

‘What a question,’ he said, sounding affronted. He motioned to the clubhouse yard. The dogs were tied under a spreading eucalypt, a water bowl in reach. They were occupied with a bone apiece. A vast bone apiece.

‘I didn’t do the bones,’ he told her. ‘But Fred told everyone their story within two minutes of them arriving and your local butcher headed straight back to his shop and brought them one each. Have you ever seen anything happier?’

She hadn’t. She felt herself smiling. But then… Tears?

Of all the stupid, emotional…

She did not cry. She didn’t. But now…

Dogs with happy endings. Nick and Bailey with happy endings.

And Nick was watching her. Mortification plus. But he wasn’t laughing at her. He didn’t look like her tears embarrassed him. He lifted his hand and he wiped a tear away before it had the chance to roll down her cheek.

His touch burned. She wanted to catch his hand and hold it against her face-just hold it.

People were watching.

What did it matter? Was this the next step? ‘Hey, Nicholas…’

The moment-the danger?-had passed. Fred was bearing down on them, intentions obvious. ‘Great sail. Well done. I hear you can paint.’

‘Paint?’ Nick said cautiously and Misty managed a chuckle as she moved swiftly away.

‘Welcome to my world,’ she murmured and went to congratulate Di. She hadn’t taken his hand, she told herself. She’d stayed self-contained. Good.

But self-contained wasn’t actually going to happen. Not if Bailey could help it. She’d taken two steps when he slid his hand into hers.

‘When we go home can I come in your car? Dad says we can have fish and chips for tea. Can we eat tea together? The dogs and I would really like it.’

It seemed surly to refuse, so yes, they ate fish and chips together on the beach. Took bounded a mile or more and then settled beside Ketchup in blissful peace. Apart from looking enquiringly to the chips every now and then, both dogs seemed happy.

Ketchup was looking better every day. The initial pinning of the badly fractured leg needed follow-up. There’d be more surgery later on, but for now he was with Took and he’d found a home.

More, he’d found a boy. And boy had found dogs. The three of them were curing each other, Misty thought, as she watched Bailey tease Took with a chip-tease her, tease her, then shriek as Ketchup whipped in from the side to snatch it. While Bailey was expounding indignation, Took wolfed three more.

Bailey giggled, his father chuckled, Misty went to move the chips out of dog range, Nick did the same and somehow Nick’s hand was touching hers again.

They glanced at each other. Nick moved the chips. Then he returned to touch again.

And hold.

‘It’s been a magical day,’ he said softly. ‘Thanks to Misty.’

‘Thanks to Misty not winning, you mean,’ she said with what she hoped was dry humour, but he shook his head and suddenly he had both her hands and he was drawing her closer.

‘That’s not what I mean at all. Misty…’

What was he doing? Was he planning to kiss her? Now?

‘Not in front of Bailey,’ she breathed. No!

‘Not what in front of Bailey?’ Nick asked, smiling down into her eyes. ‘Not thanking his teacher for giving us a lesson in life?’

‘How can I have done that?’

‘Easy,’ he said. ‘By being you.’ He tugged her closer. ‘Misty…’

‘No.’

‘You mean you don’t want me to kiss you?’

‘No!’

The laughter was back in his eyes. Laughter should never leave him for long, she thought. He was meant for smiling.

He was meant for smiling at her?

‘You mean no, you don’t not want me to kiss you?’ he asked, his smile widening. Becoming wicked.

‘No!’ She had to think of something more intelligent to say. She couldn’t think of anything but Nick’s smile.

‘It’s very convoluted,’ he complained. ‘I’m not sure I get it. So if I pulled you closer…’

‘Nick…’

‘Bailey, close your eyes,’ he said. ‘I need to give Miss Lawrence a thank you kiss.’

‘She doesn’t like ’em slurpy,’ Bailey said wisely. ‘She tells Ketchup that all the time.’

‘Not slurpy,’ Nick said. ‘Got it.’

‘And she hates tongues touching,’ he added. ‘That happened yesterday after Ketchup chewed the liver treat. She went and washed her mouth out with soap.’

‘So no tongue kissing-or no liver treats?’

‘Nick…’ She was trying to tug away. She was trying to be serious. But his eyes were laughing, full of devilry, daring her. Loving her?

‘Miss Lawrence has said I mustn’t kiss her in front of you,’ Nick told his son, and his eyes weren’t leaving hers. He was making love to her with his eyes, she thought. How did that happen?

‘I mean it,’ she whispered.

‘So can you take Took down and feed the rest of the chips to the seagulls?’

‘Why? It’s okay to watch.’

‘What would the kids at school say if they saw you kissing a girl?’ his father asked.

Bailey considered. ‘I guess they’d giggle. And Natalie would say, “Kissie kissie”. I think.’

‘Exactly,’ his father said. ‘Miss Lawrence is really scared of giggling and she’s even more scared of kissie kissie. So, unless you go away, I can’t kiss her.’

