St Piran's: The Fireman and Nurse Loveday (8 page)

She shook her head. ‘But that’s not possible.’

‘Why’s it so hard to believe? Flora, you’re a pocket Venus. You have the most gorgeous mouth. And you taste…’ he brushed his mouth against hers again ‘… like heaven.’

Self-consciousness washed through her. He’d just called her a pocket Venus. She knew she was just frumpy and overweight. And right now she was probably crushing his legs, and he was doing the macho firefighter thing and pretending she wasn’t.

‘Flora.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You look worried. Do you want me to back off?’

‘No-o.’

‘You don’t sound very sure.’ He twined the end of her ponytail round his finger. ‘OK, let me ask you a different question. Will you go out with me? ‘

‘I…’ Heat flooded into her face. ‘Look, I, um, haven’t dated much.’ And she certainly hadn’t ever had a serious boyfriend. ‘I’m not very good at this.’ She bit her lip. ‘And you’re…’

‘I’m what?’ he prompted gently.

Sex on legs. Not that anything would drag that admission from her. ‘You must have women falling at your feet all the time,’ she said unhappily. Gorgeous women. Glamorous women who were used to dating and had all the right social skills.

‘I admit, I get teased at work for having a fan club. There are a few women who insist on baking me cakes.’

She’d just bet there were.

‘And some of them are in their eighties,’ Tom said.

Maybe, but she was pretty sure that a good deal more of them would be around her own age.

‘Some of them think of me as a surrogate grandson who rescues their cat and checks that their smoke alarms are working properly. I’m polite to everyone who makes me cakes, I thank them for their kindness but I don’t make a habit of going around kissing women.’

Which wasn’t the same thing as saying that they didn’t kiss him.

He kissed her again. ‘I guess I’m trying to say that there’s
something about you. I can’t get you out of my head. And I really, really like kissing you.’ He caught her bottom lip between his, just to prove it.

And this time she couldn’t help kissing him back.

When he broke the kiss, he settled her against him, wrapping his arms round her. ‘You know, this is the first time my world’s felt right this year,’ he said softly. ‘So can I see you?’

‘Tom.’ She stroked his face. ‘I wasn’t expecting this to happen.’

‘Do you mind?’

‘It scares me a bit,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not used to this.’

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Flora. I like you. A lot.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t—well, just gratitude?’

‘Because you’re helping me with Joey? Given that I was dreaming about you last night,’ Tom said, ‘and you’d really be blushing if I told you exactly what was happening in that dream… No. It’s definitely not just gratitude.’

She blushed anyway. Tom had been having raunchy dreams about her?

‘You’re adorable,’ he said softly. ‘Actually, I love it when you go all pink and flustered. It makes me want to kiss you and fluster you some more. And your eyes are amazing. They have these little amber flecks in them. Like gold.’

That was what people always said when they knew you weren’t drop-dead gorgeous and they tried to compliment you: they said you had nice eyes.

‘And your ears.’

Now, that she hadn’t expected. She stared at him in surprise. ‘My ears?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He nibbled one lobe, very gently, then kissed his way down the sensitive spots at the side of her neck, making her shiver. ‘And your mouth. It’s a perfect rosebud. It’s beautiful. Tempting. Irresistible.’ He kissed her again, to make the
point. ‘And your curves are delicious.’ He kept his arms very firmly round her. ‘I like you, Flora. Very much. As a person, because you’re warm and sweet and kind and you make the world seem a better place.’ He paused, making eye contact. ‘And as a woman. I really,
really
like you as a woman.’

‘I like you, too,’ she admitted shyly. ‘As a—As a man.’

‘So how about we see where this takes us?’

She took a deep breath. ‘OK. But, as far as Joey’s concerned, you and I are just friends—which keeps things stable in his world and he isn’t going to worry that suddenly neither of us will have time for him.’

