‘So, what do you do in New York?’ I asked her as we bagged a table and a couple of high stools and set our pitchers of cocktails down.
‘I’m a wedding planner, which is pretty weird considering I don’t believe in marriage or happy ever afters,’ she snorted.
‘How on earth did you get involved in doing that then?’
‘I don’t know how much you know about me and Miller, but we were abandoned by our parents, then accidentally separated. We were both brought up in the foster system, but with different families. I had so little control over my life as a kid that the moment I had the ability to make my own decisions, taking back control was the first one I made. So I’m a planner. It freaks me out if I don’t plan everything and try and picture the outcome.’
‘You’re here with me, spur of the moment with a stranger,’ I reminded her, deciding off the cuff that this was a girl who wouldn’t want mollycoddling or to be on the receiving end of sympathy, after her calm and factual assessment of her pretty shitty life as a child.
‘Nights out are different. Sober or drunk, I still have some control. I know men are likely to come on to me, so if I go out knowing that, I can control the outcome by projecting a “get lost” vibe and rejecting them before they get too close. And if they push it when I’m not in the mood, well, I’m a black belt in Krav Maga.’
‘Seriously?’ I exclaimed. ‘Wow, you’re like Lara Croft or something, without the long brown hair. Beautiful and deadly. So, no man in your life?’
‘I don’t think I’m destined to be in a relationship,’ she shrugged. ‘When you’ve been rejected as often I have, closing your heart is the only way to stop anyone from getting to you. It’s the only way to make sure no one can shatter it from the inside out.’
‘I get that, but surely that’s lonely?’ I said, thinking how much I could empathise with her. I’d certainly not experienced the degree of hurt she had in her life, but I totally got where she was coming from.
‘I never said I was an angel,’ she winked. ‘Just because I don’t want a relationship again doesn’t mean I’m not up for some short-term fun.’
‘Gah, that’s what I need to learn. I can’t seem to enjoy a fling and walk away. I let them in, then they stomp all over my heart. It’s a shame you don’t live here, I could learn so much from you.’
‘Or maybe I could learn something from you. As a little kid, I never imagined I’d be single with no significant relationship to show for my thirty-year life.’
‘I’m so glad Miller found you, you have a significant relationship now.’
‘Huh, I guess I do,’ she smiled, then surprised me by shooting her palm out to the side in a “stop” gesture without even looking away from me. ‘Not interested, buddy.’
‘But–’ a male voice began to protest.
‘Not. Interested. Beat it before I beat you,’ she warned. I watched in astonishment as he did as he was told, then burst out laughing.
‘How did you even see him coming?’
‘It’s like an innate sixth sense that’s taken years to perfect,’ she grinned, and I lifted my jug and clanked it against hers.
‘Cheers, Quinn. I think this is going to be a fun night.’
‘Ok, explain this “cheers” to me, as we use it like you just did, but you also said it to the cabbie too, and I seriously hope he wasn’t drinking.’
We were out of breath as another song finished and we paused our dancing for a moment. I needed something to quench my thirst, and nodded when she jerked her thumb in the direction of the bar with the same idea. We’d been dancing for ages, and laughing as she taught me how to fend off come-ons from the guys that were swarming around us like flies on Farmer Davies’ manure. For a small town, Shrewsbury had some decent clubs, even on a Sunday night.
‘Oh. My. God,’ I gasped, grinding to a halt as we made our way across the dance floor.
‘What?’
‘McFitty, in the flesh, without his stethoscope. And for once, I look hot and haven’t injured myself.’
‘Which one?’ Quinn asked. I’d already filled her in, wondering if she had any special American flirting tips to share with me that hadn’t made their way over to the U.K. Sadly, it seemed flirting was the same in all languages. My skills had never let me down before, the automatic bat of my lashes and pout of my lips was normally enough, but it appeared Dr. Fitton was immune to my powers.
‘Brown hair, blue jeans, and white shirt, leaning on the bar laughing.’ I noticed that he was with the hot blond doctor I’d seen the night I’d got my plaster cast put on.
‘Hmmm,’ she purred. ‘I can see why he has your panties in a bunch. He’s hot, his friend too. So, what now? You gonna go over and introduce yourself?’
