THE NEXT DAY saw Kiara and Alice spending almost all their time together. Alice was still aloof, still wary, but she was desperate to learn everything she could about her new pet and communicating with Kiara was a necessary evil to achieve it. Bunji was still attached to Kiara, where Bunji went, Alice followed, and they quickly became a pack. Kiara, Alice, Bunji.
Bryn wasn’t part of it.
He appeared for lunch—the fridge and pantry were magnificently stocked, and Kiara did the basics. She was supposed to be here as a vet, she thought wryly, but for the money she was being paid a bit of basic housework seemed a reasonable inclusion. She hadn’t expected to be left completely alone with child and dog, though, and was vaguely disturbed when, as soon as he finished lunch, he pleaded the need to work and headed back to his study.
He did the same at dinner. Kiara had whipped up a basic pasta. He asked Alice if she’d prefer Kiara to read to her that night and Alice said a simple yes. So he disappeared again.
Kiara headed to her bedroom, tried to read and then tried to sleep. She did neither well.
The next day followed the same pattern.
So what? She was being paid, she told herself. Actually she was being overpaid—a lot—and what did it matter if Bryn kept to himself? In a way it even seemed a good idea.
The way he’d touched her had caused a frisson of sexual awareness that stayed with her, and in her bed that night there was a restlessness, as her mind wandered into a fantasy of what-ifs?
There’d been men in Kiara’s life—of course there had—but they’d been fleeting. Her only experience of family had left her with no real desire to start one of her own and, besides, where would she find time? Her passion was Two Tails. It took all her energy, all her waking hours, and the thought of a lover...
A lover like Bryn...
Was impossible. Even if he was interested—which he wasn’t.
But still there was this frisson of awareness, a heightening of senses that left her disturbed. This man seemed extraordinary. He was so aloof, so like a grown-up version of Alice, but underneath she could sense something more. A lot more. The feel of his fingers on her cheek... That touch... It had woken such feelings...
Which were useless and she had to keep them in check. The best way to keep them at bay was therefore to avoid him, so his distance was a good idea. For her.
But not for Alice.
As the days wore on she realised there were deeper issues at stake. Alice was starting to relax with her, even to chat, maybe even to think of her as a friend—and Alice needed a friend. Or more. Kiara knew from personal experience how vulnerable a lonely child could be, and she knew Alice was aching for someone to love. But that someone couldn’t be her.
She was starting to wonder how sensible was it to encourage a solitary child like Alice to get close to her. She was here as a paid employee, but she was a vet, not a nanny, and soon she had to leave. She was no psychologist, but even she could see that if Alice and Bunji were to end up with a happy ever after, Bryn had to be included.
And finally, she called him on it.
Dinner had just ended. ‘Will you tell me the story about the kayaks and the cows again tonight?’ Alice asked shyly, and Kiara took a deep breath and shook her head.
‘You know, I’ve been talking so much today that my throat’s sore,’ she told her. ‘So tonight’s my night off. I’m going to sit by the fire in the sitting room and rest my voice so I can talk to you tomorrow. Your uncle’s on story duty tonight.’
‘I have...’ Bryn started but she flashed him such a look that he rethought. ‘I guess I can,’ he conceded. ‘You choose a book.’
‘I like real stories,’ Alice whispered.
There was a moment’s silence. Real stories. Stories where this man revealed something of himself. Kiara could almost see the armour he had in place. How much easier to read someone else’s story?
She found she was holding her breath, waiting for him to refuse. His face was closed. Every instinct was to rush in, suggest, fix things, but she compressed her lips and held her thoughts in.
And finally, he cracked.
‘I guess I could tell you about porriwiggles,’ he said, almost as if the words were forced out of him.
‘Porriwiggles?’ Alice stared at him in confusion.
‘Most people call them tadpoles,’ he explained. ‘Or baby frogs. When I was a boy, my father had a property with a dam in the home paddock. He used to send me and my nanny there when he was...when he wanted the city house to himself. Nanny taught me to catch porriwiggles—that’s what she called them. We put them in tanks and watched them grow, and then put them back in the dam when they turned into frogs. But funny things happened to those porriwiggles—and to me, too, as I tried to catch them.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You know, your mom was older than me, and she’d gone to America by the time I was born, but she would have spent time on our dad’s farm as well. I bet she would have caught porriwiggles.’
