by JC Harroway
It didn’t matter.
Poor little Eden was far too damaged to consider a relationship right now. Far too scarred by her experiences, both the literal scars and the ones left by the callous manhandling of her ex and the way he’d broken up with her after her accident.
She dragged her eyes away from Dan. Dragged her thoughts away from the confusion of emotions tumbling through her head. Dragged her dreams away from possibility.
Shoving everything where belonged, safely locked back inside the box labelled ‘complete challenge and get back to work’, she twisted her body away from the specimen of male perfection and empathy next to her.
She didn’t need his compassion, his kindness or his pity. Didn’t need to get to know him, or train with him. Didn’t need anyone.
For the rest of the journey she didn’t even need to worry about his attempts to engage her in conversation. He didn’t try. But had he, speaking through the tightness constricting her throat would have been impossible.
Chapter 3
On the Tuesday after weekend in Edale, Dan rapped on the back door and entered the chaos of his sister Amelia’s farmhouse kitchen. Immediately assaulted by two canine snouts to the crotch, he stooped to scrub at the necks of the family’s beloved Border Collies.
‘Hey Dan.’ Amelia strode into the kitchen, her arms burdened by a full laundry basket. ‘Molly, Finn, down.’ The obedient dogs looked at him with mournful eyes and then skulked off to their beds in front of the Aga, ears down but tails still swinging.
‘I thought I might borrow them.’ Dan tilted his head in the direction of the slightly forlorn-looking hounds. ‘I need to get my fitness up. Thought they could keep me company. They’d be up for a hill run, right?’
The dog’s thumped their tails on the flagstoned floor as if they understood and fully agreed on the benefits of the proposed outing.
Amelia sighed as if Dan had just suggested taking his niece and nephew out for junk food, not exercising a couple of underworked farm dogs. Although she and her husband, Rich, lived on a small farm, they also ran an interior design business in the nearby market town, and the full-of-energy mutts rarely got enough exercise.
Much like Dan. His struggles on the Kinder Scout climb at the weekend had proved he needed to up his game. Especially if he wanted to keep up with Eden.
‘Fine. I’ll get their leads. Just help me with this first.’ Amelia barged past Dan and marched to the garden, plopping her burden onto the grass under the clothesline.
Figuring his sister’s mood was best ignored, Dan dutifully followed her out into the midmorning spring sunshine. He itched to get going, his one day off this week dawning to a perfect day for a spot of hill walking the Derbyshire Dales. But he could spare a few minutes to coax Amelia into her happy place.
As he followed his sister, his thoughts returned to Eden. She’d completely ignored him for the remainder of the weekend. Pretty much ignored everyone—setting the pace, striding ahead of the group, withdrawing from the laughs and the camaraderie beginning to blossom between the other participants. Of course, she’d performed her volunteering responsibilities with gusto, but nothing more.
He understood her reluctance to show her scars, the psychological effects of burns often outweighed the physical. But surrounded by people who’d suffered similar traumas, lost limbs or part of their eyesight. Couldn’t she see that no one judged how she looked? He sighed, selecting a shirt from the basket and pinning it to the clothesline. People came to terms in their own time. Nobody knew that better than him. And why was he so determined to break down Eden’s steel-reinforced barriers, when his own fortifications were pretty difficult to scale and topped with razor wire?
Amelia broke the silence, dragging his mind away from the woman who’d plagued his thoughts since the day they’d met. ‘So what are you training for? The hospital fun run?’
Dan attached a washcloth to the line with a plastic peg. ‘No. I told you about the Ruby Challenge.’ He stooped to retrieve a sock. Amelia hadn’t approved.
‘Oh Dan, don’t you have enough on without volunteering for more?’ Amelia’s mouth pinched. His sister, expert at delivering lectures while performing a multitude of other menial tasks, tugged what looked like a flowery tablecloth from the basket and pinned it to the line with brisk, disapproving movements.
So quick to point out his shortcomings. The less he reacted, the more annoyed she became. It had always been his favourite game growing up. Prodding her. He held in a chuckle, his lips turned inwards.
