Read Online The Doctor Claims His Bride by Fiona Lowe - Free Book Online
Authors: Fiona Lowe
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her out. He tossed the capsicum and onions into the wok on the other burner and wondered if Mia had any wine.
What are you doing? The protective voice that had been part of him for two years roared in his head as an image of cooking for Brooke in their shared kitchen sucked the breath from his lungs.
No, this was nothing like that. This meal was medicinal. He dumped the Hokkien noodles into the wok,forking them free of each other. He couldn’t move past Mia saying, ‘When your number’s up, it’s up.’ It was at odds with the thoroughness he saw in her work—the note-keeping—as if she was determined to get everything right. The two things clashed, making little sense. That was the only reason he’d broken his vow of never asking people why they came to Kirra. As her colleague, he needed to understand.
Understand and keep her safe .
He banged the spatula hard against the side of the wok, the sound of metal against metal ringing in his head, driving out the unwanted words. He didn’t need to keep her safe. Not Mia or any other woman. Women rejected his care. First his mother, then Brooke.
‘That smells good.’ Mia appeared and walked straight to the cutlery drawer, pulling out forks and spoons. Tendrils of damp hair curled around her cheeks, having escaped from the confines of her damp French braid. She looked fresh, clean and sexy.
The vivid memory of her lips against his thudded through him. He snapped off the small gas stove with more force than necessary. ‘If you grab the sweet chilli sauce from the fridge, I’ll serve up.’
‘Done.’ She smiled and opened the fridge door.
With an almost magnetic pull his gaze strayed to her as she leaned forward, reaching into the back of the fridge. Her vest top rose to reveal an expanse of smooth, golden skin. Skin that screamed to be touched, caressed and tasted.
Concentrate . He was here to eat, talk, learn and leave. He filled two large bowls with the steaming concoctionand placed them on earthy-coloured, woven pandanus placemats.
Mia sat down opposite him and poured icy-cold water into tumblers. The tension that was so much a part of her almost audibly buzzed like electricity.
He needed her to relax. He tapped the mats. ‘Have you been out to the women’s workshop to see these being made?’
She nodded, her jaw stiff and her slender neck rigid. ‘I went out the other day and Ruby showed me how they boil the pandanus with different roots to get the colours. I couldn’t believe it when she pulled up this spindly, half-dead-looking plant and the root was a vivid red.’
‘Tassie’s verdant green must make this place look like another planet.’ He smiled and wound the noodles around his fork. ‘Did you grow up in Tasmania?’
‘I did.’ She put a spoonful of food in her mouth as her eyes flashed him a challenging look. With a full mouth she couldn’t talk.
First the shower, now the food. She had delaying tactics down to an art form. He sipped his water and waited, hoping Robbo didn’t choose right then to call him.
‘And where did you grow up, Flynn?’ Her voice sounded strained.
Two could play at this game. ‘Brisbane.’ He filled his mouth with food and winked at her.
She coughed and reached for her water.
They ate in relative silence, as if a truce had been called so they could enjoy the meal. The only sound being heard was the uk uk uk song of the frogs.
Mia finally emptied her bowl. ‘Thank you, that wasthe best meal I’ve had since arriving.’ Her smile softened the strained politeness.
‘You’re welcome. I haven’t cooked in a while so it felt good to be back in a kitchen.’ He finished his final mouthful and put down his fork, deciding to push the issue. ‘I know you don’t want to tell me, but talking can help.’
Mia moved her bowl to the side and fiddled with the edge of the placemat. ‘Have you noticed that the people who say that aren’t the ones baring their souls?’
He thought back to when Brooke had left.
What are you doing? The protective voice that had been part of him for two years roared in his head as an image of cooking for Brooke in their shared kitchen sucked the breath from his lungs.
No, this was nothing like that. This meal was medicinal. He dumped the Hokkien noodles into the wok,forking them free of each other. He couldn’t move past Mia saying, ‘When your number’s up, it’s up.’ It was at odds with the thoroughness he saw in her work—the note-keeping—as if she was determined to get everything right. The two things clashed, making little sense. That was the only reason he’d broken his vow of never asking people why they came to Kirra. As her colleague, he needed to understand.
Understand and keep her safe .
He banged the spatula hard against the side of the wok, the sound of metal against metal ringing in his head, driving out the unwanted words. He didn’t need to keep her safe. Not Mia or any other woman. Women rejected his care. First his mother, then Brooke.
‘That smells good.’ Mia appeared and walked straight to the cutlery drawer, pulling out forks and spoons. Tendrils of damp hair curled around her cheeks, having escaped from the confines of her damp French braid. She looked fresh, clean and sexy.
The vivid memory of her lips against his thudded through him. He snapped off the small gas stove with more force than necessary. ‘If you grab the sweet chilli sauce from the fridge, I’ll serve up.’
‘Done.’ She smiled and opened the fridge door.
With an almost magnetic pull his gaze strayed to her as she leaned forward, reaching into the back of the fridge. Her vest top rose to reveal an expanse of smooth, golden skin. Skin that screamed to be touched, caressed and tasted.
Concentrate . He was here to eat, talk, learn and leave. He filled two large bowls with the steaming concoctionand placed them on earthy-coloured, woven pandanus placemats.
Mia sat down opposite him and poured icy-cold water into tumblers. The tension that was so much a part of her almost audibly buzzed like electricity.
He needed her to relax. He tapped the mats. ‘Have you been out to the women’s workshop to see these being made?’
She nodded, her jaw stiff and her slender neck rigid. ‘I went out the other day and Ruby showed me how they boil the pandanus with different roots to get the colours. I couldn’t believe it when she pulled up this spindly, half-dead-looking plant and the root was a vivid red.’
‘Tassie’s verdant green must make this place look like another planet.’ He smiled and wound the noodles around his fork. ‘Did you grow up in Tasmania?’
‘I did.’ She put a spoonful of food in her mouth as her eyes flashed him a challenging look. With a full mouth she couldn’t talk.
First the shower, now the food. She had delaying tactics down to an art form. He sipped his water and waited, hoping Robbo didn’t choose right then to call him.
‘And where did you grow up, Flynn?’ Her voice sounded strained.
Two could play at this game. ‘Brisbane.’ He filled his mouth with food and winked at her.
She coughed and reached for her water.
They ate in relative silence, as if a truce had been called so they could enjoy the meal. The only sound being heard was the uk uk uk song of the frogs.
Mia finally emptied her bowl. ‘Thank you, that wasthe best meal I’ve had since arriving.’ Her smile softened the strained politeness.
‘You’re welcome. I haven’t cooked in a while so it felt good to be back in a kitchen.’ He finished his final mouthful and put down his fork, deciding to push the issue. ‘I know you don’t want to tell me, but talking can help.’
Mia moved her bowl to the side and fiddled with the edge of the placemat. ‘Have you noticed that the people who say that aren’t the ones baring their souls?’
He thought back to when Brooke had left.
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