‘That’s another thing,’ Tom said softly. ‘You think about other people. How things affect them. You’re incredibly empathetic.’

‘It’s my job. I’m a nurse.’

‘No, Flora, it’s who you are,’ he corrected. ‘And it’s yet another thing that draws me to you.’

She still found it hard to believe that Tom was serious—how could he possibly want her, when he could have his pick of the most gorgeous women in this part of Cornwall?—and yet his dark eyes were sincere. He wasn’t spinning her a line.

Joey stirred and she wriggled off Tom’s lap. ‘Joey,’ she said softly.

Tom stole a last kiss, then went to scoop his nephew off the beanbag. ‘Come on, sweetheart. You’re sleepy. Let’s get you home.’

To Flora’s surprise and pleasure, Joey didn’t wriggle out of his arms and actually let Tom carry him to the car.

‘See you tomorrow, Flora,’ he said softly. ‘And thank you.’

Flora still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened: that Tom had actually sat with her on his lap, had kissed her and told her he thought she was gorgeous.

She pinched herself. It hurt. So she wasn’t dreaming, then.

And the flowers he’d brought her were still on the table. She hadn’t even put them in water yet; she’d been too caught up in the way Tom had cradled her on his lap and kissed her. She smiled and put the flowers in a vase—and she was still smiling when she fell asleep that night.

On Friday evening, Tom had news. ‘I’m going to do the show-and-tell at Joey’s class next week.’

‘That’s great—he’ll enjoy that.’

‘And there’s something else—I play football in the local emergency services league. Our team’s having a “dads and sons” match on Sunday morning, when I’m off duty. I’m going to take Joey; will you come with us?’

‘I’ve never been to a football match.’

‘Because you hate football? ‘

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, it’s not really my sort of thing.’ And she’d been utterly hopeless at sport at school—always the last to be picked for any team.

‘Ah, but this is different. And Joey and I could do with someone standing on the sidelines cheering for us,’ Tom said.

Put like that, how could she refuse?

Then she thought of something. ‘So you’re working tomorrow?’ Being Saturday, Joey wouldn’t have school.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to bring Joey over?’

‘I can’t impose on you like that.’ Before she could protest that it was fine and she didn’t mind, he added softly, ‘Kevin’s parents are coming down to see him for the day. Actually, they’re coming this evening and staying overnight, so I’d better get back and sort my place out, because it’s a tip.’ He smiled at her. ‘The match on Sunday starts at ten so we’ll pick you up at half past nine, OK?’

‘Half-nine it is,’ she agreed.

He kissed her swiftly but very, very sweetly. ‘Sorry I have to go so soon—I would rather stay with you, but Joey needs to see his grandparents.’

‘Of course he does. I understand, Tom.’

‘I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.’ He stole a last kiss. ‘We’ll see you on Sunday morning.’

O
N
S
UNDAY,
Tom picked Flora up at half past nine on the dot and drove her to the playing field. She felt ridiculously shy as she climbed out of his car. Tom seemed to know everyone; people were coming up all the time to talk to him or clap him on the back and ask how many goals he thought he’d score in the match. And she didn’t know a single one of them. Nobody from Penhally was here; this was a completely different crowd to what she’d been expecting. The only person she could see that she recognised was Megan Phillips—and Megan was standing on the sidelines, shoulders hunched and hands in her pockets, her body language making it very clear that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

This was awful. Just like one or two of her mums had confided to her about the baby and toddler group, the first time they’d been—everyone else knew each other and had bonded into a little group, and they weren’t part of it. Flora wasn’t part of this group, either.

Her advice to her mums had been to take a deep breath and start talking to someone, and they’d soon find something in common.

What a hypocrite she was—she couldn’t even follow her own advice. She didn’t have a clue what to say. What did she have in common with these glamorous women in their tight jeans, fashionable boots and waxed jackets? She couldn’t
even go over and talk to them about children, because Joey wasn’t really hers. Besides, she only recognised a couple of the children on the pitch from Penhally, and a swift scan of the sidelines told her that their mums weren’t at the match—they were obviously at home looking after the younger children.

