Seven Nights with Her Ex (5 page)

She was in her element.

Gray sighed, sat down by the potatoes and grabbed a small, short knife, ready to start chopping.

Considering she hadn't even been able to bring herself to even look at him earlier today, they had already taken huge steps towards bringing about a ceasefire. Maybe soon they could have those peace talks they so desperately needed.

* * *

While everyone waited for dinner to cook, Mack began teaching the recovery position.

‘If you come across a casualty who is unconscious and breathing, then you'll need to put them into the recovery position. Anyone tell me why?'

Beau's hand shot into the air and Gray smiled.

Mack looked for someone else to answer, but when everyone looked blank, he allowed her to. ‘Yes, Beau?'

‘Rolling a patient onto their side stops the tongue from blocking the airway and also helps prevent choking in case of vomiting.'

‘That's right. Beau, perhaps you'd like to be our pretend patient?'

She nodded and went over to the ranger and lay flat on her back on the pine-needle-covered ground.

‘Before we put the patient into the recovery position, what should we check for?'

‘Check breathing again?' suggested Conrad.

‘You could. But let's assume she's still breathing. You'll need to check to make sure there's nothing in her pockets that will jab into her when we roll her over. So, things like car keys, pens, pencils, sticks—things like that. We should also remove the patient's glasses and turn any jewelled rings towards the palm.'

He demonstrated by sliding a ring round on Beau's hand.

‘There's also a little poem you can remember to remind yourself of what you need to do here.
“Say hello and raise my knee, then take my hand and roll to me.”
'

He placed Beau's hand palm-up by her face, as if she was saying hi, and then grabbed her trouser leg and raised the knee of the opposite leg, so that her foot was downwards on the forest floor. Then he grabbed her other hand, put it by her face and, using the trouser leg of the raised knee, rolled Beau over onto her side, adjusting the hand under her face to open the airway.

‘Simple. Okay, tell me the poem.'

‘“Say hello and raise my knee, then take my hand and roll to me.”'

‘Good. You need to keep repeating that to yourself. It'll stand you in good stead. Always remember to position yourself on the side you want the patient to roll onto. Now, what if your patient is pregnant?'

‘You'd need to roll them onto their left side,' said Gray.

Mack nodded. ‘Absolutely. Why?'

‘Less pressure on the inferior vena cava.'

‘Thank you, Gray. Now, I'd like you all to get into your buddy pairs and practise this. Take turns at being the patient. Off you go.'

Gray stood over Beau and smiled. ‘Want to stay there?'

‘If I must.'

He knelt beside her and awkwardly patted her pockets. He hadn't expected to be
touching
Beau. Not like this. Not holding her hand in his and laying it by her face. It was too much, too soon.

Talking to her he could handle. Joking with her and keeping the mood light he could handle. But this enforced closeness...? It reminded him too much of the past, when touching her had been easy and pleasurable and had made her eyes light up.

Not now, though. Now she lay stiffened on the floor, uncomfortable and gritting her teeth. Was it that awful for her? Him being this close? Was she hating every second of it?

Once she was in the recovery position, she leapt up and brushed herself down. ‘My turn.'

Disarmed, he lay down and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the discomfort in
her
eyes, not wanting to make this any more difficult for her than it plainly already was.

Beau got him into the recovery position quickly. ‘You're all done.'

He got up and brushed off the pine needles and they stood there awkwardly, staring at each other, not knowing what to say.

Clearly the activity had been difficult for both of them and Gray couldn't stand it.

‘I'll just check on the food.' He went over to the cooking pot and gave it a stir. It didn't look great, but it did smell nice. Mack had shown Beau and the others where to find some small bulbs of wild garlic, and they'd added that to Gray's dish.

He glanced through the simmering steam at Beau and began to wonder just how the hell he was going to get through this week.

Mack got everyone up. ‘Okay, folks, that's it for today. The rest of the evening is your own. Gray is our chef this evening, so let's all keep an ear out for him ringing the dinner bell.'

Gray had no idea when it would be ready. Claire came over and asked, and when he shrugged, she stuck the small paring knife into the potatoes to check.

‘Seems good to me.'

‘Yeah? I'd better dish up, then.'

Gray served them all a portion that was quite meagre, even with the additions. It actually tasted nice, which was a surprise. The others made satisfactory noises whilst eating it anyway, so he could only hope they weren't just being polite.

Afterwards Gray was ready for bed. His foot was starting to trouble him and he ached in places he hadn't been expecting. Not to mention that his nerves were still on edge from the recovery scenario.

