Christmas With The Single Dad. Sarah Morgan

Nicola Ann, you are such a klutz.

      He didn’t say anything, but she swore those blue eyes of his twinkled before he closed the door.

      Without another word he climbed into the driver’s seat and they set off along what Nicola could only loosely describe as a track.

      ‘Is it far to the homestead?’

      ‘About five kilometres.’

      She waited. He didn’t say anything more. On the rough track the car couldn’t go much faster than thirty kilometres an hour and the silence pressed in on her. Cade’s tall, broad bulk dominated the interior cab and, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, that made her nervous.

      ‘Is the land near the homestead unsuitable for an airstrip?’

      He flicked a glance in her direction. She doubted much got past those eyes of his. She could imagine them filling with that soul-destroying combination of derision and pity she’d seen in her friends’ eyes during the last few months.

      Yes, she could imagine it all too clearly and it made bile rise in her throat.

      ‘Fire,’ he said.

      She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘The reason the airstrip is away from the house is in case there’s an accident that could start a bushfire.’

      Oh. It made perfect sense when she thought about it.

      At that moment they topped a rise and Cade pulled the car to a halt. She stared at the vista spread before her and her ‘wow’ breathed out of her before she could help it, before she could remind herself about tempering her enthusiasm and keeping things businesslike.

      She shook herself and swallowed. ‘Very impressive, Mr Hindmarsh.’

      ‘Cade,’ he corrected. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony out here, Nicola.’ He gestured out of the front windscreen. ‘As you can see, this is the station complex.’

      It was much larger than anything she’d imagined. On the side nearest them was a sprawling homestead with two wings that spread out in a V shape from the main structure. The weatherboards were painted a crisp white and the corrugated iron roof a cool deep green. A veranda wrapped around it all, but it wasn’t the homestead’s size that stole her breath. It was the garden that surrounded it. Even from this distance she could make out the fronds of the two magnificent tree ferns that stood at the end of each wing, as well as the breadth of the date palms that dotted the lawn. ‘I can’t believe you have a garden. It’s like an oasis.’

      ‘Bore water,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t stop here so you could admire the view. I need you to understand some basic facts so you can stay out of trouble while you’re here.’

      She frowned.

      ‘You might think coming out here for two months is an adventure, but the land is unforgiving. Underestimate it at your own peril.’

      She tried to suppress a shiver. ‘Okay.’ And then she realised how weak and pathetic her voice sounded. She lifted her chin and made her voice stronger. ‘What do I need to know?’

      ‘The land is deceptive to the eye. It undulates. You think you know where you are and then you turn around and can’t see the homestead or any familiar landmarks. It’s that easy—’ he clicked his fingers ‘—to get lost. You’re not to go wandering about on your own.’

      Her heart sank. There went her plan of jogging her way to fitness and thinness.

      Damn it! She’d sworn to return to Melbourne toned and tanned. It would signal to Diane, Brad and all her other friends that she was getting on with her life. It would prove that she had confidence and chutzpah and was no longer an object of pity. She gripped her hands together. And the next time a guy dumped her she wanted to make sure it wasn’t because she was half a stone overweight.

      ‘Waminda Downs covers three million acres. That’s twelve thousand square kilometres.’

      She pulled her mind back.

      ‘That’s a lot of ground to cover if someone goes missing.’

      She read the subtext. If a person went missing out here they might never be found.

      ‘See that perimeter fence? It’s painted white.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘That encloses the four acres of the home paddock, including the homestead and outbuildings. You can wander freely within that, but do not cross that boundary unaccompanied.’

      Four acres would be plenty! ‘Roger.’

      ‘And I’d like you and the girls to stay away from the cattle yards.’ He pointed to a series of yards on the side furthest away from them. They were separated from the homestead by a number of outbuildings. He proceeded to name the buildings. ‘That’s the machinery shed.’ It was huge. ‘Barn and stables.’ He pointed. ‘Next to them is the jackaroo and jillaroo quarters. Those smaller cottages at the far end are for the stockmen and their families.’

      She blinked. Waminda Downs, it seemed, was its own thriving community.

      ‘Why are the cattle yards out of bounds?’ She wanted to understand every hazard in her new environment so she could head off any potential disasters.

      ‘We corralled a herd of brumby in there the week before last and we’re going to start breaking them in. It’s dangerous work.’

      ‘Okay.’ She nodded once, hard. ‘Anything else I need to know?’

      ‘If you do go exploring within the home paddock you always take a water bottle with you, and wear a hat and sunscreen. It’s only four acres, but it’s summer and at the height of the day the sun is merciless.’

      ‘Don’t worry, Mr Hindmarsh. I won’t be letting the girls outside between eleven a.m. and three p.m.’

      ‘The garden is surprisingly cool.’

      She’d make her own judgement about that. Located two hours by plane from the nearest hospital, she had no intention of risking sunstroke in her charges.

      ‘And there’s just one final thing.’

      Something in his tone made her turn. ‘Yes?’

      His blue eyes flashed. ‘The name’s Cade—try it.’

      She’d never had a problem calling any of her previous employers by their first name, but it suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t want to be on a first name basis with this man. She swallowed. He was too … too confident, too gorgeous … too everything that she wasn’t. He brought home to her all the things she lacked with a realness that made her want to turn her face away.

      Coward.

      For heaven’s sake, she was his children’s nanny. First names could not be avoided. She lifted her chin. She would be cool and poised. She would be competent and clever. She would be respected. She moistened her lips. His eyes followed the action. ‘Cade,’ she said. His name scraped out of her throat with an appalling huskiness and none of the poised cool she’d tried so hard to carry off.

      He cocked an eyebrow. ‘See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

      Before she could answer he started the engine again and they set off towards the homestead. This time she curbed any impulse to fill the silence. She focused instead on the homestead and garden, and tried to make out what it was that glittered on the trunks of the date palms and to see what the shapes were that littered the lawn.

      And as they drew closer her jaw started to drop. The glitter … it was tinsel. The shapes on the lawn …

      Oh. My. God. The shapes were Christmas-themed wooden cut-outs painted in the brightest colours imaginable. On one side of the lawn a Santa sleigh squatted along with four merry reindeer. On the other stood a wooden Santa in all his holiday merriment, a sack of toys at his feet. Gold and silver snowflakes