by Fiona Lowe
Needing to keep her now-wavering distance she said, ‘How about we go Dutch?’
A deep crease formed across his brow and his wide mouth, which could smile so broadly, flattened into a thin line. ‘I can afford to buy you a drink, Flick.’
She sighed. Money was the bane of her life—it could achieve great things and just as quickly destroy others. It had destroyed them. They may have just shared a working camaraderie today but it appeared nothing else between them had changed.
She headed toward the brown tent. ‘If it’s so important to you then I accept.’
‘Champagne?’
Her head jerked up expecting to see mockery on his face but all she saw was genuine concern that he was buying the drink she wanted. She shook her head. ‘Sauv blanc, please.’
Surprise shot across his cheeks at her change of beverage but he didn’t comment. A couple of minutes later he returned with the drinks, sat down and held up his plastic souvenir glass.
‘Cheers.’
She nodded. ‘Are you still in the army?’ The question that she’d held simmering on her lips for two days finally came out.
He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, a vision of relaxed male beauty. ‘Nope, I’m done. Eight years of service repaid for six years of medical training and the army no longer owns me. My life’s mine again.’
Eight years of service she’d pleaded with him not to give. ‘You could have had your life back years ago but you chose not to.’
A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘You paying my tuition debt would have meant you owned me instead of the army.’
The steel in his voice told her nothing had changed and it torched years of cooling anger. She gripped the stem on her plastic glass so hard she was surprised it didn’t snap. ‘Still finding it impossible to be loved, Drew?’
Familiar shutters fell across his eyes, closing down all emotion. ‘Love has nothing to do with it.’
His words slapped her. ‘No, Drew, love has everything to do with it. There’s no accounting in love, only you don’t seem to understand that.’
‘No accounting?’ His voice rose. ‘That’s rich, Flick. When we were together, you organised everything. You booked and paid for our holidays, you bought my clothes, you owned the apartment we lived in and you did everything without consulting me on any of it because it was your money.’
She fought against his interpretation of their life as the same old emotions of betrayal flew to the surface. ‘It was our money but you resented it from the start. I was only trying to create the life we wanted.’
He shook his head. ‘You had the money to live the life you wanted. Me? I was like your Prince Consort tagging along one step behind.’
His stony words sliced into her and she railed against them. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If you were so unhappy why didn’t you say anything? Why just pack up and leave one day when I wasn’t even home?’ She heard her voice rise and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. ‘You left me for the army, Drew. You left me and you finished our engagement with a note.’
Haggard lines pulled around his mouth. ‘I tried to tell you how I felt several times, Flick, but you never heard me.’
She trawled her memory for clues. Their intern year had been the happiest year of her life. She’d been exhilarated with the joy of being able to share everything she had with the man she loved. She thought they’d been blissfully content and excited about their future together. Surely she’d have noticed if he was miserable?
Drew traced the outline of the coaster with his finger, letting the silence roll out between them. There was no point rehashing the day he’d left her. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d gone about it but that didn’t change the fact it had been his only choice.
‘What are you going to do now?’ Felicity asked, finally breaking the impasse.
He shrugged. ‘Probably A&E. After years on the front-line I think general practice will be far too mundane.’ Shut-up, now. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘I don’t work in general practice.’
Astonishment lit through him. First her hair, then her change in drinks and now this—he was starting not to recognise her at all. ‘But you always said you wanted to go into general practice.’
‘That was when I thought I was going to be juggling a marriage, a career and babies.’
The animosity in Flick’s voice hit him in the chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. God, he’d loved her more than anyone but he knew that if they’d stayed together they would have destroyed each other. ‘You can still do that.’
Her brows rose sardonically. ‘I did that.’
He sighed, hating the way that every conversation vibrated with their past and everything that had changed between them. ‘I meant with someone else, Flick.’
Her brown eyes fixed on his face. ‘So did I.’
