by Leah Martyn
‘More toast, doctors?’ Carole called from the servery window. ‘I’ve made plenty.’
‘Thanks, Carole. You’re a star.’ Darcie sent the older woman a warm smile and made to rise to her feet.
‘I’ll get it.’ Jack’s hand landed briefly on Darcie’s forearm. ‘Finish your food.’
Later, as they sat over big mugs of tea, Darcie said, ‘I could sleep for a week.’
‘Why don’t you, then?’ Jack saw her eyes were faintly shadowed. ‘At least for the rest of today. I gave you the weekend off, if you recall.’
‘I promised to look in on Jess later.’
Jack’s mouth gave a mocking twist. ‘I think I can just about manage that. Go home to bed, Darcie.’
‘You mentioned a debrief.’
‘That can wait.’
Darcie’s heart began hammering. ‘I’d...rather get it over with.’
A beat of silence.
OK. Jack drew in a long breath and let it go. It didn’t need rocket science to fathom what was going on here. She was feeling guilty about what had happened in the well when, in reality, if there was any fault to be laid it was down to his actions, not her response. That he’d almost kissed her was beside the point. And she was wound up. He could imagine what her heartbeat was doing under the thin cotton of her scrubs.
And he was technically her boss. That point probably mattered to her. Plus they were sharing job space and home space. There was no room for awkwardness. He had to sort things. ‘What happened was a pretty normal reaction,’ he said evenly. ‘Hell, we saved a life!’
She bit her lip. ‘I...suppose.’
‘It was just a hug, Darcie.’
Did he really believe that? Darcie fought for control of her wildly see-sawing heart. ‘I...don’t usually act that way with a senior colleague,’ she countered, the set of her small chin almost defiant.
‘But, then, I’d imagine you’re not usually practising emergency medicine at the bottom of a stinking well, are you?’
‘No.’ She managed a small smile that was almost a grimace. He was spinning things to save her feelings. Well, if that’s the way he wanted to play it... But he had to know she’d clung to him and he’d responded by holding her more tightly. He had to know that.
But it was his call. For now.
Jack laced his hands around his tea mug. ‘If we’d won the lottery and I’d gathered you up in a hug, you wouldn’t have thought it odd, would you?’
Her breath caught and fire flooded her cheeks. But they hadn’t won the lottery and it hadn’t been that kind of hug.
And they both knew it.
She couldn’t answer. Instead, she lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Jack Cassidy could make of it what he liked.
* * *
Darcie slept well into the afternoon. When she woke, she checked her phone for messages and found one from Maggie. She promptly called back.
‘Hi, Maggie. What’s up?’
‘Can you come to my place for a barbecue this evening?’
‘Um, yes, I probably could. Something special going on?’
‘I wish I knew.’ Maggie forced an off-key laugh. ‘I’ve invited Sam Gibson.’
‘The new vet in town,’ Darcie said.
‘I think I must be sick in the head to have started any of this.’
Darcie rearranged her pillows and made herself comfortable. Maggie was usually very much in charge but now she sounded rattled. ‘So, what’s with you and Sam?’
‘He’s come round for coffee a couple of times.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘We had to take our Staffy for his shot. It kind of went from there. He took the boys trail-bike riding yesterday so I thought I should ask him for a meal. A barbecue sounded, well, more casual, I suppose. Only I feel a bit weird just inviting Sam.’
Darcie chuckled. ‘You want me there as a buffer?’
‘I want you there as a friend! I’m so out of practice with this relationship stuff, Darc.’
‘Oh, rubbish! You just need to chill out and enjoy this new friendship that’s come your way. Flirt a bit.’
‘Flirt!’ Maggie squawked. ‘How does one flirt again? Remind me. I vaguely remember something about fluttering eyelashes. If I did that, I’d look demented.’
‘For heaven’s sake, relax and go with the flow. If Sam asks you out on a date, accept nicely.’
‘So says the woman who makes a career of not dating anyone.’
‘I have so been on dates,’ Darcie defended.