He had to get around the way it felt when he touched her. He had to forget the softness of her skin, the smooth creaminess of it and the knowledge that he knew exactly how the rest of her felt.

It would feel so good to caress her again.

He sneaked a glance at her whilst she was talking to Dean and Toby. He saw the twinkle in her eyes, her joyous smile. Heard her infectious laughter. She looked relaxed, as if she was enjoying herself.

I want her to be that way with me.

* * *

Later, Gray and Beau carried the pile of tin dishes down to the creek and laid them beside the shallow running water, trying to rinse them in the darkening light. Beau was struggling for the right thing to say. How could she start a conversation with the man she'd once thought she'd known inside out...?

But he started it instead. ‘I'm glad we're both making the effort to try and get along.' He paused to glance at her. ‘It's good.'

‘It's easier than trying to ignore you.'

He smirked. ‘I'm in joyous rapture about that.'

The dishes rinsed well in the stream, and Beau figured the small particles of food that were getting rinsed off would hopefully feed some of the fish or wildlife further downstream.

‘Your cooking has improved.'

A smile crept across his face. ‘A compliment? I'll take it.'

‘No, really. It was a nice dinner. Considering.'

‘Considering it was cooked by me?'

She nodded and laughed.

He smiled at her, as if pleased to hear her laugh again. ‘Thank you. I'm just glad everyone was able to eat it without choking. No one's been taught the Heimlich manoeuvre yet.'

She laughed again, her gaze meeting his, and then suddenly she wasn't laughing any more. She was caught by the deep mossy stare of his eyes, the longing she saw within them, and by her own fear as old feelings came bubbling to the surface.

She stood up abruptly. ‘We ought to head back. It's dark. Who knows what's out here with us?'

He stood, too. ‘Yeah, you're right.'

The deepening shadows around them just served to make his eyes more intense as he looked at her. She could feel old urges reasserting themselves, and memories of how easy it had once been to be with this man—how she'd loved him so much she hadn't thought there was anything left of her own soul that was just her.

Beau bent to gather the dishes. Gray helped, and both of them were careful not to touch each other before they headed back to camp. Walking a good metre apart.

CHAPTER FOUR

S
HE
'
D
COME
A
long way since her arrival at the ranger station that morning. If anyone had told her that by the end of the day she'd be sharing a meal with her ex-fiancé and washing dishes by a stream with him—whilst
smiling
—she would have told them that they were crazy. No chance.

But she had. And now she sat across from him, with the campfire crackling away between them as night fell, catching glimpses of his face in the firelight.

He was still the same old Gray. Slightly more grizzled, slightly heavier set than before, but still with the same cheek, the same nerve. The other hikers all seemed to like him. But he'd always had that effect on people. Dean and Rick, the brothers from Seattle, were currently seated on either side of him, and beyond them everyone seemed to be listening to the story Gray was weaving.

He was a born storyteller, enamoured of holding everyone's attention. It was probably why he'd chosen cardiology, she thought. Heart surgeons always seemed to act as if they were the best. Because without the heart the body wouldn't work at all.

Well, Gray, without a brain the heart doesn't stand a chance, either.

That was the difference between them. She could see that now. Beau had always been the steady influence—the thinker. The planner. Everything meticulously detailed. Whereas Gray had always been the rash one, the passionate one, the spontaneous, carefree daredevil.

Initially she'd been excited by those qualities in him. His indifference to planning the future, his studies, his life. She'd loved the way he could get excited about one thing and then develop a passion for something else entirely further down the line. How he could be thrilled by new technologies, new inventions, new medicines. Whereas
she
had always been cautious—researching new methods, new techniques, checking the statistics on their success, talking to the people involved about their experiences, making sure everything was
safe
before she considered using anything in her work.

Beau did not like surprises. Especially unpleasant ones. And Gray had caused her the most unpleasant surprise in her life so far by not turning up to their wedding. A wedding could be planned in advance, carefully thought-out, with alternatives arranged, waiting in the wings, to prevent any last-minute hitches. You planned the day meticulously so that you didn't have to worry about it running smoothly, so that it
just did
. And on the day itself you were meant to just turn up and go with the flow. Put on your dress, do your hair, do your make-up, smile for the camera and
enjoy
.

And because she'd planned her wedding so well, she'd not expected anything to go wrong at all. She'd been naïvely blissful, secure about her feelings for her husband-to-be, anticipating the joy that their marriage would bring, knowing the happiness they already had was growing and growing with every day.

So when he hadn't shown up, it had felt as if she'd been punched in the gut! A blow that had come out of nowhere. And her heart...? It had been totally broken.

