brief moment. ‘OK, it’s a deal.’ He tipped over the wooden trestle and grabbed the old metal supports, his broad palm wrapping deftly around them.
Kirby had a sudden image of a leather tool belt sitting flat across his washboard abdomen and him fixing all her sticking sash windows. Stay focussed. He’s a doctor, not a handyman.
‘Excellent.’ She passed him boxes and watched him stack them as if they were a mathematical problem. ‘How long have you been in Port?’
‘Technically, I’m not in Port because I don’t live here.’ He slid the long trestle into the ute.
Kirby’s gut went into freefall. With his vegetable selling she’d assumed he lived here. Her plan depended on him living close by.
He paused in his stacking and extended a muscular arm out toward the mountainous rainforest area behind the town. ‘My property’s Riversleigh, thirty K out, near Sheep-wash Corner.’
Her gut steadied. She was still in the game—just. Sheep-wash Corner was pretty isolated, even more out of the way than Port. Nick Dennison hadn’t just left Melbourne for Sleepy Hollow, he’d gone bush, a tree-change. But why? The situation got even more intriguing. ‘How long have you lived out there?’
His cheerful open face suddenly closed, and the dimples in his cheeks smoothed over. ‘Four months.’
He handed her one end of a tarpaulin. ‘What about you?’
She caught the deft change, the power switch in the conversation, and she pulled the tarp tight, just like her mother had taught her as a child when she folded sheets. He didn’t want to talk about why he was here. ‘I’ve been here since the start of the month.’ She walked up to him to match her corners to his.
‘Is this a long-term plan for you?’ His fingers slid over hers as he moved to accept the tarp.
The sharp tingle of sensation almost made her drop her corners and she found herself gripping them instead of releasing them into his hands. The moment she let go, she flexed her fingers, willing the shimmering away.
Since the age of twelve Kirby had been tall and she was used to being a similar height to many men. But she had to tilt her head to look up into Nick’s face. It disconcerted her. He disconcerted her. ‘It’s a summer plan to start with. I’m doing a six-month GP rotation.’ Six months to pull herself together.
‘A summer by the sea. Sounds relaxing.’ His dimples reappeared, deepening as he smiled.
Her heartbeat seemed to skip. How could one man’s smile make her feel almost dizzy? This is your opening—grab it. The practical words broke into the haze that enveloped her brain. ‘Actually, apart from a run along the pier in the mornings, that is as close as I’ve got to the beach.’
He slapped his palm down on the tailgate of the ute and Turbo immediately jumped onto the tray, turned around and lay down. ‘Quiet Port Bathurst been keeping you busy?’
‘It’s hardly quiet! Between the residents, the work with Kids’ Cottage and now the tourists arriving, I can barely get to the laundrette on a Sunday to do my washing. I had easier days back at Royal William.’ She stared straight up at him. ‘I’m surprised the hospital board didn’t approach you when you moved down here.’
His hands stilled for a fraction on the tailgate. ‘Until this morning, the hospital board didn’t know I was a doctor.’ He slammed the back of the ute shut and wiped his hands on an old towel. ‘No one did.’
His words stunned her. ‘Why on earth not?’
A shadow passed through his eyes, like a cloud scudding across the sun. ‘Because I didn’t come here to practise medicine.’
Her plan, so clear and perfect in her head, took a massive broadside hit, but she wasn’t letting go just yet. ‘But you’re a talented doctor and Port needs you.’
Dark brows drew together, causing a crease at the bridge of his nose. ‘No, it doesn’t, Kirby. Port’s got you. Besides, I’m an accident and emergency specialist, not a GP, and right now I’m really not interested in working.’
She wanted to stamp her feet. She had the ideal mentor in front of her and he didn’t want to work. She chewed her lip as her limited options ran through her head. With a deep breath she played the only card she had left in her deck. Honesty. She raised her gaze to his and spoke from the heart. ‘Without your help, I can’t work here.’
Over the last couple of months Nick had said an enthusiastic ‘No’ to five job offers from hospitals around the country with barely a second thought about his decision. But one glance from Kirby’s blue eyes, swirling with honesty and tinged with pleading, and suddenly every reason for not working was teetering on unsteady foundations. ‘What do you mean, you can’t work here without my help?’
‘How well do you know Port?’
‘I don’t really know it at all. I come here for the market but I use Barago as my centre for supplies as it’s bigger.’
She laced her fingers, moving them back and forth against the backs of her hands. ‘Soon after I arrived in Port, Christopher Grayson, the town’s GP, fell ill.’
Ignoring the wavering feeling, he stuck firmly to the facts. ‘When is Grayson due back?’
Her gaze held his with a steady look. ‘He’s not. Unfortunately, he had a stroke and he’s currently in rehab.’
He shoved his hands in his pockets, empathy weaving through him for a man who had a battle on his hands. But this wasn’t his problem and there was another solution. The foundations steadied. ‘So you advertise for another doctor to help you with the workload.’
She sighed, tucking stray hair behind her ear. ‘It’s not just the workload. I came to Port as part of my GP rotation.’
The image of her tugging at her bottom lip when she was deciding to send Garry to Barago beamed against his brain. His chest tightened. Suddenly her hesitancy and lack of confidence made sense. ‘Please don’t tell me this is your first six-month GP rotation.’
‘It is.’
Damn it. He slammed his right fist into his left hand. ‘So without supervision you can’t practise?’ But the question was rhetorical, he knew the answer.
‘Not in Port, no.’
He wasn’t ready to work in medicine just yet. He’d promised himself six more months, just savouring being well. Hell, surely he deserved that after everything he’d been through. He ran his hand across the back of his neck, trying to sort out his thoughts. He had no connection with this woman, no reason to turn his plans upside down to help her. The obvious solution shot into his head. ‘You could go elsewhere to do your rotation or back to Royal William.’
A shudder of tension moved through her. ‘Royal William isn’t an option I want to pursue. Look, Port has already lost one doctor, so it can’t afford to lose me.’ She tilted her head and the brilliant blue of her eyes flickered over him, pulling hard at his sense of duty. ‘And you wouldn’t do that to a rural community who’s so enthusiastically embraced your organic vegetable venture, would you?’
The
