Single Dad's Triple Trouble. Fiona Lowe

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Single Dad's Triple Trouble - Fiona  Lowe


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      He held up his hand. ‘As colleagues, we always debriefed our cases and the fact we’re no longer a couple isn’t a reason to stop.’ He plunged his hands into his pockets. ‘But can we get out of here to do it?’

      Unwanted anticipation fluttered in her stomach and she tried to shut it down. This was work. ‘Sure, why not? I could do with some fresh air. Are you up for a walk?’

      He grinned, the old Gabe suddenly front and centre. ‘Sounds good to me.’

      They strolled through the hospital gardens, past the massed silver-bush plants with their cheery white flowers and silver-grey leaves, and then they turned toward the beach; two doctors discussing their cases, rethinking their treatment options and learning from pooling their thoughts.

      Elly automatically turned left at a spindly tree and walked into the picnic area-cum-children’s playground nestled in the dunes above the sea wall. It was a popular place for families as the tidal river on this side of the bridge was quiet compared with further downstream where an eddying rip swirled at the tidal junction. She loved to sit on the sea wall and watch the parade of yachts, their brightly coloured spinnakers bulging in the wind as they raced between the channel markers, but most of all she loved to listen to the children’s shrieks of delight as they played on the swings and play equipment or on the beach below.

      Often children would come and chat to her, holding up their buckets and proudly showing off their soldier crabs and periwinkles. Even though she knew it was a crazy daydream, she sometimes pretended she was part of it and was at the beach with her own children. One day. She bit her lip. She’d been telling herself that now for over two years and she wasn’t any closer.

       Dev says he wants children.

      Unease sat like a rock in her gut. The thought that had held tempting appeal last night seemed slightly tarnished in the full sunshine of daylight.

      Gabe stopped suddenly, and did a rapid one-eighty-degree scan of the area as waves of tension rolled off him like sea-fog.

      ‘Something wrong?’

      His sunglasses hid his eyes as he patted down his pockets and then with an audible sound of relief he produced his phone. ‘Sorry, for a moment I thought I’d left it at the hospital.’

      She remembered seeing him slide it into his pocket back at the desk and at the time she’d been slightly puzzled by the uncharacteristic self-conscious look he’d given her. She’d put it down to one of those uncomfortable moments ex-lovers had. But this reaction to the phone snagged her. She’d known him to lose things in the past and barely react to their loss, other than saying, ‘It’ll turn up eventually.’ It was another jar, another change in him, and they were starting to form a list— his reaction to Millie, his empathy with Rachel, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes, and now this.

      ‘For someone on holidays, you seem a bit strung out.’

      ‘Nah.’ He grinned and winked; his blue-on-blue eyes sparkling and his gaze so direct and all-encompassing it was as if she was the absolute centre of his world.

      Careful. She recognised his flirting look of old but it gave her scant immunity as she tried unsuccessfully to steel herself against the traitorous tendrils that wove through her.

      The mangled strains of ‘Greensleeves’ drifted across on the summer breeze and Gabe abruptly turned and started striding out of the park, making his way toward the music and calling over his shoulder, ‘Do you want an ice cream?’

      It took her brain a moment to catch up and her legs even longer, and by the time she arrived at the van he’d already ordered her favourite: a lemon gelato.

      ‘Enjoy.’ He handed her a waffle cone bulging with two enormous scoops of the tangy confection.

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Let’s sit over here.’ He tilted his head away from the park and the late-afternoon sunshine picked up the straw colour of his hair, making it dazzle like golden thread. A golden god visiting the mortals.

      Elly looked at the Norfolk pines and their prickly fallen scale-like leaves and said, ‘Let’s not. The sea wall’s much prettier.’

      Wariness crossed his face. ‘There are more people there.’

      ‘Are you worried we’ll be seen? Fear not, one ice cream with me won’t ruin your free-and-easy bachelor reputation. ‘ She licked her ice cream and started strolling to cover her jab of disappointment.

      He fell into step with her. ‘That’s not what I meant. I just thought it would be good to have somewhere quiet to talk rather than a park full of tearaway toddlers.’

      Now, that was more like the Gabe she remembered. ‘Rest easy, mate. It’s past six and any self-respecting toddler is at home, having dinner and a bath.’ And she was right. The park was virtually empty, and a small group of teenagers left the moment Elly and Gabe walked in.

      But for someone who had wanted to talk, Gabe was strangely silent as they dangled their legs over the sea wall and ate their ice cream. When they’d had work to discuss they’d had conversation but they’d well and truly debriefed and now there was just awkwardness, an almost tangible bubble of distance bulging between them. This must be the ex factor. This was the sum of all their time apart and different dreams. This afternoon she’d realised that Gabe had changed and she guessed she must have too.

       We’ve both moved on.

      Melancholy circled her heart but at least now she knew for sure there was nothing left between them. The moment she finished her ice cream she was going home. She’d have that bath. Her niggling conscience said, You should ring Dev.

      A cold, wet sensation crossed her hand and with a start she realised her now-melting gelato was dripping. ‘Oh, ick, I’m getting all sticky.’ She held it up high and gave it a giant lick around the perimeter of the cone. Liquid ran down her jaw.

      Gabe laughed. ‘Some things don’t change. You were always hopeless with ice cream.’ He leaned forward, his hand gently cupping her jaw while his thumb slowly swept across her chin.

      She stilled at the touch that should have been practical and prosaic yet was anything but. Tingles shot through her, making her tremble from head to toe. Stop it and get with the programme. You heard, we’ve moved on! She tried valiantly to claim back control and she swallowed. Hard.

      Intense, light blue eyes instantly darkened to navy, holding her gaze transfixed as if it was bonded to her. His head moved slowly toward hers.

      Pull back now! Maintain distance! But she stayed perfectly still. She no longer cared what was sensible or logical; she just wanted him to kiss her one more time to prove that it really was all over between them. Call it an experiment. She was a doctor, a scientist and she needed to know if she’d been living on memories overblown by time and longing. Memories that had interfered with every attempt at a new relationship. Now she had a chance for reality to finally reveal those memories as fraudulent and then she and her traitorous body could truly move forward.

      His five-o’clock shadow brushed her cheek as his scent of good health and fresh pine swirled around her. She tilted her head so his lips brushed hers. Like a jolt of electricity buzzing through her body, tingles and shimmers raced through her, quickly chased by heat. Wondrous, glorious heat that set her alight and demanded more. Much more.

      His tongue traced the outline of her lips and with a moan she opened her mouth as her hand released the ice cream to the sand below. He tasted of spearmint and chocolate and home. His mouth covered hers without a hint of hesitation, knowing exactly where to go and what to do to make her his, and, God help her, she never wanted it to stop.

      The noise of car doors slamming, seagulls squawking and gentle waves lapping faded away as every part of her was absorbed by the kiss. She wanted to invade his mouth and reclaim it as hers, but his stroking lips derailed her so instead she gloried in his urgent pressure of desire, his softness


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