Wildly, her eyes scanned the dashboard, and her wrist twisted, turning the key for a repeat attempt.
Nothing.
That’s when she spotted the interior light glimmering weakly overhead. She’d run down the battery.
Eden gripped the steering wheel, her head dropping forward to rest on her clenched hands. Why now? The last thing she needed was Dr Fix-it wading in to save the day, even if he was one of the least arrogant men she’d ever met. Snapped into action, she pulled out her phone and dialled her brother, the ringtone jarring against her mounting panic. She tried to recall his weekly schedule, wondering where he might be at this time of the day.
Answerphone. Perfect.
Her friend and primary school teacher, Sam, would be in class full of six-year-olds and the roadside rescue would take at least two hours to make it to this remote location even if she hadn’t let her membership lapse for … fiscal reasons.
Her temples began to pound. She hated asking for help, especially from a professional do-gooder who would likely be overjoyed to roll up his sleeves and assist poor, disabled Archer start her crappy car. Bollocks. She almost slapped herself. That wasn’t fair. But why him?
As if he’d heard her distress signal, Dan appeared, rounding the swing gate at the bottom of the track, the hem of his T-shirt raised to wipe the sweat and rain from his face. She eyed his fine physique, visible even through the fogged-up glass of her car window. A surge of annoyance shoved her stomach into her throat. Annoyance at herself.
Her brain raced into panic mode, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone. Please answer, Tom. She made one last attempt to contact her brother before tossing the useless device onto the passenger seat and accepting her fate. She’d left a sweater on the back seat, which she struggled into before opening the car door and standing to meet an approaching Dan.
‘Car trouble?’ He jutted his chin in the direction of her lifeless vehicle and opened the rear door of his Range Rover, allowing the dogs to jump into the boot. His car was immaculate, all leather upholstery and, no doubt, top of the range. But he didn’t seem to care that he had two very hairy and muddy hounds settling into his boot as he reached for a towel and began drying them off.
‘Flat battery. Any chance you could jump me?’ Eden’s cheeks burned, whether from having to ask for a favour after being so rude to him or at her unfortunate turn of phrase, she wasn’t sure.
‘Sure, no problem.’ He poured some water into an empty ice-cream container and offered it to the dogs.
Was anything ever a problem for Mr Laid-Back? Her mean thought rattled around in her head as she braved a small, grateful smile. He would help her out of here—time to be nice.
Despite the sweater, the adrenaline from her run had well and truly dissipated, leaving her rapidly cooling body jittery with shivers.
‘Why don’t we get warmed up first?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, simply closed the door on the dogs and rounded the car to open the passenger door for her.
Eden followed, her legs heavy but the threat of frostbite propelling her to action.
The leather seats were heated, of course. Dan jumped in, cranked up the heater to full blast, and they sat in silence watching the windows demist, millimetre by creeping millimetre.
‘You run a lot? Fell running?’
Eden tucked her frozen fingers under her thighs, bringing them into contact with the luxurious heated leather. ‘No. Yes. I used to. For basic training.’
‘Ah, yes. The army?’
Perhaps he hadn’t read her medical records? Perhaps he, unlike half the other medical professionals in the land, didn’t know every intimate detail about her body and mind.
She nodded, forcing her eyebrows away from their constant tendency to frown. ‘That’s right. You?’
‘Fell running? Not really. Don’t have the time. But I don’t want to show myself up on this challenge. Thought I’d better start.’ A wry grin twisted his mouth. Eden shifted in her seat. His seat.
She glanced down at his left hand. For the first time, she wondered about him outside of his physical attractiveness and penchant for helping people. Surely he was old enough to have a couple of kids at home. What motivated him to spend time away from his family, volunteering for Scale? And what would his wife think of him offering to train with the sole female participant?
Ridiculous. Just because her thoughts were veering towards inappropriate where the good doctor was concerned, didn’t mean his were.
‘So you work in A&E, volunteer in your spare time. Don’t you have … personal commitments?’ The probing question warmed her cheeks. Who was she to talk? She had no personal commitments herself, too focused on her career and, more recently, her recovery.
His face twitched with a fleeting grimace. ‘I like to keep busy.’
Eden nodded. She could relate to that. In fact, she was an expert.
This was good. Progress. The ring would strip him of his allure. She’d stop … noticing his attributes. They’d be civil teammates.
Dan’s hands reached for the steering wheel, flexing. ‘My wife … she died.’
Bugger. Her saliva pooled in her mouth as she forgot to swallow, forgot to breathe.
‘Two years ago.’ He spoke with a calm, measured voice. How many times had he spoken the words, as if convincing himself of their truth or proving he could utter them without emotion.
‘Oh.’ She didn’t add pointless platitudes. Hated them herself.
