by Amy Andrews
Three months later...
HAMISH WASN’T SURE how he was going to be greeted by Lola as he stood in front of her door. Sure, they’d spoken in the last few weeks since Grace had arranged for him to live with Lola for the next two months while he did his urban intensive care rotation, but they hadn’t seen each other since that night.
And he still wasn’t sure this was the wisest idea.
He’d assured Lola that he could find somewhere else. Had stressed that she shouldn’t let Grace steamroller her into sharing her home with him because his sister felt guilty about her snap decision to finally move in with Marcus. It was true, someone paying the rent for the next eight weeks would give Lola time and breathing space to find the right roomie rather than just a roomie, but Grace wasn’t aware of their history.
Unless Lola had told Grace. But he didn’t think his sister would be so keen on this proposed temporary arrangement if that had been the case. Neither did he think for a single second that he wouldn’t have heard from her about it if she did know.
Lola had assured him she hadn’t felt backed into a corner and it made perfect sense for him to live with her temporarily. It would help her out and their apartment was conveniently located for him.
Perfect sense.
Except for their chemistry. And for the number of times he’d thought about her these past three months. He’d told her it had been unforgettable and that had proved to be frustratingly true. How often had he thought about ringing her? Or sending her flirty texts? Not to mention how often he’d dreamed about her.
About what they’d done. And the things he still wanted to do.
Things that woke him in the middle of the night with her scent in his nostrils and a raging erection that never seemed satisfied with his hand. He shut his eyes against the movie reel of images.
Just roomies.
That’s what she’d insisted on when they’d spoken about the possibility of this. Insisted that what had happened between them was in the past and they weren’t going to speak of it again. They definitely weren’t going to act on it again.
Just roomies. That was the deal-breaker, she’d said.
And he’d agreed. After all, it hadn’t seemed too difficult over a thousand kilometres away. But standing in front of her door like this, the reality of her looming, was an entirely different prospect. He felt like a nervous teenager, which was utterly idiotic.
Where was the country guy who could rope a cow, ride a horse, mend a fence and fix just about any engine? Where was the paramedic who could do CPR for an hour, stabilise a trauma victim in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain, smash a window or rip off a door and insert an IV practically hanging upside down like a bat in the shell of car crashed halfway down a mountain?
That’s who he was. So he could share a home, in a purely platonic way, with a woman he was hot for.
Because he was a grown man, damn it!
Hamish knocked quickly before he stood any longer staring at the door like he’d lost his mind. His hand shook and his pulse spiked as the sound of her footsteps drew nearer.
The door opened abruptly and Lola stood there in her uniform. He wondered absently if she was going to or coming from work as his body registered more basic details. Like her gorgeous green eyes and the blonde curls pulled back into a loose plait at her nape, just as it had been that night at Billi’s.
Suddenly he was back there again, remembering how much she’d touched him that night. Emotionally. How much he’d wanted to comfort her. To ease the burden so clearly weighing heavily on her shoulders.
To make her smile.
She smiled at him now and he blinked and came back to the present. It was the kind of smile she’d given him when she’d first met him on the harbour bridge that morning—friendly and open. The kind of smile reserved for a best friend’s brother or a new roomie. Like they were buddies. Mates.
Like he’d never been inside her body.
She’d obviously put what had happened between them behind her. Way, way behind her.
‘Hey, you.’ She leaned forward, rising on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
Like a sister.
It was such an exaggeratedly platonic kiss but his body tensed in recognition anyway. She was soft and warm and smelled exactly like he remembered, and he fought the urge to turn his head and kiss her properly.
She pulled back and smiled another friendly smile and he forced himself to relax. Forced himself to lounge lazily in the doorway and pretend he didn’t want to be inside her again. Right now. Because he really, really did.
This is what you agreed to, dumbass.
‘That all you got?’ She tipped her chin at his battered-looking duffel bag.
Hamish glanced down, pleased to have some other direction to look. ‘Should I have more?’ She didn’t seem impressed by his ninja packing skills.
She tutted and shook her head. ‘After two months in the city you’ll need that for your skin products alone.’
Laughter danced in her eyes and Hamish was impressed with her ability to act like nothing had happened between them while he felt stripped bare. Lola Fraser was as cool as a cucumber.
‘I’ll have you all metrosexual before you know it.’
Hamish laughed. Was that what she liked in a man? A guy who spent more time in front of the mirror than she did? Who used skin care products and waxed places that he wouldn’t let hot wax anywhere near? ‘Thanks. I’m happy with the way I am.’
And so were you. He suppressed the urge to give voice to the thought. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d been anything other than a port in a storm for Lola. A convenient distraction. He’d known full well what he’d been agreeing to that night.
Hell, he’d been more than happy to be used.
‘Ah I see. You can take the boy out of the country—’
‘But not the country out of the boy.’ He laughed again as he finished the saying.
She grinned and said, ‘We’ll see,’ then stood aside. ‘Come on in.’
