High Heels & Bicycle Wheels

by Jane Linfoot

  ‘A calculated guess.’ He grinned as he set down the tray, and sat down on the bed. ‘I know you better than you think, you know.’

  Sideways glances like that she could do without.

  ‘A brave claim, Mr Gale.’ She took the mug he offered, bit into an almond turnover, and brushed the stray flakes of pastry off her fingers. ‘But then, you’re a brave man.’

  ‘Not sure about that.’ He cradled his own mug thoughtfully. ‘One thing I do know, though – it’s good to wake up next to you again.’

  Ditto. She sipped her drink and wished she didn’t agree quite so wholeheartedly.

  ‘Whatever.’ If Jackson in her flat was achingly comfortable, Jackson in her bed was beyond delicious, but she couldn’t afford to seem needy. ‘Being bashed round the head with a plaster-cast in your sleep has to be an acquired taste.’

  ‘You know, maybe it’s time to mention, I’m not only here because of the baby, Cherry.’

  ‘No?’ Where the hell was he going now? As if there could be any other reason.

  ‘I’m here because I want to be with you, and that’s got nothing to do with the baby at all. I’m here because you make my life better, and you have done every minute we’ve spent together.’

  What? The words blurred as her brain struggled to keep up. A guy talking about ‘every minute’ had to set the alarm bells ringing.

  ‘Jackson…’ She fired up her best ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this/please shut up’ tone, but from the decided set of his jaw, he wasn’t about to take notice. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugged the quilt around them and braced herself for whatever was coming next.

  ‘The day you suggested that world trip, I knew it would be great if I did it with you, because that was the only way I’d enjoy it. But now I know it’s more than that, a lot more…’

  ‘Jeez, Jackson…’ She heard her voice squeal in protest as her throat constricted. How the hell had he got here? This wasn’t how it was meant to be. She took a nervous slug of her drink.

  ‘All this heat that won’t go away, the fact I can’t get you out of my head, that every day I spend without you is hell – I’m definitely not an expert, it’s taken me long enough to work it out, dammit, but in the end I’m here because of one thing, and one thing only – I love you, Cherry.’

  ‘What…?’ The tea she’d just gulped hit her windpipe, and returned across the bed in an accelerating spray as she coughed.

  ‘I love you, I’m trying to tell you that I…’

  As her body gyrated as she choked, the rest of the mugful of tea slapped all over her plastered arm. ‘Oh crap, now look what I’ve done.’

  An immediate flight response kicked in as adrenalin coursed through her body. Before she knew it she’d hared across the bedroom, and was sitting on the floor in the en-suite bathroom, breathing heavily and listening to the echo of the slamming door.

  Omigod. Had she really done that? She threw her hair back off her face, banging her head against the bath side, shaking with self-disgust. Jackson had put himself out there, and all she could do was to spit tea in his face and run away.

  What kind of a cow did that make her?

  A scared one, given the way she was shaking, and a confused one – because although it had been bliss having him back for the night, and she liked him, and life without him seemed like it had a hole the size of the South America in it, the idea of him loving her was frightening beyond measure. She had no clue in the world how to cope with him loving her, or, so much worse, loving him back. She’d sometimes wondered if she already loved him, but love was always safe, so long as it was only one way. If he loved her, that might mean she’d fall in love with him too, and that was too much to handle, too much to risk. Because the moment she liked him too much, or worse still, loved him, all she could think of, was that he was going to walk away, and she couldn’t bear the thought of the hurt that would cause her. Strangely, she could have been with him more easily if she hadn’t liked him, and didn’t care. But she had a feeling that she liked Jackson too much, way too much, to risk the hurt of losing him. And love was one of those explosive things. One-way love was safe. She’d loved Matt for years with no danger of getting hurt, because a) it wasn’t mutual, and b) the feeling wasn’t real love, and deep down she’d always known it. Matt was safe as houses, and by the time he’d shown any interest, she’d come to her senses and seen him for what he was. But two-way love was a different matter entirely, a total unknown. Loving someone, and finding that love reciprocated? That was a recipe for disaster. Because just one time, there was that one man she’d loved, who also loved her, but then he’d left. And that had smashed her heart into a thousand aching pieces that left her broken for years. No way was she letting that happen again.

