A Family for Christmas (Contemporary Romance Novella) (2 page)

"You go in." Tom indicated the house. "The door's unlocked. I'll be there in a moment."

Eve didn't need any more encouragement to get out of the cold. She made her way carefully through a small gate and along what was probably a footpath, although right now it was hidden by snow. When she reached the house, she entered and shut the door behind her, breathing in the smell of something delicious cooking, mixed with the fragrance of wood smoke.

She kicked off her ruined favorite shoes with a little sigh of regret and rubbed her chilled toes. She was in a mudroom with rubber boots heaped in the corner, coats hung on a row of pegs, a freezer, washing machine, tumble dryer, and a sink flanked by a counter stacked with dog food and baby bottles.

Before she had a chance to venture farther into the house, Tom burst through the door behind her, the collie on his heels. "Lord, it's brass monkeys out there." He pulled off his heavy leather gloves and blew on his fingers.

Eve smiled tentatively as he levered off his rubber boots and unbuttoned his coat. She was surprised to see he still had the lamb. He set the animal down and it trotted farther into the house as if it knew its way. She blinked as he pulled off his wool hat and scarf and turned towards her, running his fingers back through thick, dark hair. His blue eyes settled on her and his lips quirked. She hadn't expected him to be so good-looking. Turning away, she pretended to glance around.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Tom extended a hand towards the hallway. "Shall we go to the kitchen and warm up?"

"Yes. Thanks." Suddenly Eve didn't know what to say. Silly how just because he was attractive she felt awkward. She preceded him along a tiled hall into a kitchen with a flagstone floor and low-beamed ceiling. A scrubbed wooden table sat in the middle and a selection of comfortable chairs was set around the walls.

An old woman in an apron was tidying the counter. She turned as they came in. "Thought you'd got lost out there, Mr. Millington," she said in a broad Devon accent. "There's a nice lamb casserole in the oven for you. It'll be ready in an hour." After rescuing Pickle from the snow, Eve wasn't sure she was crazy about lamb casserole, but Tom didn't seem bothered. She supposed farmers couldn't be sentimental about their animals.

"Eve, this is Mrs. Undy. She keeps us fed and the house in some semblance of order."

Eve nodded a greeting as the woman looked her way with a curious glance. "My car's stuck in the snow," she said, feeling as though she should explain her unexpected appearance.

"Sit down here and warm up." Tom stepped closer to a wood-burning stove and patted the back of a sagging old chair covered in dog hair. "Where's Polly?" he asked Mrs. Undy, glancing around.

"In her bedroom, last time as I looked."

"I'd better go and tell her we've found Pickle." Tom ducked under a low doorway and disappeared, leaving Eve with Mrs. Undy.

Eve brushed the worst of the dog hair off the chair, sat down, and stretched her cold toes towards the heat. Mrs. Undy gave her a broad grin. Eve returned a tentative smile. "Such bad luck me getting caught out by the weather like that. Does it snow here a lot?"

"Every winter, love. People 'round these parts know what to expect, but we always get a few grockles caught out by the weather."

"Grockles?"

"Tourists, love." Mrs. Undy glanced at Eve's overnight suitcase. "Looks like you came prepared to stay."

"Oh, no. I was heading for a hotel in Plymouth. I'm only on Dartmoor because I had a business appointment at Crawley Manor Country Club. From there, I didn't have any choice but to drive across the moor."

"Suppose you didn't." Mrs. Undy grinned again. "However you came by Combe Farm, it's nice to see a woman here. Mr. Millington needs a woman in his life."

Eve's eyebrows shot up. "Gracious, there's nothing between Tom and me. I've only just met him."

"We'll see about that," Mrs. Undy said, tapping the side of her nose. "We'll see."

If Mrs. Undy was trying to play matchmaker, she was barking up the wrong tree. Eve pulled her phone from her bag and checked her e-mails, immediately feeling more comfortable with her phone in her hand. She busied herself answering a couple of business queries. For a few moments, she forgot where she was and lost herself in work like she usually did.

