Читать книгу The Nurse's Special Delivery - Louisa George, Louisa George - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

COULD I HAVE been any more tongue-tied? Eurgh.

It had been three days since she’d had that strange afternoon with Callum, and every time Abbie thought about it she cringed and blushed. Even when she was on her own.

She should have been upfront with him but she’d been cold and tired and excited about the baby and...flustered.

The man made her flustered.

Which was why she’d decided to go for a run—to purge those feelings, all of them, from her system. God knew she had enough on her mind without trying to work out why a man was making her lost for words.

It was the shoulder season, but in Queenstown that still meant a lot of visitors filling the buzzing town centre. A coach pulled up lakeside, spilling passengers for the TSS Earnslaw steamship cruise. The tourists, all rugged up in matching waterproofs and chattering excitedly, weren’t looking where they were going, so Abbie had to zigzag round them.

‘On your left,’ she called out, hoping they’d move for a slightly uncoordinated runner. She could hardly blame them for being excited, though; the sun was out in the cloudless sky and it finally felt like spring. Although, that could easily change.

Not accidentally photo-bombing or running into the crowds was difficult and Abbie craved some quiet thinking time, so she headed along past the gardens and out onto the lakeside bike trail.

For a few kilometres or so she shared the track with cyclists and other runners, but eventually she was on her own, breathing hard and trying not to trip over wayward tree roots and little rocks sticking up at irregular intervals as she navigated through bush.

Eventually, she found her rhythm, blissfully unaware of anything else but her feet hitting the ground, the rustle of the trees, birdsong. Then, the bit she liked best of all—the trail opening up from bush to a wide track, and the view of the lake, which, as always, took her breath away.

Up ahead there was a figure sitting on a bench. Great place to smell the roses, if you had the time. Sitting didn’t do a lot for Abbie. Ever since Michael died she’d been running, exercising, anything to get rid of the excess energy that seemed to spiral through her. Anxiety didn’t hang around when her lungs were pumping nineteen to the dozen. Endorphins worked too. Happy hormones—she needed them. Especially now.

As she closed in she heard talking. Bench Man was on the phone.

‘What d’ya mean, you’ve been out on The Cairnwell? For God’s sake, Finn, will you listen to me—? I don’t care if it’s the easiest one. You will not go there again, d’you hear me?’

Cal?

Just when she’d thought her heart couldn’t beat any faster it sped up even more. She slowed right down. Even though she was feeling guilty about playing him along, now clearly wasn’t the right time to fix things. He had no clue he was being watched and she felt a worm of discomfort twist in her tummy. If she entered the clearing he’d see her; right now she was camouflaged by the trees. But it felt as if she was eavesdropping on a very private conversation.

‘Aye, well, I’m sorry about that. Did you take your meds?’

He was facing away from her, his back rigid. Shoulder muscles she hadn’t seen the other day due to his hi-vis were well defined...taut. He was wearing sports gear too—a loose-fitting singlet and shorts. Running?

‘Why the hell not? Well, you’d better start. Things are going to change when I get back. And how.’

He flicked his phone into his pocket and stood, staring out across the water, every sinew tense.

Now she didn’t know what to do. Run? Walk? Say something? Nothing? Turn around and go home? Was he going to come towards her, or race off in front?

But he bent for a moment, lifting his foot onto the bench and checking his laces. If he turned his head even the tiniest fraction he’d see her. She’d be caught watching him. So not a good idea.

He looked the other way, along the path.

Now was her chance. She ducked out from behind the trees and sped along the trail.

‘Race you!’ she called as she overtook him.

What the hell...? Where had that come from? Her mouth had a mind of its own—and it was a little out of control. Damned endorphins must have kicked in early today.

‘What?’ He jumped at her voice, did a double take. ‘Do I know—?’

‘Come on.’ Then, for some reason she didn’t understand, she turned around and jogged backwards, slowly, until he caught her up. She threw him a gauntlet. ‘Going to the bridge? I can give you a head start if you need it?’

‘Abbie?’ His gaze skimmed her body—for the first time ever she felt unbearably underdressed in full-length running tights and a razor-back top. And suddenly very hot. But then, she had been running. His amazing eyes met hers and he grinned. Not the faintest hint of breathlessness anywhere in him. ‘Well, wow. Unexpected. Hello.’

‘I can hang back, let you go ahead if you need to.’

The irritation she’d seen in him while on the phone disappeared and he laughed. ‘Not necessary. Challenge accepted.’

‘To the bridge?’

‘Seriously?’

There was a moment when she almost felt sorry for him. ‘You underestimate me at your peril.’

Then there was no more talking.

They were evenly matched...at least, at first. She met him stride for stride and only when the path narrowed did she fall behind a little. All the better to get another view of those amazing muscles. He was either a climber, or he worked out. No one had that kind of upper-body strength just by lifting gurneys.

But when he sensed her close behind him he pulled sharply to the right to let her join him again. The bridge was in sight. She let him think she was going to let the friendly camaraderie continue, then, with fifty metres to go, she sprinted out. Hard. Fast.

He got there at the same time. Laughing, reaching for the stone wall to tag. ‘Well, you’re fast, that’s for sure.’

She decided not to tell him her reasons for running these days. Some things should be kept private. Besides, she could barely manage words. She hauled gulp after gulp of air as she bent over, hands on knees. ‘Ran for...Otago. Back...in...the day. School...cross-country champion.’

‘What? Like, last year?’

‘Over ten years ago.’ She pulled up, hands on hips. ‘I know, I know, everyone always says I look young...but I’m as old as Methuselah really. Twenty-nine. Believe me... I’ve lived a little.’

‘Ach, the wild child of Queenstown?’

Hardly. She’d been married at twenty-three. Felt ancient at twenty-five when she’d unexpectedly hit most of the ageing milestones far too soon—a married woman and then a widow. Sadly, the family bit had passed her by. ‘Not quite. Let’s just say, it’s been an interesting ride.’

Without discussing where they were headed they started to walk back towards Queenstown centre. Yes, she could easily have run, but she didn’t want to tire the poor thing out. ‘And you? A wild child of...?’

‘Duncraggen.’ He tipped his head back and laughed. ‘The only thing that’s wild up there is the weather. Oh, and the sheep.’

‘Where’s that? Dun...crabbing?’

‘The very tip of Loch Lomond, a tiny wee village near Inverarnan. Not a lot about it, really.’

‘So Queenstown must be the big scary metropolis, then?’

‘I did live in Edinburgh for a while. And I have travelled a fair bit...in my youth.’ He made a creaking sound. ‘But now, young whippersnapper, I’m over the hill.’

‘Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself.’ Where was this coming from? It felt natural to joke with him. ‘You don’t look a day over seventy.’

‘Cheeky.’ He threw her a sideways look and she could see laughter in his eyes. It was so nice to see that. A man who didn’t take himself too seriously.