The quietly spoken words whipped him so unexpectedly hard that they stole the breath from his lungs and he struggled not to cough. It shouldn’t bother him at all that she was with someone else. He shouldn’t care.
You left her. His rational mind accepted that after eight years, Flick being married to someone else was both reasonable and expected. Only, every other part of him recoiled violently at the idea and bile hit the back of his throat.
‘You’re married?’ Despite a desperate attempt, he couldn’t hide the shock from his voice.
She sucked in her lips. ‘Divorced.’
Relief rushed into every cell and he reached out his hand, covering hers. ‘I’m sorry.’ Only he wasn’t sorry one little bit.
Her warmth seeped into him. His palm registered the soft and wondrous touch of her skin against his and it sparked a visceral craving that filled him to overflowing. He wanted to pull her hand up to his mouth, kiss each finger tip and then trail his tongue down the length of each one, tasting her salt and the tangy hint of grapefruit body butter. He wanted to do what he’d done so often years ago when he’d had permission to touch her at any time.
She abruptly pulled her hand out from under his, the action starkly reminding him he’d forfeited any claim to her.
‘No need to be sorry. I made a mistake.’ Her beautiful, lush mouth twisted. ‘Something I seem to do with men.’
Ouch. His heart beat with guilt and he hated this angst-filled atmosphere that cloaked them—it was exhausting. ‘Flick it’s been eight years. Can’t we leave our past behind and be friends?’
Her eyes hardened with the legacy of betrayal. ‘Friends? Seriously?’
The day he’d ended their engagement loomed large in his memory. We’re not going to work, Flick. ‘Fair call.’ Being friends was a ridiculous long shot. ‘How about a truce then, so we can enjoy the ride? When it’s over, we go our separate ways.’
Her intelligent forehead crinkled the way it always had when she was deep in thought. ‘Well, this was supposed to be nine days in another world for me to recharge and we’re colleagues so...’ She gave a wry smile and raised her glass. ‘To a cease-fire.’
He welcomed the relief that flowed through him. He’d spent a large amount of the last eight years being on tenterhooks in warzones and he didn’t want to bring that level of anxiety into his civilian life. ‘Thanks, Flick.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He was unprepared for the kick of heat her throaty words generated.
Chapter Four
61 kilometres an hour. Felicity glanced at her bike odometer and grinned. She was free-wheeling down the other side of an incredibly steep hill, savouring the wind in her face and the exhilaration that exploded in her chest—the addictive adrenaline-charge of speed. Despite the momentous physical effort of climbing an inexorable hill, she’d discovered she loved flying down the other side more than she disliked the climb.
‘Flick!’ Drew shot past her with a wave, his weight giving him extra speed. ‘Meet at lunch?’
‘Yes,’ she called out to his back.
She caught him up on the flat and they rod
e into the lunch spot together. Lake Glenmaggie sparkled in the sunshine and after having their lanyards scanned and being presented with chicken and avocado wraps, cheese and biscuits and fruit by the smiling volunteers, they carried their haul to the pebbly beach.
Felicity sat and squirted hand sanitizer into both their palms. ‘I’ve never eaten so much food in my life.’
Drew grinned. ‘Carbs and protein are the food of cyclists.’ He bit into the wrap and gazed out at the lake. ‘When did you take up cycling?’
His tone said, ‘What else about you has changed.’ ‘Technically, I haven’t. I won the bike and Jessie railroaded me onto this trip. I did some training rides and rode the Punt Road hill every morning so I’d be fit enough for these hills.’
‘It worked. I’m impressed.’
She tried to squash the ridiculous glow that his praise generated. What he thinks of you is immaterial. ‘The cycling is the easy part. Coping with camp life and those plastic box showers is another thing entirely.’
‘Have you ever camped before?’
‘In Africa.’ She shivered at the memory.
He laughed. ‘I meant real camping, Flick, not glamping in a game-park in a tent with a wooden floor and a double bed with 1000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.’