‘You can’t kiss me anyway,’ Misty managed and his eyes suddenly lost their laughter. ‘Really?’

And how was a girl to respond to that?

‘I don’t…’

‘Know?’ he said. ‘There’s only one answer to that. Bailey, down to the water right now or there’s no fish and chips on the beach until the next blue moon. Right?’ And then, as Bailey giggled, and he and his dog headed towards the seagulls on the shoreline, he pulled her closer still. ‘Ready or not…’

And he kissed her.

Second kiss.

Better.

He knew what he wanted.

His parents considered him insane for being a risk-taker. He’d sworn risk-taking would end.

Was it a risk to believe he was falling in love in little more than a week? Was it a risk to want this woman?

It had been a risk to think he was in love with Isabelle. More-it had been calamity. But this was no risk.

This was Misty. A safe harbour after the storm. A woman to come home to.

She wasn’t pulling back. Her lips would feel warm, he thought. Full and generous. Loving and reassuring.

But then his mouth met hers and instead of warmth there was…more. Sizzle. Heat. Want.

Instead of kissing her, he found he was being kissed.

There was nothing safe about this kiss. It asked much more than it told, but it told so much. It told that this woman wanted him, ached for him, came alive at his touch.

It told him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her-and more.

Just a kiss…

Not just a kiss. He was holding a woman in his arms and he was making her feel loved, desired. He knew it because the same thing was happening to him. The awfulness of the last twelve months was slipping away. More-the pain of a failing marriage, the knowledge that he was always walking a tightrope, slipped and faded to nothing, and all there was left was Misty.

He was deepening the kiss and she was as hungry as he was, as desperate to be close. Her hands tugged him closer. Closer still… She was moulding to him and her breathing was almost like part of him.

He wanted her so much…

He was on the beach with two dogs and his son.

Ketchup was nosing between them. Misty’s hands were…pushing? She wanted to stop?

They should stop.

Who moved first? He didn’t know; all he knew was that they were somehow apart and Misty was looking at him with eyes that were dazed, confused, lost.

‘Misty…’ Her look touched something deep within. Was she afraid?

She’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. Hadn’t she?

Her look changed, the smile returned, but he knew he’d seen it.

‘What is it?’ he asked, but her smile settled back to the confidence, the certainty he knew. The impudent teasing that he somehow suspected was a mask.

‘Entirely inappropriate, that’s what it is,’ she retorted. ‘For me to kiss the parent of one of my students.’

Her student was whooping back to them now, trying to beat Took, who was practically dawdling. ‘Can I come back now?’ Bailey demanded.

‘Yes,’ Nick told him. ‘And you’re not to tell anyone.’ His eyes didn’t leave Misty’s. ‘That I kissed Miss Lawrence.’

‘Why not?’

‘People will tease us,’ Nick said and Bailey considered and decided the explanation was reasonable.

‘Like saying “kissie kissie”.’

‘Exactly. And then I wouldn’t be able to kiss Miss Lawrence again.’

‘I think you need to call me Misty,’ she said, no longer looking at him. ‘Bailey, when we’re on our own, would you call me Misty? Could you remember to call me Miss Lawrence at school?’

‘Sure,’ Bailey said. ‘Do you think you’ll marry Dad?’

What sort of question was that?

It was a reminder that fantasy had gone far enough. It was time for reality to kick in.

‘Um…no,’ Misty managed and the schoolteacher part of her took charge. ‘Kissing someone doesn’t mean you have to marry them.’

‘But it means you like them.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted, carefully not looking at him. She could feel colour surge from her toes to the tips of her ears. ‘But I gave you a kiss goodnight last night. That doesn’t mean I’ll marry you.’

‘It wasn’t a kiss like the one you gave Dad.’ Bailey sounded satisfied, like things were going according to plan. She cast him a suspicious look-and then turned the same one on his father.

‘Have you guys been discussing kissing me?’

‘No,’ Nick said, but the way he looked…

‘Has your father said he wants to kiss me?’ she demanded of Bailey and Bailey looked cautiously at his father and then at Misty. Truth and loyalty were wavering.

‘I’m your teacher,’ Misty said, hauling her blush under control enough to sound stern. ‘You don’t tell fibs to your teacher.’

‘Dad just told you a fib,’ Bailey confessed, virtuous.

‘Hey,’ Nick said. ‘Bailey…’

‘So you have been talking about me?’

‘I saw you kissing in the laundry,’ Bailey said. ‘I was sort of…up. But I hardly looked.’ He grinned. ‘But I saw Dad kiss you and later I asked if it was nice to kiss a girl and he said it depends on the girl. And then he said it was very, very nice to kiss you. So I asked if he was going to kiss you again and he said as soon as he possibly can. And tonight he did. Dad, was it okay?’

‘Yes,’ said Nick.

Misty glared at him. ‘You planned…’

‘I merely took advantage of an opportunity,’ Nick said, trying to look innocent. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘How many times do you have to kiss each other before you get married?’ Bailey asked.