In the end, she simply stood on the sidelines, watching Tom and Joey, thinking miserably that she was never going to fit in with Tom’s crowd. Maybe they ought to stop this disaster of a relationship before it had really begun.

Megan shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. What an idiot she was, turning up to the father-and-son football match. And all to catch a glimpse of Josh. Stupid, really. Josh was only there because one of the emergency department doctors had got flu and had had to drop out. He didn’t even have a child with him.

Though if things had been different, he would’ve done. A seven-year-old boy. A boy with Josh’s indigo-blue eyes and ready smile, perhaps. A boy who adored his father and had grown up knowing how much he was loved by both his parents…

The back of her throat felt tight. There was no point in wishing things were different, because they weren’t. She’d lost the baby. And more. She never would have a child of her own. The nearest she could get to it was through her work, saving the lives of other people’s precious babies.

And that had to be enough.

She swallowed hard. She really shouldn’t have come today. Better to leave now—before Josh saw her and started asking questions.

To her surprise, Flora discovered that she enjoyed watching the game and cheering as Tom scored a goal. She had a flask of hot chocolate in her basket ready for half-time, and had also
spent the Saturday afternoon making a batch of brownies and cookies. She poured a small mug of hot chocolate for Joey; Tom simply stole her mug, deliberately sipped from exactly the same spot that she had, and gave her a smile that made her knees go weak. And suddenly it didn’t matter that she was on her own on the sidelines; Tom and Joey wanted her there, and that was the main thing.

‘Enjoying it?’ Tom asked.

She smiled. ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a complete fib; now he and Joey were here with her, she was definitely enjoying it.

Josh spotted Megan on the sidelines. On her own. But why would she come to a football match? Unless…

‘Pay attention, Josh! That was an easy pass. You should’ve scored.’

‘Sorry, mate.’ Josh held his hands up in acknowledgement of the fault. But all the same he couldn’t help looking for Megan during the match, trying to catch her eye. When the whistle blew for half-time, he caught one of the others. ‘Can you substitute me for a bit? Something I really need to do.’

‘What,
now?’

‘Yes, now,’ Josh said, clapping his team-mate’s shoulder. If Megan was here, unless she was here as the medical support—which he very much doubted—it was to see him. And he couldn’t pass up the chance that she might be ready to talk to him. To start sorting things out between them.

Except, when he reached the place he’d seen her, she wasn’t there. He scanned the sidelines and couldn’t see her there, either. Maybe she was in the car park.

But a swift search of the car park told him that Megan had gone.

Needing a moment to himself, he leaned against the bonnet of his own car. Why had she come here in the first place? He
didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head. But one thing he did know: they needed to talk. Properly.

Five minutes into the second half, one of the players fell to the ground and rolled onto his back, clutching his leg. The referee stopped the match. Automatically, Flora went over; her skills were needed, and that was enough to push her shyness and feelings of awkwardness into the background. ‘I’m a nurse,’ she explained. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

The referee gave her a grateful look. ‘Yes, please. This is Ian.’

‘What happened, Ian?’ she asked.

‘My ankle’s killing me,’ he groaned.

‘Can I take a look?’

He nodded, his face white with pain.

‘I’ll need to take your boot off. Is that OK?’ When he gave his consent, she crouched down, removed his football boot and drew the sock down so she could see his ankle properly, then probed his ankle gently.

‘Ow. That hurts,’ Ian said.

‘It’s a pretty nasty sprain,’ Flora said. ‘Looks like you’ve landed awkwardly—you’ve twisted the joint and it’s damaged your ligaments. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to play for the rest of the match. Did you hear a “pop” in your ankle when it happened?’

‘Yes—and then it started hurting like crazy.’

