A Wedding for the Single Dad Page 8

  ‘Presumably with a few beers to wash them down?’

  ‘I did not,’ he said, sounding most offended. ‘You said to cut down on the beer, and prawns go a treat with red wine.’

  Lauren closed her eyes. ‘Red wine is alcohol too, you know,’ she said as she fetched clean dressings. ‘You really do have to cut down on all alcohol, Edward, if you want to prevent these flare-ups. And the more water you drink to wash the uric acid that builds up in your toe out of your system, the less pain you’ll have.’

  He muttered something that could have been, ‘You’ve told me that a hundred times,’ but Lauren ignored him and wrote him a prescription for the corticosteroid she knew he’d used before.

  ‘Now, remember—take two for three days, then one for three days—’

  ‘Then a half for three days. I know all that,’ he told her, as he examined the wrappings she’d placed around his foot. ‘That’s not too bad,’ he said of her work. ‘If I keep it wrapped people don’t bump into me.’

  ‘Just start taking better care of yourself,’ Lauren told him, as she saw him out.

  Her next patient was only wanting a new prescription—and, it seemed, a chat about the new vet and the drama up the gully the previous weekend.

  ‘I’d love to be able to chat,’ Lauren said, ‘but there seem to be more people than usual waiting today, so I’d better crack on.’

  The patient departed, and another arrived, and it was life as usual—checking the tonsils of a small child, the ear of a teenager who’d tried a bit of self-piercing and ended up with an infection, and two more older locals mainly wanting info on the new vet.

  ‘Bless their hearts,’ Janet said as they locked up, ‘It’s the biggest excitement in their lives since Henry’s death!’

  With Janet gone, and nothing to worry about for any of the patients she’d seen, Lauren could no longer not think about this evening’s outing.

  She went up the stairs and through her room to the bathroom.

  Shower, wash hair, then think about it!

  * * *

  Towelling her damp hair, she stood in front of her big old wardrobe, peering in at her collection of what she called ‘going out’ clothes. Not that going out to anywhere in the village required much more than basic decency.

  Although, now she thought about it, in summer, when the area had an influx of holidaymakers, some of the teenagers in brief bikini tops and low-slung short shorts barely reached that level.

  She returned the towel to the bathroom and combed her hair—still damp, so a darker gold than usual—then went back to the wardrobe. Which was when the absolute stupidity of her behaviour struck her. She’d regressed to her teenage years, when wearing just the right thing had been vitally important.

  She should just wear jeans and a top, as the nights were cool.

  Except, for the first time in for ever, she had a reason to dress up.

  Lauren had to smile, imagining the reaction of the locals if she appeared in one of the lovely outfits she termed her ‘wedding’ dresses—beautiful clothes she’d bought for special occasions, like friends’ weddings. She might look good, but she’d embarrass both herself and Cam, as the village really wasn’t a ‘dressing up’ kind of place.

  So, back to jeans and a top. She had a new pair of skinny jeans she’d bought in Riverview recently, and a caramel-coloured knit that she’d bought at the sales up there at the end of last winter. Lightweight, and V-necked, it would be perfect over the black jeans—casually saying I’m not dressed up, and yet making her feel good because the jeans were sexy and the top was new.

  And, if she was honest, she knew the outfit would definitely suit her!

  * * *

  Unable to remember the last time he’d worried over what to wear made Cam feel jittery.

  Jeans and a shirt—nothing easier.

  Except he had a small fashionista sitting on his bed.

  ‘You’re not going to wear that, are you?’ Maddie demanded, as he dragged a rugby shirt from the cupboard.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, but he was already putting it back where it had come from.

  ‘You want to make a good ’pression,’ Maddie told him.

  ‘I think Lauren’s first impression of me, lying on my back in the gully, is probably stamped in her head for ever, so I don’t really think she’ll notice what I’m wearing.’

  ‘Go for that blue shirt hanging at the end,’ she said, pointing to a fairly well-worn corduroy button-down. ‘And roll the sleeves up a bit. And don’t tuck it in.’

  ‘And just how did you become an expert on menswear?’ he asked, surprised by her decided views.

  ‘Uncle Matt always looks good, and that’s the sort of stuff he wears.’

  With a slow shake of his head Cam realised she was right. In fact, Matt—his oldest friend—had given him the blue shirt years ago, trying to spruce up his suddenly single friend...

  * * *

  Lauren opened the door when she heard the vehicle pull up outside. Too late now to change her top, which she’d decided might be too dressy.

  There was so much tension in her body she worried she might shatter at the slightest misstep.

  Stupid, really, when all she was doing was going to dinner with a friend.

  She breathed deeply, forcing her body to relax, trying to remember what ‘normal’ felt like.

  ‘You brought the car,’ she said, stating the obvious as she pointed to the four-wheel drive. ‘It’s only half a k, and it’s a lovely night; I thought we could walk. If your ankle’s all right, that is?’

  He bowed and said, ‘Then walk we shall! My ankle’s fine. I’ll leave the car here and take it back later.’

  His arm was free of its sling, and with a blue shirt making his eyes seem impossibly bluer, he really was devastatingly good-looking.