  She’d needed to do this slowly, and on her terms, and maybe even then she wouldn’t have got there. Now, all her control had gone right out the window. Sad to say, as soon as Jackson had said the word love, he’d pretty much blown it for both of them.

  Chapter 53

  The chaos of the fracture clinic on a Friday morning was something Bryony was willing to endure simply because she knew it was the only way of getting her plaster off, but it definitely wasn’t the place she’d have expected Cressy to tag along to, even in the name of being a BFF. Pub crawls, parties, anything involving hot available men would have been right up Cressy’s street, whereas X-ray, well, not so much. And morning was fast becoming afternoon, as progress was very slow.

  Today, Cressy was pulling out all the stops to try to cheer her up. Despite the fact that Bryony wasn’t in the mood for games she’d insisted they play their all-time fave sitting around game of giving out rankings to guys as they walked through the door. In the end it wasn’t going so well, and nothing to do with Bryony having a face like a wet weekend, nor all the candidates being old or broken. If Bryony anticipated that would be the main drawback of playing in an x-ray department, she was wrong. Contrary to her expectations and the law of averages, most of the guys coming through the door looked to her as if they might have got lost on the way to a Vogue photo shoot. If past experience was anything to go by, and yes, Bryony was an expert given Cressy was more addicted to this game than she was to Flappy Bird, most of the guys should have been scoring at least an eight on Cressy’s dedicated hottie scale. And strangely the guys Bryony – acting in her completely uninvolved, yet expert due to long-time experience capacity – had down as dead cert tens were only getting sevens from Cressy.

  As the nurse with the shouty glasses and the clipboard came out and called someone else rather than her, yet again, Bryony decided it was time to query.

  ‘So what’s with all the low scores then, Cressy?’

  Another time, another place, with less waiting space to ponder, Cressy’s out-of-character behaviour might have escaped Bryony. But here, three hours in, even pre-occupied Bryony began to analyse, and once she considered it carefully, Cressy hadn’t seemed herself on the man front for quite a while.

  ‘What do you mean low scores? As usual I’m bang on target, no way that last guy merited anything more than a four even if he hadn’t been on crutches.’ Cressy’s squawk of protest woke up the woman two seats away, who ironically dropped her Pick Me Up magazine.

  Bryony studied the hunk in question again and concurred. ‘Fine, I’ll let you off with that one, because basically it’s not the fours I’m talking about, it’s the nines and the tens. From where I’m sitting there’s been a shedload of those, and yet the most you’ve scored anyone is a seven.’

  ‘What is this, a moderating meeting?’ Cressy sent her a defiant scowl. ‘Attractiveness is a subjective thing.’

  ‘Possibly, although I’d argue we’ve been studying it long enough to make it an objective science.’ Bryony feeling suddenly guilty for being too wrapped up in her own worries to notice, gave Cressy a softening nudge with her elbow. ‘Had any nice ones lately then?’

  Cressy pulled down the corners of her mouth. ‘Not especial
ly’

  Also out of character, given Cressy usually needed a gag her to stop her sharing every last gory detail with the entire office. When Bryony came to think about it, the last time she remembered seeing Cressy with a guy was at the Gala Evening, when she’d been pretty wrapped up to say the least. Bryony gave an inward groan. Talk about being blinded by your own problems – this was majorly significant. How had she missed this?

  ‘So, what about the guy from Manchester?’ With the pregnancy and her broken arm, Bryony had neglected to do immediate catch up. Usually where Cressy was concerned, one missed guy was a drop in the ocean as she’d already have moved onto the next.

  ‘What about him?’ Cressy’s expression was impassive.

  What, no information dump? That was a giveaway in itself. Bryony wasn’t letting her get away with this – something was definitely going on here.

  ‘You went off with him after the Gala didn’t you but you never said what happened? So who was he, where was he from?’ Bryony tried to make the enquiry sound casual.

  ‘No one important.’ Cressy looked away, uncrossed her legs and stood up. ‘Fancy a coffee?’

  ‘Great idea.’ Bryony sent her a grin to let her know she was completely busted. ‘Nice try, Cressy. Sit down and spill. And then we’ll talk about coffee.’