He cast a grateful glance sideways, as if she’d made the correct response with her lack of one. ‘It’s okay.’
Her cheeks, initially red from the cold then from her crass fishing expedition, were now warming nicely in the car’s cosy interior, the sting morphing into a glow. She hadn’t expected this veer into personal territory. Time to change the subject before his honest confession spurred a volley in search of an equally telling riposte from her. And now that he was in fact available, where did that leave her and her dimple-noticing, torso-ogling libido?
‘Shall we?’ She inclined her head towards her own car.
He nodded, snapping himself into action. ‘Why don’t you sit in the warm for a little longer while I dig out the leads?’ He climbed from the vehicle without waiting for a response.
She watched him in the rear-view mirror, his proficient movements and the economy of his actions telling her this wasn’t the first time he’d rescued a damsel in distress.
When he had the jump leads attached to her battery, he slipped behind the wheel and started the engine of her beat-up Honda. She could hear the dull click from her seat inside his car. Nothing.
Returning to the engine, he glanced at her, his face puzzled.
She joined him, the shock of the cold drizzle more acute after the fifteen minutes spent warming up. ‘No luck?’
‘I think you might need a new battery. I thought I might have attached the leads incorrectly … but no.’ His hand gripped the back of his neck.
Fantastic. She sighed, and he glanced sideways, his face a picture of calm. ‘No worries. I’ll wait with you until the roadside assistance comes. Or I can give you a lift home?’
Turning away, she dialled her brother in one last-ditch attempt to salvage some dignity. Dan coiled up the leads and returned them to the boot of his car while she focused on the incessant ringtone.
By the time she’d hung up in defeat, he was back by her side. His armour freshly polished, his colours flying and his steeds dutifully observing from the boot of his car. ‘Get in, Archer. I’m not leaving you here. Where do you live?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘Bramwell.’
‘Perfect. That’s on the way back to my sister’s house. I have to drop of the mutts. Get in.’ Without waiting, he crunched his way to the passenger side and opened her door.
Eden accepted her fate with a timidity that could only be described as shocking, and it was hard to tell which of the two of them was more astounded when she wordlessly climbed back in to the heated interior.
* * *
Dan pulled up outside Eden’s terraced house and her heart sank. ‘Bugger,’ she said, her head bowed to her lap and her fists clenched.
The easy conversation established on the drive was replaced by an oppressive silence as he noticed her reaction. ‘You okay?’ The dogs whined, as if they too had experienced the drop in temperature inside the car.
‘My ex.’ Eden jutted her chin in the direction of the rain-bedraggled man leaning against her railings. A hard mass settled in her stomach. How had chatting with Dr Dan become the lesser of two evils today? Despite offering to drive her home, he’d stopped with all the offers of friendship, training together and those assessing glances until Eden wondered if she’d made it all up. Perhaps discovering he was a widower rendered him safe in her mind. After all, he was likely still in love with his dead wife—he was that type. Faithful.
She lingered in Dan’s car, reluctant to face the inevitable showdown with Mac. They’d split four months ago. Via text. He’d been stationed in Germany, and she’d been recovering from the latest round of skin grafts. They’d had no contact since, a status quo she believed they were both happy with. Clearly, Mac’s presence on her doorstep told a different story.
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Dan’s gaze flicked between her and the man loitering on the pavement outside her modest Victorian semi.
She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. ‘I’ll be fine.’ Remembering her manners, she added, ‘Thanks for the lift home.’ She climbed from the warm car, clutching her backpack across her chest like a shield.
Mac looked up from the screen of his phone as she approached, his gaze sliding to the Range Rover departing behind her. The drizzle continued, a perfect backdrop to this confrontation. Exhaustion doubled the weight of Eden’s feet. She needed tea.
Bypassing Mac without a word, she unlocked her front door, leaving it ajar so he could follow her inside.
Eden tossed her bag in the hallway and headed to the kitchen at the back of the house. By the time she turned from putting on the kettle, Mac had joined her, his coat now folded over the back of a kitchen chair and dripping a puddle on the tiled floor.
She sighed. She had no energy for this.
‘You look great, Eden.’ His hands filled the front pockets of his jeans, arms rigid, shoulders high.
‘Thanks. Why are you here?’ She tossed two tea bags into two mugs, not bothering to ask him if he wanted a drink.
He winced, licking his lips. ‘Straight to it, eh? Who was your … friend?’
Seriously?
This guy dumped her two weeks after her horrific accident, after butt-dialling her during a one-night hook-up, and then he turns up on her doorstep months later? ‘None of your business.’