And he’d caught her. A story that included porriwiggles—and her mother. ‘How...how did you catch them?’ Alice whispered, and Bryn cast Kiara a goaded glance—an unspoken What have you got me into?—but then softened as he answered Alice.
‘Let’s get you to bed and I’ll tell you,’ he told her. ‘We must give Dr Brail’s voice a chance to recover, mustn’t we? I’ve heard her yelling at you and at Bunji—wow, she’s such a bossy teacher. You must be really scared of her.’
And Alice got up from the table, looked up at her uncle—and giggled.
Kiara sat by the fire in the sitting room, because she’d told Alice that was where she was going—and also it seemed somehow mean to disappear to her bedroom when she’d pushed him into taking charge. Plus, it was a gorgeous living room. The open fireplace was huge, surrounded by a magnificent marble surround. There were massive, down-filled settees—four of them—and in front of the fire was a vast wool rug, all colours, a rug so rich it looked as if it had just this minute arrived on the plane from Persia.
Alice thought briefly of the squashed, worn and slightly puppy-chewed rug in front of her fire back at Two Tails and almost grinned.
The fire had been set—probably thanks to Mrs Hollingwood. Kiara put a match to the kindling, and watched it grow into a truly wonderful fire, but as she watched her desire to smile faded.
She had a sudden urge to fetch Bunji to share. She couldn’t. Bunji was Alice’s dog now, but she needed a dog. She needed...someone?
If she lost Two Tails...
She’d never be without a dog, she told herself, or at least, not for long. Once she found herself a decent job and secure place to live, she’d be in the position to have another.
But right now, sitting by the fire, thinking of Bryn telling stories of porriwiggles to Alice, she was aware of a void that had nothing to do with dogs.
Family...
One day...
Really? She was thirty-two and she’d always been far too busy for serious relationships. And besides, she had no idea how they worked. To give your heart to a man...to surrender control as her mother had...the thought had always terrified her. She’d settled with herself that she’d be happy and safe with her cottage and her dogs. It was only now, when she was feeling as if she were being torn by both, that she was having these strange feelings.
The door opened and Bryn limped in. She should jump up, say goodnight, go, but he crossed the room and sank into the closest settee, as if he wanted to talk?
It would have seemed mean to flee. Sensible though, she thought. But mean.
‘How did it go?’
‘She liked the porriwiggles.’
‘I imagine she would. She needs as many stories about her family as she can get.’
He cast her a strange look. ‘I guess.’
‘So...porriwiggles?’ she asked, figuring that had to be a safe bet for conversation.
‘I had a menagerie,’ he told her. ‘The ducks used to eat the frogspawn, so I figured I was saving lives by taking the spawn up to the stables and keeping it safe until they hatched and grew into frogs. I guess I didn’t realise all I was doing was making ducks fatter by giving them a much bigger diet of froglets.’
She smiled. ‘I hope you didn’t tell Alice that.’
‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘I told her the funny bits, how I used an old bath as a boat to get to the island in the middle, how my bath floated away, and nanny had to wade in up to her armpits to rescue me. How I used old petrol cans to cart water from the dam to replace the water in my tanks—I learned the hard way that tap water has chlorine in it. And one day I remember thinking hey, this can is full already, I must have already filled it, so I tipped it in and it was petrol. I realised as soon as I smelled it. I remember flying into the kitchen and yelling at the cook that I needed the strainer, then tipping the whole tank through the sieve and washing and washing the little froglets in dam water. And the amazing thing was that they survived.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s a veterinary miracle for you.’
‘Amazing,’ she said and grinned. ‘I should write it up for Aus Vet Monthly.’
‘It’s copyright,’ he told her, and he smiled back down at her.
And that smile...
Uh-oh. She had to get out of here. She rose, and he rose, too, and once again they were too close. How had that happened?
Maybe it just seemed too close. Maybe, the way she was feeling, half a room away would seem too close.
‘I need to go to bed,’ she said, a trifle unsteadily. ‘I just stayed here to see how you went.’
‘To check on me?’ But he was still smiling.
‘No!’ She flushed. ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business.’
‘But you did force me to read to her.’
She tilted her chin at that. ‘It is none of my business,’ she repeated. ‘But I’m leaving soon and you’re staying. She needs you to be her friend, not me.’
‘I don’t know how...’
‘Then learn. Tonight was a great start.’
‘You’re the psychologist?’