‘I like to keep busy, you know that. And they needed another medic on the team. We get to travel to Nevada.’
She ceased arranging a skirt on the line, her shrewd stare dissecting him. ‘There’s more to life than work. Don’t you want to … meet anyone?’ Her tone softened on the last two words, as if what she suggested was so outrageous, she was scared the neighbours would hear. Or the sheep.
Dan’s relaxed grin slid from his face along with his good humour. He bent to retrieve another sock from the basket, sucking in a calming breath as he straightened. ‘I meet people all the time, Meals.’
Eden flashed into his mind once more. Her luminous eyes alight with humiliation and pain. The lost little girl expression she’d shot at him after the minibus had lurched to a halt, exposing her scarred hand. The resolute stiffness in her spine as she’d marched ahead up the mountain, leaving them all for dust.
‘You know what I mean.’ Amelia’s brows pinched together, her mouth a worried little O. ‘It’s been two years.’
Dan shook his head, his gut tightening. Why did well-meaning people do that? Remind you how long it had been since your life altered beyond recognition? As if you weren’t aware of every single one of those sixty-three million seconds? As if each one of those endless seconds hadn’t thrummed painfully through your chest like a throbbing wound, reminding you of your loss. He swallowed back an angry retort.
Amelia, clearly unperturbed, ploughed on. ‘You know, I saw Judy Miller yesterday.’
Dan’s patched together heart sank.
‘It wouldn’t have killed you to go on one date with her, Dan. She could barely speak to me.’ His sister stabbed at the clothesline with an obliging peg.
An itch settled in the hairline at the back of his neck. He focused on the irritation, his head still full of Eden and not the entirely forgettable Judy Miller. His sister was good to him. Always there, even during the dark, early days. She stocked his fridge, laundered his shirts and paid his bills while he worked eighty-hour weeks. Not that he couldn’t do all of that. She’d simply insinuated herself into his life, quietly and stealthily in the desolate months after Megan’s death. He couldn’t ever remember asking her, but he allowed it, his easygoing nature prime fodder for insistent do-gooders.
He struggled to verbalise his annoyance with her matchmaking attempts—she meant well. But until he’d met Eden, he’d been resolutely uninterested in anyone his sister had thrown at him.
‘I told you I wasn’t interested. I’m too busy.’ He pulled a sparkly sequined T-shirt belonging to his niece from the pile. Busy keeping busy.
‘But you need a life, Dan. A fully rounded life. Don’t you want a future with someone? Kids? You’re only thirty-two.’
Fuck, he knew how old he was. Some days he could barely drag his exhausted bones out of bed. And he did want those things … someday. Eden materialised again, the proud jut of her delicate jaw as she’d told him, in so many words, to get lost.
‘Besides, Judy Miller is a thirty-five-year-old workaholic. I doubt she wants kids.’ And he was perfectly capable of finding his own dates.
Amelia huffed, stabbing a peg onto the line with vicious force. ‘That’s not the point …’
His legendary patience slipped a notch, his scalp prickling. ‘Look. Just because you’ve decided it’s time for me to get back in the saddle …’ He fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest.
‘But don’t you think you’ve grieved enough? Mega
n didn’t want you to be alone.’
And there it was, her winning blow. Your dead wife would want you date other women, Dan. She’d want you to be the latest tumble of my friend, Judy—a woman who works a hundred hours a week in the city, but could fit you in for coitus on Thursday at 8.45 pm, after her pedicure and before the gym.
He gritted his teeth, glancing down at the ring that symbolised his former life. ‘Megan would have hated Judy Miller.’ He spoke quietly, defying Amelia to question the truth of his statement.
His sister frowned, returning her attention to the skirt in her hands. ‘Judy’s lovely, once you get to know her.’