The demands of her job had kept her sane. Without work, she wasn't sure she would have coped with losing her parents so suddenly and unexpectedly. She just had to survive one night at Combe Farm, then tomorrow she could get back to civilization and life would return to normal.

Chapter Two

Tom stood at his daughter's half-open bedroom door and watched her sitting cross-legged on her bed, combing her Barbie doll's hair. Love swelled inside him and he smiled.

The first time he set eyes on her small squashed face after she was born, Polly stole the heart right out of his chest. She meant everything to him. He would never let her down again like he had in the past.

She glanced up and grinned. "Daddy, did you find Pickle?"

"I certainly did, pumpkin." Tom went into her room. When he neared the bed, she stood and launched herself at him. He caught her and pulled her into a bear hug, spinning her around so she squealed.

"I want to go and feed him." Polly wriggled to get down, but Tom hung on to her.

"In a minute. We need to have a chat first."

She pouted as he set her on the bed and sat beside her. "I told you not to let Pickle outside, didn't I?"

"I know, but I wanted him to see the snow." She blinked her pretty blue eyes and, darn, but it was hard to be strict with her when she did that. She could wind him around her little finger.

"When I tell you to do something, there's always a good reason, pumpkin." Tom tweaked her nose and she giggled. "Pickle isn't like Noodle. He doesn't come when you call his name. I've spent a long time outside searching for him."

"Sorry, Daddy." Polly looked down and fiddled with her Barbie's clothes.

Tom put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up so he could see her face. "I just don't want anything to happen to your lamb, sweetheart. If he gets lost in the snow again, he'll get sick."

"I don't want him to get sick." She scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around Tom's neck, pressing her face into his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair.

"I know you don't, pumpkin. That's why we have to keep him inside with us."

"Why didn't his mummy want him?"

Tom's heart clenched at the thread of pain in his daughter's voice. He'd hoped she would forget that his ex-wife had walked out on her, but for a six-year-old, she understood far more than he wanted her to. "Sometimes mummies aren't very good at looking after their babies, and someone else gets to love them instead. Just like you and I love Pickle. And you know I love you enough for two people, don't you, sweetheart?"

"I know, Daddy."

The shadow of guilt that was always in the back of his mind swept a chill through him like the bad weather. If he hadn't been so damned absorbed in his work he might have noticed his wife's rejection of Polly, and her lack of interest in him. But back then his priorities had been screwed up. He'd lost nearly everything before he understood what was important in life.

Polly stroked her doll's hair thoughtfully. "Barbie's my mummy now." She held the doll out. "Touch her hair, Daddy. It's lovely and soft, isn't it?"

Tom dutifully ran his fingers over Barbie's long blonde hair, and memories raced back of the early days of his marriage to Karen, of the plans they'd had for the future. When Polly came along, he'd thought their dreams were coming true, but Karen had thought differently—she'd thought her dreams were over.

He had better make the most of stroking Barbie's hair, as the chances were slim there'd be another woman in his life. He and Polly were happy here, just the two of them. He had no intention of complicating matters again.

"Time to feed Pickle, I think," he said briskly.

Polly jumped up with a girlish squeal of joy and headed for the door.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, we have a visitor, a lady whose car got stuck in the snow. She's the one who really found Pickle, so you'd better say thank you to her."

Polly turned her inquisitive gaze on Tom. "A lady like Mrs. Undy?"

"She's a bit younger than Mrs. Undy."

"Does she have pretty hair?"

"I don't know," Tom said, frowning. "It's dark, up in a bun or something. I suppose you'd call it pretty."

"Do you think she'll let me comb her hair?"

"Well, I don't know about that." Eve appeared to be a businesswoman through and through, the sort of career-focused woman Tom used to work with in London. She probably didn't have time for children. Although his ex had never worked a day in her life. She should have had all the time in the world for Polly and hadn't. So perhaps he shouldn't make assumptions.

