Читать книгу The War Hero's Locked-Away Heart - Louisa George, Louisa George - Страница 10

THREE days into the job and Adam had started to get twitchy. The view of the inside of the ambulance station was getting old. He eased the muscles in his shoulders, stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles. ‘At what point do I actually get on the road and do something?’

‘Today’s your lucky day.’ Dan opened the ambulance cab door and climbed in. ‘The paperwork’s over, and your induction complete. Once we’ve finished the checks we’re good to go.’

‘Great. Bring it on.’ Adam exhaled deeply, finished his supply checks and stared at the cab radio, willing it to spring into life. Not that he was itching to get his hands on sick people, more that he needed something to keep his mind occupied. It had been too long since he’d done anything useful. Four long years in a jittery guilt-fuelled wilderness. Until he’d realised that feeling sorry for himself didn’t honour the memory of the people he’d lost. That action eased the pain of survival.

And being busy would keep his mind off dark, steamy eyes and tantalising curves. Starting the job for real would focus him on his true intent: getting on with the rest of his life. At least he could. There were others less lucky. He owed those not here any more a grab at a decent life, when theirs had been ripped away.

‘Here we go.’ Dan flicked the receiver as a crackly call came through. ‘Your wish is my command.’ He waited until Adam belted in then started the vehicle. ‘Eighty-four-year-old female with shortness of breath. We’re about twenty minutes away.’

‘Twenty minutes for an SOB?’ Adam bit back a surge of frustration. ‘How sick is she going to be when we finally reach her?’

‘Most of our time is spent getting to and from the patients and then to and from the hospital. The first responder gets there first, if they’re available, and gives us a call if we’re needed. That’s country medicine for you. We do the best we can. Anything too serious gets choppered to Auckland. Hold on.’ Dan revved up the engine and pulled away from the ambulance station.

Adam nodded. ‘This is going to take a bit of getting used to.’

‘Hardly front-line stuff here. Hope you don’t find it too slow?’

‘I’m looking for slow. Slow’s good.’ There had been times when he wouldn’t have cared. Slow. Fast. Live. Die. But he’d dragged himself back from that bleak darkness and was determined to leave the past alone. Slow seemed a pretty good start. Slow meant he could take in his surroundings, appreciate the beauty of now. Try to live in the moment. ‘I needed a change of scenery. Driving around this countryside is good for my soul.’

‘You’ve got to admit it’s a cool place to live.’ Dan pointed to the undulating, bush-clad hills and the deep turquoise ocean as they passed yet another secluded deserted cove. ‘Such awesome views. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. Must make a change to the army?’

‘Yeah.’ Adam chewed his cheek as his gut kicked. As soon as anyone ever mentioned the army he was bombarded with questions. Inevitable, really. But civilians only thought of the danger and the guns. They couldn’t understand how hard it was to talk about what he’d seen. What he’d done. What he needed to leave behind. If only it was that easy. His past had a nasty habit of creeping up on him, in the middle of the night usually, snatching away sleep and leaving him ice cold.

Dan glanced over and Adam waited for the inevitable. He didn’t have to wait long. ‘You seen any real action?’

‘Sure. Plenty.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘I was deployed in the hotspots—Iraq, Afghanistan, the places you’ve heard about but you won’t be getting a postcard from any time soon. Then I was in Timor-Leste just before …’ He paused. Closed down the memories. ‘Before I left.’

Dan shot him a look that said I won’t ask.

Adam was grateful for the reprieve, although he did think briefly about explaining. But, hell, he’d decided that the sooner he stopped thinking about what had happened, the sooner he’d be able to move on in his life.

The ambulance sped down the highway past the Atanga Bay turn-off. He craned his neck to look for the bright yellow medical centre. And some hint of Skye. Then realised he was being stupid.

What did he need with Little Miss Happy with a passport burning a hole in her pocket? Getting involved with her would be a quick path to disaster.

But he couldn’t deny an attraction had been there. Something had stirred in him that he’d thought was forever dormant. Thought he’d seen it in her eyes too.

So it was definitely not something to pursue.

He didn’t believe in some saccharin, happy-ever-after fairy-tale dream. Not after the failure of his marriage. Not when the scars of his fallen brothers criss-crossed his heart.

Stop. His hands fisted against his seat as he reaffirmed his resolve to look forward. Looking back never achieved anything but emotional whiplash.

He focused instead on the grand colonial buildings flanking the road, the flower-festooned gardens and the acres of fields stretching out east and west from the main road. A far cry from war-torn cities with bullet-pocked buildings and the smell of death.

He sucked in sea-scented fresh air and watched palm trees sway in the gentle breeze. Living here would definitely be the tonic he’d been searching for. Once the local practice nurse had gone and his equilibrium was restored.

