The War Hero's Locked-Away Heart. Louisa George
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eyelashes and pretended to swoon. ‘How he saved poor Lukas from drowning. How he’s been in the army …’
‘Shut it. Last warning or time out.’ She smiled through gritted teeth. Was she that transparent? Her eyes flitted to the door. Again. ‘Besides, he didn’t look like he wanted to come. I should have asked Sean or Stevie to fill in instead.’
‘No disrespect, but your baby brothers have a combined IQ in single figures. From what I hear about Adam, he’s a little more cerebral than that.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
Way more, actually. And brooding. And strangely compelling to look at. With a voice that carried echoes of sadness. And softness. And strength.
She took a large slug of her wine to refocus before she got completely carried away. He was just a guy.
She knew more about them than most, having three brothers—who were simultaneously infuriating and adorable.
And her ratbag of a stepfather, and Brian, the married sleazebag. Between the two of them, they had taught her that love was made up of hurt, lies and empty promises. And not for her.
Especially not now she had three weeks and one day until that plane lifted off.
‘Hi. Sorry I’m late.’ The just-a-guy appeared in front of them, dressed casually in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. He slung his leather jacket onto the back of the chair and nodded at her, his lips a straight line, his eyes guarded. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world other than a small country pub filled with laughter and friendly faces.
Edgy and dangerous and about as far away from any man she’d ever been with, or had wanted to be with before, but everything about him resonated deep inside her.
She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. ‘Adam. Hi. Thought you might have had second thoughts.’
‘Got a code two just before I clocked off.’ Adam shrugged and glanced at Connor warily. ‘That’s a …’
‘Serious threat to life,’ Skye translated. ‘This is Connor. He’s one of the GPs at the surgery. The non-pregnant one, clearly. Connor, this is Adam. New paramedic about town.’
‘Good to meet you.’ Adam shook hands, then took his wallet out.
Connor scraped his chair back and stood. ‘No. My round. By way of thanks for filling in at the last minute. You stay here and save the seats. And watch my phone—Mim’s going to call if she needs me.’
‘She’s due any day now,’ Skye explained. ‘Sorry … what were you saying?’
‘That it was an unlucky break, getting a last-minute callout.’ Adam took the seat across from her, leaving an acre of space between them. He straightened the beermat in line with the edge of the table. Looked everywhere apart from at her face. ‘I guessed everyone would know what a code two was. Being Mad Medics.’
‘Sorry, did I butt in? It’s a bad habit.’ Her cheeks burned. She mentally banged her head against the table. ‘My brothers complain because I have a tendency to—’
‘Finish their sentences?’ His chin jutted upwards. No other muscles moved. Army training, she guessed. A man in control. He had a stillness that unnerved her, where she danced around and fidgeted. Adam was the kind of man who dominated a room, the one you didn’t want to take your eyes off. Not that she could if she tried.
‘Annoying habit, I know.’
‘You’d better tell me how this quiz works. What’s the strategic plan?’ He scanned the groups dotted around the lounge. The aroma of male with a hint of something exotic—cinnamon perhaps—hit her as he leaned close. ‘And who’s the enemy?’
‘Right, er, Sergeant? Corporal? I hope you don’t expect military precision because you’re going to be sorely disappointed.’ She showed him the quiz sheets in front of her. ‘Eight rounds, ten questions each round. Music, geography, current affairs, you know the score. It’s more a case of luck than judgement. Or skill. Or even knowledge really.’
‘I’ll fit in, then.’ His eyebrows rose, creasing the scar down his cheek into tiny broken lines. From here it looked well healed. Obviously old. But it would have been deep, painful. She wanted to reach out and trace it. Stupid idea.
She wanted to ask him about it too, but realised she didn’t know him enough to pry about his injuries. ‘So were you a captain, or a private, or what?’
‘Staff sergeant medic.’ His shoulders squared and his jaw twitched a little. The pale trace of light in his eyes diminished. The shutters came down.
She sensed something tragic had happened to him. She understood, knew how bruised the heart and soul could get. Maybe his abruptness wasn’t lack of social grace, maybe it stemmed from something deeper.
There she was with the amateur psychology again. Still, when faced with pain and lies, she’d read as many self-help books as she could get through.
‘I’m sorry if I seem nosy. Rearing three teenagers consisted of too many questions and never enough answers.’ She flashed him a smile and hoped she could drag him out of whatever sombre place she’d put him with her stupid line of questioning. ‘You know what boys are like, I imagine. There’s enough of them in the army, eh?’
‘Yeah.’ His shoulders tensed. He glanced over to the bar and seemed to relax at the sight of Connor returning with the beer. Either he had a mighty thirst or he wasn’t comfortable chatting with her alone.
She ran her finger round the rim of her glass and gave him her best smile. Trying to work out exactly what she felt for this just-a-guy. She came up with confused. He’d been relaxed with Dan, chatty with Lukas … but with her he gave little away. Other than that brief connection at the beach, he was a stranger to her.
She didn’t want to get closer to him. But she sure as heck wanted to make him smile. His eyes spoke of too much pain.
Story of her life, really. Finding waifs and strays. Trying to make people smile. Putting their needs before hers. Giving up her dreams.
She dragged her eyes away from him and prayed the quiz would start soon to distract her from her wayward emotions, her wired libido and the strange effect of Adam Miller on her sensibilities.
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