Erin felt that same prickle of awareness as when their hands had touched over the scones. But this time, instead of avoiding eye contact, she looked him straight in the eye. Nate’s pupils were dilated to the point where his eyes looked almost black.

Oh, help. It looked as if this attraction she felt towards him was mutual, then. What were they going to do about it? Because this situation was impossible.

His face was serious. ‘Erin.’ He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm, then brushed his thumb over her lower lip.

She felt hot all over and her skin tingled where he touched her.

‘Nate. We’re right in the middle of the hospital,’ she whispered.

‘And anyone could see us. I know.’ He moved his hand away. ‘Erin, I think we need to talk.’

She knew he was right. ‘But not here.’ It was too public.

‘Where? When?’ His voice was urgent.

‘You said Caitlin would be all right with your mum for a while.’ She took a deep breath. Maybe she needed to be brave about this, as Mikey had suggested. Do it now. Tell him the truth. And if he walked away—well, it just proved that she’d been stupid to let him matter to her. ‘My place, right now?’

Dear Reader,

I’d got to that stage of life where I’m really fascinated by gardens—and then my friend Michelle told me about a news story of a sensory garden for spinal patients. What a perfect setting, I thought. Especially when I kept seeing stories about spinal patients in the news.

But who would get involved with a sensory garden? And who would think it was a bad idea?

Meet Erin, who has a lot of shadows in her past, and Nate, who has a lot of shadows in his present.

The sensory garden starts by keeping them apart, and then it is very instrumental in bringing them together. Add in a troubled teen—who reminds Erin very much of herself at that age—complicated families and the whole idea about how love happens when you least expect it…and you have what happens with Erin and Nate.

I hope you enjoy their journey—and that the garden inspires you as much as it did me.

I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at katehardy.com.

With love,

Kate Hardy

KATE HARDY always loved books, and could read before she went to school. She discovered Mills & Boon books when she was twelve and decided this was what she wanted to do. When she isn’t writing Kate enjoys reading, cinema, ballroom dancing and the gym. You can contact her via her website: katehardy.com.

Capturing the
Single Dad’s
Heart
Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Michelle Styles, with love and thanks for the lightbulb

Praise for Kate Hardy

‘This was a truly stunning, heartfelt read from Kate Hardy. She blew me away with the intensity of the heartache in this read.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on The Brooding Doc’s Redemption

‘Bound by a Baby moved me to tears many times. It is a full-on emotional drama. Author Kate Hardy brought this tale shimmering with emotions. Highly recommended for all lovers of romance.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews

Bound by a Baby won the 2014 RoNA (Romantic Novelists’ Association) award!

Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

DEDICATION

Praise for Kate Hardy

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

WHY WOULD YOU turn down every single invitation to a team night out when you were new to the department? Erin wondered. Surely you’d want to get to know your colleagues and help yourself fit in to the team more quickly, rather than keep your distance?

Nate Townsend was a puzzle.

As a colleague, he was fine; she’d done a few ward rounds with him, and had been pleased to discover that he was good with their patients. He listened to their worries, reassured them and explained anything they didn’t understand without showing the least bit of impatience. The team in Theatre had all been thrilled to report that, unlike the surgeon he’d replaced, Nate was precise with his instructions and always bothered to thank the nursing staff.

But he didn’t socialise with the team at all. There was always a polite but guarded smile, a rueful shrug of the shoulders, and, ‘Sorry, I can’t make it,’ when anyone asked him to join them. No excuses, no explanations. Just a flat no: whether it was a drink, a meal, going ten-pin bowling or simply catching the latest movie. He didn’t even have lunch or coffee with any of his colleagues in the spinal unit; he grabbed a sandwich at his desk instead and wrote up his notes so he could leave straight at the end of his shift.

Erin knew that some people preferred to keep themselves to themselves, but she’d been working at the London Victoria since her first year as a junior doctor, and the friendliness of her colleagues had always made even the most harrowing day more bearable. Why did Nate rebuff everyone? Did he have some kind of complicated home life that meant he needed to be there as much as he could outside work and just didn’t have the energy to make friends with his colleagues?

Not that it was any of her business.

Then she became aware that Nick, the head of their department, was talking to her.

She really ought to be paying attention in the monthly staff meeting instead of puzzling over her new colleague.

And it wasn’t as if she was interested in Nate anyway, even if it turned out that he was single. Erin was very firmly focused on her career. She’d let her life be seriously derailed by a relationship when she was younger, and she was never going to make that mistake again. Friendship was all she’d ever offer anyone from now on. ‘Sorry, Nick. I didn’t quite catch that,’ she said with a guilty smile.

‘No problems. Can you bring us up to date on the sensory garden?’

Erin’s pet project. The one that would help her make a real difference to their patients’ lives. She smiled and opened her file. ‘I’m pleased to report that we’re pretty much ready to start. The hospital’s agreed to let us transform the piece of land we asked for, the Friends of the London Victoria are working out a rota for the volunteers, and Ed’s finalised the design—the committee just has to approve it. But they liked the draft version so it’s pretty much a formality and we’re planning to start the ground work in the next week or so.’

‘Hang on,’ Nate said. ‘What’s the sensory garden?’

‘We’re remodelling part of the hospital’s grounds as a sensory garden, and making sure it’s accessible to our patients,’ Erin explained.

He frowned. ‘That kind of project costs an awful lot of money. Wouldn’t those funds be better spent on new equipment for the patients?’

This was Nate’s first monthly team meeting, so he wouldn’t know that Erin had been working on the garden project for almost a year in her spare time. She was sure he didn’t mean to be rude, so she’d cut him some slack. ‘I know that sensory gardens have a reputation for costing an arm and a leg, but this one’s not going to cost anywhere near what you imagine,’ she said with a smile. ‘We already have the grounds, and the designer’s working with us for nothing.’

‘For nothing?’ Nate looked sceptical.

‘For publicity, then,’ she said. ‘The main thing is that he’s not charging us for the actual design.’ Like Erin herself, Ed the garden designer had a vested interest in the project. This was his way of giving something back, because the spinal unit at the London Victoria had treated his younger brother after a motorcycle accident. But it wasn’t her place to tell Nate about their former patient. ‘Actually, I hope he gets a ton of clients who respond to his generosity.’