‘I’m pretty sure it’s not a fracture, just a simple sprain, but it’s going to hurt for a couple of weeks,’ she warned him. ‘You’ll need to rest it for the next couple of days with ice to reduce the swelling, wrapped in some kind of cloth so it doesn’t burn your skin. I’d suggest fifteen minutes of ice treatment per hour, but no more than three hours in total over the next twenty-four. You also need to use an elastic bandage from your toes to the middle of your lower leg, to support the
sprain. And if you can put a couple of pillows on a chair and prop your ankle up so it’s higher than your heart, it’ll help it heal more quickly. If you’ve got some ibuprofen at home, that’d be best painkiller to use because it’ll help reduce the swelling.’ She smiled at him. ‘If it’s still giving you a lot of gyp tomorrow it might be worth going to the emergency department at St Piran’s and ask them to take a look, but I’m pretty sure it’s only a sprain rather than a fracture.’

‘I know you from somewhere, don’t I?’ he asked.

‘I’m a nurse at the Penhally Bay Surgery,’ she said. ‘And I’m the school liaison nurse.’

He nodded. ‘That’s where I’ve seen you—my boy’s in Year Six. He’s been nagging me lately about my lunchbox not being healthy enough and telling me to swap the cake for another piece of fruit.’

She laughed. ‘Glad to hear the message is getting through.’

He moved, and gritted his teeth as pain clearly shot through him. ‘Thanks for looking after me. You’re here with Tom, aren’t you?’

‘I…um…’ Flora couldn’t help blushing. ‘Yes.’

Ian smiled. ‘He’s a top bloke, our Tom.’

‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘Ian, I don’t have an ice pack with me, but I do have an elastic bandage. I can at least strap up your ankle and get you to elevate it until you can get a lift home.’

A couple of the other football players helped him up and supported him over to his car; Ian called his wife on his mobile phone and asked her to get a taxi to the football ground and rescue him. Flora strapped up his ankle, made sure that he was comfortable, and then went back to watch the end of the match.

‘What happened to Ian?’ Tom asked when he came over to her at the end of the match.

‘He sprained his ankle.’

‘Poor guy. It’s going to make things difficult for him at work—he’s a police officer.’

‘He’s going to be on desk duty for a few days, then,’ Flora said.

‘Did you enjoy the match, Joey?’ Tom asked.

Joey nodded but his eyes were very dark. Tom and Flora exchanged a glance, guessing that the little boy was thinking of his dad. Tom crouched down. ‘Hey. You played really well. And I bet your dad would have been really proud of you.’

Joey’s bottom lip wobbled for a second, then he turned away.

Tom bit his lip, clearly thinking he’d made a mess of it.

Flora squeezed his hand and mouthed, ‘You said the right thing. Don’t blame yourself—just give him a moment.’

‘We’d better go home and have a shower, because we’re both covered in mud,’ Tom said. ‘And we have to be home for one, because Grandma said that’s when lunch is going to be ready. She’s cooking chicken, your favourite.’

‘Is Flora coming?’ Joey asked.

Flora hadn’t been invited and had no intention of muscling in. After all, she was really just Tom’s friend—acquaintance, really. She had no real connection to Kevin or to Susie.

Tom glanced at her, and she shook her head silently.

‘No, we’ve already taken up her morning with the football. She has things to do round the farm. Come on, we’ll drop her home and you can say hello to Banjo, and then we have to get going,’ Tom said.

Before Flora knew it, she was home again, just her and the dog. Funny, a week ago that had been fine with her. Right now, it felt…empty.

Which was totally ridiculous.

She couldn’t be falling for Tom—and Joey—that fast. Cross with herself, she made sure that she was busy for the rest of the day. Even so, the time dragged; the next morning dragged,
too, because Tom was off duty and was taking Joey to school himself.

But at lunchtime she was catching up with paperwork in the surgery when her mobile phone rang.

‘Hi. Are you busy tonight?’ Tom asked.

