Chapter 31
Alistair
Alistair: I’m heading home now, sorry that took so long.
It was after ten when I finally parked outside the cottage. Dragging myself from the Land Rover, I reached back inside for the pizza box.
My eyes instantly strayed to Isla’s place. Light blazed from the lamp in the window.
I was dog-tired.
Sweat cooled on my skin, the muscles in my back and shoulders screaming from holding pressure to the patient’s thigh wound longer than my body would have liked.
It had taken over a fucking hour for the helicopter to arrive.
I’d been ready to throw him in the back of my car and drive him to the damn hospital myself.
But beneath all of that, the exhaustion and frustration, there was a hum.
Not from caffeine or adrenaline, but the fierce clarity that came after pulling someone back from the edge. Sharp decisions and bloodied gloves.
I hadn’t felt this way in . . . years, probably.
“You’re Jim Macabe’s boy,” the ageing farmer had said as I helped lift him onto the stretcher.
“Aye.”
The sweat on his lip had shone as he grimaced. “We used to grab a pint now and then; he’d be proud of you.”
I couldn’t stop replaying those words over and over.
And the only person I wanted to tell was on the other side of that wall. Waiting for me.
I needed to see her.
I quickly unlocked my front door, putting the pizza on the table as I flipped the lights on and kicked off my shoes. Music pulsed softly from Isla’s place and, for the first time since I’d moved in all those months ago, my cottage felt lonely . . . a little barren.
Anticipation danced in my stomach as I knocked on the connecting door.
I’d texted Isla to ask her topping preferences before leaving Drumfearn.
She hadn’t replied by the time I hit Auld Lang Slice pizza van, so I’d been forced to ask Mac, who’d chatted to me like an old friend while the pizzas cooked.
“See you around, Doc,” he’d called before I’d driven away.
It had felt kind of nice . . . to be known. To feel like I was a part of something.
“Isla,” I called.
No answer came so I rapped again. “Sorry that took so long, but I grabbed apology pizza.” I untucked my shirt, frowning at the door. Maybe she was in the bathroom because she should definitely be able to hear me. “Pizza’s on the table,” I said. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
Isla’s body wash was in the shower caddie. Marshmallow scent. “Of fucking course,” I grunted, flipping the lid and holding it to my nose. So sweet it gave me toothache. My eyes almost rolled back. That she’d come over here, even in my absence, made my blood thrum.
I’d barely scrubbed the pink concoction into my hair when the bathroom door flew open with enough Here’s Johnny energy to make horror buffs proud.
“What the fuck?” I startled, almost slipped, yanking the shower curtain back. “Isla—”
For one glorious moment, I assumed she was here to join me. To pick up where we left off.
Then I saw her face and the pie in her hand.
“Here’s the damn pie I spent all afternoon baking for you.” It splattered on the bathmat. Chunks of baked apple sprayed across the tiles like a culinary murder scene.
Beyond confused, I stared at her from beneath the shower spray.
Her hair was down – the first time I’d seen her wear it that way.
The disarray of curls she usually restrained in a plait were smoothed into long coils.
I drank the image of her in with one long sweep, getting caught up around her collarbones.
She was wearing the pink dress. Shit. But she was magnificent when she was furious.
She was staring at me too, nostrils flared as she watched the water run down my chest. My thighs.
I instantly hardened.
“You’re mad because I’m late?” I washed the suds out of my hair, then clicked the shower off, making no move to cover myself. “I’m sorry. I texted you as soon as I could—”
“Save it.” She cut me off, redness creeping into her cheeks. “I can’t tell if you think I’m really desperate or really bloody stupid.”
I froze at her tone. “I don’t know what—”
“Or maybe your saviour complex got really out of hand this time, and you just had to swoop in and save the single mum and her kid.” Her hands splayed at her sides.
“Hey, at least I got off. Would have been nice to know it was a Make-A-Wish orgasm at the time, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers, right? ”
The words were mean. Not like Isla at all.
My teeth ground as I stepped out the shower, not even glancing at the mess on the floor.
“You going to let me speak for myself anytime soon, honey? I’ll admit, I’m enjoying watching you run your mouth, but the accusations are starting to piss me off.
” We were so close that the heat from her heavy chest hit me in waves.
She felt it too. Her eyes dropped and, even though she was furious, widened as she spied my cock.
Long and thick, straining toward my stomach.
I’d never been one to get off on an argument. Isla Lang was a surprise in so many ways. “Isla,” I snapped, bending slightly to look her in the eye. “Are we fighting, or are you going to stare at my cock all night?”
She cleared her throat, blush deepening as she stumbled back a step. “The money for Teddy’s school trip. Was it you?”
I drew in a breath. Only one person could have told her that. “Cameron came to see you?”
Her body pulled taut. “That’s not an answer.”
I straightened my shoulders; my skin suddenly felt too tight over my bones. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Why did she think? “Cameron wasn’t going to give you the money anytime soon. I saw a problem, and I fixed it.”
I winced. It sounded cold. Clinical.
When the truth was, I’d solve every problem in her life if she gave me the green light.
“Just a doctor fixing a patient?” Her laugh was a cruel bitter thing. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you warned me from the start you were going to hurt me.”
I flinched then grabbed a towel, racing after her as she fled. “Isla, we need to talk about this.”