She teetered then toppled, her face heading directly for the floor.
‘Hey! Watch out!’ He made a grab for Sam’s arm, catching her just before she made contact with the floor. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You ignorant little gits.’ He stood Sam back on her feet and turned to the nearest guy, who had an indignant look on his face, and gave him a shove that sent him flying into his pack of friends. ‘How do you like it?’
He could feel the blood pumping through him, his temper flaring easily and his fingers clenching into fists. ‘Who’s next?’
The guys looked at one another, obviously contemplating whether to take him up on his offer or not. But Sam positioned herself between them all.
‘Mitchell, stop it. I’m fine. Don’t cause a scene.’
He was barely listening, still focused on the group of guys. ‘I don’t care about causing a scene. I care about people treating you as if you’re not even there.’
One of the guys straightened himself and for a second it looked as if he was going to take Mitchell up on his offer. Instead, he offered a mumbled apology to Sam for knocking her over and moved away.
Just as quickly as the flare-up had started, it was snuffed out. Sam was still standing in front of him, eyes wide and slightly horrified.
He swallowed. Should he be embarrassed? Because he wasn’t, not at all.
‘Where were we?’ He was starting to feel a little calmer.
‘Breakfast,’ she muttered, picking up her tray and pushing it along the line.
He picked up some wholegrain bread and put it in the nearby toaster, grabbing a handful of low-fat spread. He watched as she hesitated over the cheese and ham then selected a croissant with some butter and jam. They reached the part where the local barista was standing. ‘Sacher melange.’ He nodded.
‘What’s that?’ Sam asked as she pulled her woolly hat from her head, releasing her curls. Pretty as a picture. She was obviously calming down a little with him now. Trying to get things back onto an even keel.
‘It’s hot black coffee, foamed milk, topped with whipped cream. Want some?’
She sighed. ‘We really need to talk about your dietary choices, Mr Brody.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And a few other things.’
‘Forget it. The wholemeal toast cancels everything else out.’ He folded his arms. ‘And you don’t get to advise on anything other than the diabetes.’
‘Is that the way you work?’
‘That’s exactly the way I work.’ He took his steaming cup from the server. ‘Danke schoen. What do you want?’
‘I want a patient who’ll take responsibility for his disease and be a grown-up about it.’ The words were like a sucker punch. Just when he thought they might start being civil to each other she was reminding him exactly why she was there. He almost bit his lip to stop himself saying exactly what he wanted. ‘Hey.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t hold back.’
She had no idea the impact all this was having on him.
When he’d started to feel unwell, all he’d been able to focus on had been the fatigue and weight loss. He’d convinced himself that he was going to be diagnosed with the same condition his brother had as a child—acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. He’d ignored the raging thirst and crazy appetite. He’d ignored the fact he didn’t have obvious bruising. He’d only focused on the familiar. And it had filled him with fear and dread.
It had also stopped him from visiting the doctor until very late.
Diabetes should have been a diagnosis that filled him with relief. But for some strange reason it just didn’t.
The thought that this disease—this...condition—had caused him to lose part of his evening was more than a little disturbing. His brain had been on overdrive in the early hours while he’d imagined other potential situations and their outcomes if something like that happened again.
He was no angel. The press he’d had was testament to that. But whatever he’d done in the past—and all the related consequences—had been outcomes of his actions. Things he’d chosen to do. Sure, on occasion there might have been a little alcohol or bad temper involved, but that didn’t matter. He’d still been able to make a decision.
Last night had been nothing like that. Last night was a few fuzzy memories then a big black gaping hole. The thought of not being in control was playing nearly as much havoc with his senses as being around his new nurse.
She was talking about being a grown-up. Right now he wanted to play nursery games. Right now he wanted to stick his head in the sand and pretend he was an ostrich.
He had responsibilities she knew nothing about.
He glanced sideways. A small smile had started to creep across her face. She’d obviously realised he was ignoring her barbed comment.
Her stomach rumbled loudly and she laughed, squinting up at the menu on the wall written in German. She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s all double Dutch to me. I’ll have the hot chocolate, thanks.’
She really was cute when she smiled. He was trying to see a way forward. Maybe he should try and win her around with his charm? The thought started to play around in his brain. He smiled, his eyebrows raised. ‘With whipped cream?’
‘Is there any other way?’
He grinned. ‘Why, Ms Lewis, I think we need to discuss your dietary choices too.’ He decided to move in for the kill. ‘Have you ever been to Innsbruck before?’
‘I’ve never been to Austria before. What kind of things are there to see around here?’ She waved her hand around and laughed. ‘Apart from the obvious.’
‘There’s loads to do around here. There’s a zoo at the foot of the mountain. Did you see it? It’s the highest zoo in Europe. And Christmas is really the best time of year to be here. There’s a gorgeous Christmas tree in front of the Golden Roof, with a Christmas market in the surrounding square.’ He couldn’t hide the affection in his voice for the place that he loved. It was a whole lot easier to talk about this place than anything else.
She turned to face him again. ‘A golden roof? On a house?’
‘I’ll take you there later. I’ll explain then.’
She looked down through the glass and pointed at the houses on the edges of the city. ‘I love the coloured houses. They look like sweeties. And I love the style of all the buildings. It’s so atmospheric here.’ She looked over in the other direction and pointed at the tall, distant silver and blue glass structure. ‘And what’s that? It’s like something from the space age. It’s like being in two different time zones here.’
‘Ah, that’s Bergisel, the ski jump. It was built in 2002. There are lots of ski and snowboarding competitions held there.’ He gave her a wink. ‘They’ve even got a panoramic restaurant too.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘But I prefer this one.’
There it was again. That little flicker of something. He just didn’t know what.
She wasn’t girlfriend material. She was his nurse. He just couldn’t quite equate this girl with a twinkle in her eye to the Dragon Lady in the hospital. It was hard for him to put people into boxes—that they should be just one thing.
She was watching a snowboarder moving more quickly than a speeding car, weaving his way down the mountain with skill and expertise. But she was frowning. He could almost picture her brain computing all the possible injuries. There was no love for the sport on her face.
‘Do you board?’ he asked.
‘Not in this lifetime,’ she muttered, and gave a little shudder. She hadn’t even realised she’d answered.
His smile grew wider. He’d bet if he put Samantha Lewis on a snowboard or pair of skis she’d spend most of her time face-planting in the snow. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but for the moment he was inclined to go with the flow. It could be fun.
He settled the bill while they waited for her order then carried the tray over to a nearby table th
at looked out over the spectacular view. ‘There’s a terrace outside. It’s still a little cold right now, but around lunchtime lots of people will be sitting out there, eating their sandwiches.’
Someone walked past with a huge pile of pastries and chocolate cake on their tray. Samantha shook her head, shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed. ‘It’s eight in the morning. How can they eat those?’
The smell of hot chocolate was drifting all around her and as she bent over the steam tickled her nose. She pulled out the monitor from her pocket and put it on the table.
‘Check your blood glucose before you start eating.’
He stared at it on the table between them—like a stand-off. It only took one deep breath to make up his mind. One sharp inhalation of the crisp new snow and the fresh smell of the pine and larch trees surrounding the area made him realise he wanted this over and done with.