That word again. Even less right after their kiss last night. He grunted. ‘I’ll go and introduce myself when I get home. So did he say what the dog’s name was?’
‘No, but I didn’t ask, and the vet didn’t recognise her, but apparently she’s possibly some kind of retriever cross, she’s young, and there’s something else you need to know. She’s about four or five weeks pregnant.’
He felt his jaw drop, and sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? Oh, Beth. What the hell do we do now?’
‘We?’ She laughed and walked away. ‘Your dog, McKenna. It’s nothing to do with me. I suggest you try and contact the owners.’
* * *
Over his dead body.
But realistically, did he have a choice? He rang the letting agent, told him the dog had come back and asked if he had a forwarding address for the previous tenants, but of course he didn’t. They owed two months’ rent. Why would they give anyone their address?
Which left him with the need to rehome her somehow. He found a rescue centre on the internet, and the moment he got home he rang them.
They were full, but they said they’d take her as soon as they had a space.
‘Don’t hold your breath, though,’ the receptionist said. ‘It could be a while. Are you able to keep her in the meantime?’
He said he could, trying to work out why the feeling in his chest felt remarkably like relief, then gave her his details and went into the kitchen and found a note from Beth, propped up against the kettle.
Dry food’s in the pantry. She’s twenty-five kilos but add twenty per cent more food because she’s pregnant. Couldn’t find scales, but she’s had lunch and didn’t seem to mind! Chart on the side of the food bag. Divide by three—obvs. And keep the door shut!
He sighed, went into the pantry with Tatty at his side, and examined the chart with a bit of enthusiastic assistance. Beth hadn’t been able to find the scales because there weren’t any, but he made an educated guess.
That would do, for now. He’d give her a bit more later and buy scales tomorrow. Assuming he’d still have her. Sounded like it.
He put her dry food into the bowl Beth had left him, ate a tin of baked beans cold out of the can with a fork, and looked at the clock on the cooker.
Quarter to eight. Still time for a quick walk before dusk, if they didn’t hang about. He put Tatty—no, the dog—on the borrowed lead and took her down to the river and along the river wall. She didn’t seem keen on the lead, but she seemed happy enough by his side and soon got used to it, and they walked until the light was fading and got home just before nine.
He was still hungry, but of course she’d eaten the bread that morning so he couldn’t even make a sandwich, so he had a bowl of cereal and gave the dog another handful of kibble, then made a coffee and headed for the sitting room, the dog in tow.
All he wanted was to sit down quietly on the sofa with his phone, check his emails and do a little research into dog pregnancy and rehoming—although if he was rehoming her, the pregnancy research was irrelevant.
Assuming he got a chance to do it anyway, because Tatty had gone in the garden and come back victorious with a muddy ball in her mouth, and dropped it at his feet.
Of course. Somewhere in her ancestry was a retriever. And all they wanted to do, like all the gun dog breeds, was just exactly that. So he rolled the ball, and she fetched it, and he rolled it, she fetched it, over and over again until finally he hid it behind his back.
‘No. It’s gone. Lie down.’
She whined, gave a resigned sigh and hopped onto the sofa, curled up and went to sleep. Well, almost. One eye was still slightly open, just in case...
He grunted and turned his attention back to his dog-rehoming research.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HOW’S TATTY?’
‘The dog is clingy. And needy. And playful. Endlessly playful. Not to mention greedy in the bedroom. I bought a six-foot-wide bed because I like space, and she’s claimed at least half of it.’
Beth suppressed a smile. ‘You could buy her a basket.’
He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort, and rolled his head on his neck. It crunched and made her wince.
‘Ouch.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just stiff from hanging off the edge of the bed half the night. I met Ed Shackleton, by the way. We were out on the river wall by six this morning, and so was he, and he recognised her. He stopped me and introduced himself and asked how she was, so I told him. He laughed.’
He said it deadpan, but his lips were twitching and she had to bite hers. ‘He laughed?’
‘Yes. Apparently he thinks it’s funny. She and Molly made friends.’
‘Did you let her off the lead?’
A definite snort this time. ‘No. I have better things to do with my early morning than look for a dog that’s messed off and won’t come back.’
‘I thought she was clingy?’
‘Would you rely on that? Anyway, Ed said Annie could pick the dog up on her walk with Molly and take them both, and give her some lunch, so I gave him the key to the back door. At least I don’t have to worry about that today. So, what’s going on this morning?’ he asked, turning his attention back to the day job, and she ran through the weirdly short list of patients on the whiteboard.
‘That looks pretty quiet. Excellent. I might sneak off for a proper, decent coffee. I haven’t got my coffee-maker out of store yet—’
‘Adult trauma call, five minutes. Paediatric trauma call, five minutes.’
He tilted his head and glared at the speaker on the wall.
‘Seriously? I need a coffee first!’
She grinned at him. ‘Poor baby. You can get one later. Come on. Last one in Resus buys lunch.’
* * *
Lunch? What was that again?
