A Mother for Matilda. Amy AndrewsЧитать онлайн книгу.
every now and then, the decision to leave her family, leave the island and everything she’d ever known and loved, had the power to stop her in her tracks.
It was the right decision, the only decision, she just hadn’t realised how hard it was going to be. A year ago when she’d booked the ticket it had been a long way off but with ninety days to go it was suddenly looming. And it was disheartening to think her departure might barely be noticed.
They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Lawson checked his watch as he screwed up his paper bag. Six-thirty. Another hour and a half before they knocked off. He should just make it home in time to see Matilda before she left for the day.
Victoria was quiet beside him, unusual to say the least but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He’d known her since she was a skinny six-year-old and he’d been fortunate enough to be partnered with her father as a rookie paramedic. She’d been a chatty kid and nothing much had changed over the years.
‘I’ll be missed too, right?’
He glanced at her pensive face as she stared out over the water, attuned to the slight trace of doubt he heard in her voice. ‘Of course.’
Very few people got to see this side of his partner. To the outside world she was capable Victoria Dunleavy—dedicated daughter, big sister/surrogate mother and ultra-professional paramedic. But having known her for ever and having sat in a vehicle with her four out of seven days a week for the last five years, he’d been privy to the other Victoria Dunleavy. The one nobody got to see. The one who’d had way too much responsibility thrust on her long before she should have and wasn’t always certain of herself.
‘Ryan and Josh and your dad will miss you desperately,’ he assured her. ‘And everyone at the station. I know for a fact that Matilda will miss you like crazy.’
Vic chewed her last mouthful very carefully. So, her brothers would miss her, her father would miss her, her colleagues would miss her, even his eight-year-old daughter would miss her. But what about him? Would he miss her?
The fact that he hadn’t included himself was a little depressing. Vic had had a crush on her partner for as long as she could remember. Given that he’d known her for ever and there was a twelve-year age difference, she’d never expected it to be reciprocated. After all, it was just a harmless crush on an older man who’d been a family friend for ever and her mentor for the last five years.
Things like that happened all the time. It wasn’t as if she was in love with the guy. But surely, surely, he’d miss her too? She scrunched up her packet and turned to him. ‘What about you, Lawson? Will you miss me?’
Lawson gave her a startled look. Her steady whiskey gaze held him captive and he was struck again by that look he sometimes saw in it. He wasn’t sure what it was but it was frank and seemed to reach right inside him.
He nodded and looked back out to sea. ‘Of course. I’ve spent five years training you to do things my way. Your father will probably stick me with a newbie straight out of the academy.’ Bob Dunleavy, his old mentor and her father, was Officer-In-Charge of Brindabella Station. ‘Now I’ll have to start all over again with someone else.’
Vic realised she was holding her breath and she let it ease out slowly. Of course. He would miss her as a colleague. Her skills, their teamwork, their synergy. Why had she expected anything else? He’d never been anything other than one hundred per cent professional with her.
Which only proved further how badly she needed to get away from the island. She needed to broaden her horizons, both personal and professional. She needed to experience a variety of working environments, be exposed to different ideas, meet new people. Including men.
Every boyfriend she’d dated had suffered in comparison to Lawson. It wasn’t that she meant to compare or even realised she was doing it half the time. It just happened. Somehow, they’d all been a little lacking. Perhaps if he was out of her life, the silly crush would be forgotten and another man might just stand a chance.
Quite why she felt the way she did was a mystery. It wasn’t as if Lawson had ever given her any encourag ment. Or ever treated her as anything other than Bob’s daughter. Just another paramedic at the station.
It wasn’t even as if he were the best-looking man she’d ever known. On the contrary—she’d been out with some exceedingly good-looking men. Lance Coulter in particular had been so sexy she’d been the envy of the entire island. Everyone from teenagers to grannies had swooned over the locum island doctor.
But there was something about Lawson Dunlop that was compelling. He certainly wasn’t classically goodlooking. In fact the features of his face taken individually could best be described as interesting. A freakishly square jaw line, crooked nose and deep furrows lining his brow and around his eyes and mouth.
His eyes were grey. Nothing special. Except they could look warm like the soft folds of a cashmere jumper when he was calming a frightened patient or ominous like a storm-ravaged sea when stupidity caused needless carnage. His hair was dark brown and worn severely curtailed in a closely cropped fashion—not stylish or fussy. Just functional. No nonsense.
And then there was his scar. The one he never talked about. A thin white blemish that slashed from just beneath his nose down through both lips and ploughed a furrow in the stubble covering his chin.
She’d heard mountains being described as craggy and it was the best adjective she could come up with that suited his face. His height also leant to this appearance. He was well over six feet, his broad shoulders seeming to occupy all the space around him.
He certainly loomed above her, making her feel strangely fragile. Which was utterly ridiculous. She might have been petite but she was no dainty flower. She was strong, a requirement of her job, and most definitely robust.
An insistent beeping noise interrupted her thoughts, for which she was most thankful. They simultaneously reached for their pagers. Lawson pulled his off his belt first.
‘Forty-four-year-old female. Chest pain. Borilla Avenue.’
Vic nodded, her brain already switching from her personal life to work mode. ‘Let’s go.’ She vaulted off the table, landing cat-like on her feet, eager to banish the doubt demons and throw herself into what would hopefully be their last job before they clocked off. She headed for the nearby ambulance, not bothering to look back.
Lawson followed her, his gaze drawn to the bob of her auburn ponytail and the way her neat little frame fitted snugly into her navy paramedic overalls. He’d been doing that more and more lately. Noticing how her uniform clung to the contours of her bottom and how the functional government-issued belt she wore at her waist cinched her in, emphasising her curves.
Curves? Up until about a year ago he hadn’t even noticed she owned curves.
What the hell was the matter with him? He’d known her since she was a six-year-old in pigtails. He had no business noticing how much of a woman she’d become. How her wide-set eyes were balanced by the fullness of her lips. Or how those cute cherubic cheeks and dimples she’d had as a kid were just plain sexy twenty years later. It was just…wrong.
He banished them from his head and put his mind firmly to the job.
A few hours later Vic was in the depths of a sleep so deep that it took several insistent bangs on her bedroom door to drag her back into consciousness. She surfaced from the pillow she had jammed over her head and yelled, ‘What?’ in the general direction of the door.
Her brothers were in their senior year at high school and were currently in their exam block, which meant unless they had a test they didn’t have to be at school. This afternoon they had a biology paper and were supposed to be using the morning to cram for it.
‘Ryan’s cut his finger.’
Vic’s heavy lids battled to stay open. She’d worked her tail off last night and she was dog-tired. ‘Stick a Band-Aid on it,’ she grouched, placing the pillow back over her head.
‘I