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‘Only if you’re sure you have time,’ Callum replied quietly.

‘I think I can spare a few more minutes.’ Her grin did something to his stomach. ‘But Sarah, you should probably still go to bed.’ She picked the teddy bear up from the sofa. ‘I mean, I couldn’t possibly argue with two of my learned colleagues, could I?’

‘Definitely not,’ Callum agreed as he led the way upstairs, praying he hadn’t left dirty underwear or anything equally embarrassing lying around.

* * *

Callum had just flicked the kettle on and was tidying up the kitchen when he heard Liv’s soft footsteps on the stairs a few minutes later.

‘She went out like a light. Must have been exhausted, poor thing.’ Liv leaned against the kitchen doorframe.

‘I imagine you’re tired too. Having to race from work to look after someone else’s sick child.’ Callum watched Liv while he bustled around the kitchen. She was smiling softly, looking incredibly beautiful, but at the same time there was a sad, dreamy look in her eyes. Reminding himself of his resolution, he retrieved a couple of mugs. ‘Coffee?’ There was nothing unprofessional about coffee — they regularly shared it in the surgery.

‘Please.’ Liv nodded gratefully.

‘Grab a stool. I can probably rustle up some food as well, if you’re hungry?’ Food wasn’t anything to read into, he told himself. Just the normal, everyday reaction of someone thanking a friend who had done them a favour.

Liv shook her head. ‘Coffee’s fine, thanks.’

‘It’s the very least I can do when you bailed me out and looked after Sarah so well. I’ve never seen her take to anyone as quickly as she has you. She’s never been the best at sleeping, even as a baby she fussed, but she became so much worse after her mother left. She has to have a certain duvet, her toys need to be in a special order, the curtains open an exact way.’ He shook his head. ‘Seeing her happily sleeping with you was a real surprise.’

Liv shrugged. ‘She’s probably just exhausted from being ill.’

Callum pursed his lips, knowing it was far more than that. Sarah had felt safe and happy around Liv. Just like he did. Seeing Liv perched at the breakfast bar, her hair piled up messily on the top of her head, and so at home in his house made something in his gut twist. It wasn’t just that he was attracted to her. He wanted her here, filling his kitchen with warmth. Whatever magic she’d cast over Sarah to make her feel safe and secure enough to sleep without all her comfort measures, she was rapidly casting a similar spell over him.

But rather than making Callum feel happy, the thought scared him. He couldn’t let anyone into his life like that. When Trixie had walked out on him and Sarah, it had taken him months to find his equilibrium again — though sometimes he doubted he truly had. He’d had to fight every day to get out of bed, put on a brave face, and comfort the little girl crying for her mother.

He didn’t think he was strong enough to survive that again, and he definitely wasn’t willing to put Sarah at risk of being hurt.

He handed the coffee to Liv, and had to steel himself not to jump when her fingers curled around the cup and brushed against his. As had happened every other time that week, electricity shot through Callum’s hand. When he glanced up, Liv was staring at him, and the air between them crackled.

Liv gulped, and raised her cup to her lips. Callum watched, transfixed as she blew on the coffee to cool it, then licked her lips, and took a sip.

‘So, how did your meetings go?’

Callum sighed and put his own coffee down, his stomach souring as reality crashed back in. ‘About as well as I’d expected, and much worse than I’d hoped.’ He kicked the stool out and sat down. ‘Can I tell you something without it getting back to the rest of the team?’

‘Of course.’

‘The clinical commissioning group need to save money. A hell of a lot of it. Our surgery is one of the ones at risk. By county standards we don’t have high volumes of patients, and the commissioning group think they would be better spending the money trying to shore up A&E and reduce waiting times for beds.’

‘The targets are quite strict.’ Liv tapped the edge of her coffee cup as she thought. ‘So, where do you stand?’

‘I’m arguing that the surgery is vital to the community. That being so far from the hospital would make removing it dangerous. They’ve given me some time to come up with an alternative proposal, but I don’t know if it’s going to help. I can’t really imagine what will.’ He rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘It’s just so bloody unfair. My family have run this surgery for three generations. My grandmother was born in this village, and my grandfather set the surgery up. He started seeing patients in his front room. My parents worked so hard to grow the surgery, and now it’s all going to end.’ He thumped the breakfast bar angrily.

‘Maybe not.’ Liv reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘They’ve given you a chance to submit ideas. I don’t think they would have bothered to do that if they’d made their minds up. All you need to do is come up with something that makes the surgery more valuable to them open, than closed.’

‘So the holy grail. No pressure.’

‘Since when has anything worthwhile ever been easy?’

For a moment, Callum thought she was talking about the attraction between them, then had to force himself to shake the thought away and focus. ‘How can we, as a village surgery, be valuable to a major hospital though?’

‘Well, without knowing the exact patient profile, it’s hard to comment. But I’d guess, like most hospitals, that A&E is regularly inundated with the types of complaints that could be handled locally — especially if there was a surgical suite or urgent care facility here.’

‘That’s certainly true.’

‘So give them that. As a starting point.’ Liv shrugged as if the answer was obvious.