"We're fine, Daddy. We're not babies."
"But you're my babies." They just giggled. "I can get it open, you know."
"No!" the twins wailed.
Nash sighed, falling back against the wall and rubbing his hand over his face. They'd been at this for ten minutes and he didn't want them bathing without supervision. Why were they so shy around him lately?
"It's normal."
He opened his eyes to find Hayley standing nearby, a stack of towels in her arms. "I'm their father," he said.
"You're a male to them right now and they don't want you to see them naked."
"But I've seen them every day for five years!" He made a frustrated sound, then said, "They could drown!"
Hayley stepped close, knocking softly. "Hey, girls, can I come in?"
There was a bit of discussion in there and Hayley offered Nash a weak smile. Then the door lock clicked. Nash scowled. Hayley stepped inside. Nash started to move in, too, but Hayley waved him back, leaving the door open a discreet crack.
"What, no bubbles?"
"Bubbles?" The twins looked at each other and smiled. "Mrs. Winslow never let us have bubbles. She makes us hurry."
Nash scowled at that and he leaned against the wall, out of sight.
"Well," Hayley said, settling to the floor and taking up the washcloth and soap, "sometimes it's necessary, but a lady needs to soak in a bathtub of bubbles once in a while. It's a luxury we are allowed."
"Why?" Nash said from the hall.
"Because we are females, Nash. It's that time when we paint our toenails, ponder world affairs, pretty gowns, handsome men—" she winked at the girls, shampooing their hair "—soothe broken hearts and plan our futures."
"Broken hearts" clung to his mind and his throat tightened. Her voice was soft, her Southern accent refined and cultured, like his mom's. "I don't see the point of it," he said. "Get in, get out. Turning into a prune is a waste of time."
Hayley rolled her eyes and the girls copied her. "That's why you are a man and we are women. You will never understand."
"A girl thing," he said.
"Yes. Okay, ladies, time to rinse."
This was the hard part, Nash thought. Kate was scared to death of getting soap in her eyes. The water ran, but he didn't hear the usual complaints, and he peeked inside the room. Kate had a washcloth pressed tightly over her eyes and Hayley was doing her best to keep it from getting wet. Well, heck, he did that all the time, but got nothing but screams. When Kate was done, Hayley wrapped her head in a towel, then focused on Kim. Nash darted back when they stepped from the tub.
A few minutes later Kate said, "Okay, Daddy, you can come in now."
Nudging the door open, he swung around the door frame and smiled. "I knew my babies were under all that dirt." He kissed each twin, then reached for the comb. Kim winced before he even started.
Standing behind Kate, Hayley cleared her throat. He looked. She worked through the tangles in record time and Nash copied her moves, starting from the bottom in small increments. Kim twisted, looking at him and smiling. While they blow-dried pounds of hair, Nash's gaze kept slipping to Hayley's reflection in the mirror. She looked like the wild redhead he'd fallen in love with, and he'd never allowed himself to imagine her like this, with his daughters. He didn't want to consider how good it felt to have her here. She wasn't staying.
"You both have such beautiful hair," Hayley said, stroking the brush through Kate's long curls. Nash smiled at Kate's contented expression. She was almost purring.
The girls thanked her politely. "Daddy thinks we should get it cut."
Her gaze slid to Nash's. "That might not be such a bad idea, just for the summer. It is hot." His shoulders drooped a little and Hayley could tell he was relieved by the suggestion. "Think about it. We can look at magazines for a cut you'd like."
The girls weren't receptive.
"Bedtime," Nash said.
The girls headed to their room, which was most of the upper floor, while Hayley gathered the wet towels. "Thanks, Hayley."
She straightened, smiling.
"I would have spent half the night trying to get that bath done, with twice as much mess and a bucket of tears. I'm grateful."
Warmth spread through her. "No problem."
"I've been going through girl-panic like that for a week now."
"Just respect their privacy. Believe me, this is just the start of it." He groaned, reaching to help clean up, but she stayed his hand. "I have it. Go to your daughters."
He nodded, then walked into the bedroom and settled the girls into bed. He was at a disadvantage, just being male, and he realized how much his daughters enjoyed a younger more sympathetic female than Mrs. Winslow in the house. Mrs. Winslow was always ready to go home about this time of night, he recalled, and now he wondered if she was really ill or just tired.