Page 18 of Fool Me Twice

“Yes, what happened to Amberlene was tragic. Ouch!” Peter winced when the doctor jarred his arm too quickly. “Yes, she was too young.”

“Bogey?” Peter bit down on his back teeth as pain shot through his leg when the doctor tugged on his knee support. “He’s living in Ibiza now,” he forced out through clenched teeth. “He’s a record producer.”

On and on he went until Peter was beginning to miss Evie’s irritation with the nurses and her tutting every time she checked her watch.

“Yes, I heard about Oz.” Peter took a deep breath. “Yes, we were all really pleased for him.”

“Yes, even Bogey.” He forced his lips into a smile.

“No, it wasn’t that bad. The label’s PR exaggerated their feud to sell more records.”

“Last I heard, he was living in—“

“Will you be much longer?” Evie asked, peering around the door. “Only I haven’t got long left on my parking ticket.”

Peter could have kissed her. If he’d been able to make it to the other side of the room, or wasn’t afraid of getting his head bitten off by her. “No,” he blurted out. “I think we’re done. Aren’t we, doctor?”

“Er, yes.” The doctor stepped away from the bed, looking a little crestfallen. Peter watched as Evie gathered up his things and put them into his bag.

“Well, thank you for everything.” She turned to the doctor and smiled. “But we don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’re a very busy man, with lots of other patients to see.”

A porter arrived with a wheelchair a few minutes later. He helped Peter into the chair and wheeled him out into the car park, where they waited for Evie to bring the car around to the front. Luckily, she had a big old Jeep, and it didn’t take them too long to settle Peter onto the back seat.

They drove most of the way home in silence, with just the radio as some kind of invisible buffer brokering peace between Evie’s annoyance and Peter’s awkwardness.

“I love this song,” they both burst out when the opening bars of a familiar song played out.

As soon as the words left his lips, Peter regretted his unguarded declaration. It had been their song, one they’d sung their hearts out to every time it had come on the radio during the weeks they’d spent together. He closed his eyes and hummed to himself, while Evie kept time with her fingers on the steering wheel.

And then it ended, and a sense of loss added to the tension filling the space between them.

“Look,” Peter said, unable to bear it any longer. “I know this is really awkward, me staying in your house—“

“It’s fine.” She flashed him a tight smile in the rear-view mirror.

“I know you... we,” he corrected himself. “We both promised Jaxon we’d give this a go, but I don’t see how it’s going to work.” He sighed, glad that one of them finally had the courage to say it out loud. “I’ll tell him things were a little more complicated and that I needed more specialist care or something.”

“Are you crazy?” She half turned to look at him. “You tell him that and you might as well tell him I kicked you out. And you are not laying this on me. I promised Jaxon I would take care of you, and like it or not, that’s what’s going to happen here, because, unlike some people...” Her eyes flashed in the mirror as she held his gaze. “When I make a promise, I keep it.”

Peter puffed out his cheeks, letting out a long breath. What on earth had he been thinking, messing about on a surfboard at his age? And why hadn’t he listened when they’d told him to stay closer? Now he had to spend the next few weeks at the mercy of a woman who couldn’t stand him and probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if he’d surfed off into the sunset that day and never come back.

Karma was a bitch, alright.

Chapter nine

Peter twisted in his seat as they pulled into Evie’s drive. The same question had been rolling around in his head for the last couple of miles. How the hell was he going to get out of Evie’s Jeep? Getting in had been a little tricky and there’d been a few bumps getting him up onto the back seat, but they’d had Dave, a burly porter who probably did this kind of thing on a daily basis.

But no matter how much he turned or shuffled along the seat on his backside, there was no way he and Evie were going to get him out of that vehicle. Pain ripped across his right shoulder as he raised his left hand too quickly to wipe the beads of sweat gathering on his top lip. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the pain to subside.

What now? Who did you call when you got yourself wedged in the back seat of a car? Okay, a Jeep, if you wanted to be picky. But that still didn’t answer his question.

Evie got out and opened the back passenger door. She rolled her lips as she assessed the situation.

“Right.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Matt?” she called as she headed back to the house.

“No... wait.” Peter slunk back against the seat. That was all he needed. He’d only been able to put one arm inside his shirt sleeve because of the shoulder sling on the other, and it hung loosely over his shoulder, leaving most of his chest and abdomen exposed. He tried sucking in his stomach. There was no way he could physically compare to Matt – the guy spent like twenty-five hours a day in the gym, doing something ridiculous like a hundred bicep curls a minute – and he’d be damned if he was going to just sit there waiting for the big, burly hero to come rescue him like he was some damsel in distress.

Shuffling and twisting along the back seat, he almost made it – if he could have just bent his leg a little, then he’d have been able to get out the door with a small shred of his dignity still intact. But somehow, he ended up hanging upside down half-way out the door. The only thing stopping him from crashing to the ground, and smashing his skull against the hard concrete floor was his shoulder brace that had snagged on the window winder on the back door.

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