Dan snorted. ‘I met her at your Christmas party-stroke-ambush, and I’m not interested in getting to know her further. And I had a lovely wife.’ A wife I let die. Fuck. Good one, Meals, prise the lid off that can of worms …
Amelia sighed, tossing her handful of pegs on top of the remaining laundry in the basket. ‘I know that. She was the loveliest …’ She rested her hand on Dan’s arm, and he forced the tense muscles under her hand into submission. ‘I just worry, that’s all. You deserve happiness.’
His heart wasn’t in the fight. Never was where Amelia was concerned. And what was the point? Every word she spoke, with the exception of the merits of Judy Miller, was the truth.
Megan had made him promise, before she worsened to the point of unconsciousness, that he would be happy, find love again. As if what they’d shared was so commonplace it could be picked up at the supermarket together with the weekend paper and a bottle of milk.
He wouldn’t waste his one day off arguing a recurring argument. He grinned at his sister—the smile that won him countless childhood spats. ‘I know. But today, I’ll settle for your dogs.’ Restlessness infected his legs. He needed that run.
Her crystal clear blue eyes raked his face, concern lingering there. ‘Okay. But clean them up before you bring them back this time. I still can’t get the mud out of that rug.’
He kissed her cheek, his hand squeezing her shoulder to let her know there were no hard feelings. ‘I’ll take a towel.’
He trotted back to the house, whistling for the dogs as he went.
‘Dan.’ Amelia’s voice carried from the clothesline. ‘Be careful. It’s supposed to rain later.’
‘Okay. I’ll be back for tea.’ He turned to wave at his sister, jogging backwards. ‘What are we having?’
The worry left Amelia’s eyes, which rolled skywards as she resumed her laundry.
With a wink, he spun again and trotted up the path to open the back door to release the two excitable balls of fur.
* * *
Drizzle soaked through Eden’s shirt, clouds of steam rising from her cooling skin. The lactic acid burn surged through her thigh muscles, grounding her to the rugged hill and freeing her mind from its incessant overthinking. She craved this buzz—the endorphin rush and mind-numbing exhaustion that blocked out all her fears, insecurities and worries.
The gradient of the uneven, rock-strewn path steepened. Eden ground her teeth together, determination leaping up a notch. If she could resume active service through grit alone, she’d already be back in post. Making a difference. Climbing the ranks.
Her trainer skidded on a patch of sodden grass, her feet slipping from under her, and she stumbled, breaking her fall with her good hand and rolling onto her back to collapse onto the damp, muddy ground. Her gaze scanned the greying sky while her chest worked to fill her system with oxygen. All traces of the morning’s fine weather obliterated by moisture-laden clouds—a view that perfectly suited her mood.
She should have spent today resting, recuperating from the weekend training on Kinder Scout. But she’d awoken this morning to bone-deep restlessness, deciding the only way to combat it was to outrun the unsettling emotion. Her current coping mechanism of choice.
A cramp seized her thigh, the hamstrings tightening. Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached for her outstretched foot to pull back and increase the stretch on the seized muscle, the pain enough to make her wince.
When she opened her eyes, two dogs rounded the corner from the direction she’d just come, their tongues lolling and steam rising from their coats. Eden froze, but the furiously wagging tails told her she wouldn’t be mauled anytime soon.
‘Where did you two come from?’ She ruffled the fur on their necks, the residual discomfort in her leg forgotten. They wore matching brown leather collars complete with tags, so they’d probably just left their owner behind, further down the track.
‘Okay, well, sit then, if you’re staying. I don’t suppose you’re any good at leg massage?’ The hounds obeyed, dropping to the grass alongside Eden. ‘No opposable thumbs, eh? Not much of an excuse, is it?’
Good one, Archer. Talking to dogs …
She stretched out both legs on the ground, bending forward, head on knees, to lengthen her hamstring muscles. As she straightened, she heard a faint whistle. The dogs’ ears pricked up and one of them rose to its feet, whining.
‘Go if you need to. You weren’t helping anyway.’ But they ignored the call, settling back beside her as if lending their silent support to the whole cramp-massage business.