"I'm going to ask her." Polly skipped back to the bed, picked up her doll and comb, and dashed out the door.

***

Eve looked up from her phone at the sound of a child's footsteps on the tile floor. A small girl of about five or six stopped in the doorway, clutching a doll to her chest. She was certainly a pretty little thing with wavy blonde hair and her daddy's blue eyes.

"Hello," Eve said and smiled to try to put the child at ease. It must be unsettling to find a stranger in your kitchen. "My name's Eve. What's your name?"

The girl smiled back shyly. "Polly." She held up her doll. "This is Barbie."

"Oh, I know Barbie. She and I are old friends."

"Really?" Polly skipped towards Eve and held out the doll. "You can brush her hair if you like."

Eve dropped her phone in her bag and accepted the doll and a glittery pink comb. "Thank you. I haven't done this in years."

"Daddy said you found Pickle." Polly crouched and stroked the lamb's damp, woolly coat.

"I think Pickle found me. I'd still be lost in the snow if it wasn't for your lamb." And the dashing Tom Millington on his tractor. She glanced up as Tom appeared in the doorway and their eyes met in a silent moment of accord—the truth about Pickle's brush with death on the road should stay a secret. Eve's heart gave a strange little bump as she turned her attention back to Polly.

"Pickle's a very sweet lamb. Is he your pet?"

"Yes. I'm Pickle's mummy and Daddy is his daddy." Polly jumped up and bounced on the toes of her fuzzy pink slippers. "Can I feed him now, Daddy?"

"Just let me walk Mrs. Undy across the yard to her place, and I'll help you." Tom motioned to the older woman, who untied her apron and hung it on a hook with the oven mitts.

"Eve can help me." Polly grabbed Eve's hand and tugged.

Tom turned a questioning gaze on her and she nodded. "I'd love to help. I've never fed a lamb before."

"No. You can't feed him," Polly blurted. "You just help me fill the bottle."

"Oh, I see." That put her in her place. She gave Tom a humorous wince, and he stifled a laugh.

"You behave yourself, young lady." He dropped a kiss on top of Polly's head. "I'll only be a few minutes."

Eve followed Polly through to the mudroom. Her stockinged feet chilled on the tile floor after the warmth of the stove. Tom donned his coat and boots, offered Mrs. Undy his arm, and led her out into the yard.

"This is Pickle's bottle," Polly said, standing on tiptoes to reach the plastic container down from the counter. She pulled up a stool, climbed on it, and patted the top of a can that obviously contained the lamb equivalent of baby formula. "We mix one scoop in boiled water, but Daddy won't let me do it on my own 'cause I might burn myself."

With a wry smile, Eve boiled a kettle and mixed up the milk as directed on the can, nodding as Polly continued to give her instructions. Tom's daughter was certainly a bright little spark who knew her own mind. She was going to run rings around her father in a few years, if she didn't already.

When the bottle was filled with milk of the right temperature, Polly claimed it and scampered off to the kitchen. Eve tidied the counter in the mudroom.

The back door opened and Tom stepped in on a gust of snowflakes. He took off his coat and shook it before hanging it over a radiator. "Still snowing, I'm afraid. And it's windy, so the snow's starting to drift."

"Do you think you'll be able to tow my car out tomorrow?"

Tom shrugged. "Have to wait and see."

Eve's breath rushed out on a sigh of resignation. She might be trapped here all weekend and she wasn't comfortable imposing on Tom like this. She'd keep her fingers crossed it would stop snowing and warm up.

"I'm a terrible host. I haven't even offered you a cup of tea." Tom indicated she should go first and they returned to the kitchen.

Polly was kneeling on the floor in front of the stove as the lamb suckled eagerly on its bottle, which was already half empty. "Look, Eve, look. Pickle loves his milk." The little girl grinned up at her as Eve took a seat nearby.

"So he does. He's a very lucky lamb to have such a good mummy as you."

