by JC Harroway
His snort echoed around the room. ‘You know, I thought we could talk, be civil, after all this time. But you’re still punishing me.’
Eden slammed open the fridge, retrieving the milk and thumping it on the counter with a resounding slap. ‘And you’re still thinking about you.’ Her blood ran so hot, she wondered why her damp clothes weren’t steaming.
‘What does that mean?’ Outrage flew from his mouth carried on a speck of spittle. ‘I have two days leave, and I’m spending one of them travelling here to see you. To see if there was anything we could salvage …’
Eden shook her head, eyes closed. ‘How inconvenient for you.’ She pushed away from the counter, picking a teaspoon from the drawer and retrieving the tea bags from the mugs. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful? Poor Mac. His disfigured ex-girlfriend won’t speak to him after he found her so repulsive he shagged someone else to make himself feel better. How terrible for him. No wonder he dumped her via a text message. No, we can’t blame him for leaving her. Who’d want to be saddled with that?’ Despite her resolve, her voice grew shrill, and her shoulders inched towards her ears.
He was in her face now, anger sparking from his wide eyes. ‘I was in shock. Excuse me for not reading that page in the boyfriend handbook, Eden.’
The first time he’d seen her after the accident, his face had confirmed her worse fears. Even before the cheating, she’d known. Known he wouldn’t be able to handle it. ‘You were in shock? Did shagging around in Dusseldorf help you with your shock?’
He shook his head as if his transgression had been an irrelevance. In some ways it had, downgraded to the catalyst that forced them both to admit it was over. ‘I could get used to the scars, Eden. But you?’ Steel entered his voice as if he’d made a decision. ‘You changed.’
Her blood soared, boiling over. ‘Well forgive me for reacting to my new life. Everything is different for me.’
His head dropped, some of the fight deflating from him. ‘Yes, but we could have overcome this together. Even before. You pushed me away.’
A long-distance military relationship was hard enough without adding trauma and heartache to the mix. They’d been doomed.
But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. ‘Perhaps I did. But I didn’t have to push very hard.’
At last, the reaction she wanted. He smiled, his eyes cold and a bitter twist to his mouth. ‘Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you didn’t change that much. Perhaps you were always a cold bitch.’
Eden held firm, her expression a rigid mask of indifference, no matter the personal cost.
‘I thought this,’ he pointed at her left side, at the scars concealed beneath her clothing, ‘was the reason, but I think you’re just incapable of intimacy.’
Yes, absolutely nothing to do with him being a cheating, cowardly arsehole.
‘Good luck. I hope your career and your razor-sharp tongue keep you warm.’ Mac grabbed his coat and stormed down the hall, the slam of her front door jarring every bone in Eden’s strung-out body.
Rigid with unresolved tension, she tipped the half-made tea into the sink, letting the mugs clatter together. Arsehole.
As the brown milky stain swirled down the drain, she deflated, the coiled muscles shuddering. Mac was right. She had pushed him away. Before the cheating, and before he’d had a chance to leave of his own accord. She’d simply sped up the process. Orchestrated it on her terms.
But fear of intimacy? No, he’d been way off with that. Things between them had been fine before the accident. Before he’d been repulsed by her scarred body. Not that they’d seen much of each other with their postings. He clearly needed to tell himself some lies so he could look in the mirror.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her reverie. Great, he’d remembered something else he wanted to say. Well so had she. She marched down the hall, mentally preparing her rebuttal. She’d let him have it on the doorstep this time, neighbours be damned. With any luck the drip from her leaking gutter would find its way down his collar.
Swinging open the door, she came to a standstill, the acidic words stalling in her throat.
‘Are you okay?’ Dan stood on the doorstep, a fresh smattering of drizzle darkening his hair. ‘I thought I should check on you. I saw your ex leave.’
The tight spring inside her recoiled, twanging open to unleash her humiliation on the man now cluttering her doorstep with his kind, concerned eyes. ‘I’m fine, Dr Do-Goody.’ She bit her cheek, relishing the metallic tang of blood souring her tongue.
Dan’s face hardened, a glimmer of steel in his eyes. ‘Dr Do-Goody?’