He ignored his whinging stomach, and finally, sometime after three, there was a gap. An actual, time-for-a-break gap.
Hallelujah! He grinned at Beth.
‘Coming for lunch?’
‘Absolutely. And you’re buying.’
‘My pleasure. Let’s just get out of here before the red phone bursts into life again. Are you always this short-staffed?’
‘No, it’s the Easter holidays. Andy Gallagher’s technically only part-time, but he’s picked up a lot of the slack until you arrived and they’ve got five children, so he’s having time off in lieu now, and Sam Ryder’s wife’s sick so he’s off with the kids, and when Andy comes back James is off for a week. And two of the nurses with kids are off as well, so it’s worse than usual.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I can’t imagine what it’s like at Christmas.’
She gave a slightly hysterical laugh and pushed open the café door.
‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’
He picked up a tray and slid it along the counter, peering at the range of salads on offer. He really, really needed to do an internet food order—
‘So have you applied for the job yet?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Et tu, Brute? I’ve had James on my case all morning.’
‘So, are you going to?’
He picked up a bowl of mixed salad, added a dollop of coronation chicken and dumped it on the tray with a bread roll and a banana. ‘I guess—if I ever have a minute. The dog’s taking up a lot of my time.’
She put her salad down on the tray beside his. ‘I thought you were going to rehome her?’
‘They’re full. All of them. I did some ringing round.’
‘Ah.’
‘Indeed. Black Americano, please, with an extra shot. Beth?’
‘Oh—skinny cappuccino, please. So what are you going to do?’
He stared blankly at the back of the barista. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. Technically, she’s not my problem.’
‘But?’
He laughed softly, took the coffees, picked up the tray and paid, then headed out into the park to find a table.
‘But?’ she repeated. She raised an eyebrow at him and waited, and he gave a resigned sigh.
‘What can I do? Dammit, Beth, the dog’s pregnant! I can’t just kick her out. That would make me no better than them. Oh, she was called Dolly, by the way.’
‘Dolly?’
He laughed. ‘Exactly my reaction. Anyone less like a doll... Tatty suits her a lot better, but according to Reg, the kids used to carry her around in their arms when she was a puppy.’
Her face crumpled slightly. ‘Oh, they must miss her.’
‘Yeah. I reckon she misses them, too. She keeps going into the other bedroom as if she’s looking for them. Whatever. I’m sure the rescue centre can find her a good family, when they’ve got room.’
He took a mouthful of food, but it stuck in his throat, lodged on top of a strange lump that had appeared. He swallowed hard, took a gulp of coffee and burnt his mouth.
Livvy Henderson smiled at them and walked past, waving at a man sitting at a table beyond them. He’d met the ED registrar last week when Beth had asked her about the house she’d rented, and he’d worked with her a couple of times since. He followed her with his eyes as she bent over and kissed the man, then sat beside him as he put his arm around her.
‘Who’s that with Livvy?’ he asked, pretending interest to change the subject.
‘Matt Hunter, consultant trauma surgeon. You’re bound to meet him. He’s her fiancé. They’re getting married in a few weeks—at our hotel, actually.’
His eyes flicked back to hers, then away again, his heart pounding as his mind was dragged back to their weekend.
‘Good venue,’ he said calmly. So much for changing the subject. Be careful what you wish for...
‘Yes, it is. Actually, there’s something I want to ask you. I’ve got an invitation to the evening do. I don’t suppose you fancy being my plus one? I don’t really want to go on my own, and I know you aren’t going to get any ideas if I ask you.’
He stifled a snort. He wasn’t so sure about that, especially not in the hotel that had so many X-rated memories. And besides, he thought most weddings were outrageously lavish, absurdly expensive and he’d never understood the need to squander that much money on what amounted to a party.
Not that Katie had agreed about that, but then it turned out that they hadn’t agreed on much. He’d been very clear that he didn’t want to get married or have children any time soon because he really wanted to work with Medicine For All, and he thought she’d understood. When he realised she’d stopped taking her contraception and was quietly planning a wedding, he’d put his foot down, and it had finally dawned on her that he wasn’t just saying it and she couldn’t talk him round, or talk him out of his plans to sign up with MFA.
She’d had a screaming fit, said she wouldn’t stay with him unless he backed down, so he said fine, told her to go and walked out.
Cue all kinds of fallout, underpinned by a certain amount of guilt, a tinge of regret and a huge sense of relief on his part when it turned out that she wasn’t yet pregnant. That was just before he’d started working with Beth, and why he’d wanted a no-strings non-relationship with her, something light-hearted and physical and without any kind of commitment from either of them.
So much for light-hearted, given their fated pregnancy and the emotional turmoil it had left in its wake. After his initial furious reaction that she’d done it on purpose, the way Katie had tried to, came the gut-wrenching knowledge that their baby was dying, which had tapped into something deep inside him, a paternal urge he hadn’t even known existed. Something he still, even now, couldn’t really understand and wasn’t sure he was ready for.
And going back to the hotel where it had all started wasn’t in any way on his agenda. Emotions aside, he was finding working with her distracting enough and his libido was running riot.
