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‘Thanks.’ Hamish threw his bag on the bed to fill up the acres of space staring back at them. And to stop himself from throwing her on it instead.
The action seemed to snap Lola out of her fixation. ‘And that’s it.’ She turned. ‘Tour over.’
Once again Hamish followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she grabbed her bag and keys off the counter top. ‘I’m sorry, I have to run now or I’ll be late for work. I couldn’t swap the shift.’
She didn’t sound that sorry. In fact, she was jingling the keys like she couldn’t wait to get out of there.
‘It’s fine.’
A part of him had assumed she’d be home this weekend to help him get settled. Which was ridiculous. He was a thirty-year-old man living in one of the world’s most exciting cities—he didn’t need to have his hand held.
And Lola was a shift worker, just like him. With bills to pay and a twenty-four-hour roster she helped to fill, including Saturdays. She had her own life that didn’t involve pandering to her friend’s brother.
‘I’m sure I can occupy myself. What time do you finish?’
She fished in her bag and pulled out her sunglasses, opening the arms and perching them on the top of her head. ‘I’m on till nine-thirty tonight. I should be home by ten, providing everything is calm at work.’
‘Cool.’
‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. There’s a supermarket three blocks away, if you’re looking for something in particular. Grace and I usually shopped together and split the bill but we can discuss those details tomorrow.’
Hamish nodded. ‘I’m having dinner with Grace and Marcus tonight actually. At their new apartment. So we’ll probably be getting in around the same time.’
‘Oh...right.’ She glanced away and Hamish wondered if she was remembering the last time they’d been here together at night. She had some colour in her cheeks when her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t feel like you have to be home for me. If you want to have a few drinks and end up crashing at theirs, that’s fine. I’m often here by myself, it doesn’t bother me.’
Hamish didn’t think anything much bothered Lola. There was a streak of independence about her that grabbed him by his country-boy balls. But he knew that under all that Independent Woman of the World crust was someone who could break like a little girl and he really hoped she didn’t feel the need to pretend to be tough all the time to compensate for how vulnerable she’d been the last time they’d met.
That would be an exhausting eight weeks for her.
And he just wanted Lola to be Lola. He could handle whatever she threw at him.
‘And miss my first night in my new home?’ He smiled at her to keep it light. ‘No way.’
‘Okay, well...’ She nodded. ‘I’ll...see you later.’
She turned and walked away, choosing the longer route rather than brush past him—interesting—and within seconds he was listening to the quiet click of the front door as it shut.
Well...that was an anti-climax. He’d been building this meeting up in his head for weeks. None of the scenarios had involved Lola bolting within twenty minutes of his arrival. Still, it had been good, seeing her again. And she had definitely avoided any chance that they might come into contact as she’d left.
That had to mean something, right?
Hamish rolled his eyes as he realised where his brain was heading. Get a grip, idiot. Not going to happen.
And he went to unpack and make up his bed.
* * *
It was a relief to get to work. A relief to stop thinking about Hamish. It was crazy but Lola hadn’t expected to feel what she’d felt when she’d opened the door to him. She’d actually been looking forward to seeing Hamish again. Quite aside from the sex, he was a nice guy and a fun to be around. Even a few months later she still caught herself smiling at the memory of the note she’d found the morning after they’d had sex on the couch.
You looked so beautiful sleeping I didn’t want to disturb you.
I’m heading home now.
Thank you for an unforgettable night.
Hamish
He’d drawn a smiley face beside his name and Lola had laughed and hugged it to her chest, secretly thrilled to be unforgettable.
Sure, she’d known their first meeting after that night would be awkward to begin with but had expected it to dissipate quickly.
She’d been dead wrong about that.
His presence on her doorstep—big and solid, more jaw than any man had a right to—had been like a shockwave breaking over her. She’d felt like she was having some kind of out-of-body experience, where she was above herself, looking down, the universe whispering He’s the one in her ear.
She’d panicked. Hell, she was still panicking.
Firstly, she didn’t believe in the one. Sure, she knew people stayed together for ever. Her parents had been married for thirty-two years. But to her it was absurd to think there was only one person out there for everyone. It was more statistically believable, given the entire population of the world, that there were many ones out there.
People just didn’t know it because they were too busy with their current one.
Secondly, she honestly believed finding the one didn’t apply to every person on the planet. Lola believed some people were destined to never settle down, that they were too content with the company of many and being children of the world to ground themselves.
And that was the category into which Lola fell. Into which Great-Aunt May fell. A spinster at seventy-five, May hadn’t needed the one to be fulfilled. Lola had never known a person more accomplished, more well travelled or more Zen with her life.