She couldn’t stop, months worth of frustration spilling from her like vitriol. Frustration with her injuries, frustration with Mac and frustration over her attraction to the good doctor. ‘I think that’s fairly appropriate, yes. Do-Goody Dan.’ She was hateful. Bitterness flooded her mouth like the tang of the tea she’d hurled into the sink.
Dan shook his head, turning to glance back at his car parked down the street, the dogs still trapped in the back. ‘I thought you might need a friendly face.’ He snorted. ‘My mistake.’ With a lift of his eyebrows, he bade her farewell, turning away to march to his car.
‘You know, not all women are damsels in distress,’ she yelled after him, his lack of acknowledgement and retreating back offering her no satisfaction whatsoever.
* * *
Dan swung his niece, Lucy, up into his arms, lifting her high above his head for a skydive.
‘I hope you’ve taken your shoes off,’ Amelia called from the kitchen.
Pulling a face of mock horror, Dan spun Lucy around to a flurry of squeals before depositing her safely on the ground to resume whatever game she’d been playing when he arrived.
‘Need any help?’ Dan snuck a cherry tomato from the chopping board, narrowly missing the efficient slice of his sister’s knife.
‘Could you lay the table? I’m sick of calling Josh. He’ll have to forfeit desert.’
Dan laughed. His nephew was rarely found indoors and Amelia’s threats carried little weight.
‘How was your run?’ She glanced at him for the first time, tutting when her gaze dropped to his mud-splattered legs, still caked with dry blood.
‘Good. Dogs had a blast, and, yes, I dried them this time. They’re sleeping it off in the utility room.’
‘What’s up with you? You look … annoyed.’ Amelia, clearly alarmed at this rare occurrence, ceased her chopping and turned to give Dan her full attention.
‘I’m not annoyed.’ He gripped the back of his neck, his fingers tugging at the short strands of hair there. ‘I’m just …’ Fuck, so many things—furious, humiliated, more intrigued than ever … ‘Disappointed.’ He pulled open the drawer in their ancient oak dresser and took out a set of floral placemats.
Far from placated, Amelia waited in silence.
Dan sighed, resistance futile. ‘It’s just someone I’ve met, someone on the challenge.’ The image of Eden’s delicate features, harsh with annoyance, flashed before his eyes. But it had been the quickly concealed glimpse of humiliation that spoke to him. She wasn’t as tough as she’d have people think. Not even when tearing several strips off him and his good intentions.
He slapped one of the placemats on the table. Had she wanted to reconcile with the ex? Was she still in love with him? That didn’t explain why she’d sunk into his car’s upholstery on seeing the man waiting on her doorstep.
‘Is she pretty?’ Amelia resumed her salad preparations.
Yes. And hurting, vulnerable, tough as old boots. ‘Meals …’
‘C’mon, give me something. You never talk about women. And now, here we are with one of them actually getting to you so much, she’s actually annoyed you.’ His sister’s broad grin dipped to her chopping board.
Yes, his life was a hilarious joke. ‘Forget it.’ He’d be buggered if he’d listen to her mocking him. Why had he even mentioned it? Why had he let Eden get to him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? The remaining placemats
hit the scarred pine farmhouse table, and the room fell silent.
‘I’m sorry. You’re just normally so … unflappable. What did this person do that could possibly upset you?’ She handed him a bowl of salad.
Dan’s guts churned, despite the tantalising aroma of garlic coming from the Aga. ‘I’m not upset.’ Frustrated as fuck, but not upset. ‘She’s hurting, I think. She’s rude, prickly, abrupt …’ But her vulnerability was there, just beneath the surface, as if you could scratch off her top layer and reveal all her secrets.
‘Oh Dan. Not another of your causes.’
Dan whipped his head around. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve always been drawn to them. Remember that bird that hit the lounge window when we were kids. You nursed that thing for hours.’
Dan selected cutlery, pairing them up with each place setting. The bird had lain dazed in the shoebox he’d found to protect the frail creature from cats, the movements from its glassy eye the only sign of life. The next time Dan had checked, it had gone, leaving only a tiny feather behind in thanks.
