A Princess Under The Mistletoe. Leanne Banks

wake-ups?”

      He shrugged. “We’re still adjusting.”

      “Then I’ll try to be ready. Good night, Sam. Thank you for the delicious gelato.”

      Sam nodded and Gavin nudged his son. “Say you’re welcome.”

      “You’re welcome,” Sam echoed in a small voice.

      “Sweet sleep to both of you,” she said, and then she left the room.

      * * *

      Sometime when it was dark, Sam awakened. He felt panic overtake him. His heart raced. He glanced toward the cartoon night-light and took a deep breath.

      He took more deep breaths and thought about his mother. She had left, then never come home again. He missed her so much. He didn’t want to lose anyone else.

      Sliding out of his bed, he silently scampered to his father’s room. The door wasn’t closed all the way. Sam pushed it open and went inside. His father was on his back, softly snoring.

      Sam felt a sliver of relief. He watched his father for several more moments. Then he wandered down the hall to the new nanny’s bedroom. Her door was also open. He wandered inside and saw her sleeping on her side. He heard an odd sound. It took a moment for him to figure out what it was.

      The ocean. Waves. He loved that sound.

      He loved the sound so much he wanted to hear it more. He decided to lie down on the carpet. Sam wished he had a blanket, but he liked the sound more than he missed his blanket.

      As the swooshing sound continued, he calmed down and felt droopy and sleepy. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep.

      * * *

      Sara awakened to an unfamiliar sound. She heard a series of humming and grunting sounds and frowned as she shifted in her bed. Staring into the darkness, she saw a small figure on her floor. It took a moment for her to figure out who it was. Sam.

      Sliding from her bed, she picked him up and held him against her. He startled.

      “It’s okay. I’m your nanny. Sara,” she said, walking toward his room.

      “But—”

      Gavin appeared in the hallway. “What happened? I usually find him sleeping on the floor of my bedroom.”

      “He was in my bedroom.”

      Gavin gathered his son into his arms. “What’s up, bud?”

      “I liked the waves,” he said.

      Gavin looked at her curiously.

      “My sound machine,” Sara said. “I keep it on an ocean setting.” She looked toward Sam and stroked his forehead. “Would you like to hear the waves at night?”

      He nodded.

      “Done,” she said. Then she went and moved her sound machine to Sam’s bedroom.

      With his hands on his hips, Gavin stood looking at his son. Protecting his son, she thought. His stance tugged at her heart. She couldn’t remember a time she’d awakened to the sight of her father watching over her. Stop, she told herself, closing her eyes. Her life was all about now and the future. No whining about the past.

      Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and found Gavin staring at her. He crooked a finger at her and pointed toward the hallway. She followed him outside the door of Sam’s bedroom.

      “That’s a first,” Gavin said. “For six months Sam has been coming into my bedroom and staring at me, making sure I’m not going to leave him forever. The way, in his eyes, his mother did.”

      Her heart twisted at his words. “He’s had a hard time. You’ve all had a hard time.”

      Gavin gave a slow nod, and she was all too aware of his height, his power, his masculinity. “Yeah, we have. Who would have known a sound machine would make such a difference?”

      She shrugged, knowing that the sound machine was her secret to a good night’s sleep. “Yeah. Who would have known?”

      “Thank you,” he said, lowering his head toward hers.

      She caught her breath.

      He squeezed her arm. “Get some sleep.”

      Sara nearly collapsed in a combination of relief and strange disappointment. She stared after him and felt a flip in her stomach. Yes, she definitely needed more sleep.

      Hours later, she heard the sound of Gavin’s voice. She immediately sat up in her bed. His voice was coming from the nursery. She glanced at the clock in her room. Seven thirty.

      Sara leaped from her bed and ran into the nursery. “Problems?” she asked. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”

      Gavin, still wearing pajamas, was changing Adelaide’s diaper. “She hasn’t slept this long in forever. She wet through her diaper to her sheets.”

      “Oops,” she said.

      Gavin shrugged. “It’s a good problem. Did you do something different with her bedtime routine?”

      “I played a little Bach on the piano,” she said.

      Gavin glanced at her. “Must have worked.”

      She shrugged. “We can hope.”

      “Yeah,” he said.

      “Can I take a quick shower?”

      “Sure,” he said. “You’re due that after the past twenty-four hours.”

      Sara grabbed a quick shower, rubbed herself dry and wrapped her hair in a towel for two minutes. Pulling on her clothes, she ditched the towel and pulled her hair into a wet knot at the back of the neck, all the while resolving to take her bath at night. She’d just been too tired last night.

      Racing into the kitchen, she smiled her best smile. “I’m here for duty,” she said.

      Three pairs of brown eyes stared back at her full of hope, fear and expectation.

      “All right. Let’s get going.”

      “You’re a brave woman,” Gavin said. He was dressed to head out the door. “Or crazy,” he muttered as he handed Adelaide over to her. “Just tell me you’ll last the week.”

      Sara blinked. “Week? I thought this was at least a two-or three-month assignment.”

      “Yes. Of course. Three months,” Gavin said. “Call me if you need me,” he added as he headed out the door.

      “But you don’t really want me to call you, do you?” she said.

      He paused just before he closed the door behind him. “Truth...” he said, turning around to face her. “I’m grateful for all you’ve already done. Call me for anything.”

      Her heart took a strange twist and turn. He was a great father. Maybe even a great human being.

Chapter Two

      Sara fed the kids, then secured them into child safety seats in her car. Sam attended preschool three days each week and this was one of his designated days. She’d also prepared a snack for him to eat.

      Driving toward the small building, she got into the short car line.

      “I don’t like preschool,” Sam said.

      Sara glanced at him from the rearview mirror. “What’s not to like? You get to play and meet other children. You get to make things and eat a snack.”

      “I don’t like my teacher,” he said. “She’s mean.”

      “Mean,” Sara echoed. “What do you mean she’s mean? Does she hit you?”

      “No,”