wiped a laughter tear from his eye. ‘Oh, now, Emily, be fair. The few times we’ve worked together we’ve done exceptionally well. Hey, I even let you boss me around sometimes and I can count on half a hand the people I’ve allowed to do that.’
They did work together well. She hated it that he’d recognised that. It gave her one less argument to cement her case. She tried not to slump against the wall as she bent her leg and pressed the sole of her foot into a groove.
He causally leaned over a rail, his chin resting on his fist. ‘And then there’s your Master’s.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘What do you know about my Master’s?’
His eyes flickered for the briefest moment. ‘Don’t you remember? Last year when we had to sit out that dust storm you told me you wanted to do your Master’s in emergency nursing, but with Kate being away you’d put it on hold.’
Her blood dropped to her feet. He’d actually listened. Listened and remembered. It was completely unexpected—Nathan had never listened, it had always been all about him. She shrugged. ‘It was just a pie-in-the-sky idea.’
He clicked his tongue. ‘It shouldn’t be.’ He gave her a sly look. ‘Warragurra Base would be the perfect place for you to work while you undertook your Master’s.’
Her brain tried to keep up. Every time she had an argument he neatly countered it with almost effortless ease. But right now he was playing dirty pool. He knew she desperately wanted to do her Master’s and that as much as the chief and the Flying Doctors supported the idea in principle, with the way staffing had been lately, it hadn’t been possible.
Achieving her Master’s would mean career security, senior positions and a higher salary. And she’d need that as, unlike her friends, she wouldn’t ever be in the position of sharing income with a loving partner. Study leave hovered over her like the devil tempting her into his lair. Was this an opportunity she could really afford to pass up?
Linton pushed off the rail, walking round to lean his back against the wall so he stood next to her.
His heat slammed into her, dissolving all coherent thought. Emily breathed deeply, forcing air into her constricted lungs, in the hope her brain would soon get the much needed oxygen. Think.
She tried to fortify her resolution. Working at Warragurra Base meant working with Linton. Unrequited love from a distance had been tormenting enough. Up close and personal it would be torture. But still her words rushed out unchecked. ‘How much study leave?’
White, even teeth flashed at her. ‘What about you work a nine-day fortnight? The hospital will pay you for two days a month study leave.’
She narrowed her eyes. If she was selling out she should at least get a good deal. ‘And one week to attend the “on campus” study component?’
He arched one brown eyebrow and tapped his top lip with his forefinger. ‘As long as you can work it so the roster isn’t short.’
She hugged her arms across her tightening chest as she committed herself to a path she’d told herself she’d never take. ‘I can do that.’
He crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the soft cotton of his sleeves. ‘Then we have a deal.’
Deal. The word boomed in her head over and over like the low bass of heavy metal. What have you just done? She silenced the words. Her decision was a career move. Linton would eventually leave town and she would get over her crush. Life would go on and she would have extra qualifications. ‘A deal? I guess we do.’ Somehow she managed to squeak the words out.
He grinned and leaned sideways, nudging her with his shoulder. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’
She looked up into a pair of emerald eyes full of satisfaction. And why not? He’d just solved his staffing problem. All was good in his world.
But she’d just taken out a loan on her soul for a chance to study. Unless she was careful, the repayments on the loan would be pieces of her heart.
Emily stared at herself in the mirror in the Warragurra Base Hospital locker room, adjusting to seeing herself in green. Gone were the navy trousers and blue shirt of the Flying Doctors uniform. In their place green scrubs hung baggily revealing nothing of the shape that lay underneath. Hiding the big breasts and the short waist.
You are so ugly. High school had been a nightmare.
University hadn’t been much better. Cover yourself up, you don’t want to put people off their dinner. Nathan’s derisive words boomed in her head. The memory of his curled lip and scornful look wormed its way back into her thoughts despite her best intentions to never let him back into her life in any shape or form.
He’d been the one to put the final nails into any delusions she might have had about herself. She now knew for certain that her body wasn’t worthy of being on show, so she hid it, avoiding further pain and protecting herself from the glances of men—scrutinising glances that immediately turned to pitying ones.
She tied the string of the shapeless, baggy green pants. It was better this way. Men no longer saw her as a woman and didn’t seek her out, which was exactly what she wanted. Her heart, which had loved Nathan and been so badly trampled on, was now well protected.
She turned away from the mirror and spritzed on some perfume, one of the few feminine luxuries she allowed herself. As the only female growing up on a sheep and cattle station, surrounded by men, being a girl hadn’t always been easy.
When she was working on the station she generally became ‘one of the boys’ and fitted in that way. She could shoot a mean game of pool, muster on horseback for a full day without getting saddle-sore and was known for her skill in coaxing difficult engines into life. Her father, brothers and the employees at Woollara had long forgotten she was a woman.
If she was everyone’s mate at Woollara, she was all nurse at work. ‘Professional, organised and reliable’ were the words that always turned up on her performance reviews. At work she had a different ‘uniform’ from the cowboy boots and jeans she wore at the station. But it was a uniform, and it made her blend in with the other medical professionals and told the community she was a nurse. The role absorbed her and she gave herself to it, enjoying every moment.
The only part of her that really said ‘Emily’ was her perfume, although most people missed that. They thought the thing that defined her was her dyed hair. But her hair was just a ruse. Bright hair hid her pain. Bright caused people to look up rather than down and distracted them so she could avoid their scrutiny of her lack of attributes.
She ran some hair gel through her hair. She’d worn it spiky short for so long that its current length surprised her. It was still above her shoulders but long enough for the curls to come back and taunt her. She tried to tame them into place with the waxy product.
In celebration or commiseration of the new job—at this point she wasn’t exactly certain which one it was—she’d dyed her hair purple. The mirror reflected purple hair and green scrubs. Hmm, the women’s movement would be proud of her. Then again, others might think she was going to take up tennis at Wimbledon.
She nervously fingered the hem of her top and then tugged down hard before breathing in deeply. She spoke to the mirror. ‘Right, Emily. You’re the unit manager and working for
