The Single Dad's New-Year Bride. Amy Andrews

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      OK, maybe she hadn’t exactly made much of an effort to enjoy herself tonight as her sisters had hoped. Maybe she hadn’t met her perfect match, as they’d hoped. But she was there, wasn’t she? An image of Tom’s father flashed before her and she banished it. Damn the man! Her gaze had followed him around the room all night.

      So, the man looked good in a tux. So, he’d looked at her like he’d wanted to eat her up. She wasn’t some innocent Cinderella, hanging around in her glass slippers, waiting for her prince to pull up on a white horse.

      Been there, done that. Fairy-tale crushed into the dust.

      Over it. So, over it.

      Or at least she’d thought she was until that man and his son had barged into her glowingly successful recovery process.

      She gave herself a mental shake and wandered over to the ornamental railing. A breeze was blowing and it ruffled her hair, lifting it off her shoulders. The moon was three-quarters full and an entrancing milky glow bathed the beautifully landscaped gardens below. She inhaled deeply, a waft of heavily scented camellias infusing her senses.

      She was alone and it was relatively peaceful. The heavy curtains at the closed French doors managed to muffle the background bass still throbbing away inside. She could just make out the DJ whipping the party-goers into a pre-countdown frenzy as the hands of the clock inched closer to midnight.

      The doors opened and she turned to see Tom, his trusty torch and truck still in hand.

      ‘Hailey!’

      ‘Hey, Tom,’ she said as the little boy wandered over. ‘Did you lose your father again?’

      ‘Nah, he’s coming too.’

      Hailey helped him up onto the stone seat beside her. It was one of several placed periodically along the perimeter of the railing. Tom ran his truck back and forth along the rail, making engine noises.

      The little boy looked even paler in the moonlight. Unnaturally pale. ‘Did you get the truck for Christmas?’ she asked.

      Tom nodded.

      ‘It’s a beauty.’

      Tom shrugged. ‘It’s OK.’

      Hailey laughed. ‘Didn’t you want a truck?’

      He shook his head. ‘I wanted a baby brother.’

      ‘Ah.’ Hailey smiled. ‘I see.’

      ‘Daddy said that Santa can’t give noonan beans as presents.’ Tom sighed. ‘He said we needed a mummy for that.’

      Hailey bit her lip to stop laughing again. Tom was looking at her solemnly, obviously taking the subject very seriously indeed. So, there wasn’t a mother on the scene? ‘Right, yes, that’s true.’

      ‘Are you a mummy, Hailey?’

      Hailey felt the laughter die in her throat. Nearly. Close. She’d been so close. She shook her head and forced a smile to her lips.

      Callum escaped towards the balcony gratefully, pushing through the throngs that had gathered around the dance floor. It was only a few minutes until the clock clicked over into the new year and he didn’t want to spend it with a bunch of half-inebriated strangers, kissing each other. He wanted to spend it with Tom. There’d been a few times when he hadn’t been sure if his son would even make another year—the fact that he had was definitely worth celebrating.

      He opened the French doors slightly and halted abruptly, his hand still on the handle. Tom was conversing with the woman from earlier. Hailey. Tom had taken a real liking to her. Her laughter floated towards him and he found his gaze drifting over her form. It had done that a little too much already tonight but the moonlight was silhouetting her figure so perfectly it was practically impossible not to do so.

      She was short, barely taller than Tom perched on the chair next to her. Heavy ringlets escaped from a pile of hair arranged decoratively on the top of her head, brushing her bare shoulders and spilling down her back. Her red ballgown, cinched in at the waist, emphasised its narrowness and the sultry curve of her hips.

      Callum felt a tug in his chest, seeing their heads close together, watching his son smile up at the mysterious Hailey. Tom had been through so much in his six years the fact that he could still smile was a miracle. He remembered her protective arm around Tom earlier and felt oddly unsettled.

      He pushed the door fully open. ‘Here you are,’ he said, moving onto the balcony. ‘I’m sorry, I hope he’s not bothering you again.’ Callum drew level with Tom and put his arm around his son’s shoulders. It was his job to protect Tom. His job. He’d been doing it solo for six years.

      Hailey smiled at Tom’s father, the moonlight complementing the planes and angles of his face. Hailey, well used to having to look up at people, found he redefined the phrase to crane one’s neck—she felt like a dwarf beside him. His mouth drew her gaze. It would have looked perfectly at home on a statue—the lips full and perfectly formed.

      ‘No, we were just discussing the pros and cons of little brothers. Weren’t we, Tom?’

      Callum groaned and ruffled Tom’s hair. ‘Don’t encourage him, please.’

      ‘Hailey hasn’t got any brothers either, Daddy. But she’s got two sisters and a growed-up nephew called David and a baby niece called Birdie, and she’s gonna be an aunty again in the middle of the year.’

      Callum found himself wondering why she didn’t have a couple of kids of her own. The image of her hand reaching for Tom’s revisited him. Surely a woman this gorgeous was well and truly spoken for? He noticed the absence of rings on her fingers. ‘Birdie?’

      ‘Bridie.’ Hailey corrected Tom’s error with a laugh.

      ‘Ah. Tom still had problems with his pronunciation.’

      ‘I noticed.’ Hailey smiled. ‘That’s what I like about him the best,’ she said, winking at Tom, and was rewarded with a giggle.

      They were interrupted by the ballroom erupting into a raucous countdown. ‘Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…’

      ‘Is it nearly midnight o’clock, Daddy?’ Tom asked.

      Callum chuckled. ‘Nearly.’

      ‘Fifty-two, fifty-one, fifty…’

      ‘You’d better get back in there,’ Callum said, looking down into her face. The moonlight emphasised the cute spray of freckles across her nose, illuminating each and every one. ‘Your partner is probably looking for you.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ Hailey shook her head. ‘I’m here by myself.’

       What the…? Why had she told him that?

      ‘Forty-two, forty-one, forty…’

      Interesting. ‘Here, matey, I got you one of these,’ Callum said, handing СКАЧАТЬ