Tom brought Eve a cup of tea, then slathered butter on slices of crusty bread, and set the table. She offered to help but he turned her down. "We'll have some of Mrs. Undy's casserole, then I'll show you to the guest room."

"Thanks. I feel like I should be doing something to earn my keep." While Tom served the food, Eve quickly texted the hotel to cancel her reservation for that night.

Pickle reached the bottom of the bottle and kept sucking, making a funny squeaking noise that sent Polly into fits of laughter. She ran around the table waving her Barbie and squealing with excitement, then flopped across Eve's lap, giggling.

"Someone's showing off, I think," Tom said, but there was nothing but affection in his tone as he smiled down at his daughter.

Eve stroked the girl's silky blonde hair, a twinge of longing in her chest. She hadn't realized how much she missed her two nieces now that her brother Ed had relocated to Germany with his job. Of course, Connor's wife would have her baby in three months, but Lilly was unlikely to suddenly want to be friends. Eve wouldn't get the chance to be much of an aunt to the new baby.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked softly, a hint of concern on his face.

For a second, she was tempted to tell him the truth. It would be so good to have someone to talk to, someone she could be honest with about how she really felt. Then the moment passed and she pasted on a smile. "Yes, of course. That casserole smells good."

Tom's house was nothing like her parents' home, but the atmosphere was the same, warm and loving. It reminded her of all she had lost since they died. Tears pricked Eve's eyes and she blinked them away. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not here in front of strangers. She must push the feelings down and regain her composure. Once they had finished dinner, she would lose herself in some work so she didn't have to think. That always worked.

***

"I want Eve to read me a story." Polly pouted as Tom sat on the bed beside her with a book of fairy tales on his lap.

"No, pumpkin, Eve's in her room working. I don't want to disturb her." And it worried Tom how friendly his daughter seemed to be with Eve already. He'd made a decision not to date as he couldn't bear the thought of Polly getting attached to a woman who might then walk out of their life like his ex-wife had. This emotional bond Polly had formed with Eve in a matter of hours confirmed he was right. His daughter was only going to be hurt when she left.

"You know Eve's only staying with us because her car got stuck in the snow, don't you? She's not going to be here long."

"I know, Daddy," she said with a little huff of frustration. "That's why I want her to read to me
now
."

He had to admit, there was a twisted sort of logic to her argument. But he wasn't about to give in. He couldn't stop Polly getting to know Eve, but he wasn't going to encourage it.

"Either I read to you or you don't have a story tonight." Tom raised his eyebrows. "Which is it to be?"

Polly flopped back against her pillow with a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, Daddy. Can I have Rapunzel?"

Tom flipped over the pages to her favorite story and started reading. Polly's eyelids fluttered and she hugged her pink teddy bear. When he finished, he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Night-night, sweetheart. Sleep tight."

"Are we going to put up the Christmas tree tomorrow, Daddy? You promised."

"I've got to pull Eve's car out of the snow first."

Polly's eyes flew open. He immediately realized his mistake in reminding her of their visitor.

"I want Eve to say good night to me."

Tom braced himself to refuse.

"Please, Daddy. Pretty please."

Oh, heck. How could he refuse without sounding like a spoilsport? "Okay, pumpkin. I'll ask her."

Tom went down the hall and knocked on Eve's door.

"Come in," she shouted.

He entered to find her cross-legged on her bed with a laptop across her knees. She was wearing a silky pink-striped thing like a long T-shirt with her hair loose, a fall of gleaming ebony waves down her back. He stared, his mind going blank.

She gave him a questioning look. "Did you want something, Tom?"

"Yes." To touch her hair. No! Lord, get it together, man. "Polly wants you to say good night to her."

"Oh, of course. I'd love to." She smiled, a genuine smile of pleasure with no artifice or hidden agenda behind the expression. She seemed to be a truly nice person. Perhaps Karen had made him too cynical about women. Maybe there were some good ones out there after all.