pain with touch. But he wasn’t her brother. Her lover. She had no right to touch him.
He took a long drink and seemed to will himself to relax. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant I was just doing my job.’
‘Well, you did it well. You know, you should focus more on the positives.’
‘Is that what your perennial smiling’s about?’
‘I try. No point being glum.’ She nodded and beamed at him just to prove her point. ‘We have to make the best of things. Life’s way too short. Seize the day. And any other glib clichés you can think of.’
‘Is that why you’re so keen to go off travelling?’
‘It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, I need a break.’
‘Then take it.’ The way he nodded at her, like he understood, was disconcerting.
‘Everyone else has all but begged me to stay. Especially my brothers. Who will cook? Clean? Remind them to do stuff?’
‘How about they do it for themselves?’
‘I hear you. I’ve been telling them that for years. Falls on deaf ears.’
‘Shout louder. Or just keep on talking. You appear to be very good at that.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Do whatever it takes, but go on your adventure.’
‘No one else understands why I need to get away. I just want to have the same kind of fun every other twenty-something has.’ She’d had her time to nurse, to grieve, to parent far too young.
She could see in his eyes that Adam knew how it felt to want to run away from responsibility. But he was tightlipped as ever. ‘For as long as I stay here I will be needed. I don’t want to be needed any more.’
‘You’re a nurse, you’ll be needed for as long as you practise.’
‘Like you, I guess. First a soldier and now a paramedic. You have such a worthwhile job that will make a huge difference to people’s lives.’
‘Now you’re making me sound like the Dalai Lama.’ The corners of his mouth turned up. Just a little. Stretching muscles that looked lax from lack of use. Then, like butterfly wings unfurling after a long incubation, a slow smile spread across his lips. It looked like it was something his face wasn’t used to doing. Like he’d forgotten how. Even in her darkest moments she’d made herself focus on the good things, had never forgotten how to smile.
But it turned his features from granite to something more … beautiful. Alluring. Interesting. Transformed him from unconventionally attractive to insanely sexy. ‘Maybe I should become a monk.’
‘No. You wouldn’t suit the orange robes. So not your colour.’ A celibate monk would be a terrible waste of such a sublime man.
She leaned back and watched the puzzlement on his face. The shadows lifted but a little frown line indented his forehead. He was delicious to observe. Especially when he grappled with her humour. Tingles ran the length of her spine. Amazing that a fledgling smile could do that. Make you forget everything. Make you want things out of reach. ‘And you’d have to live in a cave like a hermit. In silence or something. With no facilities. Or in a monastery with lots of hymns. Very dull.’
‘But imagine, no one to force pints on me. No pub quizzes. Very tempting.’ Then he laughed. It was like setting something free. His face transformed into a boyish picture of unhaunted innocence. His head tipped back and a deep resonant rumble came from his chest. A soulful sound that reached down to her heart and squeezed.
‘See, smiling works. Don’t deny you feel better.’
‘My mouth hurts.’ He grimaced, then his smile softened. He ran a hand along his stubbled jaw. It was almost as if he was feeling the strangeness of his stretched features, and for some strange reason her eyes followed his fingers closely, every movement. Transfixed by the haunting beauty of his hewn face. The scar that drew her gaze and made her want answers to the many questions buzzing round her head.
Who are you? The reluctant hero, the stubbornly serious and obviously haunted man. A man who could warm her with one look of his hesitant gaze. But a man who could laugh too. It had taken time, but he had started to soften. Maybe only just a little, but there was potential there. And she sure as hell wanted to see that face light up again, and soon.
A loud bleeping made her jump. Skye grabbed for her phone. ‘It’s a text message. From Connor.’ Fear and excitement mixed inside her stomach. ‘Oh, God, they need help. He says: “Baby’s coming. Midwife delayed. Mim needs you.”
‘I’ve got to go.’ She stood, picked up her bag then had another thought. ‘Do you want to come?’
‘Will they want me there? What about the quiz …?’ But he’d already grabbed his jacket. Despite his denial about being any kind of hero, she knew him well enough that he would never turn down a chance to help out in an emergency.
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