One SOB, a broken femur and a road traffic accident later, Adam found himself in front of Atanga Bay surgery. Confused, he turned to Dan. ‘You got lost, mate? The station’s back that way.’

His colleague shrugged. ‘I just have a quick social call to make. Come in? I’ll introduce you to the gang. It’ll serve you well to get to know the local medical centres and it’s a home from home here.’

Adam paused, his refusal hovering on his lips. The last few years on the move had taught him that life was easier if he kept his head down and himself to himself. People wanted to know too much, expected him to give too much.

But Dan waited with an eyebrow cocked. As a newbie to the service, turning him down would look strange. ‘Sure.’

‘Hi, Dan! Adam.’

Of course Skye was there. Standing in Reception as they walked in, a stethoscope hung from her neck. The dark navy uniform gave her the appearance of the true professional Adam knew she was. He got a whiff of perfume. Something with vanilla. Subtle. An uplifting fragrance that matched her demeanour. Intoxicating. And way off limits.

‘Coffee’s in the percolator. There’s freshly made flapjacks in the tartan tin. Go on. You know you want to.’ She beamed up at them both and then focused on Adam. ‘Hardly recognised you with your clothes on.’

He swallowed deeply. This is work. Be friendly. Make an effort when others can’t. ‘Thought I should wear something for the day job. Didn’t want to give the patients apoplexy.’ Heat prickled the back of his neck. He ran his fingers over the knots there as if easing out the tension would help with the knot in his gut. No chance.

Her pupils flared as she spoke, warm and welcoming. ‘Dan will show you the way to our sparkly new staff kitchen. If you’re ever passing by, you must pop in, we run an open house here. I’ll be with you in a jiffy. Just got a quick blood pressure to check.’

‘I’d forgotten you two had met the other day. Great nurse, even better cook.’ Dan opened the tin of flapjacks and the air was filled with the aroma of golden syrup and butter. Home cooking. Not something Adam had had much on the road. His mouth watered.

And either Dan wasn’t used to home baking either, or he was just darned hungry, judging by the two pieces he had in his hand. ‘Quite a quirky character is our Skye. All hard on the exterior, and soft and gooey on the inside. A bit like these flapjacks, really. If you ask me, all that dark makeup’s just an act. She just wants to give men the stand-off.’

‘Oh?’ Those black-rimmed eyes hadn’t given him the stand-off, not when they’d stalked through his daydreams. No matter how much he’d tried to stop them.

Adam’s stomach growled as he bit down into the oaty slice. A blast of sugar made his cheeks hurt. ‘But why would she do that?’

‘History, mate. Some bloke in Auckland broke her heart. She’s sworn off men. Shame.’

Intrigued, Adam suddenly wanted to know more. Who? Why? And a dozen or so other things he found himself questioning about her. But gossip wasn’t his style. And neither was traipsing through someone else’s history. His brain worked to shut down his interest. All he wanted was a job he loved, a place of his own and not to get involved with anyone again. In any way. Anyhow.

‘Good, you found it.’ She flew into the room and greeted them with a flash of perfect white teeth. A regular ray of sunshine. Hell, if her smile got any brighter, he’d need to wear shades.

Having poured herself a coffee, she leaned against the sink next to Dan. ‘So, Dan, you still okay for tonight?’

His colleague shifted uncomfortably and Adam’s interest was piqued. A date?

Dan put his hand on Skye’s shoulder and she turned to him. From this vantage point Adam watched her in profile. Long black eyelashes accentuated those huge eyes. The glint as the jewel in her nose caught the light. The swell of her full breasts. And always that wide-open smile that welcomed everyone in.

Adam felt a stirring in his gut of something he’d long forgotten. And this while she was talking about a date? With his new colleague? He stomped on his instinctive reactions. Inappropriate.

‘No. That’s why I’m here. I can’t make it.’ Dan looked sheepish. ‘I’m really sorry, Skye. I didn’t mean to let you down.’

‘But you promised, Dan. We’re down to two now. Just me and Connor. Mim can’t do it because she’s way too big. She gets uncomfortable if she can’t move around.’ She shook her head and Adam glimpsed a frown. ‘So, there’ll only be two of us. That’s not going to work, is it? We need at least three or we might as well give up. The medical team needs you. It’s all falling apart.’

Judging by the seriousness of their tone it was imperative that someone step up. Clearly someone with medical skills. Never one to back down from the call of duty, Adam coughed. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Genius! Of course. You could do it. We need to train someone up for when I’ve gone anyway.’ Putting her hand on his arm, she sat down on the couch next to him. She winked at Dan then turned back. She laughed and leaned in. From this angle Adam caught a glimpse of pale skin and red lace. Interesting. So not everything about her was encased in monochrome, and when she did colour it was seriously appealing.

‘I only hope you’re up to the job, though, Adam. It’s a tough call. High pressure. Are you man enough?’

