Wife and Mother Wanted

Shame on you, Brody Elliott. Mind your manners.

He blinked in surprise at the echo of his wife’s phrase. During their brief marriage he’d often felt like a gauche boy being chastised by the lady of the house, and any love he’d had for his society wife had soon waned while his love for Molly, the reason they’d married in the first place, had grown daily.

Everyone had been right. Jackie had made him pay for getting her pregnant—even though he’d used protection, and even though he’d done the right thing by her. Their marriage had been based on guilt right from the start. His guilt.

Guilt at ruining Jackie’s life, according to her snobby family.

Guilt at robbing her of a life on easy street if she’d married the right man from her socio-economic sphere.

Guilt at how much he’d blamed her for the loss of his freedom.

And, for the last four years, the gut-wrenching guilt that her death might have been prevented if he’d done things differently.

‘Hey, if you don’t want to do this I’ll understand,’ Carissa said, the concern in her eyes reaching out and enveloping him in a warm embrace, no matter how unwelcome.

Damn it! As a cop, he’d been a master of the poker face. In fact it had been one of the skills that had kept him at the top of his game. However, like everything else in his life, he’d let his job slide, and it looked as if his skills had followed suit.

Slipping his poor excuse for a poker face into place, he said, ‘I’m ready. Just leave me to it.’

Searching his face, she appeared satisfied and nodded. ‘I’ll wait for you outside. Just hop on out when you’re ready.’

And as he watched her walk out, struggling to keep his eyes averted from the way her butt moved beneath the soft white cotton of her pants and failing miserably, he wondered for the hundredth time in the last hour if he’d lost his mind.

Carissa was proud of her ability to read people. She’d mastered the skill from an early age, learning to blend into the background in the hope that she’d avoid drawing attention to herself and earning a harsh word or a cruel putdown from Ron in the process. Being able to blend in allowed her the freedom to observe people, to look, listen and pick up on non-verbal cues.

And now, as she watched Brody cavorting with the children as if he’d been born to the role of Easter Bunny, she had no idea what to make of her new neighbour.

‘Looks like your bunny is doing a good job with the kids,’ Tahnee, her younger sister, said, plopping into a garden chair next to her. ‘I didn’t know Pete had it in him.’

‘It’s not Peter.’ Carissa wrinkled her nose as if she’d just smelt something nasty. In this case, eau de dumped.

Tahnee’s astute gaze fixed on her in an instant. ‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘Being with Peter was never paradise,’ Carissa muttered, knowing she’d hung around their dead-end relationship for eight months for one reason and one reason only. Familiarity. And in her case it had definitely bred contempt.

‘Yay!’ Tahnee clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. ‘Sayonara to the loser. I knew he wasn’t worthy of you.’

‘Why didn’t you say something earlier?’

Tahnee rolled her eyes, the exact shade of blue as her own, and once again Carissa was struck by the likeness between the three Lewis girls. She thanked God that they’d found each other after all these years. In fact she would never have set up shop here in Stockton if it hadn’t been for Tahnee. When they’d been reunited, she’d been so thrilled to finally have a loving family again that she’d moved to the small town two hours north of Sydney just to be closer to her sister, who had lived here for years.

‘Because I don’t interfere in my sister’s relationships, much as I’d like to.’

‘Speaking of which, have you heard from Kristen? Mick has spirited her away for a week in Perth before she heads back to Singapore and I haven’t heard from her.’

‘Another loser,’ Tahnee snorted. ‘Miserly Mick, that is. I bet Kristen’s the one springing for the holiday, not the other way around. That guy has long pockets and short arms when it comes to spending money.’

Carissa chuckled, but happened to agree with her sister. ‘As long as she’s happy.’

‘Mark my words—Kristen will be joining us in happy singledom in a few weeks if I’m not mistaken. Spending more than a few hours with that creep will open her eyes quick-smart.’

‘We’ll see,’ Carissa murmured, her attention suddenly diverted by the amazing sight of the Easter Bunny grappling with Timmy Fields, a gorgeous little blond boy who’d lost both parents recently and had had her silently crying for him in empathy.

‘Hey, Timmy. Take it easy on the Easter Bunny. You might pull his ears off.’

Though maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It might get Brooding Brody to listen to her for all of two seconds. He’d barely spoken more than a few words to her since they’d met, and she still hadn’t convinced him to let Molly spend some time with her.

That little girl needed some attention, and she was just the woman to give it to her. From her dishevelled appearance to her defiant attitude, Molly craved affection—and if her father spoke to her like he did to everyone else, Lord help her!

‘So who’s in the bunny costume?’ Tahnee unwrapped a chocolate Easter egg and popped it in her mouth. ‘Mmm…heaven. Actually, I should’ve known it wasn’t Pete. This bunny is way too tall and broad-shouldered to be Puny Pete.’

‘Meet Brody Elliott—my new neighbour.’

Tahnee sat up so quickly she almost tipped out of her chair. ‘The Brody Elliott?’

‘Uh-huh. Heard of him?’

‘Heard of him?’ Tahnee’s voice rose and Carissa shushed her. ‘Sis, where have you been hiding? Don’t you listen to the Stockton grapevine?’

‘I don’t usually have the time.’

‘Your loss.’

Okay. So maybe she could make an exception in this case. ‘So tell me about the Brody Elliott, anyway.’

Tahnee leaned closer and dropped her voice to an almost-whisper, no mean feat for her loud, brash sibling. ‘He’s an ex-cop, lived in Sydney his whole life. Has a real bad-boy reputation. Knocks up some society chick, marries her, has a child he adores. Then the wife dies, about four years ago, when the girl is a toddler, and he’s raised her on his own since. Carries a huge chip on his shoulder—like he blames the world for his problems.’

Carissa shook her head and stared wide-eyed at her sister, knowing that if the rumour mills were true what she’d just heard about Brody went a long way to explaining his grumpy manner. It sounded as if he’d had a rough time and then some. ‘Where did you hear all that?’

‘Daisy Smythe is the dead wife’s aunt. That’s one of the reasons he’s come to live here—so that his daughter can get some female influence in her life. Old Daisy told Pat at the pharmacy, and I overheard the whole thing.’

‘You mean you eavesdropped?’

Tahnee had the grace to blush. ‘Well, it wasn’t like the old duck was talking in whispers or anything.’

‘You’re unbelievable!’

‘So, how did you get big bad Brody to be your bunny? Tell all.’

Carissa remembered the look on Molly’s cute face when they’d first met, and Brody’s subsequent glower. She could hardly believe the taciturn man had found it in his heart to help her out at short notice—let alone throw himself wholeheartedly into the task, as indicated by his current wrestling match with half a dozen of the cherubs.

She shrugged, not wanting to add fuel to Tahnee’s thirst for news. ‘Looks like the guy has a soft spot for kids. He saw how much I needed help when old Dave Hill dropped out, and he put his hand up. With a little helpful twisting of it behind his back from yours truly, of course.’

Tahnee chuckled. ‘So the guy really has a soft spot?’

Carissa understood her sister’s scepticism if what Tahnee had learned from Daisy was true. And, from what she’d observed first-hand in his general demeanour, the guy didn’t exactly strike a welcoming chord with everyone he met. In fact, he looked about as friendly as Scrooge.

Not that she put much stock in anything old Daisy said. Daisy Smythe, a strait-laced spinster who’d lived in Stockton her entire life and shunned anyone she considered ‘foreign’—even those who came from Sydney, a scant two hours away—was notorious for her shallow views. And this was the woman Brody had chosen to be the female influence in his daughter’s life? Poor Molly.