Free Saved by the Single Dad by Annie Claydon

Martin ushered Jack upstairs, Ben in his arms. Laura followed and Sue propelled Cass into the kitchen.
    â€˜I’d hug you if you weren’t so filthy...’ Sue stripped off her jacket and sweatshirt, nodding when she found that the T-shirt underneath was dry. ‘Sit.’
    Cass sat down, half in a dream. Sue’s businesslike ministrations were just what she needed. She didn’t need Jack to help her out of her overtrousers; he had other things to do. But a part of her wished that he didn’t and that after the struggle that they’d shared so intimately they could have just a little time together.
    â€˜Feet wet...?’ Sue loosened the laces of one of her boots, sliding two fingers inside as if she were a child. ‘They feel all right. Drink this...’
    Hot soup. Fabulous. ‘Thanks, Sue.’
    She sipped the soup, letting the warmth of the kitchen seep back into her bones. Then she laid her head on her hands. Just for a moment. She was so tired.
    * * *
    â€˜Sorry about all the mess, Sue.’ It seemed that Jack’s voice alone, amongst all the other comings and goings in the kitchen, had the power to pull her back to consciousness. Cass looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. He’d taken off his muddy jacket and sweatshirt and his arms and face had been washed clean, presumably as a preliminary to examining Ben. His short hair glistened with a few stray drops of moisture.
    â€˜Nonsense.’ Sue glared at him. ‘How’s Ben?’
    â€˜We’ve cleaned him up and I examined him. He’s pretty tired now, and he had a nasty fright. But, physically, I can’t find anything wrong with him.’
    â€˜Good. Anything I should do?’
    â€˜Plenty of liquids, something to eat. Keep him warm. Old-fashioned care.’
    Sue smirked. ‘I can do that. You two go and get cleaned up.’
    Cass got to her feet and walked over to the sink. She’d got mud on the table where she’d laid her head down. Sue whipped the wash cloth out of her hand.
    â€˜Leave that to me. Go.’
    â€˜No, it’s okay...’ Cass’s protests were silenced by one slight incline of Jack’s head. She was going with him.
    He led her to the bathroom in the church hall, accepting towels from one of the Monday Club ladies who bustled in out of nowhere and left just as energetically. Putting them down on to the chair by the washbasins, he dumped a plastic bag he’d been carrying on top and then walked over to the door, flipping the lock.
    â€˜Boots.’ His grin was warm, and far too tender to resist. Cass hung on to the washbasin while he unlaced her boots, pulling them off.
    â€˜What’s this?’ He’d tipped her face up to his, running his thumb across the sore spot in her hairline.
    â€˜Just a scrape. Is it bleeding?’
    â€˜Not all that much. I’ll clean it up in a minute.’ He searched in the plastic bag and produced a bottle of shampoo, which Cass recognised as her own, one of the toiletries that she must have left at Sue and Martin’s. She reached for the bottle and he pulled it away.
    â€˜Let me do it.’
    There was no desire in his face, no trace of wanting. Just the warmth of two comrades who finally had the opportunity to see to each other’s needs instead of those of everyone else.
    This would be okay. And she so wanted it. Someone to take care of her after a long night and an even longer day. There would be no complications, no threat of what might happen tomorrow, because Jack wouldn’t be here tomorrow.
    He pulled a chair over to the washbasin at the end of the row, which was equipped with a sprinkler tap. Testing the temperature of the water, he told her to close her eyes.
    Cass felt herself start to relax. He was good at this, guiding the water away from her face, rubbing gently to get all of the mud out of her hair. Massaging the shampoo through, his firm touch sending tingles radiating