  If Cressy was being evasive this had to be big.

  Cressy sat on the edge of her seat and leaned towards Bryony. ‘He’s a doc, he lives in London, his name’s Charlie and he didn’t put out.’

  ‘Right.’ Bryony tried to stop her eyes widening. No guy had ever not put out for Cressy. Most of them were pressing themselves onto her, often literally, within seconds of meeting her. ‘So, is he gay?’

  ‘Nope. Just playing hard to get.’ Cressy’s smile was perplexed yet determined. ‘But I will get him, it’s just taking me longer than I expected.’

  ‘So you’re seeing him while you wait then?’

  ‘Yep. It’s quite a few weeks now.’

  Wow, this was a first. Bryony reeled and tried to play down how excited she was on Cressy’s behalf. Almost sounded like it constituted dating. Turn up for the books or what?

  ‘So, is he a ten then?’ Bryony had to ask.

  Cressy sighed wistfully. ‘Nope, I’d say he’s nearer a fifteen.’

  And obviously no one else was coming close, hence the tens being downgraded to sevens.

  ‘Oh my. I guess it had to happen sometime.’ Bryony gave Cressy’s hand a squeeze. ‘I hate to say it, but welcome to my world. Shall we get that coffee now?’

  Chapter 54

  ‘If a guy tells you he loves you, the last thing you do, Bryony Marshall, is kick him out, especially if you’re pregnant with his baby.’

  All the more reason if you’re pregnant with his baby, and you’re trying to keep two of you safe. Obviously, Bryony hadn’t made any progress making Cressy understand that.

  As Cressy’s incensed shout boomed round the waiting area, Bryony made a grab for a magazine, and cowered behind it. How did such a small person have such a huge voice, anyway? Not that Bryony had planned to tell anyone at all about what happened that dreadful Saturday morning two weeks earlier, and in fairness she should have kept her guard higher, knowing that Cressy would be straight back onto her own case after she dragged Cressy’s secret out into the open. It hadn’t taken a mind reader to know that Bryony had been low, and given that perfect excuse Cressy had swooped and finally wheedled it out of her. But whereas Bryony had been uncharacteristically restrained with Cressy’s news, once Bryony had shared, Cressy didn’t return the discretion.

  ‘There wasn’t any kicking; I was very polite.’ Bryony’s insides still shrivelled every time she relived the agonised expression on Jackson’s face, when she’d finally emerged from the bathroom and quietly asked him to leave. Stone-walling his attempts to find out what was wrong had wrung her heart out, but in the end, it had been a matter of self-preservation. Had to be done.

  ‘Eventually you were polite.’ Cressy gave a disgusted snort. ‘Meanwhile, spitting tea over someone, then screaming and locking yourself in the bathroom is neither mature, nor attractive.’

  Exactly when did Cressy become the authority on being mature when it came to men? Finding one she fancied enough to see more than once counted a lot less than Cressy thought it did.

  ‘Surprisingly, appearing attractive wasn’t top of my priorities at the time.’ Feeble sarcasm wasn’t going to get her far in stopping Cressy’s tirade. It was such a bad mistake to rake this up again when she’d already mentally buried it, and made a monumental effort to move on.

  Although waking every morning to see Jackson in glorious four foot high Technicolor close-up on the wall opposite her bed, and knowing that she couldn’t bear to be with him was agony, somehow the thought of taking the picture down was even worse. And knowing that she didn’t have the guts to be with him was breaking her heart one awful day at a time. Her new-found appetite had disappeared and all she’d been doing was working and sleeping, with no energy for either. She’d thought it would get easier with time, but if anything it was getting harder.

  ‘To be honest, I’m astonished he’s even trying to get back with you given the way you’ve behaved. I’m not sure I would.’ Cressy made no attempt to hide her disgust

  ‘There’s no getting back, Cressy, because we weren’t ever together. And how’s he trying, I haven’t even heard from him?’

  ‘Oh shit.’ Cressy dipped, and fumbled in her bag. If Bryony hadn’t known that Cressy never blushed, she would have sworn Cressy’s cheeks were pink. Without retrieving anything, Cressy sat up again. ‘Office full of flowers not mean anything to you? Jackson has to be keeping the London floristry industry afloat single-handed.’

