The way he’d rescued her in the river…the way she’d felt talking to him again…it was confusing. This was a man she should be hating! A man she should be furious with. Not even talking to. But being around him was stirring up feelings that she’d told herself she would never feel for a man again.
Gray jilted me! Rejected me!
And yet it had felt much too good to be in his arms again. Much too comfortable to be pressed up against him…much too familiar and safe and…and right to be that close to him again.
He’d felt solid. Sturdy. Strong. A safe haven. A certainty. And for a long time she’d tried to tell herself that Gray was an uncertainty. An unstable individual who had always been a risk to her security and happiness.
How could she be getting this so wrong? Why was she so confused about him?
Even now, as he sat next to her on the rocks, she could feel her body reacting to him. To his presence. It was almost as if it were craving his touch again, and to be honest it was making her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the discomfort of being in someone else’s clothes, or the knowledge that she’d made a mistake in the river and might have drowned, but also the discomfort of knowing that the chapter in her life which concerned Gray was not as closed as she’d once thought it was.
Somehow he was breaking back in and opening that door again.
‘I was really worried about you.’
She didn’t want to hear that from him. ‘Don’t be.’
‘I saw you go under. I… My heart almost stopped beating. You just disappeared under the water like you’d been swallowed up by a beast.’
She could hear the pain in his voice. The fear. It was tangible. Real. She had no doubt he meant every word he said.
But I can’t allow myself to react to him. Gray’s no good for me.
‘But you caught me, so everything was all right in the end.’
She refused to turn and face him. She couldn’t. If she did turn—if she did see the look in his eyes that she knew to be there—she would be lost. She needed to fight it. Fight him. And her reaction to him. Her desire to feel him against her again. It had to go.
She stared out at the water, cursing its calm surface, knowing of the torrent below.
‘If you had been swept away—’
‘But I wasn’t! I’m okay.’
She glanced at him. Just briefly. Just to emphasise her words—she was here, she was safe. Then she turned back to the river, her stomach in turmoil, her whole body fighting the desire to turn and fling herself into his arms again.
He didn’t speak for some time and she could sense him looking out at the river, too.
‘Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?’ he asked eventually.
His jacket? The one that would carry his scent? What was he trying to do? Drown her in him instead? How would she even be able to think, wrapped in its vast depths, with the echo of his warmth within them?
‘No, I’m good, thanks,’ she lied.
‘You’re still shivering.’
‘I’m not cold. It’s just…just shock. That’s all.’
‘Well, shock isn’t minor, either. We need to keep you warm, hydrated. Come and sit by the fire—we can get some hot tea into you.’
‘Honestly, Gray, I’m fine.’
It was killing her that he was trying to take care of her. It would be easier if he left her alone for a while. Allowed her to gather her thoughts. To regroup and rebuild those walls she’d built for the past eleven years. Because somehow, in the last few hours, they’d come crumbling down and she felt vulnerable again. Vulnerable to him. And that was something that she couldn’t afford.
‘Come and sit by the fire, Beau. I insist.’
He grabbed her by the arm and gently hauled her to her feet. His arm around her shoulders, he walked her over to the fire and sat her down on a log next to Barb. Then he disappeared.
Just as she thought she could relax again, he came back. She tensed as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
‘How’s that?’ He rubbed her upper arms and knelt before her, staring into her eyes.
He was close enough to kiss.
She tried not to think about it—tried not to look down at his mouth, at those lips that she knew were capable of making her shiver with desire. She tried not to notice the way he was looking at her, the way the lines had increased around his green eyes, the way his beard emphasised his mouth—his perfect mouth—the way his lips were parted as he stared back at her, waiting for her response.
I could just lean forward…
She closed her eyes and snuggled down into the blanket. No. She couldn’t allow herself to do that. It was wrong. He was wrong. What the hell was she doing, even contemplating kissing him?
Beau scrunched up her face and gritted her teeth together before she opened her eyes again and looked directly back at him. She nodded to indicate that she was fine, but she wasn’t.
She was fighting a battle within herself.
And she really wasn’t sure, at this moment in time, which side would win.
*
Rick was next on the rota to make a meal, and Mack provided him with a small amount of rice and some tins of tuna. It wasn’t great, but it was protein and carbohydrates—both of which they all badly needed—and despite its blandness, despite the lack of salt and pepper, they all wolfed their meal down, hungry from restricted rations and exhausted from the long, tiring day.
Except for Beau.
She toyed with her food, pretending to eat, but in reality she was just pushing it round her dish, trying to make it look as if she was eating.
Gray sat next to her, put down his dish. ‘You need to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You’ve had a shock. You need to eat for strength. You’re too thin as it is.’
She could hear in his voice that he was concerned about her. Could hear that he had good intentions. But she didn’t want to hear them from him. She didn’t want to be reminded that he cared, because if she acknowledged that, then she would need to accept that she still cared about him, too.
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re hardly eating and you’re as thin as a stick of rock.’
She sucked in a breath, trying to not get pulled into an argument. ‘Honestly, Gray—just leave it, will you?’