And, thirdly, if Lola fell and smacked her head and had a complete personality change and suddenly did believe in such nonsense, her one would never be a guy from a small town.
Never.
She’d run from a small town for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to be with a guy who was content to stay put, whose whole life was his patch of dirt or his business, or the place he’d grown up. Which was why her reaction to Hamish was so disconcerting.
Hamish Gibson couldn’t be the one for her.
No. She was just really...sexually attracted to him. Hell, she’d thought about him so much these past three months it was only natural to have had a reaction to him when she’d opened the door and seen him standing right in front of her.
But she wasn’t going there again.
Which was why work was such a blessing. Something else to occupy her brain. And, yowsers, did she need it today to deal with her critical patient.
Emma Green was twenty-three years old and in acute cardiac failure. She’d been born with a complex cardiac disorder and had endured several operations and bucketloads of medication already in her young life. But a mild illness had pushed her system to the limit and her enlarged heart muscle into the danger zone.
She’d gone into cardiac arrest at the start of the shift down in the emergency department and had been brought to ICU in acritical condition. Which meant it was a whirlwind of a shift. There were a lot of drugs to give, bloods to take, tests to run. Medication and ventilation settings were constantly tweaked and adjusted as the intensive care team responded to Emma’s condition minute by minute.
As well as that, there was a veritable royal flush of specialists and their entourages constantly in and out, needing extra things, sucking up time she didn’t have, all wanting their orders prioritised. There were cardiac and respiratory teams as well as radiologists and pharmacists, physiotherapists and social workers.
And there was Emma’s family to deal with. Her parents, who had already been through so much with Emma over the years. Her mother teary, her father stoic—both old hands at the jargon and the solemn medical faces. And Emma’s boyfriend, Barry, who was not. He was an emotional wreck, swinging from sad to angry, from positive to despondent.
Not that she could blame him. Emma looked awful. There was barely a spare inch of skin that wasn’t criss-crossed by some kind of tubing or wires. She had a huge tube in her nose where the life support was connected and securing it obscured half of her face, which was puffy—as was the rest of her body—from days of retained fluid due to her worsening cardiac condition.
Lola was used to this environment, to how terrible critical patients could look. She was immune to it. But she understood full well how hard it was for people to see someone they loved in this condition. She’d witnessed the shocked gasps too many times, the audible sobs as the sucker-punch landed.
The gravity of the situation always landed with a blow. The sudden knowledge that their loved one was really, really sick, that they could die, was a terrible whammy. So Emma’s boyfriend’s reactions were perfectly normal, as far as Lola was concerned.
And all just part of her job.
‘It really is okay to talk to her,’ Lola assured Barry as he sat rigidly in a chair by the window, repeatedly finger-combing his hair. It was the first time he’d been alone with Emma since she’d been admitted. Her mother and father were taking it in turns to sit with Barry at the bedside but they’d both ducked out for a much-needed cup of coffee and a bite to eat.
Barry glanced at Emma and shook his head. ‘I don’t want to get in the way or bump anything.’
Lola smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’ll be right here keeping an eye on you.’ She kept it light because she could tell that Barry was petrified of the high-tech environment, which was quite common. ‘And I promise I’ll push you out the way if I need to, okay?’
He gave a worried laugh, still obviously doubtful, and Lola nodded encouragingly and smiled again. ‘I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.’
His eyes flew to Lola’s in alarm. ‘I thought she was sedated.’
‘She is,’ Lola replied calmly. ‘But even unconscious patients can still hear things. There have been plenty of people who’ve woken from comas or sedation and been able to recite bedside conversations word for word.’
Barry chewed on his bottom lip. ‘I...don’t know what to say to her.’
The despair in his voice hit Lola in every way. Barry was clearly overwhelmed by everything. She gestured him over to the seat Emma’s mother had vacated not that long ago. He came reluctantly.
‘Just tell her you’re here,’ Lola said, as he sat. ‘Tell her you love her. Tell her she’s in safe hands.’
‘Okay.’ Barry’s voice trembled a little.
Lola turned to her patient. ‘Emma,’ she said quietly, placing a gentle hand on Emma’s forearm, ‘Barry’s here. He’s going to sit with you for a while.’
There wasn’t any response from Emma—Lola didn’t expect there would be—just the steady rise and fall of her chest and the rapid blipping of her monitor. Lola smiled at Barry as she withdrew her hand. ‘Just put your hand where I had mine, okay? There’s nothing you can bump there.’ Barry tentatively slid his hand into place and Lola nodded. ‘That’s good. Now just talk to her.’
