Page 28 of Just Watch Me
“Right,” he said. “You came here for your granddad, and he’s abandoned you, just like Nan.” He put up a hand at Scarlett’s objection. “Which is fine, because I’m here. Maybe you’ll let me be the white knight and ride to the rescue, at least for breakfast. It’d be doing me a favor.”
“How would that be?” she asked, the green eyes narrowing. “Exactly?”
He tried to think how, but couldn’t come up with much. “Because I like it better that way?” Best he could do.
Skylar glanced at Scarlett, who was no doubt offering up a glare blazing with the heat of a thousand burning suns. Zane was familiar with that glare. Then she looked back at Zane, tilted her chin a bit—so therewassome stroppiness under all the sweetness—and said, “Well, thank you. I won’t pursue that too much—it’d probably be bad for you—but Iwilltake you up on the offer, because I don’t have much choice. We’ll be ready in ten minutes. Knock me up when you’re ready.” Some more flush. “On my door, that is.”
Her granddad turned up just as she and the kids were leaving the room. As Zane was holding the door for them to leave, that is, and Skylar was trying not to notice that he’d shaved. And combed his hair, and dressed in a black T-shirt, jeans, and the sort of wool-lined waxed-canvas jacket normally worn by a man whose dog had just jumped into the back of the ute to move the sheep to the new paddock. It certainly hadn’t come from Paris. Unfortunately for her, it was still snug at the hips and showed how much wider his shoulders were than his waist. Also, why did a certain kind of man look even better in a black T-shirt?
She didn’t have a chance to ponder that, fortunately, because Granddad said, “There you all are,” as if he’d been looking everywhere. He was holding Maureen’s hand and looking mightily pleased with himself. She did not want to think about her granddad having sex. Just no. She’d think about him paying for breakfast instead, so she wouldn’t have to restrict the kids to the cheapest items on the menu, or to explain why she was doing that.
“Morning, darlings,” Maureen said serenely as they set out. “Looks like everyone had a lovely night out. A change is as good as a rest, isn’t it?” She was impeccable as always in a tweedy brown jacket, slim bootcut jeans, and the boots to go with them. Granddad himself was in a collared shirt, trousers, and those polished leather shoes. Well, it was easier to look polished when a person wasn’t focused on getting three kids ready. Uncharitable, but there you were. Skylar was in her jeans again—they were the best thing she had, for a weekend!—and a long-sleeved wine-red henley from Cotton On that was one of her favorites, and, she’d thought until about two minutes ago, possibly a bit sexy. The fit was slim, the neckline was wide, and you couldn’t actually do up the snaps, but who was she kidding? She was wearing trainers, and nothing said “devastatingly sexy and looking for agood time” like outmoded jeans and trainers. And, of course, six children.
Scarlett said, “A lovely night out? Excuse me? Putting my brother and sister to bed like Cinderella and getting woken up by Georgia having to go to the toilet, andthenhaving her stick her freezing feet against my legs? How is this my best weekend ever?”
Georgia said, “I can’t help it if I have to go to the toilet! It was dark and I couldn’t find it, so I had to wake you up.”
“At least you didn’t wet the bed,” Scarlett said.“Thistime.”
Georgia gasped. “I don’t wet the bed! Idon’t!”
“Pardon me?” Scarlett said.
“Not anymore,I don’t,” Georgia said. “I was little then!”
“It was Christmas,” Scarlett said.
“I wasn’t in Year One then,” Georgia insisted. “That’s different.” She glanced anxiously at Skylar, who said, “It happens to everyone, no worries,” and then shut her mouth.
“I’ll bet it happened to you too, Scarlett,” Finlay said, because of course he did. “But nobody remembers because they were too little, and your dad and your Nan won’t say because they don’t want to embarrass you. Maybe theyshouldembarrass you. You’re trying to embarrass Georgia, aren’t you? What’s the difference?”
“Pardon me,” Scarlett said again, icily this time. “I don’t remember asking you.”
“That’s enough, Finlay,” Skylar said. “In fact, I’d say this topic has worn out its welcome. What would you have been doing if you hadn’t come to watch your dad, Scarlett? I thought it was fun to watch him, but no?”
“Of course I like to watch him,” Scarlett said, still flushed and shooting a murderous glance at Finlay. “He’s mydad.I could’ve spent the night at Hazel’s house, though, and had some actual peace and quiet while I watched. She’s an only child, and she has a canopy bed and a matching daybed andher own TV and laptop and mobile. Of course, everybody my age has a mobile. Everybody but me. But no. Here I am, helping kids into their PJs and out of them again like I’m the nanny.”
Duncan said, “You didn’t have to help me into my PJs. You never have to help me get dressed, and I wouldn’t let you anyway, because I’m a boy. You told me to brush my teeth and wash my face, too, as if I didn’t already know that, just to be bossy. All I did was sleep in the bed next to you, because I didn’t have a choice, and you act like you’re the boss of me!”
Finlay said, “She’s cross heaps. I noticed that already.”
Scarlett said, “I’m notcross.I’m just?—”
“Bossy,” Finlay said, and Duncan said, “Yeh. You are, Scarlett. You’redeadbossy. Like you want to be our mum or something, but then you say youdon’twant to be our mum.”
“She’s probably confused,” Finlay said. “By her role.”
“Café,” Zane announced, no doubt with great relief.
Scarlett said, as they were entering the café, “I am not bossy! I have excellent leadership skills. Ms. Fairburn said so!”
“I did,” Skylar said.
“I’m sorry you were disappointed, Scarlett,” Maureen said, still sounding maddeningly serene—Skylar would’ve been narky about that too—“but you did tell me you could manage, you know.”
Zane said, “Menus. Here. Let’s sit.” The café was crowded on this Sunday morning, but somehow, there were three tables pushed together on one side, and that was where Zane headed.
“They say ‘Reserved,’” Skylar said. “Unfortunately. Wheredoten people go to eat breakfast? I should’ve thought of that. Maybe we could?—”
