stood on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. ‘I was going to make you breakfast. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.’ She saw he must have been up for quite a while—his hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the auburn a deeper red whilst it was wet, and his jawline was freshly shaved.
‘What would you like?’
‘Just toast for me.’
‘Anything on it? Jam? Honey? Marmalade?’
‘You have all of those?’ She smiled.
‘I do.’
She liked watching him in the kitchen. He seemed at home in it. ‘Marmalade will be lovely.’
He cut two fresh slices from a large bloomer and popped the bread in the toaster, then poured her a coffee from a cafetière and passed her the milk and sugar.
‘You’re very domesticated, Dr Williams.’
He paused briefly to consider her words. ‘Because I can make toast and pour coffee?’
‘Because you know how to make someone feel welcome. I can appreciate it must be hard to have a stranger in your home, but you’ve made me feel like it’s okay to be here, so … thank you.’
His ocean-blue eyes met her mocha brown just for a brief second. He gave a quick glance of gratitude, of appreciation and then looked away again, busying himself with the breakfast. ‘Any idea of what you’re going to do about your flat?’
He was changing the subject. She wondered if she’d made him uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got work first, so I guess I’ll have to sort it out later.’
‘Everywhere will be closed later. Why don’t you take the day off?’
‘On my second day? No chance. No, I’ll just have to hope for the best. Find someone to fix the door somewhere …’
He looked torn, as if he had something to say, but couldn’t say it.
The toast popped up and he handed it over on a plate, piping hot, along with a choice of marmalades, one with bits and one without.
‘Oh … er … thank you.’
‘It’s no problem.’
She hoped he was telling the truth.
‘Josephine McDonald?’
Her first patient of the day had already been seen by the triage nurse, who had noted on her card that earlier that day Josephine had misused her father’s nail gun and had a six-inch nail shot through the end of her index finger.
Naomi looked out across the waiting room and watched as a young woman stood up, grimaced and then walked over to her, clutching at her left hand that was wrapped up in a tea towel.
It was an impressive-looking nail.
‘Let’s take a look at that, shall we?’ Naomi walked Josephine back to a cubicle and sat her down, pulling the curtain closed. ‘So, how did this happen?’ She took hold of her patient’s hand, slowly turning it this way and that, to see what damage had been caused.
‘I was helping my dad out with a job. He’s a carpenter and he was letting me use the nail gun. I got … distracted … and somehow my finger ended up getting pierced.’
Naomi could understand. She was the accidental type, too. ‘What distracted you?’
Josephine blushed. ‘A guy.’
Naomi smiled at her patient. ‘Oh. I see. Was he worth it?’
Josephine nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh, yes! Definitely!’ She sighed dramatically. ‘What can I say? A girl gets her head turned by a handsome man and always gets hurt.’
Naomi smiled again and checked for capillary refill on the girl’s nail, which was fine, and stroked her finger. ‘Can you feel this? And this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I don’t think there’s any nerve damage. Can you bend the finger?’
‘Yes. But I can feel it pulling on the nail.’
‘We’ll need an X-ray to make sure it’s not gone through the bone and if you get the all-clear we can pull it out. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?’
Josephine blanched. ‘I think so. Just a year or two ago. Pull it out? Won’t that hurt?’
‘We’ll do a nerve block beforehand and you can suck on some gas and air if you need it. Is your father with you? Someone to hold your hand?’
‘Dad’s in the waiting area.’
‘Didn’t you bring the hot guy with you?’
‘Er … no. Apparently he doesn’t do well with blood.’
‘Right.’ She smiled.
‘What can you do? You see a hot guy, you have to give him the old “come hither” look. I just wasn’t coordinated enough to be alluring and shoot a nail.’
Naomi smiled, trying to picture herself giving anyone a ‘come hither’ look. But then she stopped herself. Why would she do that? She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was happy being single and independent for a while. This was her first foray into the world alone, without her mother sticking her oar in, or without having to consider her husband’s needs. She was finally free to do as she pleased.
‘It’s not bleeding, so let’s get you round to X-ray.’ She turned in her chair, reaching for the X-ray referral card, and filled in the details. ‘Take this—’ she handed it over and reopened the cubicle curtain ‘—and head straight down, follow the red line on the floor, round to the right and past the second set of chairs. Put the card in the slot and they’ll call you through when they’re ready.’
‘Thanks.’
She watched the patient walk away and then started to clean down the cubicle. They hadn’t really used it, but she stripped the bed of its paper sheet, wiped it down with clinical cleansing wipes and redid the sheet. As she did so the cubicle curtain next to hers was whipped open. ‘Dr Williams!’
Was her heart beating just a little faster than normal? It definitely felt that way. She took a steadying breath to calm herself and inwardly gave herself a dressing-down. There was no need to get nervous with the man. He was her boss, yes, but that was all he was. She’d be moving out of his flat later.
‘Nurse Bloom.’
He dismissed his patient, who hobbled away on newly acquired crutches, and then he turned back to smile at her. He looked very dashing today in his dark navy trousers and matching waistcoat against a crisp white shirt. She had to admit she did like a man that dressed well. Vincent had always worn quite loose-fitting clothes like tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts. They had been the easiest things to dress him in and he’d liked to feel comfortable whilst in his wheelchair. So to see a man who knew how to dress well, who took pride in his appearance, without being vain, was a nice thing to see and enjoy.
‘The department looks decidedly less Christmassy today.’
She laughed good-naturedly. ‘Yes. There should be hearts going up soon, in readiness for Valentine’s.’ She blushed slightly at the inference she’d made that it was time for hearts and romance. Her mind scrabbled to redirect their conversation. ‘Or perhaps eggs for Easter? I’m sure the shops have them already.’
‘You like to celebrate all the holidays?’
Naomi shrugged as she walked alongside him back to the central desk where a lot of the staff filled in paperwork or checked information on the computer. ‘Well, I like the chocolate aspect. Is that wrong?’
‘Absolutely not. In fact, I think it’s almost law.’ He sat down at the desk, opened his file and started writing his notes.
She noted his hands.