The automatic spark of indignation flared and she opened her mouth, the cheap shot teetering on her lips. She swallowed it, forcing it back down where it belonged—unspoken. If they were to have a real truce, she needed to tell him about her life.
She raised her head and met his gaze. ‘I lived and worked in a refugee camp for two months. This trip is utter luxury compared with that.’
Drew felt like he’d been hit over the head by a plank. He’d always known she was a caring doctor but he’d never seen any examples of altruism outside of her working hours. She’d always liked the good things in life. The expensive things—things he’d grown up never knowing. ‘Which aid agency did you go with?’
She chewed her lip in prevarication and he didn’t understand why. ‘Flick?’
Picking up a handful of the coarse sand, she let it trail through her fingers. ‘Mine.’
He must have misheard. ‘Sorry?’
She squared her shoulders as if she was preparing herself for battle. ‘I turned my trust fund into a charity. We provide medical aid in Africa.’
‘That’s...’ Every word in his brain dried up as the full impact of her words soaked into his brain. He stared at her blankly as shock, surprise, delight and a thousand other emotions rocked him.
Her brows rose and her mouth twitched. ‘Unexpected?’
‘No. I...yes.’ There was no point denying it. ‘You never mentioned doing anything like that with it when we were together.’
‘No.’ The quietly spoken words carried a weary gravitas. ‘Back then I didn’t realise my money was such a problem to either of us.’
He wanted to know more. ‘When did you start it?’
‘A year after you left. Most of the time our work is village specific but after a massacre in the Congo, we responded to a call for medical aid in a camp. It was the single most difficult job I’ve ever done.’ She face filled with anguish. ‘Part of me’s still there.’
He thought of Afghanistan—the fear and the pointless carnage. ‘You see stuff that nothing in Australia can ever prepare you for.’
Appreciation filled her eyes. ‘You’d have seen it on the front-line.’
‘Yeah.’ He didn’t like thinking about it—moving forward was the only way to survive trauma like that but there was an understanding on her face that pulled at him. She’d seen awful and life-changing things too and he had an unusual need to share. ‘I was fine until the day a six-year-old child was brought in.’
He sucked in a fortifying breath, trying not to let the memory reduce him to a sobbing mess. ‘He’d stepped on a mine.’
Her hand slid into his—her fingers curling around tightly. ‘The kids undo us.’
‘Every, single time.’
He downed his electrolyte drink, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon, watching the way the towering gum trees turned the sky a pale shade of purple which contrasted with the lake’s vivid blue. The peace of it slowly seeped into him along with the supportive touch of Felicity’s hand. He could stay here forever.
Not a good idea.
‘Come on then.’ He jumped quickly to his feet. ‘The Glenmaggie hill awaits.’
She groaned. ‘But it’s so nice sitting here.’
He grinned. ‘That attitude won’t get you into camp. It’s only a hundred-metre climb and then you’ve got the reward of working in the clinic until eight. Just think of all those sore knees waiting for us.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, well, when you put it like that...’
He tugged her to her feet with a strong pull and she rose, laughing.
The momentum carried her into his chest and her body brushed his from his sternum to his toes. Muscle memory exploded and every cell moulded to hers with a need so strong it threatened to knock him over. Her scent of apples and cinnamon filled his nostrils and he wanted to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in.
Scratch that. He wanted to bury his lips against hers and revisit her mouth, rediscover her taste of mint, coffee and the quintessential flavour that was Flick. He ached for the scorch of the heat he knew burned there and he wanted to experience again the most sensual kisses he’d ever known. He wanted to lose himself in a place that had once been his sanctuary.
Her huge, brown eyes widened at the touch of their bodies and he caught surprise in their depths, followed quickly by a desire that matched his own. Her tongue flicked, licking the bow of her plump, top lip.
He groaned as the final thread of his fraying restraint, which had barely held him in check for three days, gave way and he lowered his head.
‘Hey, doc,’ a male voice called out.
Felicity spun out of his arms so fast she could have been auditioning for a job as a ballroom dancer.