‘Hundreds,’ Misty said and then, at the gleam of laughter in Nick’s eyes, she added a fast rejoinder. ‘So that’s why I’m never kissing your father again.’

‘Really?’ Nick asked and suddenly the laughter was gone.

‘R…really.’

‘It wasn’t just a kiss,’ he said softly. ‘You know it was much more.’

‘It was just a kiss. I’m your landlady.’

‘I’m not asking for a reduction in the rent.’

‘I’m thinking of putting it up.’ She started clearing things, trying to be busy, doing anything but look at him.

‘Why the fear?’ Nick asked and she shook her head.

‘No fear. You’re the one who wants to be safe.’

‘Hey, we went sailing.’

‘I won’t be safe,’ she muttered.

He frowned. ‘What sort of statement is that?’

‘Safe as Houses Misty. That’s me. Didn’t you know? Isn’t that why you kissed me? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go say goodnight to Gran.’

He was questioning her with his eyes, gently probing parts of her she had no intention of exposing. ‘Misty, your Gran’s been in a coma for months.’

‘And I still need to say goodnight to her,’ she snapped.

‘Of course. I’m sorry. I’d never imply otherwise. You love her. It’s one of the things…’

‘Don’t,’ she said, panicking. ‘Nick, please, don’t. I need to go.’

‘It wasn’t just a kiss, Misty,’ he said gently, and he rose and took the picnic basket from her and set it down on the sand before she could object. ‘Was it?’

And there was only one answer to that. ‘No.’

‘Then let’s not get our knickers in a knot,’ he said and his sexy, seductive, heart-stopping smile was back. It was crooked, twisted and gorgeous, as if he was mocking, but there was no mocking about it. His smile was real and wonderful and it turned her knees to jelly.

‘Bailey’s going too fast for us,’ he said. ‘There’s no rush. There’s no need to panic. But still, it wasn’t just a kiss. We both know it.’ He took her hands and tugged her to him, only he didn’t kiss her this time, at least not properly. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose.

‘Let’s take this slowly,’ he said. ‘We won’t mess this up by rushing. But maybe we both know it could be something wonderful. If we play it right-it could be home for both of us.’

Misty took the dogs with her because she wanted to talk to someone. She left Nick and Bailey sitting on the beach, and they had the sense to let her be.

As they should.

‘Because they’re my tenants,’ she told Ketchup as she carried him. ‘I need to be separate.’

But Took was bouncing along beside her. Took was Bailey’s dog. Ketchup was her dog.

To separate the two would be cruel.

It felt a little like that now. She was aware of Nick and Bailey watching as she walked away. She was leaving Nick. She was leaving his laughing eyes, his sudden flashes of intuitive sympathy, his sheer arrant sexiness.

‘See, that’s what I can’t resist,’ she told Ketchup as she changed out of her sandy clothes to go to the hospital. ‘He makes my toes curl but he just thinks I’m safe. If I give into him…if I dissolve like he wants me to dissolve, then I get to stay here for ever. In this house. Mother to Bailey.’

Wife to Nick?

‘Maybe I want that,’ she said. Ketchup was lying on her bed watching her while Took roamed the bedroom looking for anything deserving of a good sniff. ‘Banksia Bay’s fabulous, and so’s this house. It’s the best place in the world.’

As if in response, Took leaped onto the bed and curled up beside Ketchup. Misty looked down at them. Her two dogs, curled on her bed, happy, hopefully for the rest of their lives.

But… There was a scar running the length of Took’s face from an unknown awfulness. Ketchup’s leg was fixed tight in its brace.

‘You guys have had adventures,’ she whispered. ‘Now you’ve come home, but I’ve never left.’

Don’t think about it, she told herself. Take your scrapbooks and burn them.

Nicholas had kissed her and he’d touched something deep within. To risk losing what he promised…

For scrapbooks?

The kiss had felt amazing. Her body had responded in ways she’d never felt before.

‘I’m a lucky girl,’ she told the dogs. ‘Yes, I should burn the scrapbooks.’

But she didn’t. She slung her bag over her shoulder and she went to see Gran instead.

‘Do you want to marry Misty?’

Nick had left enough time for Misty to change and go to the hospital. He was aware he was rushing things. Risking things. Now Bailey tucked his hand into his father’s as they set off towards the house and he asked his most important question.

Did he want to marry Misty?

‘I’ve already been married,’ he said cautiously. ‘It was dreadful when Mama was killed. It takes time for a man to be ready to marry again.’

‘Yeah, but we sailed again.’

‘So we did.’

‘And it was awesome.’

‘It was.’

‘You marrying Misty would be awesome.’

Would it?

It wasn’t his head telling him yes. It was every nerve in his body.

But he wouldn’t rush it. He couldn’t rush it. There were things he didn’t understand.

She didn’t want safe?

She must. To come home… He longed for it with all his heart.

And to come home to Misty…

Home and Misty. More and more, the images merged to become the same thing.