‘Hmm.’ Nate’s blue eyes were so dark, they were almost black. And right at that moment they were full of scepticism. Did he really have that bitter a view about human nature?

‘The labour isn’t costing us anything, either,’ Erin continued. ‘Ayesha—she’s the chair of the Friends of the London Victoria—is setting up a rota of volunteers from across the community. So that’s everyone from students who want some work experience for their CVs through to people who just enjoy pottering around in the garden in their spare time,’ she explained. ‘It’s going to be a true community garden, so it will benefit everyone. And the rota’s not just for planting the garden, it’s for maintaining it as well.’

‘What about the cost of the plants and any other materials used in the design?’ Nate asked.

‘Some things have been donated by local businesses,’ she said, ‘and the staff here, our patients and their families have been raising funds for the last year. We have enough money to cover the first phase of the project.’

‘And you really think a sensory garden’s the best way to spend that money?’ he asked again.

Just who did the guy think he was? He’d been here almost a month, kept himself completely aloof from the team, and now he was criticising a project that had been months and months in the planning without having a single positive thing to say about it? Erin gritted her teeth in annoyance and, instead of letting her boss deal with it—the way she knew she should’ve done—she gave Nate Townsend her most acidic smile. If he wanted an answer, he’d get one.

‘Actually, I do, and I’m not alone,’ she said crisply. ‘As you know, most of our patients have just had a massive and unexpected life change. They have to make a lot of adjustments—and they can be stuck inside in a clinical environment for months, just staring at the same four walls. A garden will be a restful space for them to sit in and have some quiet time with family and friends, chat with other patients, or even just sit and read in a space that’s a bit different. It’ll help them start getting used to their new lives rather than just feeling that they’re stuck inside the same four walls all the time with no greenery. A sensory garden has scent, sound, texture, colour and even taste—all things that stimulate our patients and can help with their recovery.’

‘You said a restful space,’ Nate repeated. ‘How are you going to find that in the centre of London, with traffic going past all the time?’

‘Fair point,’ she conceded, understanding his scepticism on that particular subject, ‘but we’re using hedging to lessen the impact of the traffic noise. You’re very welcome to have a copy of the plans.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Constructive comments from someone with relevant experience are always welcome.’

His eyes widened slightly to acknowledge the point of her comment; clearly he understood that she didn’t think he was being constructive at all or had any relevant experience.

But that didn’t stop him asking more questions. ‘So what about the fact that some of our patients have problems regulating their temperature and can get either too hot or too cold in a garden?’

‘Phase two,’ she said, ‘will be a covered space to help those particular patients. But we’re beginning the first phase now so our patients and their families can start to benefit from the garden as soon as possible, rather than having to wait until we have all the money for the second phase. And, before you mention the fact that our patients are usually confined to wheelchairs, we’re making sure that the pathways have no bumps and are smooth-running for anyone in a chair. Actually, Ed—the landscape designer—even spent a few hours being wheeled about the grounds in a chair so he could see for himself where the problems are.’

‘Right.’ But Nate still didn’t look convinced.

She sighed. ‘I did a lot of research before I suggested the project. And I’ve visited sensory gardens both in England and in Scandinavia.’ The glint in his eye made her add, ‘At my own cost, during my annual leave.’

‘Very public-spirited of you,’ he drawled.

She was really starting to dislike him now. How dared he judge her?

Though there was some truth in his barb. The whole reason she’d thrown herself behind the sensory garden project was because she’d seen the difference it had made to her brother. And helping to make that same difference to their patients might go some way towards lessening her guilt about what had happened to Mikey.

Might. She knew that her brother had forgiven her a long time ago, but she still couldn’t forgive herself.

‘It’s important,’ she said quietly. ‘From a medical point of view, exposure to nature helps with pain management, reduces stress and increases feelings of calm and relaxation.’

He shrugged. ‘That’s a bit New Agey, don’t you think?’

‘Apart from the fact that garden therapy has been used as far back as ancient Greece,’ Erin pointed out, ‘in modern terms you can actually measure the effect on the patient’s blood pressure and heart rate. Plus a change of scene makes a mental difference. It might be a very small thing to you and me, and we all probably take it for granted, but for a patient who’s been stuck inside for weeks it’s a massive thing to be able to go outside.’

Finally, to Erin’s relief, Nick spoke up. ‘As the project’s already been agreed, perhaps we should all just agree to disagree on the use of funds and what have you.’

‘Sure,’ Nate said easily. ‘And, as the new boy, I know I shouldn’t make waves. But my sister’s a deputy headmistress, and she tells me that the thing she likes best about having a new governor on the team is that you get a critical friend—someone who looks at things from the outside with a fresh pair of eyes and asks questions. I guess I was trying to do the same thing here.’

‘You’re very welcome to a copy of the file,’ Erin said again, ‘if you want to check the costings and make sure I haven’t missed anything.’

‘I’ll take you up on that,’ he said.

Erin simmered through the rest of the meeting. Critical friend, indeed. There was nothing friendly about Nate Townsend. He might be easy on the eye—on his first day, several of her female colleagues had declared him one of the sexiest men they’d ever met, with his Celtic good looks of dark hair, pale complexion and navy blue eyes—but in her view character was much more important than looks. And she really didn’t like what she’d seen of Nate Townsend today.

And of course she would have to do the ward rounds with him after the meeting.

‘Do you have a particular way you’d prefer to do the ward rounds this morning?’ she asked, knowing that she sounded snippy but not being able to stop herself.

‘I’m quite happy to follow the normal protocol here,’ he said mildly.

‘That’s not the impression you gave in the meeting.’ The words were out before she could hold them back.

‘I apologise if I upset you,’ he said. ‘Why is the garden so important to you?’

He seriously thought she was going to tell him that—so he could go ahead and judge her as harshly as she judged herself? No way. ‘I’ve been working on the project for a year,’ she said instead. ‘And I’ve seen the difference it’s made to patients elsewhere. Phase one is the garden, phase two is the covered area, and maybe we can have some raised beds in phase three and a greenhouse so the patients can grow plants. If it proves to them that they can still do something, that they can still contribute to life instead of having to be looked after every second of the day and feel like a burden to everyone, it’ll help them adjust to their new life and the prospect of having to change their career.’