His body moaned in monumental frustration as it lost the glorious touch of her.
‘Phil,’ Felicity said. ‘How’s the eye?’
‘Great, thanks to you, doc. I can’t thank you enough.’
The cyclist seemed oblivious to the breathlessness in Flick’s voice and Drew quickly stepped in behind her because damn it, Lycra bike shorts hid nothing.
What the hell had he been thinking trying to kiss her surrounded by a thousand cyclists?
Chapter Five
Day Four
Lightning lit up the sky and thunder rumbled around the hills of Tarra Bulga National Park. The massive tree ferns bowed low, heavy with the weight of the rain, which had fallen continuously since seven a.m., turning a gravel road into muddy slush and cycling hell. The tops of the towering mountain ash trees disappeared into a thick, grey fog that cloaked everything, reducing what should have been spectacular views of old-growth rainforest and the distant coastline, down to less than a metre of visibility.
Felicity was working in the first-aid tent at the rest stop and she took a moment to flick yet another leech off her leg. She’d been flat-out dealing with cuts and grazes caused by falls on gravel for the last hour, but she wasn’t complaining. Being busy gave her welcome relief from the continuous dialogue in her head. Yesterday, she’d almost kissed Drew.
When Phil had interrupted them, half of her had wanted to throttle him while the other half had almost hugged him because he’d just stopped her from doing something she knew she’d regret. Something that would create problems, not solve them.
Drew wanted to kiss you too.
And that confused her the most. He’d been the one to walk away from her all those years ago. He’d been the one who’d betrayed her trust, broken her heart and turned her life upside down. We’re not going to work, Flick.
So why now? Why after all this time and eight years of radio silence did he want to kiss her?
‘Excuse me, my friend’s really
cold and she’s gone all weird.’
Felicity instantly spun around and focussed. A tall, skinny, teenage girl was slumped against her friend, shivering violently.
‘I’m Felicity. What’s your name?’
The girl didn’t reply.
‘She’s Jamie and I’m Pippa. We stopped to eat some food and she said she was sleepy. I’m really worried.’
‘You’ve done the right thing.’ She guided Jamie to a chair. ‘Sit down.’
The shivering girl stared at her as if she didn’t understand her.
Felicity put one hand on Jamie’s shoulder and another behind her knees, making her sit. ‘I’m going to take your temperature.’
Jamie barely nodded as Felicity placed the digital infrared thermometer into her ear. It quickly beeped. 34C. Mild hypothermia. ‘Pippa, can you help me get Jamie out of her wet clothes?’
A horrified expression crossed her face. ‘But it’s kinda public.’
‘I know, but we need to warm her up and right now this wet gear is causing more harm than good. Do either of you have anything dry on your bikes?’
Pippa shook her head. ‘No.’
Felicity sighed, hauling her polar fleece off over her head whilst giving thanks she’d seen the weather forecast and worn her thermal top. Together, she and Pippa pulled three layers of wet clothes off Jamie before putting the polar fleece over her head and wrapping her in a space blanket. ‘Pippa, are you cold?’
‘A bit but I’m okay.’
For now. Pippa, unlike her skinny friend, was a healthy weight, which gave her more protection against the wet and cold. Felicity grabbed an umbrella and thrust it into Pippa’s hand. ‘Can you go to the coffee cart and buy two hot chocolates for Jamie, please.’
‘Sure.’
The moment the girl left, another three teens arrived, all shivering with cold. Every one of them had temperatures hovering between 33 and 34 Celsius and she could see more likely patients walking across to her. The make-shift medical tent was no longer able to cope with demand and it offered scant protection against the elements. She made an executive decision.
Addressing the friends of the cold teens, she said, ‘I’m going to need your help. We need to relocate everyone to the information centre down the hill and out of the rain. Then I need two people to go and buy ten hot chocolates.’ She pulled a fifty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it over to a young man who’d raised his hand in an offer of assistance.