The Children's Doctor's Special Proposal

Or maybe it would just make things worse—because although she could imagine what it would be like to kiss Rhys, to make love with him, the reality would be even more intense. Something she wouldn’t want to give up.

She was going to have to start taking long, cold showers. Or doing a few lengths of the local pool—which was always freezing—before work.

She was still thinking about it when she saw Rhys walk into the department, carrying a rolled-up sleeping bag and a suitcase.

Was he going away somewhere straight after work? As far as she knew, he wasn’t off duty the next day. Odd. It didn’t make sense.

Until she walked into the staffroom during her break and saw him ending a call on his mobile phone and crossing something off a list.

‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

‘In a word, no.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You know that storm we had last week? It took some tiles off my roof, and my landlord sent someone round to fix it—except they found some asbestos. I have to move out while it’s being fixed. And because the landlord’s panicking about health and safety, that means today.’

She glanced at his list—a printout of local hotels and their phone numbers. Most of them were crossed through. ‘No luck finding anywhere?’

‘Everywhere’s fully booked, with it being Bonfire Night, half-term and then that big charity concert at the end of the week.’ He sighed. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to be sleeping in my office for a few nights. That’s why I brought my sleeping bag in.’

‘Rhys, you can’t. I mean…I know there are showers and what have you at the hospital, but living out of a suitcase would be awful. And you won’t get much rest.’

‘It’s not ideal, I admit,’ he said, ‘but I can rough it for a few days.’

Her mouth went into gear a moment before her brain did. ‘Look, I have a spare bedroom. Why don’t you come and stay with me?’

He blinked. ‘Katrina, that’s really generous of you—but I can’t possibly put you out like that. I have no idea how long it’s going to take to sort out my flat. It could be days, it could be weeks.’

‘It’s not a problem.’ Apart from the fact that they’d been trying to stay apart. But they’d managed it so far. If they could do it at work, they could do it outside work, surely? And she couldn’t see him in a hole like this. She would’ve made the same offer to any of her colleagues.

‘Then thanks—I owe you one,’ Rhys said.

‘So that suitcase and the sleeping bag is all you’ve got?’

‘I don’t travel quite that light.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I have a flat full of books and films. But at least the place is furnished, so it’s only a couple of carloads.’

Her mouth was really on a roll. ‘I’ll give you a hand. If I drive over to your place this evening, we can load my car up as well as yours and it’ll only take one trip.’

‘Katrina, you’re putting me up. I can hardly ask you to do all that lugging about as well.’

‘It isn’t a problem. Anyone here would do the same—you help each other out if you’re stuck.’

‘Then thanks. I really appreciate this, Katrina. And I’ll buy us a take-away tonight,’ he promised.

‘You’re on.’ She smiled. ‘Pizza, salad and the nicest rosemary flatbread in the world.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘is a deal.’

After work, Rhys made two quick stops on the way home, stored one of his purchases in the passenger footwell of his car, then took the packing tape indoors and retrieved the flat-packed removal boxes from underneath his bed. He’d made up the boxes and packed the rest of his clothes by the time Katrina rang the doorbell.

‘Come in. Coffee?’ he asked, ushering her inside.

‘Thanks.’

He quickly went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. ‘I’ve emptied my bedroom and the bathroom. It’s just the kitchen and living room to do now.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad I moved most of my music over to a hard disk system a couple of years back, or it’d take twice as long to pack.’ And he’d only unpacked a small proportion of his sheet music in the first place, which helped.

Her eyes widened as she saw his cello case and the music stand in the living room. ‘I would’ve guessed that you can sing well, being Welsh, but I had no idea you played an instrument.’

He laughed, disassembling the music stand and putting it on top of the sheet music. ‘Don’t believe the stereotype—not every Welshman can sing. School assemblies used to be torture, with half the kids singing out of tune.’