He’d always been the jealous type, a fatal flaw for someone with a girlfriend in the army, even if her job was with the UN’s Gender Advisory Team and largely dealing with women and children’s issues. And, as it had turned out, he’d been the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
His snort echoed around the room. ‘You know, I thought we could talk, be civil, after all this time. But you’re still punishing me.’
Eden slammed open the fridge, retrieving the milk and thumping it on the counter with a resounding slap. ‘And you’re still thinking about you.’ Her blood ran so hot, she wondered why her damp clothes weren’t steaming.
‘What does that mean?’ Outrage flew from his mouth carried on a speck of spittle. ‘I have two days leave, and I’m spending one of them travelling here to see you. To see if there was anything we could salvage …’
Eden shook her head, eyes closed. ‘How inconvenient for you.’ She pushed away from the counter, picking a teaspoon from the drawer and retrieving the tea bags from the mugs. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful? Poor Mac. His disfigured ex-girlfriend won’t speak to him after he found her so repulsive he shagged someone else to make himself feel better. How terrible for him. No wonder he dumped her via a text message. No, we can’t blame him for leaving her. Who’d want to be saddled with that?’ Despite her resolve, her voice grew shrill, and her shoulders inched towards her ears.
He was in her face now, anger sparking from his wide eyes. ‘I was in shock. Excuse me for not reading that page in the boyfriend handbook, Eden.’
The first time he’d seen her after the accident, his face had confirmed her worse fears. Even before the cheating, she’d known. Known he wouldn’t be able to handle it. ‘You were in shock? Did shagging around in Dusseldorf help you with your shock?’
He shook his head as if his transgression had been an irrelevance. In some ways it had, downgraded to the catalyst that forced them both to admit it was over. ‘I could get used to the scars, Eden. But you?’ Steel entered his voice as if he’d made a decision. ‘You changed.’
Her blood soared, boiling over. ‘Well forgive me for reacting to my new life. Everything is different for me.’
His head dropped, some of the fight deflating from him. ‘Yes, but we could have overcome this together. Even before. You pushed me away.’
A long-distance military relationship was hard enough without adding trauma and heartache to the mix. They’d been doomed.
But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. ‘Perhaps I did. But I didn’t have to push very hard.’
At last, the reaction she wanted. He smiled, his eyes cold and a bitter twist to his mouth. ‘Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you didn’t change that much. Perhaps you were always a cold bitch.’
Eden held firm, her expression a rigid mask of indifference, no matter the personal cost.
‘I thought this,’ he pointed at her left side, at the scars concealed beneath her clothing, ‘was the reason, but I think you’re just incapable of intimacy.’
Yes, absolutely nothing to do with him being a cheating, cowardly arsehole.
‘Good luck. I hope your career and your razor-sharp tongue keep you warm.’ Mac grabbed his coat and stormed down the hall, the slam of her front door jarring every bone in Eden’s strung-out body.
Rigid with unresolved tension, she tipped the half-made tea into the sink, letting the mugs clatter together. Arsehole.
As the brown milky stain swirled down the drain, she deflated, the coiled muscles shuddering. Mac was right. She had pushed him away. Before the cheating, and before he’d had a chance to leave of his own accord. She’d simply sped up the process. Orchestrated it on her terms.
But fear of intimacy? No, he’d been way off with that. Things between them had been fine before the accident. Before he’d been repulsed by her scarred body. Not that they’d seen much of each other with their postings. He clearly needed to tell himself some lies so he could look in the mirror.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her reverie. Great, he’d remembered something else he wanted to say. Well so had she. She marched down the hall, mentally preparing her rebuttal. She’d let him have it on the doorstep this time, neighbours be damned. With any luck the drip from her leaking gutter would find its way down his collar.
Swinging open the door, she came to a standstill, the acidic words stalling in her throat.
‘Are you okay?’ Dan stood on the doorstep, a fresh smattering of drizzle darkening his hair. ‘I thought I should check on you. I saw your ex leave.’
The tight spring inside her recoiled, twanging open to unleash her humiliation on the man now cluttering her doorstep with his kind, concerned eyes. ‘I’m fine, Dr Do-Goody.’ She bit her cheek, relishing the metallic tang of blood souring her tongue.
Dan’s face hardened, a glimmer of steel in his eyes. ‘Dr Do-Goody?’
She couldn’t stop, months worth of frustration spilling from her like vitriol. Frustration with her injuries, frustration with Mac and frustration over her attraction to the good doctor. ‘I think that’s fairly appropriate, yes. Do-Goody Dan.’ She was hateful. Bitterness flooded her mouth like the tang of the tea she’d hurled into the sink.
Dan shook his head, turning to glance back at his car parked down the street, the dogs still trapped in the back. ‘I thought you might need a friendly face.’ He snorted. ‘My mistake.’ With a lift of his eyebrows, he bade her farewell, turning away to march to his car.