Besides, it was his job to care for people—he certainly couldn’t be good at it if he didn’t care. And anyway, he didn’t see Eden that way. Yes, she was hurting. But she was far from broken. In fact, she was the toughest woman he’d ever met, at least on the outside.
‘She’s not a cause. And you don’t need to worry. She doesn’t want my help.’ Nor my friendship.
He should give up. Accept that she didn’t want his company, his concern or even his crappy mechanical skills. Why was he so drawn to someone who resolutely pushed away any attempts at common decency?
His introspection ground to a halt when Amelia appeared behind him, her arms gripping him tightly around the waist and her head nestled between his shoulderblades.
‘Well, she doesn’t deserve you then.’ With a quick squeeze, his sister departed back to her meal preparations, and he knew all was forgiven—his muddy legs, the wet dogs, even his persistent and irritating bachelor status. Amelia’s bark was ferocious, but she never bit. ‘Can you call the kids? Supper’s ready.’
‘Sure.’ He left the fragrant kitchen in search of his niece and nephew, resolved to forget the infuriating conundrum that was Eden Archer. Once and for all.
Chapter 5
Dan glanced across the challenge group to where Eden stood with Emily Chalmers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and dark glasses hid her huge, expressive eyes. He relaxed his fingers, uncurling them from fists, dragging his mind from Eden and her rare but beatific smile and tuned back into the safety briefing. This weekend’s training was a two-day hike and overnight camp in Wales, wild-style.
All week he’d replayed their last encounter on her doorstep like a broken record. Twice he’d awoken in the early hours covered in sweat and tangled up in the bedding after a vivid dream featuring the feisty brunette. He hadn’t remembered details, only the impression she was in trouble and he needed to hurry. He didn’t need to call on his long-forgotten psychology training to dissect the dreams, preferring to blame the unseasonal spell of hot weather for his nocturnal disturbances.
Besides, she still resolutely avoided him, this time arriving early and selecting a seat at the front of the minibus, next to Steve, the Ruby Challenge leader.
With the safety briefing over, they set off, their group quickly fracturing into two. The quicker pace-setters breaking away from the group who had the worst physical limitations or who had yet to significantly improve their fitness. Dan settled behind the latter group, content to be out in the great outdoors after a week of air-conditioned hospital air and windowless treatment rooms.
He was sluggish himself today, his late night shift at his second job—volunteering for the First Response Unit—having kept him awake until the early hours with a particularly horrific road collision on the outskirts of Derby. Probably the reason he didn’t notice Eden had fallen back to walk at his side.
His chest tugged. The sun glinted off the top of her head and her wary smile melted the hard knot in his gut he’d held onto since their altercation on her doorstep.
‘I wanted to apologise.’ Eden’s contrite voice washed over him.
She carried one of the larger packs, which contained tents and other equipment they’d need for their overnight hike. Not to be outdone by the big burly men?
She brushed some loose hair away from her eyes. ‘I was … my anger was aimed at someone else.’ Colour rose in her cheeks, the merest blush of rose. ‘I’m sorry you took the brunt of it.’ Her chest expanded as if she held her breath.
Dan shrugged, stunned silent by her unexpected and seemingly heartfelt apology. Don’t let her off the hook yet.
‘My sister’s always telling me off for …’ He couldn’t tell her Amelia had her pegged as a lost cause. She’d whack him with a billycan. ‘… Interfering.’
‘The sister who owns the dogs?’
She was making conversation? He almost lost his footing on little more than a grass tussock. ‘Yes. Amelia. My older sister. She likes to point out my shortcomings. Regularly.’ Dammit, why couldn’t he stay angry at Eden? Or at least indifferent.
She nodded, her long, thick ponytail swaying back and forth across the slender column of her neck. ‘Siblings can be like that.’ At his questioning stare, she added, ‘Older brother.’
Dan’s focus dropped to the path ahead of them, but not before taking in the way the straps of the pack bracketed her pert breasts, pushing them forward. Fuck. Where did that come from?