And then the questions had flooded her mind. Why had he abandoned her? Had she been wrong? Had it all been one-sided?

Looking at him now, adored by his fellow hikers, she still found it hard to tell herself that he had actually just left her there. Without a word. Without a hint of concern.

Had there been signs in the days
before
the wedding that he'd planned to run out on her? She couldn't recall. He had seemed a little distant occasionally, when she'd gone on about the arrangements, but weren't all grooms-to-be like that? Surely it was the bride's prerogative to go overboard when planning her perfect day?

The pain had been incredible. It had made her doubt their love. Made her doubt
herself
. She'd spent weeks worrying that there was something wrong with
her
. That she was lacking something—that there was something Gray needed and couldn't get it from her.

But what? She was a nice person. Clever. Kind. Friendly. Loving. She'd never been shy in showing him her affection. Their sex life had been great!
Hadn't it?
Of course it had been. No man could make a woman feel like that and then say things were lacking in that department.

He hadn't said much in the days leading up to the wedding, she supposed. He hadn't said much in regard to their marriage, or his hopes and dreams, so she'd talked about hers, hoping to draw him out. But he'd never said anything. Just smiled and looked...nervous.

Beau poked at the campfire with a long stick and watched as the embers collapsed and spat heat upwards and outwards, tiny flecks of flame bursting forth and disappearing into the night sky above. The dark blue of the night revealed the sparkle of stars that she could never have hoped to see from her home town of Oxford. Even from the hospital roof you couldn't see a sky such as this.

The vast openness of Yellowstone made her realise that there was so much she wasn't used to seeing. Or noticing. It made her aware that she wouldn't know if something else was out there until she made the time to look for it.

Was there something about Gray that she'd not known about?

She glanced up at him once more and caught his gaze upon her through the heat of the orange flames. He looked pensive, and he rubbed at his jaw before he turned to answer Rick, who'd asked him a question.

He looks weary.

She wasn't used to seeing him look worn down. He'd always looked sprightly. Ready for anything. Raring to go.

Had today done that to him? Had
she
? She didn't like how that made her feel, how uncomfortable she suddenly was, and her stomach squirmed at the notion.

Perhaps there was more to this situation between them? Something she'd not been aware of because she'd never thought to look for it. Was it something obvious? Was it staring her in the face? Like the stars—always there, but not always seen?

Was I so wrapped up in the wedding that I forgot to focus on us?

Beau threw her stick into the fire and watched as it got swallowed up by the flames. She knew with certainty now that this week was going to be one hell of a learning experience.

And not the kind that she'd been expecting.

* * *

Beau had spent an uncomfortable night in her tent. Before the trip she'd bought a decent one, and a groundsheet, a sleeping mat and a sleeping bag, and had thought that would be enough for her to get a decent night's sleep. But the ground had been hard and unforgiving and she'd tossed and turned, worrying about being away from her patients, being here with Gray—not to mention the possibilities of insect invasion—before she'd finally fallen into a broken sleep at about five o'clock in the morning.

Unfortunately Mack had woken them all up around seven by banging a tin bowl with a rock right by the entrance to her shelter, and she'd woken blearily, feeling as if her body was bruised all over.

‘Okay, okay...I'm awake,' she'd moaned, rubbing her eyes and blinking thoroughly until they seemed to operate correctly.

Now she sat up, stretching out her back muscles and rolling her stiff shoulders and noting, with some small satisfaction, that her tent had not filled with ants overnight.
Perhaps it's safe to sleep on the ground after all?
Then she pulled herself from her sleeping bag, put on a fresh set of underwear, the clothes she'd worn yesterday, and put her hair up into a ponytail and unzipped her tent.

‘Morning, Beau.'

Gray was already up, looking freshly groomed, his eyes bright and sparkly.

She groaned. Used to her normal schedule, Beau was not a morning person. She needed a good-sized mug of coffee, a Danish pastry and a blast of loud music in her car to wake her properly before she got to the hospital, and she guessed she wouldn't get that here.

She peered gloomily at the pot that Barb was in charge of. ‘What's for breakfast?'

‘Oatmeal.'

‘Porridge? Great,' she replied without enthusiasm.

It wasn't exactly a buttery, flaky pastry delight, but never mind. It would have to do. She warmed her hands over the fire and then ducked back into her tent to grab her toothbrush and toothpaste. She stood and cleaned her teeth and rinsed her toothbrush with the last of her bottled water.

‘I've got a pot of boiled water cooling down already,' Barb said when she returned. ‘Have you got your purifying tablets?'

