by JC Harroway
She’d barely run five paces before his voice caught up with her, rising above the whip of the wind.
‘You know, after the way you practically ran up Kinder Scout at the weekend, you should probably take it a little easier.’
Sighing, she stopped and faced him, her lips compressed and a hundred jibes fuming on her tongue. Why did he care?
‘Why don’t you hang back with me? We can run together … in case the cramp comes back.’ He dipped his head, waving the tube of Deep Heat in the general direction of her leg.
He just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eden was beginning to pity his wife. ‘No thanks. I’m fine training alone. No one to slow me down.’ With a mean little smile, she ignored the easy half-shrug, half-smile he gave and set off, long strides carrying her away.
Alone. Self-sufficient. Just how she liked it.
The skin of her back tingled as she resumed her run, leaving him behind. He made a good point, a valid suggestion. But she didn’t need company, especially from a man who saw every scrape and bruise as life threatening. A man who pitied her. A man who, even if he wasn’t spoken for, would never look at her without seeing damage.
Ten minutes later, she’d streaked far ahead, pushing herself until her thighs screamed in protest and the vicious pinch in her chest squeezed with each bitterly cold, laboured breath. At least she’d lost Dan and his friendly face and emergency supplies. No sign of the dogs either. A twinge of regret yanked her shoulders down a degree. She’d existed so long in her little bubble of self-loathing and steely refusal to accept any help.
The track split in two. Taking the steeper of the paths, she pushed on towards the summit, brushing sweat and drizzle out of her eyes. She reached the top at full pelt, outrunning her demons and collapsing forward to brace her hands on her knees, while her chest heaved and her vision tunnelled.
Dan was right. There was no need to push herself so hard. Her fitness was adequate and likely more than enough for the Ruby Challenge. But something snapped at her heels, a constant need to prove herself. Hadn’t she always known it was there? Her whole life. Even when she’d chased after her brother, Tom, and his friends; a girl desperate to be included in whatever game was brewing. Desperate to be one of the boys.
Her breaths came a little easier and for the first time, she took in her surroundings. The grey sheets of drizzle largely obscured the views, but the rolling hills and network of dry stone walls never failed to stamp their beauty on her.
Below her, on the lower track, she caught a glimpse of black. A streak of Border Collie. How much time before Dan caught up with her; all laid-back charm, polite suggestions and patronising medical advice? Perhaps if she hurried down the way she’d come, she’d miss him altogether. Him and his wet T-shirt.
Shit. She had to stop thinking about him that way.
No such luck. Only halfway down the final pinnacle, their paths crossed again. Only this time, he was more like an ad for mud wrestling. She made to bypass him completely, but he stopped running, his grin warm despite her earlier frill-free dismissal.
‘I tripped over the dogs.’ One side of his body was caked in mud and a nasty gash covered his lower leg from knee to ankle. ‘Bloody things must have caught the scent of a rabbit or something. We got tangled up together and I had an altercation with a boulder—came off worse, obviously.’ Blood trickled down his leg, mixing with the rivulets of mud and rain.
She wanted to blank him. To shrug and be on her way. But, beyond unfairly sexy, he was so... personable. So affable. So nice. Perhaps it was time to loosen the reins on her sarcastic incivility?
‘Shouldn’t you clean that up?’ Eden tugged her sleeve lower over her scarred hand, which was cramping in the cold. ‘I’m sure you have a mobile surgical kit in your backpack there.’ Nice, Archer.
He laughed.
No affront, no rebuttal, just outright delight. ‘I will.’ His wide shoulders lifted in a lopsided shrug, his chest working hard to breathe.
‘Looks deep.’ She wouldn’t tell him his job, but surely that much blood required a stitch or two. Despite herself, she shuddered.
He nodded. ‘Stings a bit.’ He didn’t brush it off or try to be a butch and manly. ‘I want to get to the top. Your fitness has kind of shown me up a little. A guy has some pride, you know.’ His grin brought out those bloody grooved dimples bracketing his smile.