‘He knows about guns and all that stuff,’ Dan interjected. ‘He’s good on the van, knows his medicine. But I can’t vouch for his knowledge and skills in other areas. You know—’

‘What the hell am I getting myself into?’ Adam dragged his eyes away from the distraction. Sat up straight.

His heart thudded as he glanced between the two of them. The seriousness had dissipated and he had the distinct impression he was being taken for a ride. ‘Are you two winding me up? Is this some kind of initiation process, like in my new recruit days?’

‘Oh? Tell all.’ Her eyes widened.

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Another time maybe?’ She sipped her coffee and held his gaze for a second. Another. Then another. A flimsy invisible thread held them locked together. He knew he shouldn’t stare at her. But he couldn’t help it. Something about her bright sunny smile called to a dark corner of his soul. Soothed it. Healed it slightly. Which was a stupid notion, he knew. How could a smile heal?

Then she shook her head. ‘It’s not a wind-up. Far from it. It’s a matter of honour. And I guess you’d be good at that, being a soldier.’ Did he imagine it? Did her eyes linger for a moment on his scar?

‘I doubt it.’ He shrugged. Ran a hand across his cheek and tried to cover the slice in his face, the permanent reminder of all he’d lost. Monica hadn’t been able to look at his scar. She’d winced and turned her face away too many times. He’d believed it had reminded her of the man that had left and the shell she’d got in return.

But Skye just seemed interested in it.

Her eyes flitted away from his face and she clasped her hands in her lap. ‘We’re defending our eight-week championship run. Pub quiz. We’re the Mad Medics.’

‘The Mad …?’ He shook his head. He’d been had. More people, faces, noise. More trying hard to fit in. More dodging intimacy like bullets. But he’d stepped right into the trap and couldn’t back out now.

‘Tonight. Eight o’clock.’ She stood and beamed again. ‘You just got yourself on the team.’

‘You’re looking very glam for a pub quiz. Hoping to dazzle the opposition into surrender? Or is it … something else? For someone else?’ Connor placed a pinot gris in front of Skye and sat next to her at the small round table they’d reserved. For three. Only the third member hadn’t arrived yet. Was Adam going to turn up? He’d looked dubious earlier when she’d sprung it on him.

‘Oh, this old thing? It’s nothing special.’ She fiddled with the lace on her black top. One of the few items she’d bought on her last trip to Auckland. For ever ago. Something for a special night out. Not that they ever happened in Atanga Bay. In the dim light of her bedroom it had looked okay. It went well with her black skinny jeans. ‘Too fancy? Over the top?’

‘No. It’s fine. Crikey, haven’t seen you so wound up for ages.’

‘I’m not wound up. I just thought I’d make an effort for the team. No harm in that.’ Plus the waxing, plucking to within an inch of her life, shaving, exfoliating, mud wrap. All for a darned pub quiz. She’d clearly lost her mind. She pressed a hand to her cheek, hating being the focus of attention. She’d endured too much condemnation of her appearance in the past. ‘And don’t be ridiculous. Since when did I dress up for anyone? I gave that useless malarkey up years ago.’

After Brian, her ex, had told her over and over that no man would ever find her attractive, so why should she bother?

Not worthy of commitment. And the insecure fool that she’d been had believed him. Put up with years of abuse because she hadn’t believed she deserved better. But with a mother who cowered at the hands of her husband and a lifetime of putting her own needs after everyone else’s, it had taken Skye a long time to reclaim her self-esteem and identity.

So, why the heck had she got herself decked up in lace?

She didn’t want to answer that, but she hadn’t imagined the way Adam had looked at her at the beach. The warmth in his eyes, even if for a second. The same warmth mirrored in her eyes. There had been a connection there, she was sure. Or was that some kind of ill-judged wishful thinking? And all of that had fed her choice of clothing—subconscious or not.

She ran her palms over her arms and bit her top lip, trying to scrape off as much lipstick as she could. He wouldn’t notice. And it didn’t matter anyway, a relationship so close to her leaving would be far too complicated. And she wasn’t doing that again. Complicated came with a hefty dose of hurt.

‘I just thought, seeing as you’ve been talking non-stop about the newest member of the ambulance service … how he powered through the waves like a superhero.’ Connor fluttered his eyelashes and pretended to swoon. ‘How he saved poor Lukas from drowning. How he’s been in the army …’

‘Shut it. Last warning or time out.’ She smiled through gritted teeth. Was she that transparent? Her eyes flitted to the door. Again. ‘Besides, he didn’t look like he wanted to come. I should have asked Sean or Stevie to fill in instead.’

‘No disrespect, but your baby brothers have a combined IQ in single figures. From what I hear about Adam, he’s a little more cerebral than that.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

Way more, actually. And brooding. And strangely compelling to look at. With a voice that carried echoes of sadness. And softness. And strength.

