It was the sensible Friday shift. The late shift won’t have it so easy.’
He headed for the kitchen. ‘Tea or coffee? I bought a kettle and some mugs and stuff.’
‘Tea, please.’
He felt her watching him dunking tea bags, pouring milk, his hands covered in paint. There was some in his hair, too, he’d noticed. He was going to have to do some serious scrubbing to get it off by Monday.
‘So how was work?’ he asked, handing her the mug. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Not really, a few sporting and gardening injuries, the odd fall, but nothing nasty, just busy.’
He thought of his average day with MFA and laughed. ‘I’ll take that.’
‘I guessed you would. Bit of a change from what you’ve been doing.’
‘Yeah.’ He put away the memories and conjured up a smile. ‘Here—let’s go in the garden. I found a bench. It’s a bit wobbly, but it should be OK if we sit down carefully.’
He scooped up a packet of biscuits and she followed him through the dining room and the tired conservatory into the garden.
She eyed the bench dubiously as it creaked under his weight. ‘I think I’ll sit here,’ she said, taking a biscuit and perching on the edge of the steps that led up to the garden from the patio. Well, patio was a bit of a stretch. Some uneven crazy paving, but it was somewhere to put a table and chairs.
‘It’s a pretty garden.’
He snorted, but she stuck to her guns. ‘It is! Look at the perennials in the border.’
‘I see them. I also see the weeds, and the foot-high grass, and the fence that’s making a bid for freedom. I don’t think this place has had any maintenance in living memory but hey, it’ll give me something to do in my time off. That’ll be a bit of a luxury.’
‘Time off?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, you don’t get a lot of that in the field. You only do three months at a time, but it’s pretty full on.’ He fell silent, his thoughts obviously miles away, and she wondered what he was seeing. Probably just as well not to know.
‘Here, have another biscuit before I eat them all.’
He got up to hand her the packet, and as he pushed himself up the bench creaked again and slid over sideways into a heap.
She laughed. She tried not to, but his face was a picture and she dissolved into giggles.
‘How is that funny?’ he asked, but his lips were twitching and seconds later he was sitting beside her on the steps, clutching his stomach and laughing just as helplessly as her.
‘Maybe you need to invest in some new garden furniture,’ she suggested when she could speak again, and he nodded.
‘Maybe. Or I can sit here and study the windows. They really need replacing.’
‘Buy a new bench. It’s cheaper than the windows and you don’t own the house.’
‘No, I don’t. Not yet.’
Yet? She turned and met his eyes.
‘Yet?’
‘It’s possibly for sale.’
‘But—you’re a locum! Why would you buy it?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t, unless I was going to be living here long term.’ He paused, looked away, then looked back, his eyes searching hers. ‘I think I want to apply for the permanent job.’
She wasn’t expecting that, not so soon, not before he’d even started work there, but realistically what was there to know? He’d met James and a few of the others, he knew her, he knew he loved the town—what more was there?
Nothing—except her, and her feelings, and if he’d asked her what they were she’d be hard pushed to tell him, because after seeing him with Grace’s heart last night they were even more confused. She looked away.
‘I’d give it a few days before you decide. You might hate it.’
‘Unlikely, and I can always withdraw my application if I want to.’
‘Withdraw it?’ She laughed. ‘You seriously think James wouldn’t talk you out of doing that?’
‘I know he wouldn’t. Not if I don’t want to be talked out of it. If you don’t want me here, Beth, I’ll go, no matter how much James wants me to stay.’
She searched his eyes, read the sincerity in them, the concern for her welfare. And then she thought of the little silver heart that had fitted so perfectly in the palm of his hand…
She wanted him to stay.
It was the last thing she’d expected to feel and she had no idea where it had come from, but it hit like a lightning bolt, and she sucked in a breath and got to her feet.
‘Let’s just see,’ she said, tipping out the dregs of her tea onto the weedy grass behind her. ‘So—what’s next?’
‘My bedroom. I’m picking up my clothes and other stuff from my mother’s on Sunday, and I can borrow her airbed.’
‘Airbed?’ She turned and stared at him. ‘Ry, there’s no hurry. You can stay with me as long as you want.’
He shook his head. ‘No. I’ve put you out quite enough, Beth. I’ll stay tonight and tomorrow, but then I’ll be here.’
‘But—you’ve got no furniture. It’s a bit basic,’ she murmured, but he just laughed.
‘Basic? Having a roof is a luxury in some of the places I’ve been. Trust me, this is a palace. I’ve got a new bed and sofa coming on Monday evening. I’ll be fine.’
‘If you say so.’ She shrugged, not quite believing him, and headed back into the house, wondering if she should feel hurt that he didn’t want to stay, and telling herself not to be stupid. He’d always been independent and she wasn’t going to change him. ‘How about I get stuck in and clean the rest while you do the bedroom, then?’
They stopped at eight because the light was failing and they were both tired, but his bedroom was painted and the kitchen, cloakroom and both bathrooms were gleaming and she’d started on the windows.
He waited till she’d finished the pane she was working on, then took the cloth out of her hand. ‘Come on, it’s late, and you’re working tomorrow. Why don’t we pick up a takeaway?’
She gave him a tired smile. ‘That sounds great. How does the bedroom look?’
‘Bigger,
