With a humourless laugh he studied the empty glass in his hand, sure of one thing. If doing the right thing felt this bad, he wasn’t going to make a habit of it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘HE SAVED the child, can you believe that? Anyway, I always knew there was good in him. It’s not surprising he went off the rails with everything that he had to contend with at home.’ Angela Parker watched as Flora tightened the bandage. ‘I mean, his mother left when he was only ten years old. And his father was a drunk. A violent drunk, some say. Shocking, really shocking. It’s no wonder he was wild. The poor boy.’

‘Yes, Mrs Parker. I mean, no.’ Flora was barely listening. Her mind was on other things. Although part of her was delighted and relieved that the entire island was now treating Conner as a hero, another part of her felt as though something inside her had been ripped out.

It was just because she was tired, she told herself. But she knew that wasn’t true. It had nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the kiss she’d shared with Conner.

The kiss that had been interrupted.

The kiss that she’d totally messed up.

She kept reliving that moment and wishing she’d done things differently. She wished she’d yelled out, It’s me, Flora Harris, Jim. Yes, I’m kissing Conner so could you just all go away and let us get on with it? She wished she hadn’t been embarrassed. She wished she’d held onto the moment instead of letting it slip from her fingers. She wished…

She wished Conner felt something for her.

But he didn’t.

In fact, not only had he not mentioned it, he hadn’t even talked to her. Several days had passed and he’d been so busy fielding patients eager to consult him about his various problems that she’d barely seen him in the distance, let alone put herself in the position where a conversation might be possible.

At first she’d managed to convince herself that he was just very busy. She’d lingered in the surgery long after the patients had left, hoping that he’d seek her out, and she’d sat in her empty cottage at night, waiting for a knock on the door or the ring of the phone.

She’d thought up a million reasons for the fact that he hadn’t come near her, but in the end she’d run out of reasons. And still he hadn’t disturbed her solitude.

And she couldn’t blame him for that, could she? Not after she’d made it perfectly clear that she’d be embarrassed to be caught with him. It was hardly surprising that he was now avoiding her and she wished she’d done everything differently.

She had no backbone.

She was pathetic.