Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

For now he had to thank her.

      He lowered Izzy until her feet hit sand, savouring her hesitation to let him go. ‘Save me a Vegemite sandwich, kiddo, I’ll be there in a sec.’

      ‘But I get the last brownie,’ she flung over her shoulder, already racing towards the Fletts, where she flung herself into Tom’s arms.

      Archer had never envisaged himself settling down, let alone having kids, but watching his brother and niece rub noses in an affectionate greeting he damn well wanted what they had.

      ‘You did a good thing today.’

      Callie touched his arm, and the immediate lick of heat made him wish he could drag her back to their sand dune for a repeat performance of that time earlier in the week.

      ‘What? Take my niece surfing?’ He shook his head. ‘I should’ve done it a long time ago.’

      ‘It’s never too late,’ she said, and the barely audible quiver in her voice reminded him that for her, for her mum, one day it would be too late.

      ‘Thanks.’ He rested his hands on her waist, enjoying the way they seemed to belong there.

      ‘For?’

      ‘For giving me the kick up the ass I needed.’

      Her gaze darted towards his family and a small, satisfied smile curved her lips. ‘It’s hard when you’re too close to a situation. Sometimes all it takes is a little objectivity to help clear through the fluff.’

      He chuckled. ‘The fluff?’

      Her gaze met his and it was as if he’d been dumped beneath a massive wave and couldn’t catch his breath.

      ‘The extra stuff that weighs us down and clouds our vision and makes us go a little crazy.’

      She was something else.

      Her beauty, her warmth, her wisdom.

      And he’d let her go.

      ‘I think I had some of that fluff clouding my judgement in Capri.’

      Understanding sparked in her eyes and she opened her mouth to respond just as Izzy bowled into them like an out-of-control dervish.

      ‘I’ve saved a sandwich for you, Uncle Arch. Come and get it.’

      ‘Now, how can you refuse an offer like that?’ Callie said as she ruffled Izzy’s damp curls.

      Izzy’s nose crinkled in consternation. ‘I don’t think there’s any more Vegemite ones for you, Callie, but I reckon you can have a piece of my fairy bread.’

      ‘Sugar sprinkles? My favourite.’ Callie slipped out of his grasp to hold Izzy’s hand, but he snagged her arm before she could leave.

      ‘You’re amazing.’

      He ducked down for a swift kiss, which resulted in a blush from Callie, an excited whoop from Izzy, and cheers from his family.

      Yeah, he definitely had some talking to do later—with his dad and with Callie.

      Christmas this year wasn’t looking so bad after all.

      * * *

      ‘This place is awesome, dude.’ Trav slapped Archer on the back as they entered the supply store at the end of the tour.

      He’d been hyped, taking his family around the surf school while Callie entertained Izzy—who was demanding sandcastles—on the beach.

      The Fletts’ opinion of this place mattered.

      He wanted them to like it. He wanted them to tell him he’d done good. Most of all he wanted them to realise he had a lot to give and was a guy of substance—not the flake they’d wrongly presumed.

      ‘Great job, bro.’ Tom shook his hand. ‘Torquay needs something like this, a place where the kids can hang out.’

      ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’

      They shared a conspiratorial smile, remembering their own tearaway teenage days and some of the mischief bored kids could get up to at the beach.

      ‘I’m so proud of you, son.’ His mum enveloped him in a squishy hug, the familiar lavender and fresh bread scent clinging to her so reminiscent of his childhood he felt choked up.

      ‘Thanks, Mum.’

      He hugged her tight, saddened by how much he’d missed over the years through the choices he’d made. Distancing himself from his family had probably hurt them, but he’d been the one to suffer the most.

      They’d had each other.

      He’d had no one.

      He planned on changing all that.

      When he released his mum, she moved over to the doorway, where Tom and Trav were deep in conversation. It gave Archer the opportunity to seek out his dad, who’d been hanging back during the tour.

      While his brothers’ and mother’s opinion meant everything to him, it was Frank’s he prized most.

      Over the years they’d fallen into a pattern of mutual gruffness and avoidance that seemed impossible to breach.

      Every time he made the slightest effort to reconnect his dad would brush it off as unnecessary in his usual jovial way. And Archer would let him. He never pushed the issue, his pride reiterating that there was only so far he could extend the olive branch and it was up to his dad to grab it.

      Frank never had, and he hated the distance between them. He’d once idolised his dad. He’d always reckoned him, Tom and Trav had been super-lucky, having a hands-on dad who took them fishing and camping and hiking. Frank had attended every one of their footy matches, had never missed a training session either.

      It made what had happened later all the harder to accept, and made Archer doubt himself as nothing else could.

      Tired of second-guessing himself, and buoyed by the shove in the right direction Callie had given him, he had every intention of ensuring the gap between them wasn’t irredeemable this time.

      ‘What do you think, Dad?’

      He hated having to ask, wished Frank had volunteered some faint praise without prompting, for it signalled that the divide between them was bigger than he’d anticipated.

      ‘Good for Torquay.’ Frank glanced around, stuck his hands in his pockets, shuffled his feet as if he couldn’t wait to escape. ‘Though it’s a bit rough putting your name to something around these parts when you’re going to be AWOL all the time.’

      His dad’s aloofness stung, but not as much as the barb behind his words. Frank hadn’t acknowledged the good thing he’d done in setting up the school; he’d said it was good for the town.

      As for the dig about him being away all the time, it might be true, but why couldn’t his dad admit he was proud of him, rather than chastising him for having a school in his name?

      ‘I may be around more often,’ Archer said, making it sound blasé when in fact he was hanging on his dad’s response.

      Frank turned away, but not before he’d seen the scepticism twisting his mouth. ‘Uh-huh.’

      How two little syllables could hold so much doubt he’d never know.

      Archer swallowed his disappointment. His pride in showing his family around and his hope for the future was shattered by his dad’s continued standoffishness.

      If Frank didn’t get why he’d done this, couldn’t bring himself to offer one word of positive encouragement, why the hell should he keep busting a gut trying to build bridges between them?

      His pride might have kept him from being truly a part of this family all these years, but they’d wronged him first. Was that a childish way to look at it? Yeah, but as years’ worth of hurt bubbled up from deep within it obliterated his intention to heal the rift between