Married.
Judging by the number of times she’d personally and professionally emasculated him, she doubted his ego was in any way at risk by unfavourable comparisons with a woman. Most men she knew, her ex included, wore their superior muscle bulk like a badge of honour. They might not say it out loud, but they secretly enjoyed their physical superiority.
But Dr Dan freely admitted she had the edge on him when it came to fitness, and he wasn’t giving up. She’d have thought the rain, the mud and the blood plenty enough reason to turn most people back for the warmth of their cars.
Throat dry, she swallowed. ‘Well. I’m going to keep going.’
He nodded, his gaze steady as if he expected her rejection this time.
‘Take care, Archer. It’s pretty slick.’ And with one last glance down at his ruined leg, he moved aside and carried on up the track, whistling for the dogs to follow.
Archer?
Prickly heat engulfed her. Not warmth. More like stinging or the buzz of an itch. She’d asked him to use her surname. His tone free of sarcasm. So why did it bother her so much?
The hollow feeling in her chest didn’t register until she made it back to the car park. She picked at the empty spot, testing it, probing. Would he stop now with the friendly gestures? Had she done enough to frighten him off? Emptiness gnawed at her stomach—hypoglycaemia, most likely. Nothing to do with handsome but married doctors who carried emergency tubes of Deep Heat.
Only two cars remained. Hers and, presumably, Dan’s. Gravel scrunched underfoot, the stones sticking to the mud-caked soles of her trainers so it felt like she walked on marbles. She braced her hands on the roof of her car, the workings of her chest slowing while her mind continued to race over every word and every interaction with Dan.
Mentally shaking herself, she unzipped the pocket of her leggings and pulled out her car keys. Her numb fingers grappled with the slick door handle and she yanked open the door, desperate now, to get home. A hot bath. A good book. Perhaps a glass of wine? Those simple pleasures would have thrilled the old Eden, but now she wondered if she had the patience. Sitting still for any length of time brought dark and dangerous thoughts. Thoughts deep enough to wallow in—an endless quagmire that sucked her down into the blackness.
Heeling off her muddy trainers, she placed them in a carrier bag and slid her feet into a clean pair for the drive home. It would take a good five minutes to demist the windows and thaw out her fingers. Time to get out of here before Dr Dan made it down the hill.
She shoved the key in the ignition with renewed resolve.
A dull click.
No … Please no.
Chapter 4
Wildly, her eyes scanned the dashboard, and her wrist twisted, turning the key for a repeat attempt.
Nothing.
That’s when she spotted the interior light glimmering weakly overhead. She’d run down the battery.
Eden gripped the steering wheel, her head dropping forward to rest on her clenched hands. Why now? The last thing she needed was Dr Fix-it wading in to save the day, even if he was one of the least arrogant men she’d ever met. Snapped into action, she pulled out her phone and dialled her brother, the ringtone jarring against her mounting panic. She tried to recall his weekly schedule, wondering where he might be at this time of the day.
Answerphone. Perfect.
Her friend and primary school teacher, Sam, would be in class full of six-year-olds and the roadside rescue would take at least two hours to make it to this remote location even if she hadn’t let her membership lapse for … fiscal reasons.
Her temples began to p
ound. She hated asking for help, especially from a professional do-gooder who would likely be overjoyed to roll up his sleeves and assist poor, disabled Archer start her crappy car. Bollocks. She almost slapped herself. That wasn’t fair. But why him?
As if he’d heard her distress signal, Dan appeared, rounding the swing gate at the bottom of the track, the hem of his T-shirt raised to wipe the sweat and rain from his face. She eyed his fine physique, visible even through the fogged-up glass of her car window. A surge of annoyance shoved her stomach into her throat. Annoyance at herself.
Her brain raced into panic mode, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone. Please answer, Tom. She made one last attempt to contact her brother before tossing the useless device onto the passenger seat and accepting her fate. She’d left a sweater on the back seat, which she struggled into before opening the car door and standing to meet an approaching Dan.
