Page 36 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Vicky hunkered down to put her arms around the child. “It’s okay, sweetie.” She glared up at Jeremy. “Really, Jeremy, there was no need to get angry with him — he’s just a child.”
“I’m not angry.” The thin line of his mouth belied his words. “But these are new shoes. Anyway, we just came down to see if you were coming home yet.”
“Not yet. There’s still some clearing up to do.”
Debbie had run to grab a roll of paper towels from behind the counter to clear up the mess. “Here — let me wipe your shoes.”
Jeremy snatched the roll from her. “Don’t bother. You’d do better to clean the floor up before someone slips on it.”
“Oh . . . yes.”
Vicky could see that Debbie’s eyes were filling with tears as she hurried to fetch the mop and bucket. The little cowboy was still wailing, and several of the other children were ready to join in.
The door opened again. Tom. He took in the scene in one swift glance, and swooped to swing the weeping cowboy up onto his hip. “What have you been up to, you unspeakable brat?”
The insult brought an instant beaming smile to the child’s cake-smeared face. “I was sick,” he announced with pride. “As sick as anything.”
“I’m not surprised. I bet you’ve been stuffing your face all afternoon, and then whirling around like a screaming banshee. I’m sorry,” he added, his apology taking in both Debbie and Jeremy. “Are there any damages?”
Jeremy glared at him. “My shoes. Just look at the state of them.”
“They’ll clean.” Vicky’s voice was sharper than she had intended. Not just because of Jeremy’s arrogant manner but...
Tom — and his son.
Of course — she should have known he’d be married. A man like that — there was no way some woman wouldn’t have made sure of him. Well, so what? She’d acknowledge that he was superficially attractive, but that was all. She’d put him out of her mind easily enough — after all, she was only staying for another few days.
Anyway, he shouldn’t be smiling at her like that, his eyes warm with humour as if they were sharing a private joke. He had a wife, and a child. That told her a lot about the sort of person he was — not the sort that any sensible woman would want to get involved with.
And besides, she was engaged. She slanted a guilty glance at Jeremy, but he was still busy wiping the vomit from his shoes and didn’t seem to have noticed.
“Come on then, brat.” Tom had put the child down, but kept a firm hold on his hand. “Let’s get you home and get you cleaned up before your mum sees the state of you. Thank Auntie Debbie for the party, and say sorry to the gentleman for being sick on his shoes.”
The child obeyed, though the thanks were rather more enthusiastic than the apology. “Can we watchPirates?” he demanded as they left.
“If you behave yourself.”
As the door closed behind father and son, Vicky let go the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. At least seeing them together should put an end to her silly fantasies. Even if she wasn’t engaged herself, married men were strictly off limits.
More parents had arrived to collect their little ones, and there was a general melee of goodbyes and thank yous. Each child left with a party bag and one of the balloons from the arch.
Debbie surveyed the remaining debris with a wry smile. “Well, that wasn’t too bad. Only one of them was sick. Thank you so much for helping.”
Vicky laughed, snaffling a leftover scrap of icing from the birthday cake. “No problem — it was fun. Their little faces — especially when you brought out the cake.”
“I hope... I mean, I hope your sister’s friend is okay, after what happened.” Debbie spoke quietly, glancing back over her shoulder to where Jeremy had seated himself at one of the tables. “It’s not very nice to be sicked over.”
“Ah...” Vicky managed a crooked smile. “He’s not Jayde’s friend — he’s my fiancé.”
“Oh . . .”
And he had behaved appallingly. She felt as if she should apologise to Debbie for his attitude, but why should she? It was on him. But he never apologised. He was always right — somehow it was everyone else who was wrong.
Jayde had finished cleaning up Jeremy’s shoes. “There you are — good as new.”
“Thank you.” He slanted a chilly glance at Vicky — a glance clearly meant to inform her that it should have been her cleaning his shoes. “So, are you ready to come home?”
“I’m just going to help Debbie finish clearing up — I’ll be about half an hour. Would you like to stay and have a coffee?”
