Rancher's Twins: Mum Needed. Barbara Hannay
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mattress dip beneath an extra weight. Gray was sitting on the other side of the bed, his eyes fierce and filled with concern. Lifting a shaking hand, he touched his daughter’s tear-stained cheek.
‘Anna,’ he whispered. ‘Anna, baby.’
‘Daddy!’ The little girl lifted her head from Holly’s shoulder, then turned and hurled herself into her father’s arms. Within minutes her shuddering sobs calmed and she buried her face into his chest.
Holly couldn’t blame her. What little girl wouldn’t want to be held safe in those big, strong, manly arms?
Just the same, she couldn’t help feeling rejected. After weeks of comforting Anna during these middle of the night crises, Holly had suddenly become redundant.
She looked across to Josh’s bed. In the early weeks he’d been the first to jump up, trying to calm his sister. Lately, he’d been more inclined to lie quietly, wide awake, knowing that Holly would come, that Holly knew what to do and that the storm would eventually pass.
‘Hey there, champ,’ Holly whispered.
‘Hey,’ the boy returned softly and then he yawned.
‘You go back to sleep.’ She leaned over to drop a kiss on his warm, still baby-soft cheek. He really was the greatest little guy. She adored him.
Adored them both.
When she turned back to see how Anna was now, she found Gray watching her, and it was then, in the warmth of his gaze, that she remembered that he wasn’t the only adult in this room who was half undressed. She was in her thin cotton nightie—little more than a long, baggy T-shirt with a trail of dog’s paw-prints stamped across her chest.
She tried to shrug off the intimacy of this situation, of being here with Gray, both in their pyjamas, tending to his children in the middle of the night. But the intimacy seemed even greater now after their afternoon in the park and their shared meal. Almost as if the four of them were a little family.
Good grief, what am I thinking?
How could she betray Chelsea with such thoughts? Very soon she would be waving goodbye to this father and his kids. In the fall, she would embark on an exciting new career.
Enough already.
Determined to be sensible, Holly said softly, ‘I think Anna will be okay now.’
In the early weeks, she’d taken the little girl back to sleep in her bed, but lately she’d been weaning Anna out of that habit.
‘Perhaps she’d like a drink of water.’ Holly handed Gray a glass from the nightstand and watched as Anna took a few sips. ‘We can leave the lamp on for five minutes,’ she said.
‘Okay, princess?’ Gray gently eased his daughter back into bed.
Holly pulled up the covers and tucked her in. ‘Night, night.’
The little girl looked peaceful again, curled on her side, eyes closed, golden curls gleaming softly in the lamplight as she clutched her favourite fluffy koala.
Gray gave his daughter a kiss and his son a gentle shoulder thump.
‘‘Night, Dad.’
When Gray and Holly were safely down the hallway once more, Gray let out his breath with a whoosh.
‘My God,’ he said quietly. ‘That scared the living daylights out of me. I’d rather hear a crocodile growling at my elbow than my own daughter screaming.’
‘Anna’s screams are heart-rending,’ Holly agreed.
‘Has this been happening all along? Ever since Chelsea—?’
Holly nodded. ‘It was worse at first. She’s getting better. This is the first nightmare in a while.’
‘Maybe she’s had too much excitement for one day.’
‘Perhaps that’s it.’
Gray let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m sure I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep.’ He ran stiff fingers through his thick dark hair. ‘It’s two o’clock in the afternoon where I come from. Would I disturb you too much if I made a cuppa?’
‘No, not at all. Go right ahead.’
‘If I make tea, would you like a cup?’
‘Tea?’ She laughed. ‘English tea?’
He shrugged. ‘English, American … I’m not fussy.’
‘I’m afraid I only have green tea or camomile.’
He pulled a face. ‘How about wine, then? I bought a couple of Australian reds in the duty-free.’
No, thank you.
Holly was sure she should get straight back to her room. Right now. She should not sit around in the middle of the night in her jammies having cosy chats and glasses of vino with her charges’ scarily handsome father.
‘I … I’d love a glass. I’ll … um … just grab a wrap.’
Okay, I’m a bird-brain, but I do have a good excuse, Holly consoled herself as she hurried away. Gray needed to talk about his children. He needed to debrief after the scare he’d had with Anna.
By the time she came back into the kitchen, safely covered by a tightly knotted kimono that ended well below her knees, Gray had, mercifully, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and he was freeing the cork from a bottle.
CHAPTER FOUR
GRAY was extremely grateful that Holly was prepared to sit and have a drink with him at midnight.
His daughter’s screams had shocked him and, even though Anna had calmed quite quickly in his arms, the experience had left him feeling shaken. Anxious.
Now, more than ever, he was aware of his lack of skills. There was so much he didn’t know, didn’t understand about his children. He wouldn’t be able to read the experts’ books on psychology and grief and yet, very soon, Anna and Josh would be completely in his care.
Suddenly, his excitement over having them back in his life was mixed with terror. All his failures came back to haunt him—all the problems stemming from his childhood that had tainted his marriage.
Hell. How could he be a good single father? How could he be a role model for his kids? He’d let his parents down, let his wife down. Would he let his children down, too?
Worries chased each other, snapping like dogs at the heels of his thoughts as he and Holly sat on the corner sofas next to plate glass windows with views of the city.
They left the lamps turned low and the curtains open so they could see the black towers of the skyscrapers dotted with squares of lemon light. From below came the non-stop honk and roar of traffic. New York, the city that never sleeps.
It was a wonder anyone could ever sleep here with that constant racket, Gray thought wryly.
Holly was now wrapped in an elegant dressing gown of jade-green silk with a pattern of graceful white cranes. She sat with her bare feet tucked to one side, slim fingers curled around her glass of wine.
‘It’s a Margaret River red,’ he said. ‘Should be good. Cheers.’
She smiled faintly as she raised her glass. ‘Cheers.’
They sipped the wine and shared satisfied smiles. The wine was very good.
At first they talked about practical things, about the kinds of clothes the children would need immediately in Australia, and what could be boxed for posting. There were toys to be sorted, too—favourites to go with the children now, some to be sent to charities, others to be shipped.
‘How will Anna and Josh feel about leaving their friends behind?’ Gray asked.
‘Their school