by Annie O'Neil
It seemed completely bonkers, but he felt closer to her after just a handful of hours than he had near enough anyone outside of his family.
Beguiled or bedeviled?
He didn’t know what it was, but he was spilling private thoughts like it was going out of style. And a part of him felt...relief. As if with the telling of his story he’d somehow lessened the levels of internal pain it caused.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Brodie. It’s just—you’re taking the reaction of the villagers incredibly personally. Which, obviously, it would be hard not to. But,” she continued quickly, before he could jump in to protest, “it seems to me people are using the Ebola thing as an excuse.”
He grunted a go-on-I’m-listening noise.
“Now that I know why you don’t want to be here, I get it. That’s a lot of weight to carry on your shoulders for something you surely realize wasn’t your fault.”
She held up her hand again, making it clear he was going to have to hear her out—gutsy beguiler that she was.
“Perhaps—and this is just a perhaps—everyone here thinks you’ve turned your back on them. Your job is to help people. Help them at a time when they’re feeling weak, or frightened or downright awful. And if you add a bit of fear into the mix...fear that you won’t be around when they’ve entrusted you with their private concerns...”
“It makes for a pretty poisonous pill,” he finished, seeing his plight from an entirely new angle. “I see where you’re going with this,” Brodie admitted with a nod.
He was so intent on ticking days off the calendar to get through the year he was blinded to everything else. But he wanted to fulfill his promise honorably—so until he took full control of the clinic he couldn’t mark a single day off the calendar. He scrubbed at his hair and jiggled his empty pint glass back and forth. Maybe that was why everyone was refusing to see him. So he could never turn over the hourglass and begin the countdown.
He gave her an impressed sidelong look. “You sure you didn’t specialize in psychology?”
“Positive.”
Kali flushed as their eyes met. A sweet splash of red along the porcelain lines of her cheekbones. She was a beautiful woman. And smart.
Frustration and anger had eaten away at his ability to be compassionate. Show the people he’d known his entire life the same care and attention he’d given each and every patient he’d treated abroad. The same care and attention they’d shown him when first he’d lost his mother and then again when his father had passed. Even if they weren’t all huggy-kissy about it.
Anonymous plates of scones had been delivered. Stews heated up. Distance kept...
“You’re quite the insightful one, Dr. O’Shea.”
“Well...” She drew a finger round the base of her wine glass. “We’ve all had hurdles to jump. I know how frustrating it can be when it seems like no one is on your side. You against the world, sort of thing. But it’s not exactly as if you’re powerless to change things, is it?”
Something told Brodie she was talking about something a world away from what he was experiencing. An instinct told him not to push. His were the only beans getting spilled tonight.
“I get the feeling you have an idea or two about how I can win the hearts and minds of my fellow islanders.” Brodie leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in a show of anticipation.
“I do!” she chirped, enthusiasm gripping her entire body. “GPs are at the forefront of the medical world as far as a community like this is concerned, right? They’re authority figures, really.”
Brodie nodded. He’d always pictured his father as the authority, but now he supposed that baton had been well and truly handed over.
“And what do you see me doing with all of this authority?”
“Well...it sounds like you’ve had some amazing experiences overseas. You combine that with your local knowledge and you’ve got an amazing opportunity for public outreach. To teach people firsthand what’s going on in the world beyond the sensationalist headlines.” She picked up a discarded copy of the nation’s favorite rag and held it in front of him like a red cape to a bull. “Make them wise, not reactionary. From Ebola to...to Zika virus.”
“What? Quell their fears about Ebola, only to get everyone up in arms about every mosquito arriving on their hallowed shores being laden with the Zika virus? Now there’s an idea?”
Kali swatted at the space in between them, taking his words as he’d meant them. In jest. With a healthy splash of affection.
The strangest feeling overtook him as he watched her speak. He was no spooky-spooky sort, but meeting Kali felt meant to be. Their long talk, which had all but emptied the pub, seemed like a homecoming of sorts—as if they’d been cinching the loose strings of a relationship they’d let fade and were now eager to rekindle.
Her own voice came to him in the perfect way to describe the sensation.
Kismet.
And then he realized she was still talking about public awareness.
“You know what I mean. The only reason people are being funny about you is because they don’t understand. About Ebola. Why you don’t like it here. And, frankly, I’m a little on their side with that one. You’re keeping them at arm’s length. It makes you scarier.”
“Loveable, approachable me?” Brodie put on his best teddy bear face. “I come across as scary?”
“Yes! Exactly!” She grinned, her smile lighting up those green eyes of hers from within.
Funny how a guy could take an insult when it came from a woman with such a genuine smile.
“Luckily I’ve already learned your bark is worse than your bite,” Kali replied regally.
She was obviously enjoying herself. The young medical disciple offering words of wisdom to the block-headed Scottish doctor.
“So...how do you suggest I open my arms to people who don’t even want to breathe the same air as me?”
