Her gaze bore into mine. Her eyes so blue they were almost electric in the dim lighting.
Like she was out to prove that I underestimated her at every turn, she said, “I want to know why. If you want my help, I’m going to need something real from you.”
Something real?Had I not exposed my failings enough? I’d already told her more than I would willingly admit to anyone else.
Panic seized my chest.
I was always in complete control of my body, but as I scrubbed a nervous hand over the back of my neck, suddenly I felt like a yo-yo flung so far the string had snapped. Was I really going to trust her with this?
“I’m selling the surgery.” I stared at my darkened cottage as I spoke. “That’s why the patient feedback scores are so important. As soon as I find a suitable replacement, I’m out of here.”
The silence stretched. “But everything you said – about being near your family—”
“All true.”
“Then why?”
“Because I left my life in Glasgow. And when I make senior partner, I want to have earned it myself.” Not exactly true – but true enough. It was the easy answer. Not the one where I admitted I was thinking of quitting medicine altogether.
I waited for her censure. Her mockery. But from the corner of my eye I caught her nod, like I’d given her my grocery list. “I’ll think about it.”
She’d think about it. After all that. Fuck, I didn’t have it in me to argue.
“How long?”
“A couple of days.”
That was too long. “Tell me tomorrow.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Then why even ask?”
“You hate being bossed around; I’m trying to display good partnership skills.”
“You might want to work on that.” She pushed the door fully open and jumped down from the seat. “Goodnight, Alistair.”
I tried not to stare as she walked to her front door, her insane curves highlighted by those ridiculous jeans.
Fuck. This was a bad idea.
But I was set on this course. So much so that, as I dried off after my shower later that evening, I sent a quick text.I need a favour.
I was pulling on shorts when Heather replied.Is it a kidney? Answer’s no because you never text me back.
I need Isla’s number,I replied.
Gross. Do I even want to know what’s going on with you two? One minute she can’t stand you, the next you’re on your knees at the committee meeting.
Probably not.
Isla’s number appeared a second later. I saved it to my contacts, then messaged her,Made a decision yet?
I heard the ping through the wall beside my bed, over the sound of a soft guitar solo.
My gut clenched. Was her bed also pushed against the paper-thin wall? I had the strangest urge to press my hand to it. Then my phone vibrated.My mum told me not to talk to strange men.
It’s Alistair.
Proof please.