‘Oh, when was that? I’ll bet it was so long ago you can’t even remember who you went out with.’
‘I went out with one of the flying doctors only recently.’
‘Brad Kitto?’ Maggie dismissed. ‘Fly in, fly out. Nice guy but he’s a Canadian on a three months’ exchange. How was that ever going to amount to anything?’
‘OK, OK.’ Darcie shrugged off a feeling of discomfort. She didn’t need an inquiry into her dating habits, even from someone as well meaning as Maggie. ‘But could I remind you this began as a discussion about your love life, not mine.’
‘Point taken. So, will you come?’
‘Of course...’ Darcie gave an exaggerated sigh of acceptance.
‘Oh, and invite the big guy.’
‘Jack?’ Darcie felt her mouth dry.
‘Might be a nice chance for him to mix a bit with the locals. And I haven’t met him yet.’
Darcie swallowed. She only hoped she and Jack could revert to being at ease with one another. Perhaps going out among a few friendly folk would help. That’s if he agreed to it, of course. ‘Well, I’ll ask,’ she said carefully, ‘but he’s quite likely pretty tired. We had a call-out at five this morning and he’s been over at the hospital all day.’
‘Mmm, I heard about the emergency from Karen Bayliss. By the way, I’ve invited her and Zach.’
‘Oh, good. They’re a nice couple. Would you like me to make a cake for dessert?’
‘Oh, would you, Darce? I’ve spent most of the day trying to get my hair to look less like the ends of a straw broom.’
Darcie’s soft laugh rippled. Maggie’s colourful take on things always lightened her spirits. ‘Shall I come round about five, then? Help you set up?’
‘Thanks. And ask Jack,’ Maggie reinforced, before she ended the call.
* * *
Jack was offhand when Darcie relayed Maggie’s invitation.
‘Sure. What time?’
‘I’m going about five.’
Jack’s mouth drew in as if he was considering his options.
‘Is that too early for you?’ Darcie’s gaze was a little uncertain.
‘Maybe a bit. Give me the address,’ he added, his shoulder half-turned as if he was about to walk away. ‘I’ll follow on later.’
Information imparted, Darcie watched as he walked out of the kitchen as though he couldn’t leave fast enough. As though he was distancing himself from her. Or from the situation they’d found themselves in. That was more likely, she decided.
Swiping up the scattering of flour from her baking, she gave an impatient little tut. This unease was her fault. Why couldn’t she have been cool about everything? Laughed it off as the adrenaline rush after having saved a life?
Because she couldn’t.
* * *
Jack went back to his bedroom. He hated this...distance between them. And he didn’t really feel like socialising. God, he just wanted sleep. But he had to show his face. Part of the job. Get to know the locals.
Ignoring what were probably house rules, he flung himself down on the patchwork quilt, boots and all, and stared at the ceiling.
Darcie Drummond.
She’d got to him. He snorted a self-derisive laugh. Perh
aps he should just kiss her and get it out of his system. Get her out of his system. Yeah, like that was going to help. It would just muddy the atmosphere even further.
He pressed his fingers across his eyelids. He needed to lighten up.
* * *
It was early evening when Jack arrived at Maggie’s place. The buzz of conversation interspersed with laughter and the mouth-watering smell of steaks cooking drew him along the side path and towards the back garden where he guessed the barbecue was happening.
Maggie saw him the moment he poked his head around the lattice screen. Wow! Now, there was serious talent. She smiled and went forward to greet him. ‘Jack?’ She rolled her eyes in a wry gesture. ‘Of course you must be. I’m Maggie. Come and meet everyone.’
Maggie introduced Jack to Sam Gibson, who was officiating at the barbecue. ‘Welcome to Sunday Creek, Doc.’ Sam’s handshake was firm. ‘I’m new here myself. Animal doctor,’ he enlightened with a grin.
‘We’re bound to cross paths, then.’ Jack laughed.
‘But not instruments.’ The dry irony in Sam’s tone made Jack laugh again. It was going to be OK, he thought. He looked forward to relaxing and enjoying the down time.
