it.’ She turned. ‘Tour over.’
Once again Hamish followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she grabbed her bag and keys off the counter top. ‘I’m sorry, I have to run now or I’ll be late for work. I couldn’t swap the shift.’
She didn’t sound that sorry. In fact, she was jingling the keys like she couldn’t wait to get out of there.
‘It’s fine.’
A part of him had assumed she’d be home this weekend to help him get settled. Which was ridiculous. He was a thirty-year-old man living in one of the world’s most exciting cities—he didn’t need to have his hand held.
And Lola was a shift worker, just like him. With bills to pay and a twenty-four-hour roster she helped to fill, including Saturdays. She had her own life that didn’t involve pandering to her friend’s brother.
‘I’m sure I can occupy myself. What time do you finish?’
She fished in her bag and pulled out her sunglasses, opening the arms and perching them on the top of her head. ‘I’m on till nine-thirty tonight. I should be home by ten, providing everything is calm at work.’
‘Cool.’
‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. There’s a supermarket three blocks away, if you’re looking for something in particular. Grace and I usually shopped together and split the bill but we can discuss those details tomorrow.’
Hamish nodded. ‘I’m having dinner with Grace and Marcus tonight actually. At their new apartment. So we’ll probably be getting in around the same time.’
‘Oh...right.’ She glanced away and Hamish wondered if she was remembering the last time they’d been here together at night. She had some colour in her cheeks when her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t feel like you have to be home for me. If you want to have a few drinks and end up crashing at theirs, that’s fine. I’m often here by myself, it doesn’t bother me.’
Hamish didn’t think anything much bothered Lola. There was a streak of independence about her that grabbed him by his country-boy balls. But he knew that under all that Independent Woman of the World crust was someone who could break like a little girl and he really hoped she didn’t feel the need to pretend to be tough all the time to compensate for how vulnerable she’d been the last time they’d met.
That would be an exhausting eight weeks for her.
And he just wanted Lola to be Lola. He could handle whatever she threw at him.
‘And miss my first night in my new home?’ He smiled at her to keep it light. ‘No way.’
‘Okay, well...’ She nodded. ‘I’ll...see you later.’
She turned and walked away, choosing the longer route rather than brush past him—interesting—and within seconds he was listening to the quiet click of the front door as it shut.
Well...that was an anti-climax. He’d been building this meeting up in his head for weeks. None of the scenarios had involved Lola bolting within twenty minutes of his arrival. Still, it had been good, seeing her again. And she had definitely avoided any chance that they might come into contact as she’d left.
That had to mean something, right?
Hamish rolled his eyes as he realised where his brain was heading. Get a grip, idiot. Not going to happen.
And he went to unpack and make up his bed.
* * *
It was a relief to get to work. A relief to stop thinking about Hamish. It was crazy but Lola hadn’t expected to feel what she’d felt when she’d opened the door to him. She’d actually been looking forward to seeing Hamish again. Quite aside from the sex, he was a nice guy and a fun to be around. Even a few months later she still caught herself smiling at the memory of the note she’d found the morning after they’d had sex on the couch.
You looked so beautiful sleeping I didn’t want to disturb you.
I’m heading home now.
Thank you for an unforgettable night.
Hamish
He’d drawn a smiley face beside his name and Lola had laughed and hugged it to her chest, secretly thrilled to be unforgettable.
Sure, she’d known their first meeting after that night would be awkward to begin with but had expected it to dissipate quickly.
She’d been dead wrong about that.
His presence on her doorstep—big and solid, more jaw than any man had a right to—had been like a shockwave breaking over her. She’d felt like she was having some kind of out-of-body experience, where she was above herself, looking down, the universe whispering He’s the one in her ear.
She’d panicked. Hell, she was still panicking.
Firstly, she didn’t believe in the one. Sure, she knew people stayed together for ever. Her parents had been married for thirty-two years. But to her it was absurd to think there was only one person out there for everyone. It was more statistically believable, given the entire population of the world, that there were many ones out there.
People just didn’t know it because they were too busy with their current one.
Secondly, she honestly believed finding the one didn’t apply to every person on the planet. Lola believed some people were destined to never settle down, that they were too content with the company of many and being children of the world to ground themselves.
And that was the category into which Lola fell. Into which Great-Aunt May fell. A spinster at seventy-five, May hadn’t needed the one to be fulfilled. Lola had never known a person more accomplished, more well travelled or more Zen with her life.
And, thirdly, if Lola fell and smacked her head and had a complete personality change and suddenly did believe in such nonsense, her one would never be a guy from a small town.
Never.
She’d run from a small town for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to be with a guy who was content to stay put, whose whole life was his patch of dirt or his business, or the place he’d grown up. Which was why her reaction to Hamish was so disconcerting.
Hamish Gibson couldn’t be the one for her.
No. She was just really...sexually attracted to him. Hell, she’d thought about him so much these past three months it was only natural to have had a reaction to him when she’d opened the door and seen him standing right in front of her.
But she wasn’t going there again.
Which was why work was such a blessing. Something else to occupy her brain. And, yowsers, did she need it today to deal with her critical patient.
Emma Green was twenty-three years old and in acute cardiac failure. She’d been born with a complex cardiac disorder and