She took a large slug of her wine to refocus before she got completely carried away. He was just a guy.

She knew more about them than most, having three brothers—who were simultaneously infuriating and adorable.

And her ratbag of a stepfather, and Brian, the married sleazebag. Between the two of them, they had taught her that love was made up of hurt, lies and empty promises. And not for her.

Especially not now she had three weeks and one day until that plane lifted off.

‘Hi. Sorry I’m late.’ The just-a-guy appeared in front of them, dressed casually in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. He slung his leather jacket onto the back of the chair and nodded at her, his lips a straight line, his eyes guarded. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world other than a small country pub filled with laughter and friendly faces.

Edgy and dangerous and about as far away from any man she’d ever been with, or had wanted to be with before, but everything about him resonated deep inside her.

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. ‘Adam. Hi. Thought you might have had second thoughts.’

‘Got a code two just before I clocked off.’ Adam shrugged and glanced at Connor warily. ‘That’s a …’

‘Serious threat to life,’ Skye translated. ‘This is Connor. He’s one of the GPs at the surgery. The non-pregnant one, clearly. Connor, this is Adam. New paramedic about town.’

‘Good to meet you.’ Adam shook hands, then took his wallet out.

Connor scraped his chair back and stood. ‘No. My round. By way of thanks for filling in at the last minute. You stay here and save the seats. And watch my phone—Mim’s going to call if she needs me.’

‘She’s due any day now,’ Skye explained. ‘Sorry … what were you saying?’

‘That it was an unlucky break, getting a last-minute callout.’ Adam took the seat across from her, leaving an acre of space between them. He straightened the beermat in line with the edge of the table. Looked everywhere apart from at her face. ‘I guessed everyone would know what a code two was. Being Mad Medics.’

‘Sorry, did I butt in? It’s a bad habit.’ Her cheeks burned. She mentally banged her head against the table. ‘My brothers complain because I have a tendency to—’

‘Finish their sentences?’ His chin jutted upwards. No other muscles moved. Army training, she guessed. A man in control. He had a stillness that unnerved her, where she danced around and fidgeted. Adam was the kind of man who dominated a room, the one you didn’t want to take your eyes off. Not that she could if she tried.

‘Annoying habit, I know.’

‘You’d better tell me how this quiz works. What’s the strategic plan?’ He scanned the groups dotted around the lounge. The aroma of male with a hint of something exotic—cinnamon perhaps—hit her as he leaned close. ‘And who’s the enemy?’

‘Right, er, Sergeant? Corporal? I hope you don’t expect military precision because you’re going to be sorely disappointed.’ She showed him the quiz sheets in front of her. ‘Eight rounds, ten questions each round. Music, geography, current affairs, you know the score. It’s more a case of luck than judgement. Or skill. Or even knowledge really.’

‘I’ll fit in, then.’ His eyebrows rose, creasing the scar down his cheek into tiny broken lines. From here it looked well healed. Obviously old. But it would have been deep, painful. She wanted to reach out and trace it. Stupid idea.

She wanted to ask him about it too, but realised she didn’t know him enough to pry about his injuries. ‘So were you a captain, or a private, or what?’

‘Staff sergeant medic.’ His shoulders squared and his jaw twitched a little. The pale trace of light in his eyes diminished. The shutters came down.

She sensed something tragic had happened to him. She understood, knew how bruised the heart and soul could get. Maybe his abruptness wasn’t lack of social grace, maybe it stemmed from something deeper.

There she was with the amateur psychology again. Still, when faced with pain and lies, she’d read as many self-help books as she could get through.

‘I’m sorry if I seem nosy. Rearing three teenagers consisted of too many questions and never enough answers.’ She flashed him a smile and hoped she could drag him out of whatever sombre place she’d put him with her stupid line of questioning. ‘You know what boys are like, I imagine. There’s enough of them in the army, eh?’

‘Yeah.’ His shoulders tensed. He glanced over to the bar and seemed to relax at the sight of Connor returning with the beer. Either he had a mighty thirst or he wasn’t comfortable chatting with her alone.

She ran her finger round the rim of her glass and gave him her best smile. Trying to work out exactly what she felt for this just-a-guy. She came up with confused. He’d been relaxed with Dan, chatty with Lukas … but with her he gave little away. Other than that brief connection at the beach, he was a stranger to her.

She didn’t want to get closer to him. But she sure as heck wanted to make him smile. His eyes spoke of too much pain.

Story of her life, really. Finding waifs and strays. Trying to make people smile. Putting their needs before hers. Giving up her dreams.

She dragged her eyes away from him and prayed the quiz would start soon to distract her from her wayward emotions, her wired libido and the strange effect of Adam Miller on her sensibilities.