He cleared his throat. ‘My sister’s a stay-at-home mum, married to a farmer. She also runs a small business and keeps us all in check. I let the odd … lecture slide.’
She smiled, a shy event that lifted her delicately glowing cheeks. He figured she’d shut down the conversation soon or disappear, but she surprised him.
‘My brother’s a major in the army. Or soon to be. He’s up for a promotion.’ She rolled her eyes as if that said it all.
Heat unfurled in his stomach, a bizarre, long-forgotten feeling that left him floundering to keep up the lighthearted banter. He nodded, his lips forming a thin smile. ‘I see.’ Were they having a proper conversation here? He fought the temptation to shake himself awake.
Hesitant again, she cast her stare around the splendour of the view. Dan bit his tongue, his patience eventually rewarded.
‘Thanks for the lift home last week. You were right. My car did need a new battery.’ Another smile. ‘Apparently you have to get batteries replaced more that once every eight years.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His brain, finally catching up, raced. What was going here? One minute hot, the next frosty. Polite then belligerent. A guy could get dizzy. And while he had a reputation for being laid-back, he wasn’t a punching bag. She’d have to take her mood swings out on someone else, no matter how appealing her full lips when she smiled those small but dazzling smiles or her rounded hips concealed beneath her hiking gear.
Ignoring the stab to his guts, he said, ‘Enjoy the walk, Archer. I’m going to trot ahead, see if Meade’s prosthesis is rubbing.’ His back burned as he lengthened his stride, bypassing the slower group to catch up to Meade, a lower-leg amputee.
It nearly killed him, but he didn’t look back for the rest of the day.
* * *
The streaks of orange coloured the sky behind the peaks silhouetted in the early morning light. Eden had ignored the safety rules and left the camp before anyone else arose. She needed to run. A restless night spent on hard ground shouldn’t have bothered her, but something had kept her tossing and turning in her sleeping bag. Something more than the cold and the bleat of sheep.
Dan.
His … she couldn’t really call it a dismissal. He’d politely departed, his charm and gentility intact. But it had bothered her nonetheless. Something in his posture as he strode ahead demanded a new sense of respect. No matter how many times during the day she slanted a glance in his direction, she was met with the cut of his pr
ofile, or worse, the back of his head. His indifference, something she’d craved since the day she’d met him, invaded her mind until he occupied most of her thoughts. She resisted it. Dismissed it with a resounding mental slap. She deserved his contempt after the way she’d spoken to him. But knowing he was asleep a few feet away in his own tent …
No.
Not going there. Her insomnia lay solely at the hands of the sheep and the cold.
Eden veered off the well-worn path the tourists used, curling her toes to dig in to the uneven slope, which was pitted with rabbit holes and scattered rocks. Despite having run for ten minutes, her limbs were slow to warm up, the near dark before the dawn causing her breath to gust out and whiten the air before her.
She sucked in frigid breaths, grateful for the sting in her lungs, despite the odour of sheep poo. It was going to be a beautiful, clear day. Spend enough time outdoors and you acclimatised to the seasons and weather patterns, developed a kind of radar far more accurate than a weather app.
Near the peak of the hill, Eden dug deep, battling the scream of her leg muscles and the scalding burn in her lungs. Nearly there. Keep going.
At the summit, she collapsed forward, her chest raw and her throat on fire. Euphoria coursed through her bloodstream, adding to her own sense of accomplishment. Her hands braced on her thighs as she waited for the burn to subside and her thundering heart rate to drop.
That’s when she caught sight of him. A lonely silhouetted figure against the dawn sky. Her breath froze in her lungs, and she scanned the hillside. Alone, Dan stooped over a bulky camera mounted to a tripod, his back to her. For a split second she considered turning around, taking the coward’s way out and slinking soundlessly back the way she’d come. But as she followed his every move, her curiosity aflame, the oddly unsettled feelings of yesterday resurfaced.
The view and the technicalities of the camera he used completely absorbed him. The sun wasn’t fully up yet—presumably he hoped to capture its rise. His face was scrunched in concentration and he wore one of those ridiculous head torches, but he moved with a focus and confidence that left her mesmerised. Her stare glued to him. She hovered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