‘No,’ she said, gently now. ‘I’m an interested onlooker who has to move on. But you and Alice... I hope you’ll be friends for life. You can do it. I know you can.’
And then, there was something about the way he was looking...something about his expression... Fear? Longing? Bewilderment? She couldn’t figure it out, but somehow, before she could stop herself, before she even realised what a crazy thing it was to do, she stepped forward and rose on tiptoes. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said—and she kissed him.
It was a feather kiss, a brushing of lips on his cheek. It was a kiss of friendship, a kiss of warmth, a kiss of some deep recognition that this man was in as much need of human contact as his niece was. It had been entirely instinctive, and as soon as she’d done it she backed away. Horrified. She’d shocked herself. What was she thinking?
And he looked...as if he didn’t know either. He put his hand to his cheek and looked at her. Just looked.
They were both in uncharted territory.
The silence stretched on. He raised a hand as if to reach out to her and then he paused and looked down at it—and so did she. They were on the edge of something...
Which was stupid and unprofessional and doomed to lead nowhere, she told herself, panicked. This man was a client, nothing more. She had only to glance around his amazing, over-the-top designer sitting room to see that he was a world away from her world. As her mother’s world had been so far from her father’s.
And she wasn’t stupid. She was a vet, here on a job. She backed away, almost in fear, and her hands came up in an instinctive gesture of defence.
‘I... I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘That was totally inappropriate. Goodnight, Bryn.’
And somehow, she managed to get her shocked body to move.
He didn’t follow her as she fled. He didn’t call after her.
He just stood in silence, for a very long time.
She’d performed a miracle. She and her blessed dog.
Bryn sat in his study, supposedly working. They’d come to an arrangement. He now spent the mornings and the evenings with Alice. The afternoons, though, they’d decided, could be his. Kiara needed to train Bunji with Alice, and he really did need to work.
But increasingly he was finding it harder to concentrate. Right now, instead of focusing on notes on neural pathways, he was looking out over the lawn to where a child and a dog were tumbling down the grassy slope toward the swimming pool. For the last hour Kiara had been trying to teach Bunji—and Alice—to roll, using a pocket full of treats, laughter and pats. Finally she’d done it. Now child and dog were nose to nose, rolling down the slope as one.
Alice was squealing with delight.
Kiara was sitting at the top of the slope, beaming as if she’d been given the world.
He felt as if he’d been given the world. Alice was a child again.
What a gift.
But tomorrow Kiara was leaving.
The thought was like a storm cloud heading his way with frightening speed. But they’d be fine, he told himself, as he’d been telling himself for days. The way Alice felt about Kiara—and increasingly, the way he was starting to feel about Kiara—it wasn’t practical or sensible to continue. He and Alice would figure out a new normal. Kiara been employed for a fixed time and that time was over. Alice had to learn independence.
They’d manage.
And then his phone rang.
The screen said the call was from Archie Cragg, the hospital’s administrator. He and Archie had last talked just before Kiara had arrived. ‘I’ll be back as soon as Alice starts school,’ Bryn had told him, and Archie had agreed.
‘Take all the time you need,’ he’d assured him, as he’d said all along. ‘We want you back healthy, with things sorted at home.’
But now Archie’s voice held a note of strain. ‘Mate?’ And instantly Bryn knew something was wrong.
‘Problem?’
‘You could say that,’ Archie said grimly. ‘We’ve lost Rod and Caroline.’
What the...?
Rod Breehaut was second in charge of Neurology—he’d taken charge while Bryn was off work. Rod was married to Caroline, who was also a neurologist.
Bryn, Rod and Caroline made up Sydney Central’s quota of fully trained neurologists.
Not another accident, surely. His heart seemed to hit his boots, but Archie was still talking.
‘It’s a bit of an affair.’ The voice on the end of the line was tight with fury. ‘It seems Rod’s been having it off with one of our med students. A student! He knows the rules. He’s fifty and she’s twenty-two—poor kid, it’s like she’s star-struck. Her assessment’s about to come up and he’s her supervisor—can you imagine the situation that puts them both in? Anyway, Caroline caught them at it, in the staffroom of all places, and she screeched the place down. I’ve had to sack him on the spot, and now Caroline’s decided to go home to her mother. Who lives in Birmingham! She leaves tomorrow. Bryn, I know I told you to take all the time you need, but you’re pretty much recovered, right? Mate, we have patients in real trouble. We need you.’