By the time she clambered to her feet, her body was cooling, and her hands were starting to ache. That’s when she saw the man rounding the bend in the track below. Both dogs bounded to their feet and charged down the hill the short distance to their owner’s side. Eden stretched out her quads and took a quick swig from her drink bottle, relieved to be soon on her way up the hill.
‘Eden?’
She turned to the dog owner who was now only a few paces away.
Dan.
Eden tilted her head to the grey sky, seeking inspiration. Heat boiled up inside her, warming her from within. She’d managed to ignore him after the embarrassment of the minibus incident. Managed to at least pretend he wasn’t there on the hike up Kinder Scout. Even managed to convince herself she wasn’t disappointed that he was married.
His chest puffed, words staccato between hard-won breaths. ‘I hope the dogs didn’t bother you?’ Dan closed the last of the distance between them with the dogs, now obedient, at his heels.
The Peak District was littered with walking tracks and beauty spots. One hundred and forty thousand hectares of national park—why did he have to choose this spot? This hill? This day?
Perhaps, like her, he wanted one of the hardest peaks the region had to offer. Finally, her silence stretched for so long she was forced to looked at him. Her annoyance fizzed and popped, only to be replaced by a warm gooey sensation in the pit of her stomach.
He was the perfect candidate for a wet T-shirt contest, the darkened fabric clinging to his torso and delineating every dip and plane of his muscular chest. She’d seen hundreds of ripped chests—the army full of them. But she hadn’t expected it of Dr Dan. Figured he’d be too busy or too lazy to work out regularly. His wet hair was almost black and the moisture revealed the natural wave in the dishevelled strands. Her fingers twitched.
Eden swallowed, her throat hot and her first word a gravelly croak. ‘Shouldn’t you keep them on a lead.’ Shouldn’t that wedding ring have cured you of all lustful thoughts towards him?
One of the dogs had wandered to her side and nudged her hand with its muzzle. She scratched absently at the wet fur on its head, all the while chastising the owner with her accusing stare.
Dan’s grin faded. ‘I probably should. They don’t listen to me terribly well.’ He shrugged and lifted one arm to wipe his face with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
She shook her head, irresponsible dog-owners one of her pet peeves. She had a lot of peeves where this particular owner was concerned. ‘All the more reason to keep them leashed. Have you thought about training them?’ Her traitorous eyes skittered away from the strip of belly he’d exposed with his forehead-wiping manoeuvre.
‘Oh, they’re not my dogs. They … keep me company sometimes when I run. They belong to my sister, and Collies n
eed heaps of exercise.’
At least he didn’t leave these two working dogs locked up somewhere while he slaved all hours in his life-saving job.
He pointed at the muddy patch of ground beside the track. ‘I saw you on the ground—are you okay?’
Her eyes rolled before she could stop them. ‘I had a cramp.’ Time to get away. ‘Okay. I’m starting to feel the cold, so—’
‘Do you want some Deep Heat?’ He swung his small backpack from his shoulders and unzipped the top, his hand delving inside to produce a tube of warming ointment. He probably carried a complete surgical field kit in there.
She turned away, her lips tight as she hid a begrudging snigger. She didn’t want to acknowledge any redeeming qualities in him, still pissed at him for … Being married? Being friendly while being married? Being hot while being married?
‘I’m good, thanks.’
His face fell, the tube still suspended between them. ‘You sure? You can apply it yourself, I’m not suggesting you strip for a field massage.’
Oh, medical banter …
He lifted his eyebrows, a cute little twist to his mouth. She shook her head, temporarily at a loss for words.
‘You know,’ his hand fell to his side, ‘you can’t really afford an injury right now with the impending challenge. Take it.’ He held out the tube again, his easy smile hinting at his belief in his first-aid skills.
As if the temperature of the rain had plummeted by ten degrees, Eden’s blood ran cold. ‘I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own body for any signs of injury.’ The last thing she needed was to be fussed over, cosseted. ‘It was a simple cramp. And it’s over—just like this conversation.’
Eden spun on her heel and started off again, up the hill. With any luck, he’d finished for the day and would turn back, head down to the car park. With his Deep Heat.
