Helen Lacey - To Have And To Hold - Made for Marriage / To Wed a Rancher / The Mummy Proposal

“Seen enough crawlies for one night. Off you go.”

Jamie disappeared without another protest and the air thickened between them almost instantly.

“I hope he didn’t freak you out too much.”

“A little.” she said, shuddering. “He’s a lovely child. You should be proud of him.”

“I am,” he replied. “Join me in the kitchen?”

Callie stood and followed him down a short hallway.

The Tasmanian oak kitchen impressed her as much as the rest of the house. She walked to the window and glanced outside. Beyond the patio there was a pool, a hot tub and a gloriously lush garden.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked and grabbed two bottles from a rack above the refrigerator. “Red or white?”

She chose the Merlot and watched as he pulled the cork and poured two glasses.

“Thanks.” She took the glass and leaned against the granite countertop. She sipped her wine. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you. We’ve only been here a couple of years.” He drank some wine, then grabbed a pot and filled it with water. “I bought the place after my divorce.”

So his ex had never lived here? She was instantly curious. “Did you have a bitter breakup?”

Surprisingly, he answered. “I guess you could call it that.” He flicked on the gas.

Still curious, she asked another question. “Why doesn’t she see the children?”

He pulled out a few items and dumped them on the counter. “She lives in Paris with her elderly mother. When she’s not in rehab.”

Callie gasped.

“Prescription meds,” he explained. “Or at least that’s how it started for Margaret.”

She had a name. “Is that why she left?” Callie asked.

Noah stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. “She left because she didn’t want to be married to me anymore.”

He smiled then but without humor. “Hard to imagine, eh? The addiction started afterward.”

Callie allowed herself to hold his gaze.

She felt a strong surge of compassion and deep feeling. But before she could say anything he passed her a paring knife. “Can you make the salad?”

Callie took the knife. “I … I guess. But I should warn you, I’m not much of a cook.”

He laughed. “It’s salad, Callie—it doesn’t need cooking.”

“I could still mess it up,” she said, trying to push back the color tinting her cheeks.

“Watch and learn.”

They worked in silence for a while. Callie chopped and diced vegetables while Noah stirred the sauce simmering in a large saucepan and popped linguini into boiling water.

“That smells good,” she said and sipped her wine.

He replaced the lid on the same container. “I can’t take the credit, I’m afraid.”

She placed a hand to her mouth in mock horror. “Store-bought? I’m devastated.”

“Evie,” he corrected. “She often doubles up on portions when she has guests staying at the B and B. She takes pity on my single-father status. Actually, I’m pretty sure she thinks I feed the kids macaroni and cheese five nights a week.”

“And you don’t?”

“Only three nights. Gotta squeeze the frozen pizzas in, too.”

Callie chuckled. “Please tell me you’re not serious?”

Noah put up one hand in a Boy Scout salute. “I’m not serious. They eat vegetables—even those horrible slimy green ones.”

As if on cue, the children returned to the kitchen. Callie remained by the countertop, working on her salad but also watching as Jamie set the table, so serious in his task, his little tongue clicking in his mouth as he straightened cutlery and placed paper napkins beside each place setting. The twins hovered, one each side of her, stepping back and forth on small feet, as though wanting her attention.

She smiled and asked them about their daycare teachers, and Hayley immediately began to tell her everything about a usual day in the classroom. Callie listened, still chopping.

“Can I have some of that?” Hayley asked as Callie cut a carrot.

She nodded and gave them each a little piece of vegetable, which they took with eager fingers and ate just as quickly. A few moments later she did the same with a couple of snow peas. And again with a sliver of cucumber. Their infectious giggles echoed around the kitchen.

“I like having a grown-up girl here, Daddy,” Hayley announced and Matthew nodded in agreement.

Callie stopped chopping and stood still. She glanced toward Noah and saw he’d stopped his task also. He was staring at her, a deeply smoldering stare that made her knees weak.

“So do I,” he said quietly.

And then, without warning, Hayley hugged her, gripping Callie’s leg as hard as her small arms would allow. Callie stilled her task, rooted to the spot. Her heart surged in her chest. Suddenly she was all feelings. All anguish. All memory. All hurt. The little girl lingered, waiting, and Callie instinctively knew what the child wanted.

She placed the knife on the counter. I can’t do this. I can’t .

But she did. She reached down and touched Hayley’s head, without looking anywhere but directly at the wall in front of her. Her fingertips felt the soft, little-girl hair and her womb contracted instantly, rolling like a wave. Hayley lifted her chin and Callie’s hand touched her face.

Oh, God … help me here. Help me not want this. Help me not feel this .

Her throat felt suddenly thick, burning with emotion. All her fears, all her longings bubbled to the surface. She looked at Noah again and sighed. How could she possibly explain what she felt? To explain would mean to be exposed, to be vulnerable, naked in front of him.

Hayley giggled and Callie patted her head gently a couple of times before removing her hand. Once she’d broken the connection her womb flipped again, but differently this time. She felt empty, bereft.

She looked at Noah then and saw he was watching her with such searing intensity she had to lean against the counter for support. But to have his child? An adorable child like Hayley. What a dream that would be.

Not a dream. A fantasy.

“Hayley, take your seat,” Noah said quietly. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

The kids all whooped and raced for their favorite spot at the table.

“This is done,” Callie said and grabbed the bowl.

Meals were usually a quiet affair for Callie. She ate alone most of the time, unless Fiona was around or she offered to make lunch for Joe. But this was something else. The kind of meal she remembered from her childhood, when the kitchen had been the centerpiece of the home. Lots of laughter, lots of spillage and wipe-ups and grubby faces.

Family.

Another woman’s family, she reminded herself.

But I’m here … and I feel such a part of them. Like somehow … I was made for this .

Callie’s salad was a success, with Jamie kindly telling her it was the best he’d tasted—even better than his Aunt Evie’s.

Afterward, she volunteered to load the dishwasher while Noah put the twins to bed with a story. Jamie chatted to her as she worked, telling her about school and how Fiona was his favorite teacher and how he liked to make things and that he wanted to learn to play the trumpet. Then he told her he would choose a movie to watch and disappeared down the hallway. By the time Noah returned, the kitchen sparkled and the coffeemaker gurgled.

“I helped myself,” she said. “Although I can’t find any cups.”

He opened a high cupboard, extracted a pair of matching mugs and placed them on the counter. “Milk, no sugar.”

The way she liked hers, too.

Jamie reappeared, clutching Madagascar in one hand and a Harry Potter sequel in the other. They unanimously chose Madagascar. Callie took her coffee into the living room and sat down in the corner of the long sofa. She placed her coffee on the side table. Jamie said something secretly to his father then excused himself and raced down the hall.