4. CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
I t was two in the morning, and Clara was exhausted. But finally, she felt everything was under control enough in the operating theatres for her to head home.
Taylor stood next to her; he hadn’t complained once about the time and insisted that he would stay whenever she tried to send him home.
“You didn’t have to stay until the bitter end.” Clara met Taylor’s bright blue eyes.
She had spent the whole day explaining things to him and found him so easy to talk to she kept forgetting that behind the mask and glasses, there was the world-famous actor Taylor Anderson and not a very oversized medical student.
Taylor shrugged. “It felt like I should if I wanted to really see what the job was like.” He tried to suppress his yawn, but it overwhelmed him. “I’m going to sleep well when I get back to the hotel.”
“Where do you have to go?” She rubbed the back of her neck to relieve some of her tension and walked out the theatre door.
“It’s only an hour’s drive away. Not too far.” Taylor yawned again.
“Do you have someone driving you?” She paused, hoping he was about to tell her he had a driver waiting for him.
“No. I love driving. I’ve got a rental car.”
“You shouldn’t drive that far. It’s been a long day.” Clara worried at her lip under the mask.
It was twelve months since they had lost one of their registrars in a car accident when they had driven home after a night shift and fallen asleep at the wheel.
Since then, she read the riot act to every new bunch of registrars when they arrived at the hospital. She only lived ten minutes away and had a spare room that she now always kept ready for guests. They were all given the code to the hideaway key and had strict instructions that all she needed was a text to let her know, and they could let themselves in.
“You shouldn’t drive that far,” she repeated slowly.
“It’ll be fine,” he reassured her.
“I know… well… well, it’s two in the morning, I have a spare room. Get a couple of hours sleep, and then head to your hotel.” Clara rushed the words out, unable to believe she had just offered her spare room to one of the most famous actors in the world. “Or do you have an assistant or someone who can arrange something for you? You must have someone who sorts these things out for you.” She clamped her lips shut to stop herself from rambling any more than she already had.
“My assistant has a few days off, so it’s just me. Don’t worry, I’m not that tired.” Unfortunately, the giant yawn that escaped him did not support his assertion.
“Right, that’s settled. You’ll sleep in my spare room. Where are you parked? You can follow me home.” She walked away from him, not waiting for an answer.
Another yawn broke free from Taylor, and he called after her. “Thanks!” Grinning when she answered him with a nod of her head and a wave over her shoulder.
Clara threw her backpack onto the floor by the front door and chucked her keys onto the table, ready to grab if she got called in again.
“Do you want anything to eat?” she asked as she made her way through to the kitchen, Taylor trailing in her wake.
She glanced over her shoulder and started. It had been very easy when he wore a mask, glasses and a hat to forget who he was, but now she was very aware that she had Taylor Anderson standing in her tiny hallway, all six-foot-five of him.
“Sure.” He smiled broadly at her.
She froze and blinked at him, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, before she reminded herself she had just spent all day with him and that now was not the time to turn into a simpering girl.
“I’m sorry; I don’t have much food in the house.” Clara pulled open her pantry. “I’ve basically got two-minute noodles or two-minute noodles. Is that okay with you?” She cracked a massive yawn. “Sorry.”
She checked her phone: two thirty am. She debated going straight to bed, but her stomach let out a massive grumble.
“Totally fine. I used to live on them.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the small kitchen table. “Can I do anything to help?”
“I think I can cope with boiling water,” she replied drolly, filling the kettle and flicking it on.
She opened two packets of noodles, then glanced at him, opened another two, and threw them into a bowl. Clara tried to resist the urge to look across at him as they waited in silence while the water boiled.
Pouring the water over the noodles, she finally looked up to see him staring at her and quickly averted her gaze as she waited for the food to cook.
“Cheese?” She held the parmesan in her hand and raised her eyebrows in question.
“Absolutely! My two favourite things. Carbs and dairy.” He grabbed the fork she offered, his fingers grazing hers.
