Page 24 of Doc Hollywood

They silently finished the tub, passing it back and forth, both politely making sure they didn’t take too many of the good bits.

Once the pot was empty, they sat back on the sofa, not quite touching, but Clara was very aware of his presence so close to her. Every time he shifted, she felt a flush of heat pass over her body until it became too stressful, and she got to her feet, planning on moving to the other chair.

Her phone beeped, stilling her; she grabbed it off the table and checked the screen.

‘I’m knackered. I can’t drive home. Can I stay in your spare room?’

Clara didn’t hesitate before she replied to Melanie, one of the junior doctors.‘No problems. Clean sheets and fresh towels are on the bed. Help yourself to some leftover takeaway from the fridge. The key is in the usual spot, so let yourself in.’

‘Thanks. I’ll see you later.’

Clara sent a thumbs up to the registrar before putting her phone back onto the coffee table.

“Everything okay?”

She jumped slightly at Taylor’s words. In her tiredness, the phone had distracted her enough that she had half-forgotten he was there.

“Yeah, one of the junior doctors is going to stay over tonight. They’re exhausted.”

Taylor was silent for a moment before he said. “Oh, right. Cool. Yeah. I should be going.”

Clara looked at him sharply, watching his muscles contract under his shirt before he got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He was about to say something, but a massive yawn split his face.

“Are you planning on driving home tonight?” A worried frown creased Clara’s brow.

“Yeah, I should get on back to my hotel.” Another yawn escaped from Taylor.

“And you’re coming into work with me tomorrow?” Clara’s frown deepened.

“I was planning on it, if that’s okay with you?”

She checked the time on her phone. It was only nine o’clock, but with how little sleep they’d had the night before, it may as well have been three in the morning.

“That’s fine, but you can’t drive.”

“Really?” He strolled into the kitchen to retrieve his bag and car keys.

She followed him, her eyes darting between him and the sofa. “Hmmm. That won’t work.”

“What won’t work?” He looked at her curiously as he got his keys out of his rucksack.

“You’re too tall, so you’ll have to take my bed. I’ll fit easily on the sofa.” She pointed at her sofa, that if she bent her legsslightly, she would fit on absolutely fine. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable in the world, but she would make it work.

“Sorry. What now?” He paused as he made for the front door.

Clara rolled her eyes; it should be obvious what she meant. “Look, you’re too tired to drive that far. And the local hotel is absolute shit. I wouldn’t let my dog stay there.”

“You have a dog?” He glanced around in interest.

“No, I don’t have a dog.”

“I’ve got two.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her his screen saver: his two dogs. “That’s Buster Keaton, and that’s Charlie Chaplin.” He pointed out which was which. “You should get a dog.”

“I don’t have time for a dog. I’m never home.”

“You should work less and stay at home more,” he declared.

“I can’t afford to work less.” It slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

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