Nicola Marsh - Wife and Mother Wanted

Unfortunately, all she had was the fence, and that had taken a week of blisters and a cricked neck while she put the darn thing up and painted it herself.

Though one thing was for sure. When she had a family of her own they would love each other, support each other and be the exact opposite of what she’d faced growing up.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Molly stood up and dusted off a red cotton pinafore that had seen better days. ‘But you said you had some frogs for me to see?’

‘I sure do. Though maybe you should ask your dad before coming over to play?’

Molly shook her head, blonde curls bouncing around her chubby face, defiance in her blue eyes. ‘Uh-uh. He’ll just make me go inside, like he always does.’

Great. Now what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t encourage the child to leave her back yard without permission, but she didn’t want to disappoint Molly either. She’d had enough of that emotion growing up, and there was something about this child that begged her not to dish out more of the same.

As if on cue, a loud voice bellowed from the rear of the rundown house next door. ‘Molly Jane. Time for lunch. Inside. Now.’

No please. No coaxing. No gentle words of love.

Yeah, she knew exactly what that felt like and it still hurt twenty years later.

‘Don’t want to.’ Molly yelled back, and folded her arms and stamped her foot while Carissa bit back a grin.

Oh, yeah, looking at Molly was like taking a step back in time and seeing a mirror image of herself at that age. And her heart went out to the little girl all over again.

The town gossips had said Molly’s father was a single dad, and she’d assumed that meant he was divorced. From Molly’s scruffy appearance and rebellious attitude, it looked as if the girl hadn’t had her mother’s influence in quite a while.

Was that why Mr Elliott had moved out here? To get away from an ex? In that case, he was selfish. Because anyone could see this little girl needed a woman’s touch. And if he’d deprived her of her mother, well…a guy like that needed someone to talk sense into him. And she knew just the person—with enough firsthand knowledge of what it was like to grow up without a loving mother—to do it.

‘Molly! I said now!’

Trying not to grimace at the man’s impatient tone, Carissa said, ‘Molly, why don’t you go have your lunch and I’ll talk to your dad? Maybe you can come over later?’

Some of the tension eased out of Molly’s shoulders. ‘Really?’

Carissa smiled and nodded, hoping she could talk the ogre into letting his daughter come and spend some time with a stranger. Not that she intended to be a stranger for long.

‘Really. Now, run along.’

Molly sent her a brief, beatific smile before racing across the yard to her back door. ‘Dad! Dad! Carissa wants to talk to you. She’s got loads of frogs and everything! And she’s looking for the Easter Bunny. And she said I can come over and play with her after my lunch. What’s for lunch? Will it take long? I wanna play.’

Molly’s words spilled out in a rush and Carissa saw a man’s shadow bend down to the little girl before she ran inside. Then the man straightened and stepped out of the doorway.

Oh, boy.

Carissa’s breath hitched as she caught her first fronton glimpse of the ogre.

Tall, lean, fighting machine sprang to mind as the man exited the doorway and loped across the back yard towards her. Tension radiated from him in waves, as if he had a surplus of energy coiled tight within, and his body language—folded arms, perpetual frown and compressed lips—read I’m in a bad mood, so lay off.

Never mind that the folded arms displayed a great set of biceps at the edge of his short-sleeved black T-shirt, or that the colour of the T-shirt heightened his dark, brooding good looks. This guy had ‘bad attitude’ written all over him, and she’d dealt with his kind before.

‘Mr Elliott. I’m Carissa Lewis—your neighbour.’

He halted about two feet in front of her and the rest of what she’d been about to say died on her lips as she struggled not to gawk. If she’d thought he looked impressive strolling across the lawn, it had nothing on the man close up.

Sure, the frown was still there, and the lips had thinned further into disapproval, but those eyes! Dark brown, the colour of melted chocolate—the same colour she happily drooled over every night when she dipped ripe strawberries into the mix of milk and bitter chocolate in her fondue pot, her latest eclectic buy.

Their unique colour was accentuated by the longest set of eyelashes she’d ever seen on a guy, giving him a sexy look at odds with the crinkle between his brows—the one that looked like a permanent fixture.

‘The name’s Brody,’ he all but barked. ‘You shouldn’t get my daughter’s hopes up like that—saying she can come over and play.’

Hating that he had her on the back foot already, she said, ‘I said that she should discuss it with you first, but I’d love to have her over.’

‘I don’t know you.’ His frown deepened, doing little to detract from his good looks.

Though she had no intention of getting involved with a guy for a long time, after her latest disaster in the dating stakes, if someone came along who looked like this—well, she’d have a hard time not taking a second glance and thinking about it twice.

Perhaps if she went for guys who weren’t so safe, guys who were gorgeous and had danger written all over them, she’d have more luck?

This is real life, honey, not fantasy land.

And if anyone should know, she should.

Losing her parents in a freak accident had landed her in an orphanage at the age of three, from where her two sisters had each been adopted out, leaving her to spend a year alone, battling bullies, starvation and a mouse infestation that left her shuddering at the thought of the little critters to this day. When she’d finally been adopted herself a year later, she’d taken one look at her new parents and all but launched herself into their arms.

However, if the orphanage had been a bad dream, living with the Lovells had been a nightmare. For all their fancy clothes and refined manners, Ron and Betty Lovell had been cold, callous people who shouldn’t have been allowed to parent any child. Ron had been an abusive drunk, and Betty a woman who would do anything to keep up the perfect family façade—including ignoring the verbal and psychological abuse that Carissa had been subjected to from the minute she’d set foot in their home.

Yeah, that had been her real world. Paint it any way and it still looked the same: miserable and depressing, a childhood filled with enough bad memories to last a lifetime.

And, also seeing the vulnerable look beneath the defiance she’d glimpsed on Molly’s face, she would do anything to prevent the little girl she’d just met going through half of what she had.

‘Listen, Brody. I’m an upstanding citizen. I pay my taxes, I run my own business, and anyone in this town can vouch for how much I love kids. Heard of Fey For Fun?’

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t been here long, and I’ve had my hands full settling the house and getting school organised for Molly.’

At least she couldn’t fault him for that.

‘I run a fairy shop. Kids love it.’

And she did too. It was her one little slice of magic in this all-round dreary world. Whether it be stocking the shelves with fairy dust or elves’ gold, the latest in pink tulle tutus or silver-spangled wings, she relished every part of her job. And when it came to dressing up herself, for the local kids’ fairy parties, well…she absolutely, positively had the best job in the world!

‘Fairy shop?’ His brows relaxed out of their frown to shoot skyward instead. He made it sound as if she ran a brothel.