She looked up and Bryn was limping across the lawn to join them. And her heart seemed to sort of...jolt.
Well, that was dumb, she told herself. Just because the man was too good-looking for his own good... Just because he was so darned sexy...
But it was more than that. Nothing had changed in the sexiness department since she’d first met him, but since the night she’d found him watching over his little niece, the way she’d felt about him had definitely changed. And after the night of...the kiss...she’d watched his interaction with Alice with a kind of wonder.
Until Bunji had broken through, uncle and niece had seemed tightly bound within themselves, shielding themselves from personal connection.
She watched him now and saw his face crease into a smile as wide as the one she’d felt when Bunji and Alice had finally nailed their nose-to-nose roll. And she felt as if she’d been given the world.
To make a wounded man smile?
No. She’d come here for the dog, she reminded herself. And for Alice.
But this week seemed to have changed things for Bryn, her sense of satisfaction was well justified, and she might even feel sad about leaving tomorrow.
Who was she kidding? Might? She knew she’d feel desolate. But she had to leave. Hazel had to return to Sydney. Maureen was holding the fort, but she could only work part-time and there was no one to run the clinic. Even if there was a point in her staying...well, why would she?
Bryn had been smiling as he watched kid and dog roll, but as he reached her his smile faded. He was still gazing down at them, but his face was suddenly grim.
‘Problem?’ she asked, and he took a deep breath and turned to face her.
‘Kiara, I need you to stay.’ Then, as she opened her mouth to respond, he held up a hand. ‘Please. Hear me out. This isn’t for me—or for Alice. This is desperation.’
And briefly he outlined what he’d just been told.
‘I know you think it’s impossible,’ he told her. ‘But Sydney Central is without its three senior neurologists. There’s no one else in the short term. Kiara, if I don’t head back, people will die.’
What was he asking? She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I don’t think I am,’ he said bleakly. ‘Archie’s looked at every option. He’s desperate. But I can’t leave Alice. Kiara, I’ve tried to think but I can’t get past it. There’s no one but you.’
‘So ring Beatrice,’ she managed, feeling winded. More. She was feeling almost as if a gun were being pointed at her head. She had needs. Her dogs were her life.
‘If I don’t head back, people will die...’
The medical imperative. Unarguable.
‘Do you think Beatrice would come?’ he asked.
She stared at him for a long time, playing it out in her head. Thinking of what she knew of the acerbic Beatrice. ‘No,’ she said at last.
‘Neither do I.’
And then they were silent because Alice and Bunji were at the top of the slope again. They watched as kid and dog repeated their roll, as they ended up in a tangle of arms, legs, tail at the bottom. As Bunji was cuddled. As Alice was licked. They were content, Kiara thought, and she thought of the miracle it had taken to get them this far.
‘There’s a child-minding service at the hospital,’ Bryn said at last, talking heavily, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. As maybe it was. ‘Archie’s asked. It’s for littlies, but because it’s an emergency they’ll take Alice until I can find someone else. But I can’t bear...’
And neither could she. The thought of Alice being left in a strange setting...without Bunji...
‘No,’ she said, and Bryn raked his already rumpled hair.
‘Kiara, I know I have no right to ask, but is there anyone else to take on Two Tails? I’m prepared to pay as much as Beatrice has already paid you. Per week. Just until Archie can find replacements, or until the new school term starts? You need cash and I need help. Could it work?’
He was serious?
She turned and looked down the slope, at Alice and Bunji, mutually engrossed in blowing dandelion seeds. How had a dandelion dared show its face in this perfectly manicured garden?
Who knew?
What was he asking?
That she step in and take over care of dog and child, so he could go back to his perfectly manicured life?
No. That was unfair. She’d read enough about the work he did to realise that his statement—‘people will die’—was probably the truth.
‘It’s three weeks,’ he said.
‘Until boarding school?’
‘I know that’s no longer an option. Even I can see how much she needs Bunji. But I’ve been making enquiries. There’s a local school only four blocks from here. It seems to have a good reputation. I’ve talked to the headmistress. There’s only a week before end of term so we’ve agreed Alice can start in three weeks’ time. But, Kiara, I don’t have three weeks. I’ve wasted enough time.’
Whoa...
I’ve wasted enough time?
All at once she was thinking back to the time after she’d been bitten by the snake. Danger over, both her grandmother and her father were at her hospital bedside, discussing her convalescence.