‘Car trouble?’ He jutted his chin in the direction of her lifeless vehicle and opened the rear door of his Range Rover, allowing the dogs to jump into the boot. His car was immaculate, all leather upholstery and, no doubt, top of the range. But he didn’t seem to care that he had two very hairy and muddy hounds settling into his boot as he reached for a towel and began drying them off.
‘Flat battery. Any chance you could jump me?’ Eden’s cheeks burned, whether from having to ask for a favour after being so rude to him or at her unfortunate turn of phrase, she wasn’t sure.
‘Sure, no problem.’ He poured some water into an empty ice-cream container and offered it to the dogs.
Was anything ever a problem for Mr Laid-Back? Her mean thought rattled around in her head as she braved a small, grateful smile. He would help her out of here—time to be nice.
Despite the sweater, the adrenaline from her run had well and truly dissipated, leaving her rapidly cooling body jittery with shivers.
‘Why don’t we get warmed up first?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, simply closed the door on the dogs and rounded the car to open the passenger door for her.
Eden followed, her legs heavy but the threat of frostbite propelling her to action.
The leather seats were heated, of course. Dan jumped in, cranked up the heater to full blast, and they sat in silence watching the windows demist, millimetre by creeping millimetre.
‘You run a lot? Fell running?’
Eden tucked her frozen fingers under her thighs, bringing them into contact with the luxurious heated leather. ‘No. Yes. I used to. For basic training.’
‘Ah, yes. The army?’
Perhaps he hadn’t read her medical records? Perhaps he, unlike half the other medical professionals in the land, didn’t know every intimate detail about her body and mind.
She nodded, forcing her eyebrows away from their constant tendency to frown. ‘That’s right. You?’
‘Fell running? Not really. Don’t have the time. But I don’t want to show myself up on this challenge. Thought I’d better start.’ A wry grin twisted his mouth. Eden shifted in her seat. His seat.
She glanced down at his left hand. For the first time, she wondered about him outside of his physical attractiveness and penchant for helping people. Surely he was old enough to have a couple of kids at home. What motivated him to spend time away from his family, volunteering for Scale? And what would his wife think of him offering to train with the sole female participant?
Ridiculous. Just because her thoughts were veering towards inappropriate where the good doctor was concerned, didn’t mean his were.
‘So you work in A&E, volunteer in your spare time. Don’t you have … personal commitments?’ The probing question warmed her cheeks. Who was she to talk? She had no personal commitments herself, too focused on her career and, more recently, her recovery.
His face twitched with a fleeting grimace. ‘I like to keep busy.’
Eden nodded. She could relate to that. In fact, she was an expert.
This was good. Progress. The ring would strip him of his allure. She’d stop … noticing his attributes. They’d be civil teammates.
Dan’s hands reached for the steering wheel, flexing. ‘My wife … she died.’
Bugger. Her saliva pooled in her mouth as she forgot to swallow, forgot to breathe.
‘Two years ago.’ He spoke with a calm, measured voice. How many times had he spoken the words, as if convincing himself of their truth or proving he could utter them without emotion.
‘Oh.’ She didn’t add pointless platitudes. Hated them herself.
He cast a grateful glance sideways, as if she’d made the correct response with her lack of one. ‘It’s okay.’
Her cheeks, initially red from the cold then from her crass fishing expedition, were now warming nicely in the car’s cosy interior, the sting morphing into a glow. She hadn’t expected this veer into personal territory. Time to change the subject before his honest confession spurred a volley in search of an equally telling riposte from her. And now that he was in fact available, where did that leave her and her dimple-noticing, torso-ogling libido?
‘Shall we?’ She inclined her head towards her own car.
He nodded, snapping himself into action. ‘Why don’t you sit in the warm for a little longer while I dig out the leads?’ He climbed from the vehicle without waiting for a response.
She watched him in the rear-view mirror, his proficient movements and the economy of his actions telling her this wasn’t the first time he’d rescued a damsel in distress.
