The Nurse's Special Delivery. Louisa George. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Louisa George
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474051927
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A shared day, shared joke, shared rescue. There was always a bit of a connection after that. ‘Interesting.’

      ‘You left this on the desk, I thought you might want to keep it safe.’ Steph handed her an ultrasound picture. He was no expert, but it looked like an antenatal one. Yep—even from here he could make out the shape of a baby.

      She’s having a baby.

      ‘Thank you. Yes. Oh, goodness. My scan.’ Abbie’s eyes were filled with pride that gave Cal a strange jolt in his gut.

      Steph ambled on chatting as white noise filled his head. ‘Thought of any names yet? Did you ask about the gender?’

      ‘No. We’re going to wait. It’s exciting, though. I can’t believe that by Christmas there’s going to be a baby here.

      She’s having a baby.

      A bairn.

      His overprotective gene fired into action. Finn would have laughed as usual and told him to back right off, but Cal couldn’t help it. This was serious. He waited until Steph had gone, then, ‘You didn’t tell me you were pregnant. Up there. In the snow. You fell over. I let you carry a heavy weight. Why did you let me think you were okay?’

      ‘I am okay. I’m fine, actually. Honestly.’ She didn’t even look a little contrite. What a dangerous game she’d been playing. And he shouldn’t care, not at all, but for some reason he was firing on all protection cylinders today.

      Maybe he was missing Finn. Missing the opportunity to care and be useful. To fuss and smother, as Finn would say.

      ‘You carried that scoop, which would have put a strain on your whole body, and you hurt your side. You were wincing and it’s obvious you still have some pain.’

      She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing, just a pulled muscle. Really, I’m fine.’

      Yeah, he’d heard that before. When his brother wanted him to believe everything was okay. It hadn’t been. It had been far from okay. He wasn’t buying it. He stood up. ‘I want you to get looked over. I’m not listening to any excuses...you need to be checked out. An ultrasound or something.’

      ‘Who are you? My mother?’ But she was smiling. Smiling and moving and dancing. Really? He knew she was committed to someone else. Married, for God’s sake. He needed his head looking at.

      ‘I’m just concerned, Abbie. You could have hurt—’

      ‘My baby?’ she cut in, laughing. ‘Don’t worry, Callum. My baby is...’ she nodded towards a pregnant woman walking towards them ‘...over there.’

      What?

      He did the maths, joined the dots, put all the jigsaw pieces into place.

      Ah.

      How could he have got it so wrong? His gay radar wasn’t working today. ‘Oh. I see. Your partner’s having your baby... Your wife?’

      She rubbed her fingers over her wedding ring and laughed. ‘You really have got it so wrong, I can’t begin to tell you. But I’ve got to go. I’ve a very important coffee date. Thanks for warming me up.’ Then she paused, blushed, her eyes meeting his in a very heterosexual kind of way. He could see something there that was just for him—a softening, a little bit of playfulness, a very timid flirt. Or was there? Was he going mad? There was definitely a connection here he just did not understand. She shook her head, dragging her gaze from his. ‘I mean... Well...thanks.’

       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