Hamish picked up his duffel bag and followed her inside. Lola gave him a quick tour even though he was familiar with the layout from that night three months ago and nothing appeared to have changed.
The couch was definitely the same. He had no idea how he was going to sit on it with her without some seriously sexy flashbacks.
‘And this is Grace’s room.’ Lola walked past a shut door on the opposite side of the short hallway, which Hamish assumed was Lola’s room. ‘She moved out a couple of days ago.’
Hamish hadn’t been in his sister’s bedroom when he’d last been here. He hadn’t been in Lola’s either. Not that that had stopped them...
‘Make yourself at home.’ She swept her arm around to indicate the space. ‘It’s a good size with big built-in cupboards and several power points if you want a TV or something in here.’
Hamish looked around. Grace had left her bed for him and the bedside tables. Everything was ruthlessly clean as per his sister’s ways. They could have taken an appendix out on the stripped mattress. Although now they were both in the room together with a massive bed dominating the space, other things they could do on the mattress came to mind.
Lola was staring at it too as if she was just realising the level of temptation it represented. ‘There are sheets, pillows, blankets, etcetera in the linen cupboard in the hallway.’
‘Thanks.’ Hamish threw his bag on the bed to fill up the acres of space staring back at them. And to stop himself from throwing her on it instead.
The action seemed to snap Lola out of her fixation. ‘And that’s it.’ She turned. ‘Tour over.’
Once again Hamish followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she grabbed her bag and keys off the counter top. ‘I’m sorry, I have to run now or I’ll be late for work. I couldn’t swap the shift.’
She didn’t sound tha
t sorry. In fact, she was jingling the keys like she couldn’t wait to get out of there.
‘It’s fine.’
A part of him had assumed she’d be home this weekend to help him get settled. Which was ridiculous. He was a thirty-year-old man living in one of the world’s most exciting cities—he didn’t need to have his hand held.
And Lola was a shift worker, just like him. With bills to pay and a twenty-four-hour roster she helped to fill, including Saturdays. She had her own life that didn’t involve pandering to her friend’s brother.
‘I’m sure I can occupy myself. What time do you finish?’
She fished in her bag and pulled out her sunglasses, opening the arms and perching them on the top of her head. ‘I’m on till nine-thirty tonight. I should be home by ten, providing everything is calm at work.’
‘Cool.’
‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. There’s a supermarket three blocks away, if you’re looking for something in particular. Grace and I usually shopped together and split the bill but we can discuss those details tomorrow.’
Hamish nodded. ‘I’m having dinner with Grace and Marcus tonight actually. At their new apartment. So we’ll probably be getting in around the same time.’
‘Oh...right.’ She glanced away and Hamish wondered if she was remembering the last time they’d been here together at night. She had some colour in her cheeks when her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t feel like you have to be home for me. If you want to have a few drinks and end up crashing at theirs, that’s fine. I’m often here by myself, it doesn’t bother me.’
Hamish didn’t think anything much bothered Lola. There was a streak of independence about her that grabbed him by his country-boy balls. But he knew that under all that Independent Woman of the World crust was someone who could break like a little girl and he really hoped she didn’t feel the need to pretend to be tough all the time to compensate for how vulnerable she’d been the last time they’d met.
That would be an exhausting eight weeks for her.
And he just wanted Lola to be Lola. He could handle whatever she threw at him.
‘And miss my first night in my new home?’ He smiled at her to keep it light. ‘No way.’
‘Okay, well...’ She nodded. ‘I’ll...see you later.’
She turned and walked away, choosing the longer route rather than brush past him—interesting—and within seconds he was listening to the quiet click of the front door as it shut.
Well...that was an anti-climax. He’d been building this meeting up in his head for weeks. None of the scenarios had involved Lola bolting within twenty minutes of his arrival. Still, it had been good, seeing her again. And she had definitely avoided any chance that they might come into contact as she’d left.
That had to mean something, right?
Hamish rolled his eyes as he realised where his brain was heading. Get a grip, idiot. Not going to happen.
And he went to unpack and make up his bed.
* * *
It was a relief to get to work. A relief to stop thinking about Hamish. It was crazy but Lola hadn’t expected to feel what she’d felt when she’d opened the door to him. She’d actually been looking forward to seeing Hamish again. Quite aside from the sex, he was a nice guy and a fun to be around. Even a few months later she still caught herself smiling at the memory of the note she’d found the morning after they’d had sex on the couch.
You looked so beautiful sleeping I didn’t want to disturb you.
I’m heading home now.
Thank you for an unforgettable night.
Hamish
He’d drawn a smiley face beside his name and Lola had laughed and hugged it to her chest, secretly thrilled to be unforgettable.
Sure, she’d known their first meeting after that night would be awkward to begin with but had expected it to dissipate quickly.
She’d been dead wrong about that.
His presence on her doorstep—big and solid, more jaw than any man had a right to—had been like a shockwave breaking over her. She’d felt like she was having some kind of out-of-body experience, where she was above herself, looking down, the universe whispering He’s the one in her ear.