‘I think Nick’s right,’ Nate said, his expression inscrutable. ‘For now we’ll agree to disagree.’

She inclined her head. ‘As you wish. Though I’d be interested to know why you’re so against the project.’

‘Because several times before now I’ve seen funds raised to help patients and then wasted on people’s pet hobbyhorses,’ he said.

Deep breath, she told herself. He might be right about it being her pet hobbyhorse, but the rest of it was way off the mark. ‘I can assure you that what we’re doing isn’t a waste of funds. And it’s not just about the patients. As I said, it’s a community garden, with local volunteers helping. That’s everyone from older people who’ve moved into a flat and miss having a garden through to young mums who want just a couple of hours a week doing something that’s not centred around the baby, and the local sixth form’s involved, too. It’s a project that gives extra credit towards exams for some of them, and others can talk about it on their personal statement when they apply to university. It’s getting everyone working together to make a difference and absolutely everyone involved gets some benefit from it. I’m sorry if you see a garden as a waste of money, but the rest of us really don’t.’

* * *

Erin was really passionate about this project, Nate thought. Her face had been full of animation when she’d talked about the garden and what she thought it could do for their patients.

Then he shook himself mentally. Yes, Erin Leyton was pretty, with her curly light brown hair caught back at the nape of her neck, clear grey eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose. But, even if he were in a place where he could think about having a relationship—which he most definitely wasn’t, with his life being in utter chaos right now—it would be way too complicated, given that they had such opposing views on fundamental things.

Though maybe he was only being scratchy with her because he was so frustrated with how things were going outside work, and that wasn’t fair of him. It wasn’t Erin’s fault that his ex-wife had dropped a bombshell on him only a week before he’d started his new job and he’d been running round like a headless chicken ever since, trying to sort everything out. And it definitely wasn’t Erin’s fault that he hated himself for being such a failure.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’re right—it’s like the new boy stamping everywhere to try and make an impression.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You were thinking it, though.’

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Can you blame me?’

‘No—and actually, it isn’t that at all. I apologise. I shouldn’t bring my baggage to work.’

The hostility in her grey eyes melted in an instant. ‘Apology accepted. And sometimes,’ she said quietly, ‘it helps to have someone to talk to—someone who isn’t involved with the situation and won’t judge you or spread gossip.’

She was offering him a shoulder to cry on, even after he’d been combative towards her in a meeting involving what was clearly her pet project? That was unbelievably generous. Then again, he wasn’t that surprised. He’d already noticed Erin’s name at the top of all the internal memos organising a team night out or a collection for someone’s birthday or baby shower. He had a feeling that she was one of life’s fixers.

Well, his life couldn’t be fixed right now. He wasn’t sure if it ever could be. ‘Thanks for the offer,’ he said, ‘but I don’t really know you.’

She shrugged, but he could see the momentary flash of hurt on her face. ‘Fair enough. Forget I said anything.’

He felt like a heel, but he couldn’t even offer anyone friendship at the moment. Not until he’d sorted things out with Caitlin and established a better relationship with her. And he had no idea how long that was going to take. Right now it felt like it was never going to happen.

‘Let’s do the ward rounds,’ he said. ‘We have Kevin Bishop first. He’s forty-five, but he has the spine of a sixty-five-year-old—it’s a really bad case of stenosis.’

‘Is that from normal wear and tear,’ she asked, ‘or is it job-related?’

‘Probably a bit of both. He’s a builder. He has two worn discs, and the sheath around his spinal cord has narrowed,’ Nate explained.

‘Which would put pressure on his spinal nerves—so it sounds as if the poor guy’s been in a lot of pain,’ she said, her face full of sympathy.

‘He’s been taking anti-inflammatories,’ Nate said, ‘but he says they don’t even touch the pain any more.’

‘So you’re looking at major surgery and weeks of rehabilitation?’ she asked. ‘If so, Mr Bishop could be a candidate for the sensory garden.’

‘No, no and no,’ Nate said. ‘He won’t be here for long. I’m planning to use an interspinous spacer device this afternoon rather than doing a laminectomy.’

‘I’ve read about that,’ she said. ‘Isn’t there a larger risk of the patient needing to have surgery again in the future if you use a spacer rather than taking a slice of bone off the area putting pressure on his spinal cord?’

‘Yes, but there’s also a much lower risk of complications than you’d get from taking off the bit of bone that rubs and causes the pain, plus it’s just a small incision and he’ll be out again in a couple of days. I’d normally use the procedure for older patients or those with higher risks of surgery,’ Nate said. ‘Kevin Bishop is still young but, given that he’s overweight and has high blood pressure, I think he’s higher risk.’

‘Fair enough. So how exactly does the spacer work?’

Nate could see that she was asking from a professional viewpoint rather than questioning his competence; he knew that Erin was a neurologist rather than a surgeon. ‘We’ll put a spacer into his lower vertebrae. It’ll act as a supportive spring and relieve the pressure on the nerve. It gives much better pain relief than epidural steroid injections, plus the spinal nerves aren’t exposed so there’s a much lower risk of scarring.’ He paused. Maybe this would be a way of easing the tension between them after that meeting. ‘Provided Mr Bishop gives his consent, you can come and watch the op, if you like.’

‘Seriously?’ She looked surprised that he’d even offered.

‘Seriously.’ Was she going to throw it back in his face, or accept it as the offer of a truce?

‘I’d really like that. Thank you.’ She smiled at him.

Again Nate felt that weird pull of attraction and reminded himself that this really wasn’t appropriate. For all he knew, Erin could be in a serious relationship. Not that he was going to ask, because he didn’t want her to think that he was interested in her. He didn’t have the headspace or the mental energy right now to be interested in anyone. His focus needed to be on his daughter and learning how to be a good full-time dad to her. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, feeling slightly awkward, and went with Erin to see his patient.

He introduced her swiftly to Kevin Bishop.

‘I’ve reviewed the scans of your spine, Mr Bishop, and your blood tests are all fine, too, so I’m happy to go ahead with surgery today,’ he said. ‘Would you mind if Dr Leyton here sits in on the operation?’