  A nurse with a clipboard appeared from behind the reception desk. ‘Bryony Marshall, cubicle three please.’

  ‘Great, Bry, that’s you, let’s go!’ Cressy grabbed her bag, and arrived at the nurse’s elbow with surprising speed and enthusiasm, leaving Bryony to sit and ponder.

  Something was going on. Bryony wasn’t sure what it was, but Cressy’s expression was definitely guilty. Cressy had whisked her off on Jackson’s behalf once too often, and she wouldn’t be falling for that again, whatever Cressy hoped.

  ‘I break my wrist, and I’m fine; they take the plaster off, and I pass out. What sort of a wimp does that make me?’ Bryony glanced dejectedly at her cardboard sick tray, and readjusted the pillow on the hospital trolley.

  ‘Pregnant people faint all the time, you might need to get used to it.’ Cressy patted Bryony’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, they said it happens to lots of people when they have their plaster taken off too. How are you doing?’

  ‘Better now thanks, and less of the “pregnant people” please. At least having to lie here for ten minutes means I get a chance to ask you stuff.’ Bryony sensed Cressy stiffen, which suggested Bryony’s instinct was right, so she braced herself and went in for the kill. ‘What did you mean about Jackson trying to get back with me?’

  Bryony watched as Cressy shuffled on her orange plastic seat, sniffed and then examined the ceiling intently.

  Bryony’s growl came between clenched teeth. ‘Don’t think for a minute you’ll get away with not telling the truth here.’

  Cressy sighed. ‘Jackson’s desperate to be with you, and it’s not just me he’s press-ganging, he’s been in touch with Shea and Brando too. It’s understandable, with the baby and everything.’

  ‘Oh my…’ Bryony sagged back into her pillows.

  Cressy held up her hands. ‘I’ll come clean, I’m supposed to be putting you into a taxi this afternoon, as soon as your appointment is over, and sending you down to the south coast.’ Cressy rested her chin on her hand.

  ‘But aren’t we covering hockey this weekend?’

  Cressy’s eyebrows touched her hairline. ‘Covering isn’t the best word choice, given it’s men’s naked hockey, and I didn’t put you on the crew, as you’re technically spoken
for elsewhere.’

  ‘Holy crap.’

  Cressy nodded. ‘My thoughts exactly, but we’ll hopefully be zooming in for face, feet and back shots.’

  Bryony’s disgruntled growl grew to a wail. ‘For chrissakes, Cressy, I’m talking about Jackson, not hockey. What the hell is he playing at?’

  ‘Right.’ Cressy shrugged, diffidently. ‘Jackson is shooting some programme about sports celebs and designer houses, and Dan’s blagged this lighthouse conversion for the whole weekend afterwards, which is where you and your taxi come into the picture. Dan does a damn good job, you have to hand it to him.’

  ‘Well, thanks for sharing that, Cressy.’ Bryony bit back the explosion she wanted to unleash and settled for sarcasm. Again.

  ‘You look like you want to nuke me – don’t shoot the messenger, I’m only trying to help here.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  Help like this she could do without. Right now, Bryony couldn’t decide if she was appreciative or cross. But she was damned sure that if she ever got into that taxi, she’d be getting right back out again.

  Chapter 55

  ‘Cressy, hi, I take it Bryony’s decided not to come after all?’

  Jackson had driven five miles before he’d found a signal, and then he’d waited two hours in the dark in a faceless lay-by beside a hedge for Cressy to pick up her phone. Waiting he could do, if that’s what it was going to take, but somehow he hadn’t envisaged it would be this hard to get what he wanted with Cherry. He dragged in a breath, and braced himself to hear the worst.

  ‘She didn’t arrive?’ Cressy, even at this distance, sounded doubtful, and her voice was slightly slurred.

  In the background he could hear the hubbub of music and voices, and he could picture Cressy, finger in one ear, hopping from foot to foot in a busy pub, shouting into her phone.

  ‘Nope, she’s definitely not here.’

  He had an idea he wasn’t meant to hear Cressy’s colourful curse.

  ‘Any chance she’ll be coming tomorrow?’ Should he even be pushing it?