Free The Taming of the Bastard by Lindy Dale Page A

hand over the crown of her head, I put down the glitter
paint. Whoever it was could bugger off. I hadn’t ordered any
clowns.
    With Paige,
Michael and Tori in hot pursuit, I walked to the window. Their
anticipation was mounting by the second and Tori gripped the denim
at my thighs excitedly.
    “See!” Paige
pointed, as I slid the curtains across and peered around them
suspiciously. “I told you.”
    On seeing the
man, Michael and Tori—though only three—began to squeal at the top
of their lungs. Piercing shrieks of joy threatened to burst my
eardrums. Little feet jumped up and down on my toes. A clown meant
fun and hilarity and their day had been sadly lacking in that, as
we’d only been to swimming lessons and Storytime at the
library.
    “Letty in,
Millie. Letty in,” they cried in perfect twin unison.
    I took a closer
look. And, oh dear. It wasn’t a clown.
    It was Sam.
    Dressed as a
clown.
    There he was,
in all his colourful glory, standing on the verandah and tapping at
the window like some perverted stalker from Law and Order:
SVU . Beneath the grease paint, his smile was cheerful and
expectant. The children began to leap about and squeal even louder.
Adele would surely wake at the racket if I didn’t quell the tide
now.
    Shit.
    What was I
going to do?
    Quickly, I
plonked the children back at the table and raced to the French
doors, directing them to stay quiet, lest the clown get scared and
run away. Slipping out and closing the doors behind me, I glanced
up and down the street in case any of the neighbours had spotted
Sam. Adele would have purple kittens if she knew I had a man on the
front doorstep dressed as a sideshow. I’d lose my job and be
homeless in thirty seconds flat. B & B dream over. Kaput.
    “Hi.” Sam
looked extremely pleased with himself. The gravity of the situation
had eluded him, which I suppose was natural, given his attire.
    “Hi,” I
replied, not quite as pleased. “Who are the balloons for?”
    Proudly, he
pulled himself up to his full manly height, suitable to the
occasion. He grinned and handed me the bunch of balloons as
nonchalantly as if they were a bunch of flowers. “They’re for you,”
he stated.
    “Um, thank
you?”
    Sam stepped
closer, his lovely vanilla scent filling my nostrils. Beneath the
grease paint his face had taken on this weird look, sort of
like…
    Oh surely, our
first kiss was not going to be in full view of the neighbours, the
children and a bunch of balloons?
    No. No. No.
This was not going to happen, no matter how much thought he’d put
into this—despite it being rather bizarre—and how cute he looked, I
was not going to kiss him while he was dressed as a clown. Full
stop. I didn’t even understand the logic behind it.
    “I saw them and
I… I just thought of you…” he rasped.
    “And you felt
compelled to buy them?” I whispered back, choking on the words.
    “They’re
cheerful and happy like you. So, I bought them. For a surprise. I
know, it’s a bit bloody weird but there you go. Sometimes I even
surprise myself.”
    “Well, you’ve
certainly surprised me. What’s with the clown suit?”
    “It seemed a
bit stupid giving you a bunch of balloons without some pomp and
ceremony to the act.”
    The words clown
and pomp and ceremony didn’t naturally fit together in my book but
each to their own.
    “Okay. Well.” I
didn’t know whether be happy or insulted. It wasn’t every day a guy
presented you with a gift like this and it was a sweet thought,
even if the words ‘IT’S A BOY!’ were emblazoned boldly across the
metallic surface of each and every balloon.
    “Don’t you like
them?”
    “I love them.”
I was simply a little overcome.
    “Good. I want
you to be happy Millie, I want to be the man to make you happy.”
Sam’s hand came to rest on my bare arm. His fingers caressed the
skin and I trembled just a little inside. His chest was so near to
mine, there was barely space between us for me to push him gently
away, even if