Page 26 of Doc Hollywood

Clara still couldn’t say anything. She was so embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” He moved closer without touching her.

Clara paused before finally managing to get some words out. “The truth is not yet. Hopefully one day.” She squeezed her eyes shut; she couldn’t believe what had just tumbled out of her mouth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She didn’t answer, just shook her head. She felt the warmth of his body move away from her.

“That’s okay. I won’t argue with you anymore. What can I do to help?” he said quietly, concern clouding his eyes.

“Can you grab another set of sheets out of the hall cupboard? I’ll take the ones off my bed and use them for the sofa.”

“Clara, I don’t want to take your bed.”

“I thought you said you were done arguing with me.” Her words were harsh, so she threw a smile over her shoulder to show him she was teasing.

He held his hands up, reversed up the corridor to the cupboard she had indicated, and grabbed the sheets out of it.

CHAPTER 8

Clara checked her phone again and sighed. It was four in the morning, and she felt like she had barely slept. She had severely underestimated how uncomfortable the sofa would be and had finally given up and made herself a nest on the floor to sleep on. And now, her back ached, her shoulders ached, and her head ached from lack of sleep.

She put her phone down again and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable spot. Then she flipped the other way, huffing when that was no better. She tried her back again, which sent pain shooting down into her legs. She groaned in frustration.

“Clara,” Taylor whispered in the darkness.

Clara froze. She hadn’t heard him come into the living room above the huffing and puffing she was making to get comfortable. She lay there for a minute, pretending to be asleep.

“Clara, I know you’re awake.” Taylor turned his phone’s torch on and pointed it at her. “Why are you on the floor?”

Clara bit her lip, not wanting to admit she had been wrong about her idea of sleeping on the sofa, and kept on pretending tobe asleep. But she knew he was still there as she could hear him breathing.

Finally, she opened her eyes and peered at him, squinting in the light that shone at her. She could only make out his shadowy figure and nothing else.

She grumbled to herself before she muttered, “The sofa is worse than trying to sleep on bricks. I hoped the floor would be better.”

“And was it?” His voice sounded amused.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I can sleep on the floor. It’s not a problem,” he offered.

“No, you can’t,” she mumbled and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to believe what she was about to suggest. “We should just share my bed.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to object and tell her what a stupid idea that was.

“Yeah, good plan,” he agreed. “Come on.”

Taylor padded across the living room and held his hand out to her.

Clara wished she didn’t have to take it, but her back was screaming in pain, and she knew it would be a struggle to get up, so she took hold of it and let him drag her to her feet.

He kept hold of her hand and began to tow her down the corridor towards her bedroom. Clara stiffened in his grip as it felt too intimate and strange to be led to her bedroom by a movie star.

Taylor picked up on her change in body language and dropped her hand.

He whispered to her, “Are you okay?”

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