Page 9 of The Mistletoe Wish

“I know so.” She raised her head and met his gaze full-on.

“Okaaay,” he drew the single word out.

An odd connection pulsed to life between them; it was as if his soul recognised her.

Shifting the folder to one hand, Darim reached out and traced a gentle finger along the curve of her jaw. She didn’t move away; maybe she was as entranced in the moment as much as he was. The thought was downright disturbing. Even more so, was his realisation that he didn’t care.

A mobile blared to life, and the link severed.

“Yours I believe.” Sara pushed off from the Land Rover and, retrieving both mugs, walked back to the shack.

With his eyes fixed on her retreating figure, Darim pulled out his phone.

“Darim? It’s me. Celeste.”

“No sweat.”

“You are such a dick,” she snapped nastily. “I need to make plans for the holidays.” She gave a little giggle and her voice turned smug. “Antoine has suggested we spend Christmas in Paris. If you haven’t gotten a house organised, then I’m sending Skye to my stay with my brother in Melbourne.”

He scowled. Celeste’s brother was unmarried and led quite a flamboyant lifestyle. No way was his daughter going anywhere near that partying yobo. Still, he couldn’t stop the jib bursting from his mouth. “Somehow I’m not surprised that you don’t want your daughter cramping your style.”

“She’s your daughter too. I thought you wanted to spend more time with her?” Her pitch rose.

“I do. And I’ve been working on it. Actually, I’m glad you called.” He paused and scrutinised the old house. Yep. One wall had quite a lean to it. And was that another mouse running along the broken floorboards of the verandah? Bulldozing the decrepit building to the ground would be a relief. But those blasted stipulations. He – and Sara – would just have to work with what they had. Which meant a rosy and very blurry picture would have to be painted for his ex.

“I’ve got a house. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll have everything ready for Skye. Her own sleeping quarters even.” Well, that part was true – in a way if you weren’t too picky.

The word quarters could mean anything so he wasn’t really lying.

“A house? What? Where? Last time I heard, you were moaning how there were no …”

Pretending he hadn’t heard her stuttering, he cut in. “Bunk beds, a cupboard for her clothes. Plenty of room for her to play and for her cousins to visit.”

“Huh. Fatima!”

“Yes. Sheismy sister,” he gritted out.

“Your half-sister.”

“Bloody hell, Celeste. Get over it. Now that I’ve delivered, it’s your turn. What day will Skye be arriving? Or do you want me to drive down and pick her up?”

“I need to make sure this house of yours is suitable.”

He all but ground his teeth. “I’ll send photos when I have a spare minute. I have a house and you therefore have no grounds to deny me access. Well?”

Her sigh came down the line, long and heavy as if the one simple thing of sending their daughter somewhere would be a Herculean feat for her. “I prefer you stay completely away from my new life. That was the agreement, remember? She can be in Armidale on the 5th, at six o’clock in the afternoon. You can pick her up from the train station.”

“Sounds like you already had it arranged.”

“Do you want her there, or not?”

“I’ll be there.” His voice warmed. “Tell Skye, I’m looking forward to seeing her.”

“Tell her yourself.” She hung up.

Darim glared at the phone, then with a sigh, put the damn thing back in his pocket. No use losing his cool, nothing would ever change Celeste. Picking up the drill, he went back to work. In less than half an hour, he had the hole in the side of the water tank patched and had fixed the pump. At least, he hoped he had but until the electricity was back on, he had no way of knowing for sure. He packed his tools in the back of his 4WD and headed to the house. While he had been working, he had been aware of Sara coming back and forth. First, emptying buckets, and then bringing out a mop to dry, then draping towels and a few washcloths over the veranda railing.

As he passed through the open door, she looked over her shoulder from where she was scrubbing a peculiar-looking stain on the floor.