‘I've got a filter.'

‘Brilliant.'

Beau was quite pleased with her state-of-the-art filter. It meant that she could collect water from any source, pour it through, and all protozoa and bacteria would be removed, including giardia and cryptosporidium, the two biggest causes of infection in water. It saved having to boil water and wait for it to cool before it could be put into containers. It had been one of her new purchases, thoroughly researched and tested, and she'd even looked up reviews from previous customers to make sure it was the best for the job.

After she'd put her toiletries away, she stretched her back once again and took in the view. Now that she was more awake, she could appreciate where they were. High up on a mountainside, on a grassy plateau, surrounded by nature, with not a building, a towering spire nor a frantic cyclist in sight. Just clear blue skies, promising the heat of another day, the sun, a gentle warm breeze and the bright, cheery sounds of birdsong lighting up the morning.

‘It's gorgeous, isn't it?'

‘It certainly is.'

Gray smiled down at her, making her jump. She sat up.

‘What are we doing today?'

‘Mack said we need to cover CPR, as we missed it last night, and then we're heading higher up to cover altitude sickness.'

She nodded. ‘Right. How far up do you think we already are?'

‘Four or five thousand feet?'

‘And altitude sickness sets in at...what? Eight thousand or more?'

‘Depends on the climber. Could be now.'

‘Mack won't want to take us up that far, will he?' she asked, feeling the pain in her calf muscles from yesterday's climb.

‘No, I won't,' Mack answered as he came out of his tent. ‘It's a survival course, not a medical experiment.'

She smiled at him. ‘Glad to hear it.'

Barb gave the oatmeal a stir. ‘This is done. Everyone hungry?'

Everyone nodded and grabbed their metal dishes to receive a small helping of breakfast before sitting down around the fire to eat quietly.

Porridge wasn't her thing, but Beau ate it anyway, and Justin and Claire offered to get everything washed up before they packed up camp.

They soon covered the CPR training—how to do it effectively without defibrillators. Two breaths to thirty compressions in two rounds, before checking for signs of life—breathing, pulse rate, chest rise and fall. Mack showed them all how to find the right spot on the chest for compressions. How to place their hands. What sort of rhythm they needed and how fast. Showed them that even if they did it properly they might hear ribs break—which made everyone cringe at the thought!

Then there was a short break before Mack showed them how to put out the fire safely, and once they'd packed up their tents and equipment, they all set off once again on the next hike.

Gray fell into step beside Beau and she noticed that he was limping.

‘Blisters?'

He didn't quite meet her gaze. ‘Er...no. Not really.'

‘How did you sleep?'

‘Well, thanks. The hammock was great.'

‘Lucky you. I barely got forty winks before Mack's alarm. The ground mat I bought felt as thin as tissue paper.'

He smiled. ‘That's why I brought a hammock. Off the ground is better. Even the most comfortable bed is on legs.'

‘The voice of experience?'

‘Most definitely.'

Mack led them up a stony trail. Like a line of ants they began their ascent, and in the early-morning warmth they were all soon puffing and panting, stripping off layers as they got higher and higher. Beau focused on one point—the shirt of the person in front. Her mind was blank of everything as she simply concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Plodding on, climbing bit by bit, until they reached a lookout high on the side of the mountain.

Mack indicated a rest stop by dropping his backpack to the floor. ‘Let's take an hour here. Get fluids on board, and then we'll start our next lesson from this beautiful viewpoint.'

Beau slipped off her backpack and used it as a seat as she took a drink of water from her bottle. She was hot and sweaty, totally out of breath, and the muscles in her legs
burned
. She stretched her legs out in front of her and counted her blessings.

This was what she had come here for. To find nature. To escape the confines of the hospital. When had she last climbed anything? She didn't even climb stairs any more—she changed floors at the hospital by using the lift, and the same at home. Her flat was on the sixth floor and the lift worked perfectly every time she needed it. She
needed
this sort of workout. Blowing away the cobwebs on muscle groups that she ought to have been using. Using her body and not just her brain. Breathing in this fresh, crisp mountain air and feeling alive!

She watched a large bird, far out above the canyon, circle effortlessly in the air. ‘Now,
that's
the way to climb to new heights.'

Gray squinted up at the sky. ‘I wonder if birds get altitude sickness.'

‘Or have a fear of heights. Can you imagine?'

‘We humans think too much. We worry and fret, build our anxieties on imagined threats. If you think about it, animals have it easier.'

She took another drink of water. ‘What worries
you
, Gray? You never struck me as a worrier.'