‘Not particularly,’ Flora said. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’d like to invite you to dinner at my place. Joey tells me that he’s enjoying cooking with you in the mornings, so he and I are going to be chefs. Is there anything you don’t eat or you’re allergic to? ‘

‘No.’

‘Great.’ He gave her his address and directions. ‘See you at six?’

‘OK. Six it is.’

Flora felt ridiculously shy as she ended the call. This felt like a proper date—especially as it was Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day.

Should she get Tom a card, or was that being a bit pushy? Was it too early in their relationship?

Oh, help. She was no good at this dating stuff. But on the way to Tom’s flat, she dropped into the supermarket to buy a box of chocolates for Tom and Joey as a host gift and a huge display of cards caught her eye. She spent a while choosing one: nothing mushy, just a photograph of a simple heart-shaped box filled with chocolates. Sitting in her car, she simply wrote Tom’s name inside it and signed it with two kisses; then she slipped the card into the envelope and put it in her handbag. She’d give it to him later, if she felt the moment was right.

Tom’s flat was in a modern block on the first floor. She rang the doorbell, feeling ridiculously nervous.

He answered the door. ‘Come in. Joey’s just watching some cartoons. Can I take your coat?’ He gave her a brief kiss hello as he took her coat, and her knees went weak. ‘You look
gorgeous,’ he whispered. ‘I love that colour on you.’ She was wearing a black calf-length skirt and a teal-coloured top.

Colour seeped into her face. ‘Thank you.’ She strove for lightness. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’ In dark trousers and a white shirt, he looked absolutely edible; she wanted to kiss him again, but at the same time she didn’t want to seem pushy.

‘Jojo, Flora’s here,’ he called.

Joey appeared from the living room. ‘We made you dinner.’

‘Thank you. And I brought you these as a gift.’ She handed him the chocolates. ‘Though they’re for after dinner, OK?’

‘Thank you.’ Joey smiled at her. ‘I made this at school.’ He handed her an envelope.

‘For me?’

He nodded.

When she opened it, there was a huge lump in her throat. The envelope contained a simple card with a heart shape cut out from red tissue paper. Inside, it said,
‘To Flora from Joey
‘
,
in very careful handwriting, and there were two kisses.

‘That’s lovely, Joey, and what beautiful handwriting.’

‘We made cards at school.’ He bit his lip, and she knew what he wasn’t saying—that the children had all made them for their parents. ‘I made one for Uncle Tom, too.’

She glanced at Tom and saw the sheen in his eyes; clearly the card had had a real emotional impact on him, too. She crouched down to Joey’s level. ‘This is the nicest card I’ve ever had. Can I give you a thank-you hug?’

Joey deliberated and she thought he was going to say no—then he nodded.

She hugged him. ‘Thank you. And I’m going to put this on my fridge when I get home.’

‘Can I watch cartoons again now?’

‘Sure you can,’ Tom said. ‘I’m going to give Flora a guided
tour.’ He showed her around the flat. ‘Living room, obviously.’ There were lots of photographs on the mantelpiece: an older couple that she assumed were his parents; a wedding picture that she guessed was Susie and Kevin, as there was another of the same couple with a baby; a picture of Tom with a much smaller Joey on his shoulders. There was one large bookcase crammed with books, and another crammed with films; she wasn’t surprised to see a state-of-the-art games console next to his TV.

‘Kitchen diner.’ The kitchen was at one end and there was a table at the far end, by the window.

‘Something smells nice,’ she said.

‘Bathroom, if you need it.’ Plain, masculine and gleamingly clean, she noticed.

‘And those two…’ he gestured to the final two closed doors ‘…are my room and Joey’s.’

‘So where did you put Kevin’s parents when they stayed?’

‘My room, and I slept on the couch. It wasn’t a big deal.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Dinner’s about ready. Would you like to go and sit down? Joey—time for dinner, sweetheart.’