Clara frowned at the tingle she felt when their hands touched, then dismissed it as exhaustion and sat down with her bowl of noodles.
Taylor picked up a giant forkful and eyed it for a second before stuffing it into his mouth. “My trainer and dietician would kill me if they knew I was eating this,” he muttered through the mouthful.
“Why?” Clara paused eating.
“All carbs have to be accounted for. And my exercise programme adjusted accordingly.” He shoved another mouthful in, sighing with happiness.
“Right.” Her brain wasn’t functioning properly, and she stared at him before blurting out, “Is that so you look hot when you take your shirt off?”
The words were followed by instant regret. What the hell did she say that for? Her cheeks burnt, and she looked down at the table, internally berating herself for her big mouth.
However, much to her surprise, Taylor laughed, a big, deep, genuine belly laugh.
“That is a great summary. Yeah. It’s so I look hot,” he drawled the word in amusement, “when I take my shirt off on screen.”
“Which you seem to do a lot.” Again, Clara couldn’t work out what had possessed her to open her mouth. “I’m just going to blame the twenty-hour day for all those comments. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my foot out of my mouth and stop speaking.” She pushed a forkful of food in to stop any more accidental comments.
“You’ve watched some of my movies?” His eyebrow was raised, and his blue eyes pinned her.
She snorted, and some noodles flew out of her mouth and onto the table. Staring down at them, she could not believe what had just happened and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Clara only opened them when she felt something brush against her hand. Dropping her gaze, she saw Taylor giving her some kitchen roll he had grabbed from the counter. Snatching it, she hastily picked up the half-chewed noodles and deposited them in the bin.
She took a few deep breaths before deciding to ignore the noodle incident.
“Of course. Who hasn’t? You’re one of the biggest movie stars in the world.” She shook her head before she muttered to herself, “And you’re sitting in my kitchen.” She pinched her own arm. “Nope. Still awake.”
Her eyes rose at the massive burst of laughter that escaped Taylor.
“I’m so tired.” She smiled ruefully, meeting his eyes before she glanced away uncomfortably.
“I have to be at work in,” she checked her watch. “Five hours. So rather than digging my own hole any deeper, I’m going to have a shower and get some sleep. Please stay up as long as you want. Just chuck the plate in the sink when you’re done. There’s a TV through there,” she pointed through the door to her living room. “And I’ll show you to the guest room now if that’s okay?” She got to her feet and put her plate in the sink. “I’ve left the spare front door key on the hallway table. Just lock up when you go and post the key through the letterbox.”
Taylor still had half a bowl of noodles to eat but immediately stood up to follow her. “Thanks. This is really nice of you.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. I often have the junior doctors stay over.” Her voice hitched before she continued, “We lost one of them last year because they were tired driving home. And I refuse to lose anyone else from tiredness,” she said fiercely.
“Clara, that’s—“
She didn’t let him finish. “Right, the bathroom is there,” she led him along the corridor of her single-level house and pointed to a white door. “And your bedroom is right next to it. I’m at the end, and I have an en-suite, so we don’t have to share bathrooms.”
She pushed the door of the bedroom open, showing him the basic guest room she had set up.
“There’s a towel on the end of your bed, and in the wardrobe, there are scrubs in various sizes that I’ve borrowed from the hospital for you to sleep in.”
Taylor stuck his head around the door, taking in the queen bed and functional furniture. “Thanks, this is great.”
“No problems. There are some snacks on the side. Help yourself,” she indicated to the supplies she always left in the room. “And if you see anything in the kitchen you want to eat, please don’t hesitate.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He stood awkwardly looking at her.
“Right. Well—“ Clara stared up at the man who towered nearly a foot above her. Shook her head again at the bizarre situation and turned to leave. “Night.”
She walked off down the corridor and went into her room without a backward glance.
Taylor stood there for a bit longer, staring after her, until his stomach grumbled loudly, and he went back to the kitchen to finish his noodles.