The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads) by Carol Marinelli

had had little effect and Bailey just quadrupled his efforts, knocking his noodles on the floor, screaming and kicking as Hamish lifted him over his shoulder and took him upstairs for a nap.
    ‘No!’ Hamish said firmly as Bailey tried to hurdle out of his cot, laying him back down for the umpteenth time then heading for the window to close the curtains and show Bailey that this time he meant business.
    Only he didn’t.
    Because, staring out of the window, seeing her lying on the grass, staring up at sky as her pets dozed beside her, Hamish wanted to be out there, too. Wanted to be out enjoying the glorious afternoon instead of shut up inside, trying to pretend to Bailey that the stables didn’t exist—not full ones anyway.
    ‘Come on, mate.’ Heaving Bailey out of the cot, as if turning off a tap, Bailey’s tears halted. Realising he’d got his way, he even sat patiently on the kitchen floor as Hamish buttered a few rolls and grabbed some drinks and fruit from the fridge.
    ‘What kept you?’ Smiling, she didn’t even open her eyes as, a little bit late but still very welcome, her lunch dates arrived.
    ‘I was buttering rolls.’
    ‘But I’ve already made plenty.’
    ‘We’ll have rolls for dinner, too, then,’ Hamish answered, sitting down and pulling out a bag of grapes and offering them to Bailey. But the toddler’s attention was elsewhere, pointing in glee at Scottie, who was poking his head over the stable door, and squealing in delight. And Hamish couldn’t be bothered to argue any more. Fighting the fear that welled up in him when he pictured his beautiful son with the pony, he picked him up and headed over, letting him stroke Scottie’s headand even letting Charlotte show Bailey how to hold out his hand flat. Hamish laughed out loud at Bailey’s shocked but delighted expression as big lips nuzzled for the tiny grapes, watching his eyes shining brightly and his pink lips laughing, and for the first time in ages Hamish was treated to a rare glimpse of Emma in his son’s expression
    And it had been right to come down to the stables Hamish realised later, much later, when Bailey had had a thirty-second sit on Scottie’s back and was now racing around on his tricycle, waving and beeping his horn to a very unfazed Scottie and Fitz each time he passed.
    Hard, but right.
    ‘Did you used to ride a lot? Before what happened with Emma, I mean?’
    He was getting used to Charlotte’s direct questions and this time he didn’t really hesitate before answering.
    ‘A bit.’ Hamish nodded. ‘I didn’t really have anything to do with them till Emma came along—she was horse mad from the day she was born, I think. I’m not really the most horsy person.’
    ‘He takes after Emma, then.’ Charlotte nodded over at Bailey and never could she have known just how sweet those words were to hear.
    ‘I guess he does. What about you—how old were you when you started riding?’
    ‘Eight and absolutely petrified.’
    ‘Did your parents make you?’
    ‘Heavens no.’ Charlotte gave a little giggle. ‘My mum refused to get out of the car when she dropped meoff for my lesson—worried she might get a bit of mud on her stilettos probably.’
    ‘So how come you took it up?’
    The bluest eyes in the world stared back at him, words for once not tumbling out. Instead, she lay back on the grass, stared up at the sky, her voice slightly pensive when it finally came. ‘I just did.’
    He stared at her for the longest time—and then over at Bailey. He split about a hundred pieces of grass into two with his thumbnail as that old feeling came back again—only stronger this time. Stronger and surer, and nothing he could say to himself could convince him otherwise. So she had strange dress sense at times, so she was ditzy and crazy and more often than not said the most inappropriate things—but she made him happy.
    He stared around at his home, at his son, at his life —saw how much it had changed in the short time