‘No,’ I scoffed. ‘This is England, you wait for the man to come to you. I’m not totally crazy, even though he probably thinks I am. Oh crap, he’s looking over.’
‘Come on, act confident and look sexy. I’ll show you how it’s done.’ Quinn stalked off ahead of me.
‘Wait,’ I hissed, tossing my hair back over my shoulders and doing my best sultry catwalk strut to catch her up. He frowned as he caught my eye, which threw me. What was that about? Was he frowning in an “Oh crap, the crazy woman’s here” or a “Where the hell do I know that sexy woman from” way? I let out a girlish shriek as I suddenly felt myself falling, so transfixed on his gorgeous eyes that I totally missed the set of three steps that Quinn had managed to navigate, despite the amount we’d had to drink.
I landed heavily on one knee, which made a stomach churning crunch, and then the other one soon after, followed swiftly by my outstretched hands. I ended up on my side on the sticky floor, not even the copious amounts of alcohol we’d consumed forming any sort of pain buffer.
‘God, Charlie, are you alright?’ Quinn gasped as she shot over to offer me her hand.
‘No,’ I moaned, blinking back some tears of both pain and humiliation.
‘Come on, see if you can stand up,’ she coaxed as she pulled me upright. My right leg buckled and I cried out in agony as I fell against her. ‘Is there a doctor in here?’ she yelled, before flashing me a discreet wink. ‘May as well make the most of a bad situation.’
‘Quinn, no, please,’ I begged, but it was too late. McFitty and McNotQuiteSoFitty, as I was going to call his friend, were already hurrying over. Not that he wasn’t hot, but I’d already ranked Guy Fitton in gold medal position.
‘Are you guys doctors? My friend just had a real nasty fall, I think she’s busted up her leg,’ she told them.
‘We are,’ McFitty replied, nearly making me swoon as he slipped an arm around my waist and ordered me to put mine around his shoulders. His friend ordered a suspiciously underage-looking couple to vacate their table and the comfortable love seats they were snogging in, which they did, obviously not wanting to argue with two strapping older guys. I was carefully set down on the still warm seat and winced, while Quinn gave me a grin and raised her eyebrows. I hissed as Guy unzipped my boot and slid it off, in a reverse Cinderella and the glass slipper move. Seconds later, I was gripping the leather of the seat, not sure whether feeling his strong hands sliding up my bare leg to probe my throbbing knee was painful or erotic. I decided that I’d turned into a temporary masochist, as it was a combination of both. ‘Hmmm,’ he murmured, giving me a déjà vu of our last proper meeting.
‘Hmmm?’ I questioned, as I tried not to succumb to the tears I wanted to shed. I wasn’t sure if they were from the shock of the fall, the humiliation of him seeing me at my clumsiest, or the sheer agony of my excruciatingly painful knee.
‘I don’t want to try manipulating it as it’s swelling already. Tyler, can you call for an ambulance, she’ll need an X-ray.’
‘On it,’ his friend nodded as he pulled out his phone. Tyler? It seemed like he was the doctor Abbie and Georgie had been swooning over. Hang on, had he said ambulance? I was going to the hospital?
‘Oh no,’ I groaned. ‘Not again.’
‘She needs to go to the ER?’ Quinn asked.
‘ER?’ McFitty questioned, distracted as he gently rested my foot on his knee.
‘Over here it’s A&E, Quinn,’ I corrected. ‘Daphne warned you that you’d need to ring 999 on a night out with me, though technically you’re not dialling them. I can’t believe I’m going back there so soon.’
‘You’ve been seen recently?’ Dr. Fitton asked as he raised his gaze to mine.
‘Ermmm, yes. By you, for a twisted ankle and suspected fractured wrist after I fell down my stairs. Then by a nurse, with second degree burns on my fingertips after touching my electric hob to see if it was on. Yes, I know, stupid of me.’ I rolled my eyes as he gave me an incredulous look. ‘I bumped into you in the corridor as I came out with my fingers mummified,’ I reminded him, searching his reflective green eyes for any kind of recognition, but finding nothing other than some stunning gold flecks that made his eyes sparkle. He was so handsome it took my breath away.