‘No, that’s fine,’ Mr Bishop said, looking relieved. ‘I’m just glad you’re going to do it today. I’m really looking forward to being able to tie my own shoelaces again, and to stand up without my legs tingling all the time.’

‘It’s been that bad?’ Erin asked sympathetically.

Mr Bishop nodded. ‘The pain’s been terrible. Rest doesn’t help and the tablets don’t seem to work any more. My doctor said I’d have to have surgery—I was dreading the idea of being stuck in hospital for weeks, but Mr Townsend said that I’d only be in for a few days.’ He gave her a weary smile. ‘I just want to be able to play football with my kids again and get back to my job.’

‘The surgery will make things much better,’ Nate promised. ‘I know we talked about it before, but I’d like to run through the situation again to make sure you’re happy about what’s happening.’

Mr Bishop nodded.

‘Basically what happens is that the nerves in your spine run down a tunnel called the spinal canal. You’ve had a lot of wear and tear on your spine, and that makes the spinal canal narrower; that means it squeezes the nerves when you stand or walk, which is why you’re getting pain. What I want to do is put a spacer between two of the bones in your spine, and that will relieve the pressure and stop the pain. Now, you haven’t eaten anything since last night?’

‘No, though I’m dying for a cup of tea,’ Mr Bishop admitted.

Nate smiled. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get your cup of tea this afternoon. I’ll get the pre-op checks organised now and I’m going to operate on you at two. The operation’s going to be under a local anaesthetic, but you’ll also be sedated so you won’t remember anything about it afterwards. You’ll be lying face down during the operation on a special curved mattress; that will reduce the pressure on your chest and pelvis, and also give me better access to your spine.’

‘How long will the operation take?’ Mr Bishop asked.

‘It should be about an hour or so, depending on what I find—but from your scan it looks pretty straightforward.’

‘That’s great.’ Mr Bishop smiled. ‘I still can’t believe I’ll be able to go home again in a couple of days. I thought I’d be stuck in here for weeks.’

‘You’re not going to be able to go straight back to work or to drive for the first few weeks after the operation,’ Nate warned, ‘and you’ll need to do physiotherapy and exercises. They’ll start about four weeks after the op—and in the meantime it’ll be better for you to sit on a high, hard chair than a soft one with a low back.’

‘And no bending or lifting?’

‘Absolutely. Listen to whatever the physiotherapist tells you,’ Nate said. ‘This is a newish procedure, Mr Bishop. I do need to tell you that, because it’s so new, there’s a very small possibility the spacer might move in the future or need replacing.’

‘If it takes the pain away, I can cope with that.’

Nate talked Mr Bishop through the likely complications and all the possible consequences of the operation, then asked him to sign the consent form. ‘I’ll see you later this afternoon,’ he said with a smile.

* * *

Later that afternoon, watching Nate perform in Theatre, Erin was spellbound. His instructions to Theatre staff were clear, he was polite as well as precise and he talked her through every single step of the operation, explaining the methodology and what it would do for the patient.

With their patient and in Theatre, he was a completely different man, she thought. Not the cool, critical and judgemental stranger he’d been in the meeting. This man had deft, clever hands and really knew his stuff—and he treated everyone around him as his equal. She noticed that he made the time to thank every member of the team at the end of the operation, too.

This Nate Townsend, she thought, was a man she’d like to get to know.

And she understood now why so many of her colleagues had dubbed him the sexiest surgeon in the hospital. The only bit of his face she could see clearly was his eyes—a gorgeous, sensual dark blue. And the combination of intelligence and clever hands made a shiver of pure desire run down her spine.

Which was totally inappropriate.

She was here to observe, not to go off in some ridiculous, lust-filled daydream.

‘Thank you for letting me observe, today,’ she said when they’d both scrubbed out. ‘That was really useful. I can talk to patients with spinal stenosis about their options with a lot more authority now.’

‘No problem. And if you have any questions about the procedure later, come and find me.’

He actually smiled at her, then, and she caught her breath. When he smiled like that—a smile that came from inside, more than just politeness—he was utterly gorgeous.

And he was probably involved with someone. Given that he kept everyone at a distance, she’d bet that his home life was full of complications. And none of those complications were any of her business.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, feeling slightly flustered.

‘Yeah.’

* * *

Once Nate was happy that Kevin Bishop and his other patients from Theatre that afternoon had settled back on the ward and there were no complications following surgery, he finished writing up his notes. And then he braced himself for the drive to his mother’s house.

Guilt flooded through him. What kind of a father was he, to dread picking up his own daughter? But being her full-time parent—the one with total responsibility—was a far cry from being the part-time dad who saw her for a few snatched days in school holidays and odd weekends. Before Caitlin had come to live with him, they hadn’t spent long enough together at a stretch to run out of things to talk about. Now, it was the other way round: he had all the time he could’ve wanted with her, and not a clue what to say.

As he’d half expected, Caitlin wasn’t in the mood for talking.

‘How was your day?’ he asked as he pulled away from the kerb.

Her only answer was a shrug.

Great. What did he ask now? Clearly she didn’t want to talk about school or her friends—he didn’t even know whether she’d made friends, yet, because she always sidestepped the question whenever he asked.

Food would be a safe subject, surely? ‘Do you fancy pizza for dinner tonight?’

A shake of her head. ‘Your mother already cooked for me.’

As part of her protest about being forced to move from Devon to London, Caitlin had shut off from Sara, her paternal grandmother; she avoided calling Sara anything at all, just as she’d stopped calling Nate ‘Dad’. He had no idea how to get round that without starting another row—and he was trying to pick his battles carefully.

By the time he’d thought of another topic, they were home. Not that Caitlin considered his house as her real home, and he was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Though neither of them had any choice in the matter.

‘Do you have much homework?’ he tried as he unlocked the front door.

‘I’ve already done it. Do you have to be on my case all the time?’ she demanded.

It took her five seconds to run up the stairs. Two more to slam her bedroom door.

And that would be the last he saw of her, that evening.