She’d panicked. Hell, she was still panicking.
Firstly, she didn’t believe in the one. Sure, she knew people stayed together for ever. Her parents had been married for thirty-two years. But to her it was absurd to think there was only one person out there for everyone. It was more statistically believable, given the entire population of the world, that there were many ones out there.
People just didn’t know it because they were too busy with their current one.
Secondly, she honestly believed finding the one didn’t apply to every person on the planet. Lola believed some people were destined to never settle down, that they were too content with the company of many and being children of the world to ground themselves.
And that was the category into which Lola fell. Into which Great-Aunt May fell. A spinster at seventy-five, May hadn’t needed the one to be fulfilled. Lola had never known a person more accomplished, more well travelled or more Zen with her life.
And, thirdly, if Lola fell and smacked her head and had a complete personality change and suddenly did believe in such nonsense, her one would never be a guy from a small town.
Never.
She’d run from a small town for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to be with a guy who was content to stay put, whose whole life was his patch of dirt or his business, or the place he’d grown up. Which was why her reaction to Hamish was so disconcerting.
Hamish Gibson couldn’t be the one for her.
No. She was just really...sexually attracted to him. Hell, she’d thought about him so much these past three months it was only natural to have had a reaction to him when she’d opened the door and seen him standing right in front of her.
But she wasn’t going there again.
Which was why work was such a blessing. Something else to occupy her brain. And, yowsers, did she need it today to deal with her critical patient.
Emma Green was twenty-three years old and in acute cardiac failure. She’d been born with a complex cardiac disorder and had endured several operations and bucketloads of medication already in her young life. But a mild illness had pushed her system to the limit and her enlarged heart muscle into the danger zone.
She’d gone into cardiac arrest at the start of the shift down in the emergency department and had been brought to ICU in a critical condition. Which meant it was a whirlwind of a shift. There were a lot of drugs to give, bloods to take, tests to run. Medication and ventilation settings were constantly tweaked and adjusted as the intensive care team responded to Emma’s condition minute by minute.
As well as that, there was a veritable royal flush of specialists and their entourages constantly in and out, needing extra things, sucking up time she didn’t have, all wanting their orders prioritised. There were cardiac and respiratory teams as well as radiologists and pharmacists, physiotherapists and social workers.
And there was Emma’s family to deal with. Her parents, who had already been through so much with Emma over the years. Her mother teary, her father stoic—both old hands at the jargon and the solemn medical faces. And Emma’s boyfriend, Barry, who was not. He was an emotional wreck, swinging from sad to angry, from positive to despondent.
Not that she could blame him. Emma looked awful. There was barely a spare inch of skin that wasn’t criss-crossed by some kind of tubing or wires. She had a huge tube in her nose where the life support was connected and securing it obscured half of her face, which was puffy—as was the rest of her body—from days of retained fluid due to her worsening cardiac condition.
Lola was used to this environment, to how terrible critical patients could look. She was immune to it. But she understood full well how
hard it was for people to see someone they loved in this condition. She’d witnessed the shocked gasps too many times, the audible sobs as the sucker-punch landed.
The gravity of the situation always landed with a blow. The sudden knowledge that their loved one was really, really sick, that they could die, was a terrible whammy. So Emma’s boyfriend’s reactions were perfectly normal, as far as Lola was concerned.
And all just part of her job.
‘It really is okay to talk to her,’ Lola assured Barry as he sat rigidly in a chair by the window, repeatedly finger-combing his hair. It was the first time he’d been alone with Emma since she’d been admitted. Her mother and father were taking it in turns to sit with Barry at the bedside but they’d both ducked out for a much-needed cup of coffee and a bite to eat.
Barry glanced at Emma and shook his head. ‘I don’t want to get in the way or bump anything.’
Lola smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’ll be right here keeping an eye on you.’ She kept it light because she could tell that Barry was petrified of the high-tech environment, which was quite common. ‘And I promise I’ll push you out the way if I need to, okay?’
He gave a worried laugh, still obviously doubtful, and Lola nodded encouragingly and smiled again. ‘I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.’
His eyes flew to Lola’s in alarm. ‘I thought she was sedated.’
‘She is,’ Lola replied calmly. ‘But even unconscious patients can still hear things. There have been plenty of people who’ve woken from comas or sedation and been able to recite bedside conversations word for word.’
Barry chewed on his bottom lip. ‘I...don’t know what to say to her.’
The despair in his voice hit Lola in every way. Barry was clearly overwhelmed by everything. She gestured him over to the seat Emma’s mother had vacated not that long ago. He came reluctantly.
‘Just tell her you’re here,’ Lola said, as he sat. ‘Tell her you love her. Tell her she’s in safe hands.’
‘Okay.’ Barry’s voice trembled a little.
Lola turned to her patient. ‘Emma,’ she said quietly, placing a gentle hand on Emma’s forearm, ‘Barry’s here. He’s going to sit with you for a while.’