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Definitely something, but what he couldn’t define.
He walked down the front steps, feeling all kinds of a fool—coming back the way he had, confused, and slightly unhappy…
‘Bye.’
He was at the bottom of the steps now and turned at the word, looking back up at the woman who’d spoken—at the dog by her side. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, and a tension he’d never felt before—or not within recent memory—filled his body.
He was tired, that’s all it was.
Yesterday had been a big day, today even longer…
Maybe he was sickening for something.
But as he got into his car and drove away, he knew it was none of these things.
Any more than it was to do with whatever she wanted—or didn’t want—to talk about.
This was different, internal somehow.
Emotional?
He was pretty sure it wasn’t love, because love didn’t—couldn’t, surely—happen like that, like a thunderbolt from the blue—but whatever he was feeling was something he’d never felt before.
He loved Hallie and Pop and his foster siblings, but that was different. It had grown almost organically as he’d grown within the family.
Which only went to prove love wasn’t thunderbolt stuff.
But whatever it was he was feeling, he didn’t want to feel now…
Definitely didn’t want to feel now!
Of all the women in the entire world he should not be getting involved with, Emma was at the top of the list.
Emma had children, and children meant commitment.
And he didn’t do commitment—at least in his ramblings he’d managed to tell her that much.
He just couldn’t trust himself to do commitment.
An image he’d thought he’d banished forever flashed clearly through his mind—not the blow itself, or the blood that had flowed after it, but his father’s arm rising, slowly, menacing, then deliberately striking downwards.
His own arm, many years later, rising the same way, hitting out at the man—barely a man—who’d stolen his girlfriend…
It wasn’t the sins of the father handed down, but the genes…
CHAPTER FOUR
THE FOLLOWING DAYS were busy for Emma, but totally Marty-free. Not that she wanted to see the man who was causing so much confusion in her mind and body, but he’d been such a presence in her first few days at work, she couldn’t help but be aware of his absence.
Molly and Mandy had called in after school one afternoon to play with the boys, and Emma had to wonder if it had been prearranged when Carrie came to collect them and joined her father for a beer on the veranda before taking them home.
She couldn’t feel anything but pleased that her father had found an old friend, and if she wondered, as she lay in bed at night, just how friendly they might have been in the past, she dismissed the thought as none of her business. At least her father was happy…
And her own social life was improving—slightly. She’d had a drink after work on Friday afternoon with Joss and a couple of other staff, Joss suggesting that she bring the boys out to her farm over the weekend.
‘We’ve a couple of orphan lambs and a poddy calf the boys might like to play with,’ she’d said. ‘Come tomorrow and stay to lunch.’
Knowing the boys would be delighted with the farm animals, she’d agreed immediately, resolutely ignoring an inner whisper that she’d miss Marty if he happened to pop in.
Something he hadn’t done for a couple of days, she had to admit.
And why should he?
He’d produced babysitters for her, found a friend for her father to help him settle back into town, and offered her friendship too—what more could she expect?
Nothing.
Why should she?
Especially when he’d made it very plain that friendship was all he would offer.
But when she arrived back from Joss’s place, two exhausted boys sleeping in the back of her car, and saw the familiar four-wheel drive parked outside the gate, why did her heart rate rise, while her mind wondered just how much of the farm mud that had liberally covered the boys had ended up on her nose or cheeks?
‘Good morning?’ he asked, coming down the front steps and offering to carry one of the boys inside for her.
‘Great morning, and I can manage,’ she said automatically, and stupidly as she couldn’t manage—not both boys at once—not now they were getting bigger.
As he’d already unhooked Xavier from his car seat and was lifting him out, she hoped her words might have gone unnoticed, although the eyebrow he cocked at her as she leant in to free Hamish told her otherwise.
‘Kids look so innocent when they’re asleep,’ he said quietly as they stood and watched the boys settle into their cots.