  And he was studying the front of her house with a slight frown.

  ‘Maddie mentioned the cakes,’ he said.

  Lauren smiled at him, relaxing. ‘Our old housekeeper—Dad’s and mine—was the area’s champion cake-maker. She made them for weddings, engagements, baptisms—anything and everything. Even made them when there was nothing special on. Mrs Blair is long gone, but I haven’t the heart to take down the cake signs—not when in between making cakes she helped make me.’

  He turned to her and smiled. ‘That is such a nice thing to do,’ he said, and the words sent warmth spiralling through her.

  Dusk had fallen, but the path around the lake was clear of scrub. He held out his right arm as she joined him, and she tucked her hand into his elbow.

  That was only politeness, she told herself, but it brought her body closer to his, and her misgivings about this expedition returned. Given the attraction she felt towards the man, should she really be taking the opportunity to be closer to him?

  Yet it felt comfortable...right...

  ‘So, how were the alpacas?’ she asked, and he turned to catch the smile that followed her words.

  ‘You knew what that woman Celia was like, and did nothing to warn me,’ he said, accusation clear in his voice.

  ‘She’s a lovely person, you must admit,’ Lauren said, still smiling.

  ‘She is—but she’s also totally daft about her animals,’ Cam responded. ‘They’re more like children to her—they’ve all got names, and they answer to their names, and they run to her like children do. And can she talk! She knew one thousand times more than me about alpacas. But I had a date—yes, I know what you think, but it’s easier to just call it a date—and I needed to get away.’ He paused, then added, ‘It was rye grass toxicity—but only one animal. Her beloved Stevie had it, and he’d gone down, and she said he wouldn’t get up although he was kicking feebly. She wanted me there to kill him humanely.’

  ‘Oh, dear...poor you,’ Lauren said, well aware of how emotional the scene would have been.<
br />
  ‘She sat on the ground and held his head while I injected him,’ Cam said.

  And he sounded so astonished by this behaviour, Lauren had to ask, ‘But don’t pet owners often hold their pets while they die?’

  Cam sighed and stopped walking, turning to look out over the lake for a few minutes.

  ‘Sometimes, yes...but they don’t wail in the most broken-hearted manner. I nearly cried myself,’ he said. ‘For an alpaca I didn’t even know!’

  Lauren turned to him. ‘I’d be more worried about the rye grass than Celia’s behaviour. And why only one animal was affected. Did you check the others?’

  It was his turn to smile as he turned back towards her. ‘If you call “checking” chasing the herd up and down the field to see if any of them fell down, then, yes. Apparently, that’s what happens—and who was I to argue.’

  ‘And Stevie?’

  ‘We should walk on or we’ll never get there,’ Cam said, steering her back along the path. ‘Well, it turned out,’ he said after a moment, ‘that Celia had bought a bale of feed from a different distributor, but hadn’t yet cut the strings. It was in the back of her utility, parked by the fence of Stevie’s pen, and he’d been putting his head over and munching on it. Celia’s certain she has no rye grass in any of her fields, so thinks it must be in the new feed.’

  ‘She’ll soon sort it out,’ Lauren said, walking more slowly as they approached the village.

  Perhaps they should have driven, she thought. And kind of sneaked in...?

  She felt embarrassed that she’d even thought of it.

  Not that it would have made the slightest difference, whatever they’d done. They’d be seen at dinner and it would be all over the local community within hours. Memories of the talk there’d been way back when David had disappeared from her life surfaced briefly, and she had to remind herself that she’d ignored it then and could do so again.

  Not that one dinner out would start much gossip...would it?

  She glanced at her companion, but he was looking out over the lake again, taking in the picturesque beauty of the trawlers moored at the end of the jetty, the moon just rising behind them.

  ‘It is a beautiful place,’ he said quietly, and she felt a rush of pleasure at this compliment to her home.

  * * *

  They continued in silence. Cam was pleased just to take in the beauty of the place, especially with Lauren by his side. He sensed a tension in her, and guessed that, at the moment, it was more to do with local gossip than their age difference.

  He’d already heard from many of the people he’d met through work how wonderful she was—not only as a doctor, but with her volunteer work—and he knew that the gossip wouldn’t harm her. Embarrass her, maybe, but she was held in such high esteem in the town it couldn’t damage her.

  Should he tell her that?

  Would it ease her tension? Relax her back into the laughing, teasing, wonderful woman he was beginning to know?

  Or was her tension to do with the age thing...silly though that seemed to him?

  Unable to reach any conclusion, he looked around and realised they’d reached their destination.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PARADISE EATERY the sign proclaimed. There were tiny fairy lights strung along the building’s guttering and threaded through the potted trees on either side of the front door.

  Lauren was already being greeted by the woman at the front counter, and Cam followed the two women to a table.

  ‘Cam is my new neighbour, in Henry’s place,’ Lauren said. ‘Campbell Grahame, meet Nell Wright—owner of this establishment.’

  Nell shook his hand, welcoming him, and added, ‘You’re the new vet, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am—and I’ve taken over completely now the locum’s gone. He seems to think I’ve learned all I need to know, but I rather doubt that.’