‘Beau, I care about—’
She stood up and cast off the blanket and walked away from the campfire, aware that everyone would be wondering what the hell was going on, but not having the energy or the inclination to explain. Irritated, she stamped over to the riverbank and checked to see if her clothes had dried on the rocks.
Luckily for her they were almost dry, the heat of the sun having done its work, and she scooped them up and headed to her tent to get changed. Clambering in, she turned and zipped up the tent beside her, shutting out the outside world before she collapsed on the ground, trying her hardest not to cry.
How dare he show me that he still cares? Does he not understand what that is doing to me?
Just a couple of days ago, safe in her work environment, if one of her colleagues had asked her how she felt about Gray McGregor, she would have been able to answer calmly and easily that he meant nothing to her any more. That she hardly ever thought of him, and that if she did, it was only because of a vague curiosity as to what he might be doing now.
That would have been true. But now?
Now she felt all over the place. Confused, upset, disturbed.
I wanted to be in his arms! I wanted to kiss him!
She’d only been with him for two days. Two days into a week together! What on earth would she be like at the end of it? Beau had thought she was strong. She’d thought—she’d assumed—that she was resolute in her feelings towards the man. That those feelings wouldn’t change…that she’d be able to carry on with her life and every day would be the same as the one before it. Just the way she liked it.
Only, Gray being here had changed everyth
ing.
She pulled off the clothing that Claire had let her borrow, and as she sat there in her underwear, she heard Gray clear his throat outside her tent.
‘Ahem…knock-knock?’
Just hearing that lilting Scottish accent, purring away so close to her, sent shivers of awareness down her spine.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and retightened her ponytail. ‘Yes?’
‘I’ve come to see if you’re okay.’
Growling inwardly, she lay flat to pull herself into her khaki cargo pants and zipped them and buttoned them up before she yanked open the zip to her tent and stuck her head out.
‘I’m fantastic.’
His head tilted to one side and he raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘You sound it.’
‘Good. Then maybe you’ll leave me alone.’
‘So you’re angry with me?’
She scuttled out from within her tent and stood up, straightening her clothes. ‘Yes—and don’t say that I don’t have good reason.’ She knew she sounded petulant, but she didn’t care.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that asking if you were all right was a capital offence.’
She didn’t answer him, just knelt down to gather up Claire’s clothes so she could return them.
‘Only if you do it,’ she said eventually.
He shrugged and squinted into the bright sun. ‘My apologies, then. I was just trying to show that I care.’
‘Well, you can’t.’
‘Why not?’
She turned to him, exasperated, but kept her voice low so as not to share their argument with the whole camp. ‘Because it’s you, Gray. You. I put my life in your hands once before. I gave you everything and you abandoned me. And…’ she raised a hand to stop him from interrupting ‘…just when I thought I knew where to place you on the evolutionary scale—which, for your information, was somewhere below pond scum level—you turn up here and you’re nice! You’re annoyingly nice and pleasant and charming, and then you have the nerve to save my life and make me feel grateful! Do you know what happened to me the last time I was grateful to you, Gray? Hmm…?’
All through her rant, all through her rage and exasperation, he’d stood there, staring calmly back at her, not saying anything. Just listening. Just being gracious about the whole thing, for crying out loud!
‘I was just worried that you weren’t eating enough.’
‘That’s for me to worry about, Gray. Not you. I get to worry about me. You don’t get that opportunity any more—do you understand?’
He nodded once. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’
She let out a pent-up breath. ‘That’s what I want.’
‘Okay. Well, I figured you might want this. I sneaked it into my backpack and I was saving it for a special occasion, but…but I think you might need it more than me.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. Not just any chocolate bar, but her favourite.
She blinked uncomprehendingly. Then she reached out and picked it up, almost not believing it was really there until she held it. Her anger—which had been simmering quietly ever since she’d stepped foot into that ranger station and seen him there—disappeared.
‘I love these.’
‘I know.’
‘But…but you didn’t know I was going to be on this course.’
‘No, I didn’t. But I’ve always bought them. Ever since…’ He stopped talking and looked down at the ground. ‘Anyway, you can have it. Seeing as you skipped dinner.’
He walked back to the campfire and joined the others, his back towards her.
She stared at the chocolate bar, which was slightly crumpled and soft from where it had been tightly packed into his bag, and felt her heart melt just a little bit more.
He still bought them. Even after all this time.
And I’ve just said all those horrible things…
Beau swallowed hard. Now she felt guilty. Guilty for being so harsh towards him just because she’d been feeling confused. Was it his fault that she felt that way? No. She should be in greater control of her feelings. Hadn’t she always been before? Since he’d left her, she’d kept a rigid control over everything. Even down to making sure there were no unexpected surprises during her day. Her life had been timetabled to within an inch of its life. Knowing what would happen and when had kept her safe for so long. Had kept her from being hurt again.
But maybe…maybe surprises could be a good thing? Maybe a little uncertainty, a little risk, was okay? Didn’t babies learn to walk by falling over? They didn’t expect the fall, but they learnt from their mistakes.