“Get a gas mask,” she replied with a straight face.
He stared at her, waiting to see if she’d break.
She didn’t.
“A gas mask? That’s your big idea.”
Kali burst into gales of laughter, tears of delight filling the rims of eyes now flecked with golden reflections of the fire.
“Sorry, sorry...” She swallowed away the remains of her giggles, pressing her lips together in an attempt to regroup. “Look. You don’t have to do it alone. I’m happy to go to bat for you.”
“So soon?” He feigned astonishment, though in truth he was genuinely touched.
“Oh, it’s more for me than you,” she replied with mock gravitas. “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s an awful backlog of patients to see. Time is of the essence, Dr. McClellan.”
Brodie grinned. Couldn’t help it. Probably his first genuine smile since he’d lost his father. “Anyone told you your enthusiasm is infectious, Miss O’Shea?”
“That’s Dr. O’Shea to you,” she riposted with a shy smile.
He tipped his head to the side and looked at her with fresh eyes.
Strikingly pretty. Petite, but not fragile. Thick mane of black hair framing the soft outlines of her heart-shaped face. And those eyes...
He’d better watch it. This whole two-peas-in-a-pod thing had wrong time, wrong place written all over it.
“So, what do you say?” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “We take on the islanders one by one, or gather them all up in a stadium and do it warlord-style?”
“I was thinking more softly, softly—kitten-style.”
“You think I’m up to being a kitten?” Brodie snorted as Kali feigned imagining him as a kitten.
“Maybe more of an alley cat. With an eye patch and a broken tail.”
“Ah—so we’ll have a cat fight at the end?”
“Purrrhaps
,” she purred, completely capturing his full attention.
Her lips were parted, chin tilted up toward his, eyelids lowered, half cloaking that mystical green-eyed gaze of hers as a thick lock of hair fell along her cheek. He was itching to shift it away, feel the peachy softness of her skin.
Brodie readjusted as his body responded.
Kali had just shape-shifted from beautiful to downright sexy.
And an instant later...the shutters closed.
Kali’s gaze had gone from inviting to stay away in an actual blink of the eye.
He chalked up another reminder about barriers as she tugged on her coat, pulling the zip right up to her chin.
She wasn’t here to stay. Nor was he.
* * *
Kali threw her coat on top of the duvet, shivered, then grabbed her suitcase and shook the whole pile of clothes along the bed in a line stretching the length of her body.
Her fire-making skills, as it turned out, were not great. Thank goodness she’d convinced Brodie to let her ride her bicycle home in lieu of a lift, otherwise she’d have no body heat at all! Not that he hadn’t put up a fight.
He’d insisted. She’d insisted more firmly. Said it was all part of the rugged island adventure she’d been banking on when she took up the post. She tugged on a pair of tights and zipped a fleece over her layers of T-shirts and jumpers, acutely aware that an online shopping spree was growing increasingly essential.
Her eyes flicked over to the bedroom door. Firmly shut. Front door? Dead-bolted. Checked twice. She’d never let anyone walk, drive or cycle home with her in the past five years. The fewer people who knew where she lived the better. And yet...
How many times had she been tempted to blurt out her life story tonight?
Too many.
How many times had she let herself wonder...what if?
Each time she’d caught herself staring at Brodie’s lips was how many.
Too many.
This was a working relationship. Not an island romance.
Apart from which, Brodie wanted nothing to do with Dunregan and she...she wanted everything to do with it. Just one day here was as appealing as one day with her “intended” had been repellent.
She huffed out a sigh of exasperation, eyes widening as she did.
Was that her breath?
She pulled up the covers, trying to keep the pile of clothes balanced on top of her, and snuggled into the fetal position. Shivering created body warmth.
She giggled. Now she was just being silly. But it felt good. She hadn’t been plain old silly in...years. Perhaps it was the cold, or the delicious lamb stew she’d virtually inhaled at the Eagle and Ram. She felt warm from the inside. A cozy glow keeping the usual fears at bay.
She was safe here in Dunregan. And, for tonight at least, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her lips if she tried.
CHAPTER FIVE
TOO LATE, BRODIE saw the beginning of the end. It was a miracle the wood had stayed atop his four-by-four this far.
“Nooooooooo!”
The planks of wood were crashing and slithering all over the place. Smack-dab in front of the clinic.
He glanced at his watch.
Kali would be there soon. No doubt expressing her despair at yet another way he’d made her time at the clinic less than straightforward.
Three days in and she seemed a more regular part of the place than he ever had. Correction. Than he had ever felt.
Big difference.
He nudged a bit of wood with his foot and shook his head.
Woodworking was a class he really should have taken when he’d had the chance. He’d scoffed at his brother’s choice at the time. Now he was beginning to see the advantages of having learned some practical skills. Or having stuck around so he could’ve built the blasted thing with his father, a man as at home with a hammer as a stethoscope.
He heard a throat clearing on the far side of his car.