He didn’t have a clue what to do now. Stephanie had made it clear that it was his turn to deal with their daughter, and being a full-time dad was as much of a shock to the system for him as it was for Caitlin. Of course he understood that it was hard starting at a new school and being away from the friends you’d known since you were a toddler, but Caitlin had been in London for a month now and things still hadn’t got any better.

He’d rather face doing the most complicated and high-risk spinal surgery for twenty-four hours straight than face his teenage daughter. At least in Theatre he had some clue what he was doing, whereas here he was just a big fat failure. He didn’t know what to do to make things better. When he’d tried asking her, she’d just rolled her eyes, said he was clueless, stomped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

Why was parenting a teenage girl so much harder than the job he’d trained for more than ten years to do?

And how was he ever going to learn to get it right?

He grabbed his mobile phone and headed out to the back garden. Hopefully Caitlin would be less likely to overhear this particular conversation if he was outside; he didn’t want her to misunderstand and think he was complaining about her. And then he called his ex-wife.

‘What now?’ was Stephanie’s snapped greeting.

He sighed inwardly. Caitlin had definitely inherited her mother’s hostile attitude towards him. ‘How are you, Steph?’

‘Fine.’ She sounded suspicious. ‘Why are you calling?’

‘Because I need help,’ he admitted. ‘I’m absolutely rubbish at this parenting business.’

‘You can’t send her back here,’ Stephanie said. ‘Not after the way she’s been with Craig.’

‘I know.’ Caitlin had been just as hostile towards Nate’s now-ex-girlfriend. Though, if he was honest with himself, the relationship with Georgina had been on its last legs anyway. If the final row hadn’t been over Caitlin, it would’ve been about something else, and he was pretty sure they would’ve broken up by now. Maybe Stephanie’s new marriage had slightly firmer foundations. For her sake, he hoped so. ‘I don’t know what to say to her. How to get through to her. All she does is roll her eyes at me and slam her bedroom door.’

‘She’s a teenage girl.’

‘I know, but they’re not all like that. Not all the time. And she wasn’t like that when she visited me or I came down to Devon.’

‘So it’s my fault?’

‘No. I don’t want to fight with you, Steph.’

‘But you’re judging me for putting my relationship before her.’

‘No, I’m not,’ he said tiredly. ‘Who am I to judge, when I put my career before both of you?’

‘I’m glad you can see that now,’ Stephanie said.

Nate told himself silently not to rise to the bait. It was an old argument and there were no winners.

‘Well, you’ll just have to keep trying. Because she can’t come back here,’ Stephanie warned. ‘She’s your daughter, too, and it’s your turn to look after her.’

‘Yeah.’ Nate knew that asking his ex for help had been a long shot. Given that Stephanie had spent the last ten years hating him for letting her down, of course she wouldn’t make this easy for him now. And he knew that most of the fault was his. He hadn’t been there enough when Stephanie had been struggling with a demanding toddler, and he hadn’t supported her as much as he should have... It wasn’t surprising that she’d walked out and taken the baby halfway across the country with her.

Maybe he should’ve sucked it up and gone after her. Or at least moved closer so that access to their daughter wasn’t so difficult. Even though he had a sneaking suspicion that Stephanie would’ve moved again if he’d done that.

In the end they’d compromised, with Nate doing his best to support his daughter and ex-wife financially by working hard and rising as fast as he could through the ranks. He’d called Caitlin twice a week, trying to speak to her before her bedtime even when he was at work, and then as soon as video calling became available he’d used that—though Steph had made pointed comments about him being the ‘fun parent’ buying their daughter expensive technology. But without that he would’ve been limited to the odd weekend and visits in the school holidays. He hadn’t bought the tablet to score points or rub in the fact that he was making good money—he’d simply wanted to see his daughter as much as he could, even though they lived so far apart.

‘Thanks anyway,’ he said, hoping that Stephanie would take it for the anodyne and polite comment it was rather than assume that he was being sarcastic and combative, and ended the call.

Being a new single dad to a teen was the most frustrating, awkward thing he’d ever done in his life.

But he’d have to find a way to make this work. For all their sakes.

CHAPTER TWO

NATE HAD DARK shadows under his eyes, Erin noticed. And, although he was being completely professional with their patients, she could see the suppressed misery in his eyes.

I shouldn’t bring my baggage to work.

His words from the previous day echoed in her head. Right at that moment, it looked to her as if he was fighting a losing battle. Clearly whatever was bothering him had stopped him getting a decent night’s sleep.

OK, so he’d rebuffed her yesterday when she’d offered to listen. But that didn’t mean she should give up on him. Erin knew what it was like to be in a bad place—and she’d been lucky enough to have her best friend’s mother to bat her corner when she’d really needed it. Maybe Nate didn’t have someone in his life like Rachel. So maybe, just maybe, she could help.

Which would be a kind of payback. Something to help lessen the guilt that would never go away.

At the end of their rounds, she said, ‘Can we have a quick word?’

He looked confused, but shrugged. ‘Sure. What can I do for you?’

‘Shall we talk over lunch?’ she suggested. ‘My shout.’

He frowned, suspicion creeping in to his expression. ‘Is this anything to do with the sensory garden?’

‘Absolutely not. No strings,’ she promised. ‘A sandwich and coffee in the staff canteen. And no haranguing you about my pet project. Just something I wanted to run by you.’

‘OK. See you in my office at, what, half-past twelve?’ he suggested. ‘Though obviously that depends on our patients. One of them might need some extra time.’

She liked the fact that even though he was clearly struggling to deal with his personal life, he was still putting his patients first. ‘That’d be great. I’ll come and collect you.’

Erin spent the rest of the morning in clinic, and to her relief everything ran on time. Nate’s pre-surgery consultations had clearly also gone well, because he was sitting at his desk in his office when she turned up at half-past twelve.

‘I’ll just save my file,’ he said, and tapped a few buttons on his computer keyboard while she waited.

In the staff canteen, she bought them both a sandwich and coffee, plus a blueberry muffin, and directed him to find them a quiet table in the corner.

‘Cake?’ he asked when she turned up at their table.

‘Absolutely. Cake makes everything better,’ she said.

‘So what can I do for you?’ he asked, looking slightly wary.

‘Yesterday, you said that you didn’t know me.’