Her grandmother had been due to leave on a visit to a beloved sister in Perth. She’d laid her plans long since. Her flights had been booked for a year.
But her father had stood there, arms folded, angry, unmoving. ‘You’ll have to take her,’ he’d snapped. ‘I’ve wasted enough time.’
Her grandmother had taken her—of course she had, and it had only been much later that Kiara had realised how much of a sacrifice missing that trip had been. But she’d known enough to accept without question that she had a place in her grandma’s heart.
And here was another man, his face set, demanding someone else accept his responsibilities. Knowing that his life was far more important.
‘I’ve wasted enough time.’
She opened her mouth to snap—but then she paused.
He’d closed his eyes and when he opened them again what she saw was a weariness that was almost bone deep. Months of shock, of pain and a responsibility he’d never asked for had left their indelible mark.
‘Sorry, that was badly said,’ he said at last. ‘I haven’t wasted my time. Believe it or not, I do care. I’m doing my best, and this has come at me from left field. I know this feels like emotional blackmail but I’m desperate for help. Kiara, I need you.’
‘But I can’t,’ she managed. She was feeling desperate herself. ‘My friend Hazel has been looking after Two Tails and she has to leave. I have dogs in care. I have a vet clinic to run. Like your hospital, there’s no one else who has the skills and availability. If Hazel agrees to stay on at Two Tails, then she loses her job. If I don’t go back to Two Tails, my dogs will starve.’ She shook her head, thinking of the impossibility of what he was asking. ‘And, Bryn, honestly, it’s not fair to Alice to make her more dependent on me. It’s you she needs to learn to love, not me. You and your friend Archie need to find a Plan B.’
‘There’s no Plan B.’
‘Well, I’m not Plan A.’
She felt sick, but what choice did she have? The thought of abandoning Two Tails... She couldn’t do it. No!
And then, because any further discussion would achieve nothing, she crossed her arms across her chest, and she lay down on the grass.
‘No,’ she said again and rolled deliberately away down the slope.
Plan B. What the hell was Plan B?
And why, when there were so many convoluted problems filling his head, did he suddenly want to forget them all and roll down after her? Kiara had obviously managed to put away her anger. Woman and child and dog were now in a tangle of licks and laughter below.
Joining them would be more than stupid. He’d end up twisting his mending knee, setting himself back months.
He needed to block out emotion—block out desire?—and think.
Kiara’s refusal was understandable. It wasn’t fair to demand it of her, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of an alternative.
It was three weeks before Alice could start school. The thought of Alice in hospital childcare... He couldn’t do it. If he offered more—a lot more—to an employment agency he might well find someone willing to work for him, but employing a stranger, expecting her to care for Alice full-time and hoping Alice didn’t retreat again into her shell... Once again, he couldn’t do it.
He had two conflicting imperatives, and they were imperative. He had to start work, but he was Alice’s guardian. He had to do what was best for her.
And it wasn’t just that he was her guardian, he thought as he watched the group below him. With Kiara’s help he’d grown closer to Alice this week than he’d been since she’d arrived. If he could wave his wand and send her back to the States he wouldn’t do it, not unless he was convinced it’d make her happier. Boarding school was out of the question. Like it or not, she was now part of his life, living here with him, for...how long?
For however long she needed.
And that brought back what Kiara said. That Alice needed to learn to love him.
That thought was practically overwhelming, and he shoved it away with force. One day at a time, he told himself, fighting back panic.
And suddenly, through the panic, there was Plan B.
He checked it out, examining it from all angles and finding it...okay.
Three weeks. Trust was already established. It might even be good for all of them.
‘Kiara,’ he called.
She looked up, wary. He should head down the slope and join them, but rolling was out of the question and his leg was too stiff to try walking. He’d have to use the path, which would look wussy.
Besides, by the time he reached them they might well have climbed back up again.
Not for the first time he cursed his injured leg. Not only had Skye’s death blindsided him emotionally, he was accustomed to his body doing what he demanded. Now...these last months had left him feeling as if he were on quicksand. He longed, no, even stronger, he yearned to be back at work. Back where emotional and physical injuries were his to treat, not his to endure.
Cutting-edge medicine had always been his retreat from emotion. The hospital needed him and suddenly, more than ever, he longed for it as well. The emotions he was feeling were starting to seem overwhelming.