Lola moved away but not very far, hovering until Barry became more confident. He didn’t say anything for a moment or two and when he started his voice was shaky but he started. ‘Hey, Emsy.’ His voice cracked and he cleared it. ‘I’m here and... I’m not going anywhere. You’re in good hands and everything’s going to be okay.’
Lola wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She knew how fragile Emma’s condition was and part of her was truly worried her patient wasn’t going to make it through the shift. But humans needed hope to go on, to endure, and she’d certainly been proved wrong before by patients.
Barry was doing the right thing. For him and for Emma.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4a2e050f-6a7a-5161-8bdf-612e6272d250)
‘SO? WHEN ARE you going to settle down?’
Hamish sighed at his sister, who was slightly tipsy after a few glasses of champagne. They were sitting on the balcony of their new apartment, which was also in Manly but at the more exclusive end, with harbour views. Marcus had moved out of his apartment near Kirribilli General when he and Grace had decided to move in together because they’d wanted an apartment that was theirs.
‘God, you’re like a reformed smoker. You’re in love so you want everyone else to be as well.’
Grace smiled at Marcus, who smiled back as he slid his hand onto her nape. Hamish rolled his eyes at them but it was obvious his sister was in love and he was happy for her. She’d had a tough time in her first serious relationship so it was good to see her like this.
‘You’re thirty, Hamish. You’re not getting any younger. Surely there has to be some girl in Toowoomba who takes your fancy.’
‘There’s no point getting into a relationship when I’m hoping to spend a few years doing rural service after the course is done.’
Hamish had recently been passed over for a transfer to a station in the far west of the state because he didn’t have an official intensive care paramedic qualification, even though he had the skills. It had spurred him to apply for a position on the course.
‘It’s hardly fair to get involved with someone knowing I could be off to the back of beyond at a moment’s notice,’ he added.
Grace sighed in exasperation. ‘Maybe she’d want to go with you.’
Unbidden, an image of Lola slipped into his mind. He couldn’t begin to imagine her in a small country town. She’d cornered the market in exotic city girl. She was like a hothouse flower—temperamental, high maintenance—and the outback was no place for hothouse flowers.
Women had to be more like forage sorghum. Durable and tough. And although Lola was tough and independent in many ways, there was something indefinably urban about her.
‘I don’t know whether you know this or not, but you’re a bit of catch, Hamish Gibson. Good looking even, though it pains me to admit it. Don’t you think so, Marcus?’
Grace smiled at her fiancé, a teasing light in her eyes. ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, his expression totally deadpan. ‘I was just saying that very thing to Lola the other day.’
Lola.
It seemed the universe was doing its best to keep her on his mind. ‘And did she agree?’ Hamish was pretty sure Marcus was just making it up to indulge his sister but, hell, if they’d had a conversation about him, then Hamish wanted to know!
‘Of course she’d agree,’ Grace said immediately. ‘Lola can pick good looking out of a Sydney New Year’s Eve crowd blindfolded.’
Hamish grinned at his sister. ‘I’ll have to remember that this New Year.’
Something in Hamish’s voice must have pinged on his sister’s radar. Apparently she wasn’t tipsy enough to dull that sucker. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze zeroed in on him. ‘No, Hamish.’
‘What?’ Hamish spread his hands in an innocent gesture.
‘You and Lola would not be good for each other.’
Hamish grabbed his chest as if she’d wounded him. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re too alike. You’re both flirts. You like the conquest but suck at any follow-through. You have to livetogether for two months, Hamish. That’s a lot of awkward breakfasts. And I don’t want to be caught in the middle between you two or have my friendship with Lola jeopardised because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.’
Hamish didn’t think Lola would be the one who’d get burned in a relationship between the two of them. He at least was open to the idea of relationships—she, on the other hand, was not. He glanced at his soon-to-be brother-in-law. ‘Help me out here, man.’
Marcus laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re on your own, buddy.’
‘C’mon, dude. Solidarity.’
Grace shook her head at her brother. ‘In an hour I’m going to take my fiancé to bed and do bad things to him. You think he’s going to side with you?’
Hamish glanced at a clearly besotted Marcus, who was smiling at Grace like the sun rose and set with her, and a wave of hot green jealousy swamped his chest. He wanted that. What his sister had found with Marcus.
Contrary to apparent popular opinion, he’d never been opposed to settling down. He just hadn’t found the right woman. For ever was, after all, a long time! But watching these two together...
They were the perfect advertisement for happily ever after.
Once upon a time the idea of eternal monogamy would have sent him running for the hills but these two sure knew how to sell it.
‘Okay. Well, that was TMI.’ He gave the lovebirds an exaggerated grimace. ‘And is definitely my cue to go.’