He winced. ‘Sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean it to sound as mean as that.’

‘I’m not trying to make you feel bad about what you said,’ she said. ‘What I mean is that we all go through times when we can’t see the wood for the trees, and sometimes it helps to talk to someone who’s completely not connected with the situation—someone who might have a completely different viewpoint.’

He didn’t look convinced.

‘So I guess I’m repeating my offer from yesterday,’ she finished.

‘That’s very kind of you, but—’ he began.

‘Don’t say no,’ she broke in. ‘Just eat your lunch and think about it.’

‘Why are you being so kind?’ he asked. ‘Because you don’t know me, either.’

‘I don’t have any weird ulterior motive,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of payback. You know—what goes around, comes around. In the past, I was in a tough situation when I really needed to talk to someone. I was lucky, because someone was there for me. So now it’s my turn to be that person for someone else.’

‘As in me?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Got you.’

Though she noticed that he still looked worried. And she could guess why. ‘For the record,’ she said gently, ‘I’m not a gossip. Whatever you say to me will go nowhere else. And right now I think you really do need to talk to someone, because you look like hell.’

He smiled, then. ‘And you tell it like it is.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s the easiest way. So just eat your cake and think about it, yes?’

* * *

Nate knew that he really didn’t deserve this. But, oh, it was so tempting to take up Erin’s offer. If nothing else, she might help him to see things from Caitlin’s point of view so he could understand what was going on in his daughter’s head. Since Caitlin had come to live with him, he’d never felt more alone.

He believed Erin when she said she wasn’t a gossip. He’d never heard her talk about other people in the staff room in their absence. Besides, the kind of people who organised departmental evenings out and collections for gifts for colleagues weren’t the kind of people who took pleasure in tearing people down.

Even though he barely knew her, he had the strongest feeling that he could trust her.

And maybe she had a point. Talking to someone who didn’t know either of them might help him see his way through this. Then maybe he could be the father Caitlin so clearly needed. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked. ‘Because it’s a long story and it’s not pretty. I...’ He dragged in a breath. ‘Right now, I don’t like myself very much.’

‘Nothing’s beautiful all the time, and if you have regrets about a situation then it’s proof that you’re willing to consider making changes to improve things,’ she said. ‘And it might not be as bad as you think. Try me.’

‘Thank you.’ But where did he start? ‘It’s my daughter,’ he said eventually.

‘You’re a new dad?’ she asked. ‘Well, that would explain the shadows under your eyes. Not enough sleep, thanks to your newborn.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yes to the sleepless nights bit—but it’s complicated.’

She simply spread her hands and smiled back, giving him space to make sense of things in his own head rather than barging in with questions. Funny how that made it so much easier to talk to her.

‘I’m sort of a new dad, but Caitlin’s not a newborn,’ he explained. ‘She’s thirteen.’

* * *

Nate had a thirteen-year-old daughter.

So did that mean he was married? Well, good, Erin thought. That would make him absolutely out of bounds. Any relationship between them would have to be strictly platonic. She was aware that made her a coward, choosing to spend her time with people she knew were unavailable so were therefore safe: but she’d turned her life round now and she wasn’t going to risk letting everything go off track again.

But then again, he’d just said he was a new dad. How? Was he fostering the girl?

Giving him a barrage of questions would be the quickest way to make him close up again; but silence would be just as bad. ‘Thirteen’s a tough age,’ she said, hoping that she didn’t sound judgemental.

‘And she doesn’t get on with her mother’s new husband.’

New husband? Oh, help. So Nate wasn’t married, then—or, at least, he wasn’t married to the mother of his daughter.

‘She didn’t get on with my now ex-girlfriend, either.’

Meaning that Nate was single. Which in turn meant he was no longer safe. Erin masked her burgeoning dismay with a kind smile.

‘And I have absolutely no idea how to connect with my daughter.’ He sighed. ‘Anyone would think I was eighty-five, not thirty-five.’

So if Caitlin was thirteen now, Nate had been quite young when she was born. Not even fully qualified as a doctor, let alone as a surgeon.

Clearly her thoughts showed in her expression, as he sighed again. ‘I’m sure you’ve already done the maths and worked out that we had Caitlin when we were young. Too young, really. Steph was twenty-one and I was twenty-two. We hadn’t actually planned to have Caitlin at that point, but we didn’t want the alternative, so we got married. We thought at the time it would work out because we loved each other and we’d manage to muddle through it together.’

Yeah. Erin knew that one. Except loving someone wasn’t always enough to make things work out. Particularly when the feelings weren’t the same on both sides. And particularly when you were too young to realise that it took more strength to let go than to hold on and hope you could change the other person, instead of making the sensible decision to walk away before things got seriously messy. She’d learned that the hard way.

But this wasn’t about her baggage. It was about helping Nate.

‘It’s pretty hard to cope with normal life when you’re a junior doctor,’ she said, ‘let alone a baby.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he said ruefully. ‘I was working—well, you know yourself the hours you work when you’re a junior doctor. So I was too tired to take over baby duties from Steph when I got home from work. She’d had to put her plans on hold. Instead of doing a postgraduate course to train as a teacher, she was stuck at home with the baby all day and every day, so I totally understand why she was fed up with me. I should’ve done a lot more and supported her better.’

‘You were working long hours and studying as well. All you can do is your best,’ Erin said.

‘I tried, but it wasn’t enough. Steph left me in the end, when Caitlin was three. They moved away.’ He grimaced. ‘I should’ve moved with them instead of staying in London.’

‘You’re a spinal surgeon,’ Erin pointed out. ‘There aren’t spinal units in every single hospital in the country, and you were, what, twenty-five when she left?’ At his nod, she continued, ‘Back then you would still have been studying for your surgeon’s exams. Even if you’d found another spinal unit close to wherever Steph and Caitlin had moved, there’s no guarantee they would’ve had a training place for you. It’s not like working in an emergency department or in maternity, where there’s a bit more flexibility and you can move hospitals a little more easily if you have to.’