‘Sorry, I see so many patients that it’s hard to put a face to a case,’ he replied, shattering any illusions that he’d imagined me in the downright filthy ways I had him far too many times to count.
‘Charlie Faulkner.’ I decided to be brave and introduce myself, and held my hand out.
‘Guy Fitton, but I guess you knew that,’ he replied, curling his warm hand around mine. Damn it. His sleeves were rolled up, and I found nothing sexier than seeing a watch on a strong forearm with a smattering of dark hair. I tried to swallow, but all of a sudden my mouth had gone dry. ‘Well, Charlie, you need this X-rayed before someone decides how to treat you. What do you do? You might need to stay off this for a while.’
‘I’m an author, so standing isn’t really an issue most of the time.’
‘What do you write?’ he asked. Quinn made me blush as she pulled a face at me, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, then gave me a quick thumbs-up while Tyler’s back was turned as he spoke into his mobile.
‘Romance novels, of the … hot variety.’
‘Ah, Fifty Shades type stuff?’ He grinned and gave me a knowing look.
‘Yep, that type of stuff. You’d be amazed at my mental capacity for kink and explicit erotica.’ The words left my mouth before I had a chance to filter them, and my mouth dropped in shock as he choked. Quinn turned away, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. I wasn’t sure who was more embarrassed, me or the now pink-faced Guy Fitton. Luckily, we were saved by Tyler.
‘There was a unit outside like normal, paramedics are on their way in.’
‘Great,’ Guy and I said at the same time as he gently set my foot on the floor and quickly stood up. Quinn came and sat on the armrest of the chair, squeezing my shoulder as Guy and Tyler waved over the paramedics and gave a summary of what had happened. In a flash, I was loaded onto the stretcher, covered in a soft white blanket, strapped in, and wheeled out of the nightclub, with barely time to say thank you to either doctor for helping me.
‘When you said a wild night, I didn’t think we’d be ending it in the hospital,’ Quinn laughed as the doors of the ambulance were closed.
‘And we never even had our kebab.’
‘Tell me you at least have bread, butter, and cheese at your house and I’ll forgive you.’
‘I do, though God knows what time we’ll get back to eat it. I was in A&E for over six hours with my ankle and wrist injury. But on the plus side, something to look forward to, I have cookies. And they’re ones with proper chocolate, not your horrible American crap.’
‘Hey,’ she protested.
‘I wish you lived closer, Quinn. I’ve had such fun, despite this.’ I gestured in the area of my knee, pretty thankful I couldn’t see the damage that was causing me so much pain.
‘Me too. When your leg is healed, I’ll return the favour and take you out in New York.’ She laughed as I squealed with delight.
It sucked she’d be going home. I loved Abbie and Georgie dearly, they were great friends, but a night at the village hall doing drunk karaoke was the liveliest they got. Luckily, I’d managed to avoid it so far, though I was sure my excuses for not going would run out soon. It wasn’t that I wanted to go clubbing on a regular basis, but it would be nice to know I had someone to do it with if the mood took me.
At least I’d seen McFitty. And he’d spoken to me for a few seconds. That was progress.
Chapter Five
Any Excuse
One Month Later – A Friday in May
WHEN KNOCKING ON DAPHNE’S front door for the third time didn’t seem to get me any response, I bent over and pushed open the flap on her letterbox.
‘Hello? Daphne, are you ok?’ I hollered through the black rectangular slot. I frowned as I heard a thud, then a load of footsteps and mumbling. ‘Daphne? If you don’t answer me, I’m going to use my emergency key and come and check you’re ok.’
‘I’m fine dear, just give me a moment,’ she called, sounding flustered. Just before the letterbox snapped shut, nearly taking off the tips of my fingers, I was sure I heard some girlish giggling and a masculine chuckle.
I did my best to keep a straight face when she opened the door and let Mr. Bentley out before letting me in, but when she closed the door, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading.
‘I see you and Mr. Bentley have moved out of the friend zone into the friends with benefits one.’