‘Zach you know, of course.’ Maggie was pressing on in her role of hostess. ‘And this is Karen, Zach’s wife.’
‘Hi.’ Karen Bayliss gave a friendly little wave. ‘And this is our daughter, Molly.’ The pride in her voice was unmistakable as she tucked the baby onto her hip.
‘How old is she?’ Jack ran the tip of his finger along the plump little arm.
‘Ten months.’
Jack’s mouth crimped at the corners as the little one gave back a haughty look. He felt a twist inside him and the oddest feeling ripped through him. He could have been a father by now if things between him and Zoe had worked out. But for crying out loud! He was thirty-seven. As far as fertility went, he still had oceans of time to find the right woman to have a child with. He shook his head, wondering where the mad rush of introspection had come from.
‘She’s giving you the look,’ Karen said with a chuckle.
‘She’s a princess,’ Jack murmured. ‘You’re very lucky, Karen.’
‘Yes, we know.’ Karen sent a soft look at her husband. ‘We’d almost given up hope when this one trotted into our lives. That’s why we chose the name Molly. It means longed-for child.’
Out of nowhere, Jack felt drenched in emotion. Hell’s bells. He blinked a bit, seizing the escape route with relief when Maggie said, ‘And these are my sons, Josh and Ethan.’
‘Hey, guys.’ Jack shook hands with the two. ‘I saw the trail bikes as I came through the carport. You ride a bit?’
‘Yep,’ Josh, the elder, said. ‘Sam took us over to some tracks yesterday. It was awesome.’
‘I like skateboarding best,’ Ethan chimed in, sensing an interested audience in Jack.
‘I used to do that when I was about your age,’ Jack said. ‘Do you have a bowl here?’
Ethan looked blank.
‘Duh.’ His brother dug him in the ribs. ‘A skate bowl?’
Ethan coloured. ‘I just use the concrete paths at the park. But some of the kids use the footpath outside the shops.’
‘And you know you’re not allowed to do that,’ his mother intervened. ‘It’s illegal.’
‘Yeah, I know, Mum.’ Ethan gave Maggie a long-suffering look.
‘Always good to obey the rules, champ.’ Jack grinned, giving support to Maggie’s parental role.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as the boys turned and went off about their own business. ‘They’re a challenge.’
‘They seem like great kids, Maggie. Uh...’ Jack raised an eyebrow in query. ‘I’ve brought wine. Where can I stash it? Fridge?’
‘Oh, yes.’ For the first time Maggie noticed the carry bag he’d parked on the outdoor table. ‘Sorry for rabbiting on. Just go up onto the deck. Kitchen’s straight through. Darcie’s there. She’ll organise it for you.’
Head bent, Darcie was busy at the countertop. She looked up, flustered when Jack walked in. ‘Hi...’ It was no more than a breath of sound.
He gave a tight smile. ‘I brought some wine.’ He hoisted the carry bag onto the bench. ‘Maggie said you’d find a home for it.’
‘Oh—OK.’ Just looking at him caused a well of emotion to rise in her chest and lodge in her throat.
He was wearing faded jeans and a simple white polo shirt that showed the tanned strength of his upper arms. The arms that had held her with such caring. Such...tenderness.
She took in a breath that almost hurt and her gaze dropped to his mouth. Desire leached through her. The image of her leaning across the counter to kiss him sent her heart dancing a wild flutter in her chest. A jagged breath snatched at her throat. She didn’t do this. Lust after men. And Jack was not some random male. He was a senior colleague. Her boss. She swallowed dryly. ‘I’ll find some space in the fridge.’
Jack’s gaze stayed riveted to her. She was like a sprite in her black sleeveless top and long skirt that dipped round her ankles. He felt like jumping the counter that separated them, whirling her into a mad dance. And then slowly closing in on her so that their bodies were separated only by a whisper of air. And finally...
Darcie closed the fridge and turned back to face him. She gave him a smile that was gone before it could take shape. ‘Have you met everyone?’
‘Mmm, think so. Not too many faces to remember.’