‘Are you sure there isn’t someone else you could go with? You know I don’t really do weddings.’
‘I take it that’s a no, then?’ she said, her voice light but her eyes guarded, with a tinge of hurt lurking in their depths.
Dammit. He gave up fighting. ‘When is it?’
‘Four and a bit weeks. The eleventh of May,’ she added softly, and he felt as if a bucket of ice had been tipped over him. ‘It’s—’
‘I know what day it is,’ he said gruffly.
Exactly two years to the day since Grace’s heart had stopped beating, and she’d been born the next day, the date engraved on the little silver heart. And on his, and Beth’s, too, he had no doubt.
Such bitter irony, that the wedding should be on that day, of all days, and in that venue, of all the venues they could have chosen.
How could he not go, just because he didn’t do weddings? Not even he was that selfish and self-centred.
He nodded. ‘OK. I’ll come. What’s the dress code?’
Not that it mattered a jot. He’d go in a bin bag if necessary, because there was no way he’d leave her alone on Grace’s anniversary, no matter how little he wanted to be there.
‘Black tie. Livvy wanted black tie because she said Matt looks so good in a DJ.’
He grunted, searching in his head for where the hell he might have stored his DJ. His mother’s wardrobe? There was still some stuff there. Or he could buy a new one. He was thinner now, the old one might not fit any more. Whatever, he had a month to sort it out.
‘Problem?’ she asked, her eyes troubled, and he smiled at her and shook his head.
‘No, Beth. It’s not a problem. I just can’t remember where I’ve put my DJ, but that’s fine. I’ve got time to sort it. Unlike the dog. I don’t know what to do about her. I can’t leave her alone and unfed all day while I’m at work, but I just feel stuck with her.’
‘I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Reg if he could pop in at lunchtimes and let her out and feed her, just until the rehoming place can take her? He seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for her.’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Do you think he would?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He might. You could ask. And then you could stop worrying about her all day.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Liar.’
Could she actually see straight through him?
He ate his salad, drank his coffee and met her eyes again. ‘We need to get on.’
‘We do. What are you doing later?’
He laughed. ‘Walking the dog?’
‘Can I come?’
On the river path, over the stile where he’d kissed her that time? His heart crashed against his ribs in anticipation.
‘Yes, of course.’ Only this time he’d keep his hands to himself...
* * *
Beth put jeans and boots on, and drove round to Ryan’s. She could have walked, it was only about five minutes away, but she knew he’d be in a hurry, and when she pulled up on the drive they were already there waiting. And Tatty seemed ridiculously excited to see her again.
‘Hello, sweetie,’ she crooned gently, rubbing Tatty’s chest and earning herself a happy, doggy smile, and they set off across the lane through a gap in the hedge and along a footpath that led over the marshes to the river.
She fell into step beside him, their arms brushing as they walked. And somehow, she wasn’t sure how, her hand ended up firmly wrapped in his. She knew how it had got there—she’d slipped on some mud, and he’d grabbed her—but then he hadn’t let go, so they’d walked on, her fingers curled around his, his thumb over the top of hers, and every now and then it moved, a gentle, rhythmic stroke, or a little squeeze that made her feel warm inside.
They reached the river and went left, heading upriver for a while, then turned back towards the harbour nestled in the rive
r mouth, retracing their steps as they had all that time ago.
He had to let go of her hand to steer Tatty round the stile, but then as she climbed over after him he held out his hand again, and their eyes met and held.
‘This is where you first kissed me,’ she said softly, and something hot and wild and a little dangerous to her peace of mind flickered in his eyes and was gone.
‘I know.’
And then he let her go, and turned on his heel and walked on, Tatty hanging back to wait for her as she jumped down off the stile and caught them up, her heart fizzing in her chest.
It was still there, whatever it was, simmering between them like molten lava, and she felt a sudden surge of regret for asking him to go with her to the wedding. It was bound to be unashamedly romantic and inevitably they’d be expected to dance, and that would only complicate things, although how they could get more complicated it was difficult to see. Maybe he’d pull out, because right now he couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough.
He turned his head and looked at her, his expression neutral now. ‘Fancy going to the pub again for supper?’ he asked, and her eyes widened in surprise. She’d thought he was desperate to get home, but for some reason he wasn’t. Had she read him wrong?
‘What about Tatty? Will she behave?’
He shrugged. ‘We could give it a try. Ed said they’re dog-friendly, and I’ve got nothing at home because I still haven’t done an internet order and lunch seems like a long time ago.’
It did, and she didn’t have much food in her house, either. That had been a job for her way home, only her agenda had been hijacked again, by herself this time.
‘Sounds lovely,’ she said, summoning up a smile and wishing it didn’t feel like a date. Too complicating. Too much, too soon.
But it wasn’t a date and anyway she’d said yes now, so she followed him in, and they found a little table in the dog-friendly end of the bar, and Tatty lay down with her head on her paws and went to sleep.
From Heartache to Forever Page 6