Oliver Hunter obviously had a thing about anything injured or hurting, and at the moment she came under that heading.
She didn’t kid herself that he was being anything other than kind.
She was just someone that he had to heal, like his patients.
They were just pulling up outside the cottage when his mobile phone rang. He switched off the engine and answered it.
Even with her limited experience, it was obvious to Helen that someone was in trouble on the mountains.
‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ Oliver said tersely, and snapped the phone shut, starting the engine again immediately. He turned to Helen with a frown. ‘I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to leave you—someone has been reported overdue. They should have returned from their walk by now but there’s no sign of them and the mountain rescue team has been called out.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’ Helen jumped down from the vehicle, conscious that she was slowing him down.
But he didn’t immediately drive away. His hard jaw was tense and his eyes searched hers.
‘I don’t like leaving you.’
She was unbelievably touched. ‘Oliver, I’ll be fine. I don’t need watching. I’ll have a quiet afternoon.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I don’t want you to have a quiet afternoon. You’ll brood.’
‘I won’t brood.’ She gave a lopsided smile. ‘I’m not that pathetic. I’ll make something for our dinner.’
Oliver sighed, visibly torn, and then he muttered something under his breath and raked long fingers through his cropped hair. ‘All right, although I’ve no idea what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait up for me. Call me if you need to. My mobile number is stuck on Bry’s notice-board in the kitchen.’
Oliver didn’t arrive home until nine o’clock and by then Helen was chewing her nails and staring out of the window, looking for his headlights.
When he finally walked through the door she flew to meet him. ‘I was so worried about you…’
Oliver unzipped his jacket and gave her a curious look. ‘That’s nice.’ His voice was soft. ‘No one usually worries about me, apart from my mother.’ His eyes settled on hers for a long moment and she flushed, wondering what the matter was with her. She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours and here she was, acting like a clingy wife.
But she’d been scared that something had happened to him—
‘Sorry, I—I just thought you’d be back hours ago,’ she muttered, suddenly embarrassed, and he stepped towards her and took her face in his hands.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said gruffly, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. ‘It’s nice that someone missed me.’
His gaze was warm and assessing and suddenly Helen felt seriously flustered. He dominated the narrow hallway of Bryony’s cottage, his shoulders almost filling the space. His jaw was dark with stubble, his cropped hair was damp from the snow and there was no escaping the fact that he was incredibly good-looking.
For a moment he stared down at her and she had a breathless feeling that he was going to kiss her.
‘Your hands are freezing.’
He gave a rueful smile and his hands dropped. ‘Sorry. It’s pretty cold out there.’
‘I made you some soup,’ Helen said quickly, dragging her gaze away from his and hurrying through to the kitchen. Of course he wouldn’t have kissed her. She was imagining things. Why on earth would he kiss her? ‘You might not be hungry, but—’
‘I’m starving,’ he said dryly, hanging up his jacket and following her. ‘Believe me, tramping around the fells for nine hours works up an appetite.’
She heated the soup slowly and Oliver sprawled in one of the kitchen chairs and closed his eyes with a groan.
‘I’m knackered.’
She shot him a sympathetic look. ‘Did you find them?’
His eyes opened and he yawned. ‘Eventually. But they weren’t where they said they were so that caused some problems.’
‘Why were they walking in this weather? There’s snow on the ground.’ Helen stirred the soup slowly and Oliver laughed.