Kali.
Kali trying desperately not to laugh.
She’d been keeping him at a courteous arm’s length after their strangely intimate night at the pub, so it was nice to see that smile of hers.
“New project?” she asked, barely able to contain her mirth.
“Aye. I’m sure you will have noticed just sitting round the clinic waiting for patients to magically appear hasn’t worked quite the treat I’d hoped.”
She made a noncommittal noise, turning her head this way and that, obviously trying to divine what the pile of wood in front of her—his—clinic was meant to be.
“It’s a boat.”
“Ohhhh...” She nodded. “I can see that now.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.”
“No, I mean it.” She sidled up beside him, crossed her arms and gave the hodgepodge pile of wood a considered look before pointing to one of the shorter cuts. “That’s the pram, right?”
“The prow,” he corrected, the language of boats coming back to him as if it were genetically embedded.
“And you’re building this here because...?” Kali tactfully changed the subject.
“I was rehashing our talk the other night—about public awareness and all that—and I thought, how can I get through to everyone island-style?”
“And this is what you came up with?” Kali gave him a dubious look.
“I told you—it’s a boat.” He frowned at the pile of wood. “Or it will be once word gets out I’m trying to make one. The folk here can’t resist giving advice when it comes to building a boat.”
“And that means you’re staying?”
A jag of discord shot through him at the wary note of hope in her voice. He’d heard it often enough in his father’s voice each time he’d returned. The thought of disappointing Kali bothered him, but he wasn’t there yet. In that place where settling down—setting down here—felt right. Might not ever be. That was why he’d decided to get out of the clinic, where they had been warily circling each other after that night of so much connection. No bets taken as to why he was building the boat right next door to the clinic, though.
It was Kali. One hundred percent Kali.
He scrubbed his jaw and tried to look like a model citizen.
“I was thinking more along the lines of the public health campaign first.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. One he couldn’t read. One that made him wonder if she could see straight through his bluster.
“This is your master plan to convince people you don’t have Ebola?”
“Who could resist such a rugged, healthy-looking soul?” Brodie looked off into the middle distance supermodel-style. Sure, he was showing off, but the reward was worth it.
A shy grin.
Each of Kali’s smiles was like a little jewel—well worth earning.
He struck a bodybuilder pose to see if he could win another.
Bull’s-eye.
* * *
A fizz of warmth exploded in Kali’s belly. Then another. Would he just stop doing that?
“Well? What do you think? Irresistible or repugnant?”
Brodie’s blue eyes hit hers and another detonation of attraction hit Kali in the knees. What was she? Twelve? Regroup, girl. This man has danger written all over him.
“Well...you’re not exactly repugnant...”
Brodie threw back his head and laughed. “Touché.”
He dropped her a wink. Another knee wobbler.
“Serves me right for floating my own boat.” Brodie’s eyes scanned the higgledy-piggledy pile of wood. “Or not, as the case might be.”
Kali gave him a quick wave and hightailed it around the back of the building and into the clinic.
Despite her best efforts to keep her nose to the proverbial grindstone...
to see patients and race her bicycle back home to her icy cold house...she knew she was falling for Brodie. Fast.
It scared her. But as unsettling as it felt it also felt good. A little too good.
He wasn’t hanging around. It was easy enough to see the boat was a project with a timeline and once that was done... Poof.
Goodbye, Romeo.
Or, more accurately, goodbye, Kali. Brodie would win the hearts of Dunregan back in no time and then there’d be no need for her here. Before she knew it, it would be time for her to begin again.
“Kali?” Ailsa called to her from the tea room as the back door shut with its satisfying click and clunk. “I’ve just put the kettle on. Milk and no sugar, isn’t it?”
“Got it in one!” She grinned despite the storm of unwelcome thoughts.
“Are we going to be blessed with my nephew’s presence today?” Ailsa popped her head round the corner and gave Kali an exasperated smile.
“He’s out front,” Kali answered. “Building a boat.”
Ailsa’s eyebrows shot up. “Aye?”
Kali nodded, keeping her own expression neutral.
“Well...”
It was a loaded word. Suspicious. Loving. Expectant. Curious.
Kali couldn’t help but smile. She might not have much time here, but at the very least she was becoming much more fluent in Scots!
“Kali! First patient’s come early!” Caitlyn called from the front office. “Will you be all right to take a look?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she replied, accepting the hot cup of tea Ailsa had just handed her. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
* * *
“Someone’s up with the lark.”
A woman in her early thirties spun round at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw it was Kali.
“The usual?”
Kali grinned. This was the third morning running she’d relished the warmth and sugary sweet air of the Dunregan Bakehouse. This first “thawing station” on her bicycle ride into work. It had nothing to do with the fact they also made the fluffiest scones she’d ever tasted. And with lashings of the fruitiest, raspberriest jam in the world. She’d bought treats for everyone at the clinic each day since she’d discovered the place.