‘And why exactly do you have a surprised look on your face, Charlie?’ she retorted as her hands smoothed her ruffled hair back into place. ‘Just because my body isn’t as able doesn’t mean the mind isn’t willing. You youngsters think that when someone hits fifty, their desire magically vanishes.’
‘Good to know that I might still get to act on it when I’m eighty, as my mind’s willing and my body’s able, but no one seems to want to take advantage of it.’
‘And that’s exactly why you’re taking me to my appointment, dear,’ she reminded me.
‘One we’ll be late for if you don’t bust some more moves and get in my car.’
She grabbed her handbag and gave me a nod to say that she was ready. I helped her down the steps and locked up for her, then we walked along the side path in front of her cottage and headed out of the side gate onto the drive.
‘What on earth is that?’ she asked, giving my car a disapproving once over.
‘A Mazda. Why, what’s wrong?’
‘For a start, I’m not sure why it has wheels, as it appears to be sitting on the floor.’
‘It’s a sports car, Daphne, they’re all like that, with low profile tyres.’
‘And how exactly am I supposed to get in and out of it at my age?’
‘Getting in and out didn’t seem to stop Mr. Bentley earlier,’ I chuckled as I walked around to open the passenger door. ‘Come on, stop with the disapproving looks and I’ll help you.’
‘Honestly,’ she huffed as she skirted around it, the look not subsiding from her face. ‘If I’d known I was going to be dragged along the road into town, I might not have suggested you take me.’
‘Well, if I drove a Range Rover, you’d complain it was too high. I know I have the hots for the guy, but I’m not so desperate that I’m going to change my car to one more old-age-pensioner friendly on the off chance I might see him more often. Come on, take my hands and I’ll help lower you in.’
With much muttering and banged heads and knees, I finally managed to get Daphne inside and made a mental note that it would be a lot easier to retract the roof to get her in and out in the future. Five minutes later, we were purring through Dilbury on our way to Shrewsbury, Daphne clutching her handbag as if she was scared that by putting it on the floor, she wouldn’t be able to bend down low enough to retrieve it again. Once we left the speed restriction through the village, I put my foot down a little and Daphne screamed as she let go of the bag and clutched her seat, making me swerve from the shock of her shrill cry.
‘Don’t do that while I’m driving,’ I warned her.
‘Well, slow down.’
‘I’m doing fifty miles an hour in a sixty, how slow do you want me to go?’
‘Fifty, are you sure?’ she asked, craning her neck to check my speedometer.
‘Yes, I’m sure. It feels faster as you’re closer to the road.’
‘Remind me to wear incontinence knickers next time, as it feels like you’re doing one hundred miles an hour,’ she muttered.
‘Are you telling me you just wet yourself in my car?’ I groaned.
‘No, but judging by the way you’re driving, I’m surprised I haven’t.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my driving.’
‘On that we’ll agree to disagree.’
‘I could just pull over and make you walk the rest of the way,’ I warned her. ‘So, which department is your appointment in?’
‘Hmmm?’ she asked.
‘Which department? It’s a big hospital. If I know where you’re going, I can try and park as close as possible to the right entrance.’
‘Oh, right. Ermmm, orthopaedics,’ she replied after a brief hesitation.
‘What are you seeing them for?’
‘Rheumatoid arthritis.’
‘Really? I thought that the rheumatology department dealt with that.’
‘Oh, silly me, of course they do. This is for my osteoarthritis, I might need a new hip soon.’
‘Hmmm, I wonder why that’s suddenly developed wear and tear.’ I flashed her a knowing look and winked, and she giggled and blushed. ‘Well, we should just make it for your two-thirty appointment.’
‘Lovely.’
By the time we parked and I retracted the roof, then enlisted the help of the parking attendant to extract Daphne from my car, it was nearly half past two. While she was still amazingly mobile for her age, she didn’t have the speed needed to get into the main reception by two-thirty, let alone on to wherever the orthopaedic department was located.
‘Be a dear, Charlie, and go and get me a wheelchair,’ she suggested when we discovered it was a long walk up one of the corridors. ‘We’ll get there faster if you push me and run.’
The Best Medicine Page 6