‘Kiara,’ he called, louder, and she looked doubtfully up at him, said something to Alice he couldn’t hear and then made her way back up the slope. Then she stood, hands behind her back. Dutiful employee waiting for orders?
Employee until tomorrow?
‘I’ve had a thought,’ he said.
‘That’s great.’ She nodded encouragingly. ‘Thoughts are good.’ He glowered, and infuriatingly she tried a smile—trying to make light of an impossible situation? ‘As long as it doesn’t involve me abandoning my responsibilities, I’m all ears,’ she told him. ‘Tell me your thought.’
She was teasing?
She was like an annoying buzz fly, he thought. Deserving of swatting.
Honestly?
Honestly, despite the pressure he was under, right at this minute he didn’t want to swat her.
Of all the inappropriate thoughts he could have, he actually, stupidly, wanted to kiss her.
He was so far out of his comfort zone here. He needed to pull himself together. He was in a mess enough. A kiss...even if he didn’t get slapped, it’d make what he was about to suggest a whole lot more complicated.
So get on with it, he told himself fiercely. Outline Plan B.
‘What if you take Alice and Bunji to your place?’
‘Pardon?’ She looked at him blankly.
‘I’d pay you to keep them at this refuge of yours,’ he said, quickly, sensing her first instinct would be to reject it out of hand. ‘Kiara, Alice likes you a lot. She’s old enough to be little trouble, and Bunji would be safe. I could pay you to care for them for the three weeks until Alice starts school.’
‘Really?’ she said slowly. ‘And then what?’
‘By then I’ll have sorted the mess at work. Sydney Central has a great reputation—we’ll find new people. My pressure will ease, and Alice can come home again.’
‘Define home.’
He frowned. ‘Where she lives, of course.’
‘So you agree that she lives here?’
‘It doesn’t stop her being somewhere else for a while. She can’t depend on me for everything.’
And at that he copped it again, a flash of anger from her dark eyes.
‘So who can she depend on?’
‘I meant—’
‘I know exactly what you meant,’ she told him. ‘Alice can depend on you in an emergency—like when her mother dies, or when you have time and space to allow her to share your life. But as for being there whenever—’
‘I can’t put my life on hold.’
‘For a child. Why not? What bigger reason is there? I told you. What Alice needs is someone to love her, and that someone can’t be me.’
She paused then and took a few deep breaths. She turned away and looked down the slope again, obviously thinking, and when she finally turned back, she had her face under control. The anger was gone, but when she spoke again her voice was flat. Decisive.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘If it really is life or death that the hospital gets its precious neurosurgeon—and, yes, I believe you—then for Alice’s sake I’ll let her come with me. But on one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That you come, too.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. That’s my offer and you can take it or leave it. For whatever you think, Alice needs a home in the true sense of the word. She’s the same as Bunji. Bunji seems to have found her home with Alice, but Alice’s home needs to be you. Not me. You. So, Dr Dalton, it’s up to you. You can come and go to work as you please—go save the world—but every night you need to come home to Alice. I’ll provide three weeks’ board and lodging, care and kindness to Alice and Bunji while you’re away, but for these three weeks, Alice’s home is still you. As it has to be, now and for ever. So...deal?’
Three weeks...
Now and for ever?
What was she asking?
But he looked down into her face and what he saw there was implacable. Take it or leave it.
Three weeks away from his home.
Home? She was saying it had a whole new definition.
He couldn’t process it, but he was up against a brick wall, and he knew it.
Could it hurt to spend three weeks in this refuge he’d only heard about?
‘Is it big enough?’
‘I have four bedrooms,’ she told him. ‘Two of them are habitable and I have an attic I think Alice might love.’ She glanced around at his swimming pool, his manicured lawns, his stunning house. ‘It’s not quite up to your standard,’ she confessed. ‘But if you’re prepared to slum it...’
‘Slum it...’
‘Well, maybe not slum exactly. Two Tails might be wonky but it’s clean, and it is a home. So, what do you think, Dr Dalton? Last offer?’
He stared at her, and she gazed back, her look direct and challenging.
Okay, he thought. It’d take longer but he could travel to work from her place. It might even do Alice good.
But then... Three more weeks staying with this woman?
What was there in that that gave him pause?
Pause or not, he had no choice.
‘Thank you,’ he said weakly.
‘You’re welcome,’ she told him, and she smiled a tight smile, then turned away and proceeded to roll down the slope again.