‘You know, not all women are damsels in distress,’ she yelled after him, his lack of acknowledgement and retreating back offering her no satisfaction whatsoever.
* * *
Dan swung his niece, Lucy, up into his arms, lifting her high above his head for a skydive.
‘I hope you’ve taken your shoes off,’ Amelia called from the kitchen.
Pulling a face of mock horror, Dan spun Lucy around to a flurry of squeals before depositing her safely on the ground to resume whatever game she’d been playing when he arrived.
‘Need any help?’ Dan snuck a cherry tomato from the chopping board, narrowly missing the efficient slice of his sister’s knife.
‘Could you lay the table? I’m sick of calling Josh. He’ll have to forfeit desert.’
Dan laughed. His nephew was rarely found indoors and Amelia’s threats carried little weight.
‘How was your run?’ She glanced at him for the first time, tutting when her gaze dropped to his mud-splattered legs, still caked with dry blood.
‘Good. Dogs had a blast, and, yes, I dried them this time. They’re sleeping it off in the utility room.’
‘What’s up with you? You look … annoyed.’ Amelia, clearly alarmed at this rare occurrence, ceased her chopping and turned to give Dan her full attention.
‘I’m not annoyed.’ He gripped the back of his neck, his fingers tugging at the short strands of hair there. ‘I’m just …’ Fuck, so many things—furious, humiliated, more intrigued than ever … ‘Disappointed.’ He pulled open the drawer in their ancient oak dresser and took out a set of floral placemats.
Far from placated, Amelia waited in silence.
Dan sighed, resistance futile. ‘It’s just someone I’ve met, someone on the challenge.’ The image of Eden’s delicate features, harsh with annoyance, flashed before his eyes. But it had been the quickly concealed glimpse of humiliation that spoke to him. She wasn’t as tough as she’d have people think. Not even when tearing several strips off him and his good intentions.
He slapped one of the placemats on the table. Had she wanted to reconcile with the ex? Was she still in love with him? That didn’t explain why she’d sunk into his car’s upholstery on seeing the man waiting on her doorstep.
‘Is she pretty?’ Amelia resumed her salad preparations.
Yes. And hurting, vulnerable, tough as old boots. ‘Meals …’
‘C’mon, give me something. You never talk about women. And now, here we are with one of them actually getting to you so much, she’s actually annoyed you.’ His sister’s broad grin dipped to her chopping board.
Yes, his life was a hilarious joke. ‘Forget it.’ He’d be buggered if he’d listen to her mocking him. Why had he even mentioned it? Why had he let Eden get to him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? The remaining placemats hit the scarred pine farmhouse table, and the room fell silent.
‘I’m sorry. You’re just normally so … unflappable. What did this person do that could possibly upset you?’ She handed him a bowl of salad.
Dan’s guts churned, despite the tantalising aroma of garlic coming from the Aga. ‘I’m not upset.’ Frustrated as fuck, but not upset. ‘She’s hurting, I think. She’s rude, prickly, abrupt …’ But her vulnerability was there, just beneath the surface, as if you could scratch off her top layer and reveal all her secrets.
‘Oh Dan. Not another of your causes.’
Dan whipped his head around. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve always been drawn to them. Remember that bird that hit the lounge window when we were kids. You nursed that thing for hours.’
Dan selected cutlery, pairing them up with each place setting. The bird had lain dazed in the shoebox he’d found to protect the frail creature from cats, the movements from its glassy eye the only sign of life. The next time Dan had checked, it had gone, leaving only a tiny feather behind in thanks.
Besides, it was his job to care for people—he certainly couldn’t be good at it if he didn’t care. And anyway, he didn’t see Eden that way. Yes, she was hurting. But she was far from broken. In fact, she was the toughest woman he’d ever met, at least on the outside.
‘She’s not a cause. And you don’t need to worry. She doesn’t want my help.’ Nor my friendship.
He should give up. Accept that she didn’t want his company, his concern or even his crappy mechanical skills. Why was he so drawn to someone who resolutely pushed away any attempts at common decency?
His introspection ground to a halt when Amelia appeared behind him, her arms gripping him tightly around the waist and her head nestled between his shoulderblades.
‘Well, she doesn’t deserve you then.’ With a quick squeeze, his sister departed back to her meal preparations, and he knew all was forgiven—his muddy legs, the wet dogs, even his persistent and irritating bachelor status. Amelia’s bark was ferocious, but she never bit. ‘Can you call the kids? Supper’s ready.’
‘Sure.’ He left the fragrant kitchen in search of his niece and nephew, resolved to forget the infuriating conundrum that was Eden Archer. Once and for all.