‘It’s still my fault. Maybe I specialised too soon, or I should’ve just stopped being selfish and realised I couldn’t follow my dreams. Maybe I should’ve compromised by moving specialties and working in the emergency department instead,’ he said. ‘Steph and Caitlin ended up living in Devon, a five-hour drive from me. So I got to see her on the odd weekend, and she used to come and stay with me sometimes in the holidays, but that’s nothing like living with someone all the time. I feel as if we’re almost strangers. And she hates living with me.’

‘So why is she living with you? Is her mum ill?’

‘No.’ He winced. ‘As I said, she didn’t get on with her mum’s new husband. Steph said Caitlin’s a nightmare teenager and it was about time I did my share of parenting—so she sent Caitlin to live with me.’

Erin went cold.

A difficult teenager who didn’t get on with her mother’s new man, kicked out of home by her mother and sent to live with her father. Erin knew that story well. Had lived through every second of it in misery herself, thirteen years ago. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Just over a month ago.’

A few days before he’d started his new job. Not great timing for either of them. And now Erin understood exactly why Nate didn’t socialise with the team. He needed to spend the time with his daughter and build their relationship properly.

‘So she’s moved somewhere she doesn’t know, miles away from all her friends and everyone she’s grown up with, and she’s got to settle in to a new school as well.’

‘Which would be a huge change for anyone,’ he agreed, ‘but it’s harder still when you’re thirteen years old. And I’m clueless, Erin. I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m way out of my depth. I asked Steph what to do, and...’ He stopped abruptly.

Clearly his ex hadn’t been able to help much. Or maybe she hadn’t been willing to offer advice. Erin knew that one first-hand, too. Erin’s mother had washed her hands of her, the day she’d kicked Erin out. And even now, all these years later, their relationship was difficult.

But Erin liked the fact that Nate was clearly trying hard to be fair and shoulder his share of the blame for things going wrong, rather than refusing to accept any responsibility and claiming that it was all his ex’s fault. ‘It sounds to me as if you need a friend—someone’s who’s been there and understands thirteen-year-old girls,’ she said carefully.

He blinked. ‘You’re telling me you have a thirteen-year-old? But you don’t look old enough.’

‘I’m not.’ Though she flinched inwardly. If things had been a little different, she might have had a thirteen-year-old daughter herself right now. But things were as they were. And she still felt a mixture of regret and relief and guilt when she thought about the miscarriage. Regret for a little life that hadn’t really had a chance to start, for the baby she’d never got to know; relief, because when she looked back she knew she hadn’t been mature enough to be a mum at the age of sixteen; and guilt, because she had friends who’d be fantastic parents and were having trouble conceiving, whereas she’d fallen pregnant the very first time she’d had sex. The miscarriage had been her wake-up call, and she’d turned her life round. Studied hard. Passed all her exams, the second time round. Become a doctor. Tried to make a difference and to make up for her mistakes. Not that she would ever be able to make up for the biggest one.

She pushed the thoughts away. Not now. ‘I was a thirteen-year-old girl once. Although I was a couple of years older than your Caitlin when my parents split up, my mum got involved with someone I loathed and it got a bit messy.’ That was the understatement of the year. ‘So I ended up living with my dad.’ Because her mum hadn’t believed her about Creepy Leonard, Erin had gone even further off the rails—and then she’d made the terrible mistake that had ruined her brother’s life.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be her chance for payback. To help Nate’s daughter and stop Caitlin making the same mistakes that Erin herself had made.

‘So you’ve actually been in Caitlin’s shoes?’ Nate asked, looking surprised.

‘From what you’ve just told me, pretty much,’ Erin said.

He sucked in a breath. ‘I know this is a big ask—because you don’t know me, either—but, as you clearly have a much better idea than I do about what she’s going through, would you be able to help me, so I don’t make things even worse than they are for her right now?’

‘I’m not perfect,’ she warned, ‘but yes, I’m happy to try. Maybe we could meet up at the weekend and do something together, so Caitlin can start getting to know me and I can try and get her talking a bit.’

‘Thank you.’ He looked at her. ‘And what can I do for you in return?’

She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘You don’t need to do anything.’

‘If you help me, then I need to help you. It’s only fair.’

She couldn’t resist teasing him. ‘So if I asked you to do a stint in the sensory garden with a bit of weeding or what have you, you’d do it?’

‘If that’s what you want, sure.’ He paused. ‘Why is the garden so important to you?’

It sounded as if he actually wanted to know, rather than criticising her. And he’d shared something with her; maybe he’d feel less awkward about that if she shared something in return. Not the whole story, but enough of the bare bones to stop him asking more questions. ‘Because I know someone who had a really bad car accident and ended up in a wheelchair. He was helped by a sensory garden,’ she said. ‘It was the thing that stopped him going off the edge.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way but, if you’re going to help Caitlin and me, I need to ask you something. Is there a husband or a boyfriend who might have a problem with you doing that?’

‘No.’

‘OK. I just...’ He blew out a breath. ‘Well, I’ve messed up enough of my own relationships. I don’t want to mess up anyone else’s as well.’

She smiled. ‘Not a problem. There’s nothing to mess up.’

‘Good.’ He grimaced. ‘And that sounded bad. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not coming on to you, Erin. I split up with my last girlfriend nearly a month ago, a few days after Caitlin arrived, and frankly I don’t have room in my life for a relationship. All my time’s taken up learning to be a dad, and right now I’m not making a very good job of it.’

‘I know you’re not coming on to me,’ she said. Besides, even if he was, it wouldn’t work out. Love didn’t last. She’d seen it first-hand—her own parents’ marriage and subsequent relationships splintering, her brother’s girlfriend dumping him when he needed her most, and then none of her own relationships since her teens had lasted for more than a few months. She’d given up on love. ‘I’m focused on my career and I’m not looking for a relationship, either. But I can always use a friend, and it sounds as if you and Caitlin could, too.’

‘Yes. We could.’ He looked at her. ‘I ought to warn you in advance that most of her communications with me right now involve slammed doors or rolled eyes.’

‘You need a bit of time to get used to each other and to get to know each other better,’ Erin said. ‘As you say, seeing someone at weekends and holidays isn’t the same as living with them all the time. She needs to find out where her new boundaries are. Her whole life’s changed and she probably thinks it’s her fault she’s been sent to live with you. Especially if she was close to her mum and now they’re not getting on so well. What’s the problem with her mum’s new man?’

