Page 47 of Doc Hollywood

Stopping, she gave herself a short lecture about the futility of all of this and how she shouldn’t let her heart flutter withexcitement at the thought of spending more time with him, especially as this was the last time she would ever see him in person.

However, when she looked in the mirror, she could see that her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement. Rolling her eyes at her own idiocracy, she went to get changed.

CHAPTER 13

“Did you always want to be a doctor?” Taylor asked as he lifted up his pint and took a sip.

Clara giggled when she noticed him grimace as some of the beard, aka face ferret, went into his mouth before she replied, “Yeah. Kind of. I did as a kid, although I had no idea what it would really be like.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sort of,” Clara hesitated, taking a swig of her drink as she recalled all her bad days. The sleep deprivation, the exams, and all the things she missed out on in her twenties as she was at work.

Her mind strayed to Jack; if she hadn’t gone to medical school, she would never have met him, and her life would have been a lot different from how it had turned out. Thirty-five, working a well-paying job, and still completely broke as she paid off someone else’s debt.

Before she finally said, “Some days it’s great, but it’s not an easy life. I’m not sure I would have done medicine if I’d known what it was like.”

“Was it worth it?”

Clara looked thoughtfully at him and thought about her life and her work. A little voice told her if she hadn’t done medicine, she wouldn’t be sitting in the pub with Taylor Anderson, but she shushed that ridiculous voice before she answered him.

“Yeah. I think it probably was. I’ve got a good job, that’s interesting, and I enjoy. I’m well paid, and when I get my debt sorted, I think life will be pretty great.” It felt so strange to talk openly about her debt. “So, yeah. Despite everything, the bad bits, the hard work. I think it was worth it.”

“Why do you have so much debt?”

Clara shook her head, and her eyes widened; it was a big step for her to even mention the debt.

“Never mind. That’s none of my business.” He looked away from her, taking a sip of his pint.

“Do you mind if we change the subject? Tell me about acting.” Clara met his eyes, holding them until he nodded.

“Acting is everything I expected and equally not what I expected,” Taylor explained.

“Acting wasn’t what you expected?” Clara was grateful for the change in topic; she didn’t know what it was about Taylor, but he now knew more about her financial problems than her best friend did.

Taylor shook his head, saying, “The acting is fun. I enjoy it so much. I get a thrill every time I go to set and do my best to convince an audience that I’m the character I’ve been employed to play.”

“So what’s wrong with it?”

“The fame. Fame is weird. All these people falling over themselves to talk to me. To get a piece of me because of the job I do.” His eyes took on a far-off look. “I’ve been chased by more paparazzi than I care to remember. Been set up, trying to get a reaction out of me for that perfect photo of me looking angry,stupid, fat, awful. Any of the above, depending on what story they want to run.”

“That doesn’t sound great.”

“No. You develop a sixth sense, always looking over your shoulder. Even then, you can sometimes get it wrong, and they get the photo they want.” He sighed, pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed something, and handed it to Clara.

She glanced down at the picture on the screen, and her hand flew to her mouth to stop the laugh that was about to escape, and she sputtered, “What, how?”

The picture was Taylor on a beach in only his shorts; he had a hot dog in one hand, and looking at his stomach, there wasn’t a six-pack in sight, and there were some very, very interesting tan lines crisscrossing his body.

“Far too much beer and hot dogs, a very ill-advised shirt on a day out on a friend’s boat, and a very long lens, so I had no idea the photographer was there, and I was very relaxed. I understand these pictures are funny and real-life, but it’s exhausting to always be on guard as you lose jobs if too many of these photos and stories hit the press,” he complained, then leaned forward, grabbed a chip, put it in his mouth, and chewed.

“That sounds stressful.”

“It’s the worst part of the job. Although the perks are incredible. I paid off my mom’s mortgage and bought myself a house outright. And I’ll never have to worry about money again.” He shrugged and grabbed another chip.

“But she doesn’t live in the house you paid for. You said she lived in your house?” Clara reached out and took a chip, blowing on it before she put it into her mouth.

For a moment, she thought his eyes had strayed to her lips, which was ridiculous; shaking herself, she refocused on the conversation.

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