Perhaps I need to let myself make a few mistakes? Take a few risks? Maybe there might be a little something out there for me, too.
She peeled open the chocolate bar and took a small bite.
*
The next morning Mack woke them early again and began teaching them another lesson. The topic this time was fractures.
‘You have to know, even as a layman, how to evaluate an injury—either for someone else in your group or yourself.’
Beau could appreciate that. She was having a hard time assessing herself right now.
‘You need to consider three things—the scene, a primary survey and a secondary survey if you’re to come to the most accurate conclusion and assist yourself or another hiker out in the wild.’
‘What’s a primary and secondary survey?’ asked Leo. ‘I always get confused about those things.’
‘Good question. A primary survey means looking at your patient and checking for life-threatening injuries or situations. So ABC. Airway. Is it clear? If not, why not? Can you clear it? Breathing. Is your patient breathing? Is it regular? Are there at least two breaths every ten seconds? And last of all circulation. Is there a major bleed? What can you do to stop it? That’s your primary survey.’
‘And if there aren’t any of those signs?’
‘Then you do your secondary survey. This also consists of three things. Remember with first aid and CPR there’s generally a rule of three—ABC is one set of three. Scene survey, primary survey, secondary survey is another. If you remember to check three, you can always feel secure in knowing that you’ve checked everything. The secondary survey includes checking vital signs, taking the patient’s history into account and a full head-to-toe body exam.’
‘I’ll never remember it all!’ declared Barb.
‘You’d be surprised,’ Gray said.
‘Once you’ve checked their vitals are okay, you can ask if they have pain or an injury. Find out how that injury occurred. Does it sound like there was enough force to create a fracture? Then you check the body, feeling firmly for any pain or deformities. But remember—even if the patient seems okay, their condition could change at any moment. You need to be alert. You may miss an injury because the patient is focusing on the pain from a bigger injury. And then what? Beau?’
‘Then you swap hats,’ said Beau, happy to answer. ‘You take off the hat that states you’re treating a fracture and put on the hat that says you’re treating someone who’s unconscious—you put them into the recovery position. If it gets worse again, you put on the CPR hat.’
Mack nodded. ‘So, now let’s focus on the fractures themselves. You look for the signs and symptoms of a fracture. Gray, can you tell us what they are?’
‘Inability to bear weight on a limb, disabled body part, obvious deformity, pain, tenderness or swelling, angulation or bone protruding through the skin or stretching it. The patient might also mention hearing a crack.’
‘Good. Did you all get that? You need to treat all possible skeletal injuries as if they are fractures. Even if you suspect a sprain or a dislocation, treat as a fracture until proved otherwise.’
‘Okay, so how do we do that with no splints available?’ asked Rick.
‘There’s always something you can use,’ Gray continued. ‘You’ve just got to think outside the box. Splinting is correct. It stabilis
es the break and helps prevent movement on the splintered ends—which, believe you me, can be excruciatingly painful.’
He rubbed at his leg, as if remembering an old injury.
‘If you don’t splint an injury, it can lead to further damage—not just to the bone, but to muscle, tissue and nerves, causing more bleeding and swelling, which you do not want.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked Rick.
‘You need to get the bones back into the correct anatomical position. Which means traction—which means causing yourself or your patient more pain. But you must do it—particularly if you’re hours or even days from medical help.’
Claire grimaced. ‘I’m not sure I could do that.’
‘You’d have to. It can be upsetting, but it’s best for the patient. Causing pain in the short-term will help in the long-term.’
Claire nodded quickly, her face grim.
Mack took over. ‘Let’s imagine a break on the lower left leg, near the ankle. This will be the most common injury you’ll come across. People hiking and trekking across strange open country, falling down between rocks, not putting their feet securely down—all that contributes to this kind of injury. Claire, why don’t you be my pretend patient?’
She got into position before him.
‘You need to grasp the proximal part of the limb—that means the part of the limb closest to the body—and hold it in the position it was found. Then, with your other hand, you need to apply steady and firm traction to the distal part of the limb—this is the furthest point—like so.’
He demonstrated by gripping above and below Claire’s ‘fractured’ lower leg.
‘You do this by applying a downwards pull, and even though your patient may cry out, or try to pull away, you must slowly and gently pull it back into position. This will help relieve the patient’s pain levels. Okay?’
Everyone nodded, even if they were looking a bit uncertain about their ability to do it in a real-life situation.
‘Before you apply a splint, there’s a rule of three again. You need to check CSM—their circulation, their sensation and their movement. Can you feel a pulse below the injury? In the case of this one, can you find a pulse in the foot?’ He demonstrated where to find it. ‘Is the skin a good colour? Or is it pale and waxen, indicating that the positioning may still be off? Does the patient feel everything below the injury? Can they wiggle their toes? If there’s anything restrictive, like a tight boot or socks, you can remove it to help reposition the limb properly.’
Seven Nights with Her Ex Page 8