‘That’s always a help.’ She picked up a flat-bladed knife to finish off the frosting on her cake. ‘Um, would you like a drink? Maggie left instructions for everyone to help themselves.’
‘Thanks. I’ll get something later.’
Jack propped himself against the countertop, leaning slightly towards her and catching the drift of her light-as-air shampoo for his trouble. ‘Cake looks good.’
Tipping her head back, Darcie smiled. ‘My contribution towards dessert. I once shared a flat with a pastry chef.’ Darcie set the finished cake aside. ‘She gave me a few tips along the way.’
‘So chocolate cake is your signature dish?’
‘It is.’ She scooped out a tiny drizzle of frosting with the tip of her finger and pushed the bowl towards him, her gesture inviting him to help her lick the bowl.
He gave a huff of laughter. ‘I haven’t done this since I was about six.’
‘Some catching up to do, then,’ she suggested, and he chuckled.
‘So, I guess you did this with your mother?’ Jack asked.
She gave an off-key laugh. ‘My mother doesn’t cook. We had a housekeeper. I spent lots of time in the kitchen with her. My parents are history professors. Away on the lecturing circuit a lot. They missed most of my significant milestones when I was at school,’ she added as a kind of resigned afterthought.
And wasn’t that a crappy way to spend your childhood. ‘Were you an only child?’ Jack asked evenly.
‘Mmm-hmm.’ She dragged in a breath and let it out in a whoosh. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, Jack.’
‘Sorry for you is the last thing I feel,’ he countered gruffly.
Their eyes locked and her tongue flicked a tiny dab of frosting from her bottom lip. Jack’s throat closed uncomfortably. And for just a moment, a blink of time, there was a connection of shared awareness. Sharp. Intense.
‘Hey, you two!’ Maggie called, and suddenly their eye contact retracted as quickly as turning off a light switch.
CHAPTER SIX
MONDAY MORNING AND already the barbecue felt like a lifetime ago.
‘Thanks for your input, Darcie.’ Jack relaxed back in his chair, legs stretched out under his desk. They’d officially completed handover.
‘If that’s it, I’ll do a ward round.’ Darcie half rose.
�
�Hang on a minute.’ He flicked a hand in a delaying motion. ‘I’ve arranged for the theatre to be thoroughly cleaned and made sterile. I’m aware it’s small but everything’s there. If we can keep it ready for emergencies, it will save having to call out the flying doctors, which will in turn save them time and money.’
A beat of silence.
‘You’re the surgeon and the boss.’ Darcie’s gaze fluttered down and then up to meet his piercing blue eyes. ‘It’s obviously your call.’
‘But?’ Jack’s dark brows rose interrogatively.
‘We don’t have much backup for major trauma.’
Jack all but rolled his eyes. Did she think he was a complete novice at this? He tapped his pen end to end on the desk. ‘I’m talking relatively straightforward emergency procedures, Darcie, not heart transplants.’
Stung by his air of arrogance, Darcie said coolly, ‘What about anaesthetics? I have a little knowledge but I’m not qualified.’
‘I can guide you.’
Well, he obviously thought he had the answer to everything. But far from reassuring her, it only added to Darcie’s uncertainty. ‘I...just don’t want us to start playing God every time there’s an emergency and think we can automatically sort it here.’
‘You don’t like me taking over,’ Jack interpreted flatly.
Darcie brushed a fingertip between her brows. That wasn’t it at all. She wasn’t making herself clear. But she’d woken with a headache that morning, her thoughts muddled, her concentration shot to pieces. And all because she couldn’t seem to get a grip on her feelings about Jack. She felt very out of her depth but the last thing she needed was her personal feelings spilling over into their professional involvement.
A soft breath gusted from her mouth. Had it been only yesterday they’d been in cahoots like kids, licking frosting from a bowl?
‘Didn’t you sleep well?’ Jack tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. The faint shadows were still there. Her light olive complexion was a dead giveaway.
She lifted her chin. Whether she slept well or not was none of his business.
For a second tension crackled between them, as brittle as spun sugar.
