Euan threw him near enough tore Esme’s heart out of her chest. When Euan got himself together enough to give Max a fist bump, neither of them managed to meet the other’s eye.
Esme’s chin began to wobble. She cupped her hands over her mouth.
Max straightened up, looked back at the video screen and what felt like straight into Esme’s soul. ‘If that’s all right? Wouldn’t want to mess around your well-laid plans.’
There was an edge to his voice, but it was a protective one. An edge that spoke of a fierce protectiveness that wasn’t going to let Euan experience one more disappointment.
If Esme hadn’t fancied Max before, she…well, she was really going to have to command her heartstrings into place. No fawning, or drooling, or looking with dopey-eyed fondness at a man who so clearly wanted to be warm, kind and open but, for whatever reason, couldn’t.
One week ago, her instinct had been to keep him as far away as possible.
In the last five seconds her entire nervous system had done a one eighty. Take away the rugged good looks, the hands she would’ve paid money to see hold a puppy and that chestnut hair just begging her fingers to play with it—and underneath it all was a solid, reliable and trustworthy man.
Which was perfect. So long as he stayed at the end of a video call. Which was no longer happening.
Right! So. She started a mental to-do list with just one very important item: do not fall head over heels in love with Max Kirkpatrick.
This was her most vulnerable time of year and, as such, she had to be on her guard.
‘So!’ She scribbled some nonsense onto a pad no one could see then gave Max a bright smile. ‘Just a few little rules and regs to cover.’
‘I would expect nothing less,’ he said with a…oh, my…rather sexy smile. The type that said he could see right through her and back again.
Rule number one was going to be tough.
Esme gave what she hoped was a briskly efficient nod and ran through a few things, including what clothes to bring, what sort of weather to expect and asking about any dietary requirements.
Max looked at Euan. ‘I think just about anything beyond a sausage roll will be a new one on this lad.’
Euan jabbed him in the ribs. ‘I’m not that bad. I’ve heard of…um…sushi.’ He abruptly leant in and whispered something to Max.
Max answered quietly then gave the lad’s head a slightly awkward scrub. ‘Maybe we can scratch the sushi.’ The two of them threw each other a shy grin.
If there was any time to wish for some Christmas magic, now was it. Esme had a feeling it wasn’t just Euan who needed a bit of TLC from a service dog. Max looked as though he had a wound or two himself that could do with being salved.
Esme glanced down at the stray pup one of their physios had found who was curled up at her feet. Dougal. Maybe she could convince Max to give him a forever home? Dougal was cuddly and responsive enough that he’d easily be a therapy dog, but…
When she looked back up at the screen Max was all business. Times. Schedules. Anything else they needed to bring. She answered his questions as efficiently as possible, all the while telling her hammering heart that she could do this. She could survive a week with Max Kirkpatrick. Besides, the second her brother Charles laid eyes on him she knew he wouldn’t pass the big brother approval check list. Not that Charles was officially in charge of who she dated but having a second opinion after her disastrous elopement had seemed pretty wise, all things considered.
She followed Max’s hand as it stuffed a few of his wayward curls back into submission.
What Charles didn’t know…
As they signed off, Esme looked out the window towards the castle, merrily twinkling away in the early evening gloaming. It looked like something out of a fairy-tale. It was far too easy to imagine that long dreamed-of kiss under the starlight with all of the glittery warmth still swirling round her chest. Glittery warmth brought to life by one dark-haired, reluctant hero.
Good grief.
What had she just agreed to?
‘How long’s it going to take, Doc?’
Max gave his back-seat passenger a quick glance. ‘As long as it takes, Euan.’
About eight days with any luck. Then he wouldn’t have to go through the hoop-jumping Esme had no doubt set up for him. Attending Euan’s training classes. Ensuring Fenella, his other ‘volunteer’, was all right as her elderly mother couldn’t come along either, owing to previous commitments. Day in. Day out. Dining together. Training together. ‘Fun time.’ Whatever the hell that was. Together.
Bonding.
He didn’t bond. He assessed, treated, then moved on. Precisely why he’d opted to work in A and E after hanging up his camos. Move ’em in, move ’em out. Zero time to bond.
Bonding made you start Plants to Paws, mate. You’re going to have to own it one day.
Unbidden, an image of Esme introducing the dogs via the video call to Euan and Fenella popped into his head. He was pretty sure he was the only one who’d caught the little surreptitious swipes she’d made at her cheeks when the patients’ eyes had first lit on the pooches. He was positive he was the only one in the room who’d itched to reach out and wipe them away.
‘D’you think Ajax is going to be allowed in the castle?’
‘How would I know? Do I look like I was raised in a castle?’
Euan snorted then asked, ‘Hey, Doc, I was supposed to do a maths quiz today. Epic thanks for getting me out of school, mate!’
Max glanced into the rear-view mirror of his clunky old four-by-four and meet the lad’s eyes. ‘I’m not your mate and this isn’t a jolly, pal. There will be homework tonight. Of that you can be sure.’
‘Why’re you so tetchy?’ Euan countered in a tone that suggested he was well used to cranky adults.
‘I’m not tetchy.’ Max’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.
‘Actually,’ Fenella gently cut in, ‘you are a bit tetchy.’
Max harrumphed. Whatever. So he was a bit out of sorts. Spending a week with a fairy dogmother who, via numerous phone and video calls, had managed to do all sorts of things to the steel walls he’d built round his psyche wasn’t exactly something he’d been looking forward to.
Not to mention the annoyingly inviting visions that kept popping into his head of Esme in a ski suit. Esme in a onesie sprawled in front of a roaring fire. Esme in nothing at all.
He pulled off the multi-lane motorway that led north from Glasgow. The fastest option. ‘We’ll go the scenic route,’ he growled.
