Waking Up With His Runaway Bride. Louisa George

over Connor’s room to Steph they’d discovered the pub was fully booked with campers. Guilt ate at her soul. He’d rushed off to help her friends. Given up his bed for a pregnant woman. Broken protocol, which would have been hard for him.

      Made her break protocol, or at least bend it a little.

      And now he had no bed for the night. She’d hesitated to offer her couch—it was all she had in the small apartment at the back of the surgery. Way too cosy. And judging by her frisky hormones, the safest distance she could keep between them was a whole block, not a flimsy wall.

      ‘There’s not a lot of choice. It’s marae-style communal sleeping in the hall, on hard mattresses with a load of people I don’t know. Or my car. Oddly, neither option appeals.’ He shrugged and pointed to the paperwork. ‘Think I’ll do an all-nighter.’

      Good. The sooner he was finished with her accounts, the better. Then he would go and normal service would be resumed.

      ‘Then eat. You can’t work on an empty stomach.’ She pushed the food towards him. ‘This is from Steph’s mum, by way of a thank-you. She’s grateful you saved her daughter from the ravages of the fire. You’re quite the hero. And Boy said to say hi. And Tommo told me he’s having a night off booze. Seems you’ve made quite an impression on the community already.’

      ‘Good.’ Was it her imagination, or did his hard-muscled chest swell just a little under that tight T? Surely not? Pride from helping such a small community in the middle of nowhere?

      ‘Don’t people thank you at the health board?’

      ‘Sure they do.’ He frowned and scrubbed a hand under his chin, thinking for a moment. ‘No, not really. Praise more than thanks. Paperwork doesn’t usually bring forth a whole heap of gushing. Anyway, I was just doing my job.’

      ‘Oh, yes, and Steph said to say thanks to that new doctor fella