When he had the jump leads attached to her battery, he slipped behind the wheel and started the engine of her beat-up Honda. She could hear the dull click from her seat inside his car. Nothing.
Returning to the engine, he glanced at her, his face puzzled.
She joined him, the shock of the cold drizzle more acute after the fifteen minutes spent warming up. ‘No luck?’
‘I think you might need a new battery. I thought I might have attached the leads incorrectly … but no.’ His hand gripped the back of his neck.
Fantastic. She sighed, and he glanced sideways, his face a picture of calm. ‘No worries. I’ll wait with you until the roadside assistance comes. Or I can give you a lift home?’
Turning away, she dialled her brother in one last-ditch attempt to salvage some dignity. Dan coiled up the leads and returned them to the boot of his car while she focused on the incessant ringtone.
By the time she’d hung up in defeat, he was back by her side. His armour freshly polished, his colours flying and his steeds dutifully observing from the boot of his car. ‘Get in, Archer. I’m not leaving you here. Where do you live?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘Bramwell.’
‘Perfect. That’s on the way back to my sister’s house. I have to drop of the mutts. Get in.’ Without waiting, he crunched his way to the passenger side and opened her door.
Eden accepted her fate with a timidity that could only be described as shocking, and it was hard to tell which of the two of them was more astounded when she wordlessly climbed back in to the heated interior.
* * *
Dan pulled up outside Eden’s terraced house and her heart sank. ‘Bugger,’ she said, her head bowed to her lap and her fists clenched.
The easy conversation established on the drive was replaced by an oppressive silence as he noticed her reaction. ‘You okay?’ The dogs whined, as if they too had experienced the drop in temperature inside the car.
‘My ex.’ Eden jutted her chin in the direction of the rain-bedraggled man leaning against her railings. A hard mass settled in her stomach. How had chatting with Dr Dan become the lesser of two evils today? Despite offering to drive her home, he’d stopped with all the offers of friendship, training together and those assessing glances until Eden wondered if she’d made it all up. Perhaps discovering he was a widower rendered him safe in her mind. After all, he was likely still in love with his dead wife—he was that type. Faithful.
She lingered in Dan’s car, reluctant to face the inevitable showdow
n with Mac. They’d split four months ago. Via text. He’d been stationed in Germany, and she’d been recovering from the latest round of skin grafts. They’d had no contact since, a status quo she believed they were both happy with. Clearly, Mac’s presence on her doorstep told a different story.
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Dan’s gaze flicked between her and the man loitering on the pavement outside her modest Victorian semi.
She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. ‘I’ll be fine.’ Remembering her manners, she added, ‘Thanks for the lift home.’ She climbed from the warm car, clutching her backpack across her chest like a shield.
Mac looked up from the screen of his phone as she approached, his gaze sliding to the Range Rover departing behind her. The drizzle continued, a perfect backdrop to this confrontation. Exhaustion doubled the weight of Eden’s feet. She needed tea.
Bypassing Mac without a word, she unlocked her front door, leaving it ajar so he could follow her inside.
Eden tossed her bag in the hallway and headed to the kitchen at the back of the house. By the time she turned from putting on the kettle, Mac had joined her, his coat now folded over the back of a kitchen chair and dripping a puddle on the tiled floor.
She sighed. She had no energy for this.
‘You look great, Eden.’ His hands filled the front pockets of his jeans, arms rigid, shoulders high.
‘Thanks. Why are you here?’ She tossed two tea bags into two mugs, not bothering to ask him if he wanted a drink.
He winced, licking his lips. ‘Straight to it, eh? Who was your … friend?’
Seriously?
This guy dumped her two weeks after her horrific accident, after butt-dialling her during a one-night hook-up, and then he turns up on her doorstep months later? ‘None of your business.’
He’d always been the jealous type, a fatal flaw for someone with a girlfriend in the army, even if her job was with the UN’s Gender Advisory Team and largely dealing with women and children’s issues. And, as it had turned out, he’d been the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