  ‘Well, I’ve only got a tortoise, so I probably won’t be calling on you professionally,’ Nell said. ‘I’ll get you both a menu.’

  She returned with menus and an offer of drinks.

  ‘What would you like?’ he asked Lauren.

  ‘A light beer, please, Nell,’ she said, and Cam followed suit, rather pleased he wasn’t going to have to consult a list of wines. He didn’t know if the Australian wines he’d consumed back home went by the same names in their home country.

  Nell departed and he turned towards Lauren, seeing in the room’s soft light how the sweater she was wearing set off her golden-coloured hair and emphasised her dark brown eyes.

  She was beautiful—but he knew she wouldn’t thank him for saying so.

  Work conversations would probably be easier. Which reminded him...

  ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about pregnancy testing alpacas, do you?’

  She laughed with delight, shaking her head at the same time.

  ‘Inappropriate dinner table conversation?’ he suggested, and she clearly took pity on him and reached out to pat his hand where it lay on the table.

  ‘No, it just surprised me,’ she said. ‘But sadly I don’t—I can’t be any help at all!’ She frowned for a moment, then added, ‘Wouldn’t it be much the same as testing cows? Or maybe sheep?’

  His turn to laugh. ‘Lauren, I’m a city vet—straight from London to this totally alien environment, where I have to treat burnt koalas, dying alpacas, and heaven only knows what next. Yes, we did cover large animals at vet school—even elephants—but I probably didn’t take a lot of notice as I knew I wanted to be a city vet.’

  ‘Oh!’ she said, suddenly grave. ‘So did you want to move here, or just feel obliged to because of Henry leaving the place to you? Couldn’t you have sold it?’

  She sounded concerned for him, and he’d have liked to pat her hand in return, but both of them had disappeared beneath the table.

  ‘We were delighted to move here—Maddie especially, and for me it was a tremendous gift. My very own practice. In the place I’d heard so much about from Uncle Henry’s letters. I couldn’t have been happier. But I assumed it would still be mainly domestic pets—which, from the study I’ve done of Henry’s books, it seems to be.’

  ‘Just the odd alpaca thrown in?’ Lauren teased.

  He grinned at her, unsure if the delight he was feeling was purely to do with Lauren, or simply because he was out with an attractive woman for the first time in what seemed like ages.

  Looking at the smiling woman across the table, he knew it was Lauren making him feel so good. In fact, he doubted any other woman would have made him feel the same.

  He was considering telling her how great she looked, when she glanced up from the menu she was studying and said, ‘I remember going around with Henry when I was a teenager to preg-test sheep. He used a portable ultrasound, I think at about forty days after they’d been run with the rams, but I could be wrong about the timing.’

  ‘I’ll have to ultrasound an alpaca? A small herd of alpacas?’ he asked, thinking of the rather weird, long-legged and long-necked animals.

  ‘You do have a portable one, I imagine?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, taking a gulp of his beer in an effort to stabilise his whirling thoughts.

  How had they gone from him telling her how good she looked—even if only in his thoughts—to ultra-sounding herd animals?

  It was probably a good thing, he decided, given this outing wasn’t a date. But it had told him one thing—he had to get on to Kate and insist she sign the divorce papers she’d been sitting on for months. Well, maybe not insist—because he lived with the fear that if he pushed too hard she’d take the matter to court and put his custody of Maddie in jeopardy.

  He focussed his attention back on Lauren and realised she was still talking about alpacas.

  ‘Celia will handle it all,’ she assured him, and then turned to the waiter. ‘I’ll have the prawn past
a, please, and a small salad on the side.’

  Totally discombobulated, he shook his head and looked at his own menu. ‘Eye fillet, medium rare,’ he said, ‘and a side of vegetables, please.’

  The waiter bustled away, and Lauren smiled at him across the table.

  ‘I bet “vegetables” here mean a half a plate of chips and some sprouts and carrot and broccoli in a little bowl because they don’t fit on the plate.’

  ‘And what is wrong with steak and chips?’ he demanded.

  She grinned at him. ‘Not a thing to a long, slim beanpole like you. You can carry a bit of extra weight. But me... Although I’m tall, any weight I put on goes straight to my belly or my butt, leaving my arms and legs as thin as twigs.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Fishing for compliments? I can’t see your legs or arms, but you look just stunning—and I imagine your life is far too busy for you to be putting on weight.’

  She smiled and drank a little more beer—embarrassed, he thought, but pleased as well.

  * * *

  What on earth was she doing, going out with this man? Date or not, it felt so comfortable, so enjoyable, she’d be hard pushed to say no should he ask her again.

  But he was married, and there was the difference in their ages...

  And yet...

  ‘You know,’ she said, because he deserved honesty, ‘I can’t remember when I last had a normal conversation with another adult. I mean, I see adult patients every day, and the people at the sanctuary as well—even the other SES workers at training days and meetings—but, honestly, it’s not the same. It’s just chat.’

  She studied his face, which told her nothing, then pushed on.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, ‘and I’m glad you asked me.’

  His smile lit up his face to such a degree that she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing...given him the impression that she was enjoying their—dreaded word—date!

  But of course she was.