‘He seems a bit of a jerk,’ Nate said. ‘Which isn’t me saying that I’m jealous and I want Steph back—we stopped loving each other years ago, and the best I can hope for is that we can be civil to each other for Caitlin’s sake. But he doesn’t seem to be making a lot of effort with Caitlin.’

‘If you get involved with someone who has a child, you know they come as a package and you have to try to get on with your new partner’s child if you want it to work,’ Erin said. ‘If Steph’s new man doesn’t bother doing that, that makes it tricky for you. You can’t take sides, because whichever one you pick you’ll be in the wrong. If you take Steph’s side, Caitlin will resent you for it; and if you take Caitlin’s side, Steph will resent you for it. So your best bet would be to tell them both that you’re staying neutral, that the bone of contention about Steph’s new man is strictly between them, and absolutely refuse to discuss it with either of them.’

He leaned back and gave her a look of pure admiration. ‘How come you’re so wise? Are you twice as old as you look?’

‘And have a portrait of an ageing person in the attic, like Dorian Grey?’ she asked with a grin. ‘No. I’m twenty-nine.’ But if she’d had a portrait in the attic, it would’ve been very ugly indeed. A portrait of sheer selfishness. She’d spent the last thirteen years trying and failing to make up for it.

‘Twenty-nine. So you’re just about young enough to remember what it was like, being thirteen years old.’

‘And a girl,’ she reminded him. ‘You’re at a disadvantage, you know, having a Y chromosome.’

‘Tell me about it.’ He rolled his eyes.

She laughed. ‘I think you might’ve learned that particular move from your daughter. I hereby award you a gold star for eye-rolling.’

* * *

‘Why, thank you,’ he teased back.

Nate hadn’t felt this light-hearted in what felt like for ever. Not since that first phone call from Steph, informing him that Caitlin was coming to live with him permanently as from that weekend and he had to sort out her new school immediately.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.’

‘Over the sensory garden?’ She shrugged. ‘We agreed to disagree. And we’re fine as colleagues. I like the way you explain things to patients, and I like the fact you don’t look down at Theatre staff.’

‘Of course I don’t. I couldn’t operate without them,’ he said. ‘Literally.’

‘Which isn’t how your predecessor saw things, believe me,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s hard enough to settle in to a new team, but to do it when your home life’s going through massive changes as well—that’s a lot to ask of anyone.’

‘Maybe. I’m sorry if people think I’ve been snooty.’

‘Just a little standoffish. Shy, even.’ She smiled. ‘They’re a nice bunch. And they don’t judge. Obviously I’m not going to tell anyone what you’ve said to me, but if you feel like opening up at any time you’d get a good response. There are enough parents in the department who could give you a few tips on handling teenagers, though I think the big one is to stock up on cake and chocolate. That’s what my best friend’s mum did, anyway.’

‘And do you get on with your parents now?’

* * *

Tricky question. Erin knew that her mother still didn’t believe her about Creepy Leonard, and blamed Erin for the break-up of that relationship as well as for what had happened to Mikey. ‘We get along,’ she said carefully. Which was true enough. She and her mother managed to be coolly civil to each other on the rare occasions they accidentally met. But neither of her parents had been there for her when she’d needed them most; her father had been too cocooned in feeling guilty about leaving his family for someone else, and her mother had already thrown her out. And her brother, Mikey, was already paying the price for helping her earlier.

She’d never forgive herself for it. If she hadn’t called him in tears, hadn’t confided in him about what had happened to her, he would never have come to her rescue—and he would never have had the accident and ended up in a wheelchair.

‘You just do your best,’ she said with a bright smile. ‘So. You said you saw her at weekends and she stayed with you in the holidays. What sort of things did you do together?’

‘Things she finds too babyish now—building sandcastles, or going to the park or the zoo.’ He spread his hands. ‘And how bad is it that I don’t have a clue what my own daughter likes doing?’

‘The teen years are hard. You’re growing up and you don’t want people to treat you as if you’re still a kid—but at the same time you feel awkward around adults. It’s not all your fault,’ Erin said. ‘You said your sister was a deputy head. Can she help?’

‘Liza’s too far away. She lives in York and Caitlin’s only seen her half a dozen times in her life. Though obviously Liza deals with teens every day at work, so I asked her advice. She just said to take it slowly and give it time.’

‘That’s really good advice.’ Erin paused. ‘What about your mum?’

He sighed. ‘She tries. Caitlin goes to her place after school until I’ve finished at work and can pick her up. But there’s quite a generation gap between them and Caitlin doesn’t really talk to her, either.’

‘It sounds like a vicious circle—the harder you try, the more distance you end up putting between you all.’

‘Yeah. You’re right. We need help.’ He looked bleak. ‘Though I feel bad about burdening you.’

‘You’re not burdening me. I asked you what was wrong, and I offered to help. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to,’ she pointed out. ‘I remember what it was like for me. And I was difficult at fifteen. Rude, surly, wouldn’t let anyone close. I was the original nightmare teenager.’

‘And it got better?’

With her dad, at least; though they weren’t that close. ‘Yes.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It feels as if you’ve just taken a massive weight off my shoulders.’

And, oh, when he smiled like that... It made Erin’s heart do a funny little flip.

Which was completely inappropriate.

If they’d met at a different time in his life, things might’ve been different. But he didn’t need the extra complications of a relationship—especially with someone who had baggage like hers and didn’t believe in love any more.

So platonic it would be. It was all she could offer him. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ she said. ‘Though, be warned, you might think the weight’s back again plus a bit more, when I’ve had you weeding and carting heavy stones about and then muscles you’ve forgotten you had suddenly start to ache like mad.’

‘As you say—that’s what friends are for.’ He smiled again. ‘Thanks for lunch. My shout, next.’

‘OK. But I’m afraid I have to dash, now—I have clinic,’ she said, glancing at her watch.

‘And I have Theatre.’

‘Want to walk back to the unit with me?’ she asked.

He gave her another of those heart-stopping smiles. ‘Yes. I’d like that.’

She smiled back. ‘Right then, Mr Townsend. Let’s go see our patients.’

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