He finishes, grabs a towel, and rests his hip against the sink so he can assess me while he dries his hands. “Okay, now that we’re done with that, I have a question.”
Oh no.
I scrub extra hard, cheeks flooding with color. “What?”
Where’s that blasted resident now?!
“Did that contract say anything about us being friends?”
My stomach flutters. “Oh, well…yes. That was in addendum two. I—I mean, Linda thinks that would be okay.”
He laughs and shakes his head. I don’t think he knows what to do with me.
“You’re something else, Bailey.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, trying to fight back a smile.
“Just for the record…” I finish washing my hands and he hands me a fresh towel. “I don’t regret Sunday either. It’s just…”
He holds up his hands as if he gets it. “Hey, no need to explain. The contract did a pretty good job of that.” Then he holds out his hand. “Friends?”
I have to accept—any woman in her right mind would accept that outstretched hand—but the moment we touch, my gut clenches. It’s like we’re right back in his car, tearing at each other’s clothes, lost in lust. It feels so intense just to have his palm against mine my knees nearly buckle. I forget he’s waiting for me to speak until the dimple pops beside his mouth. He feels what I’m feeling. He knows there’s no way we’re just friends, which is exactly why he’s proposing the idea in the first place. This is a game to him, just like the contract was a game to me.
His eyes say, I know you want me to kiss you, but I’ll bide my time and play along.
I thought I was taking care of the situation by serving him with those papers. I thought it would give me the buffer I was so desperately seeking, but now I know it’s too little too late.
Dr. Russell wants me, and there’s a pretty good chance he’s going to get me.
Chapter 19
MATT
I shouldn’t have signed that damn contract. It was fake—obviously. Legally binding documents don’t usually start with the phrase To whom it may concern. Nonetheless, it’s still important. Bailey obviously freaked out after our kiss. I get it. It’s not as if I’ve been flirting and courting her for weeks. There was a steep transition between us going from distant coworkers to lust-filled lunatics making out in my car, me tearing at her clothes like a bear. Just because I’m ready for more doesn’t necessarily mean she is.
I want to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. I want to respect her wishes and give her the space she’s clearly after. The trouble is, I’m not sure I can. Before we kissed, I might have written Bailey off as a passing fancy—a beautiful woman, yes, but not necessarily someone I should get involved with—but now, it’s different. How am I supposed to forget what it felt like to have her kiss me like she was dying for it, like she couldn’t get enough?
I catch her watching me in the operating room, the furtive glances she thinks I don’t notice. When our eyes lock, her cheeks flood with color. When my hand accidentally brushes against hers as she passes me an instrument, she acts like I just whispered a sweet nothing in her ear.
She’s a mess. After our surgery on Monday, she bolts as soon as possible. There’s no chance to pull her aside or have a private moment.
On Wednesday, she comes to find me in the doctors’ lounge. She’s standing in the doorway, wringing out her hands and catching the notice of a few of my colleagues, not necessarily for the right reasons. She’s still in her navy scrubs and though she isn’t trying to be, she’s adorable. Blonde ponytail. High cheekbones. Dark lashes. When she catches sight of me, she smiles, and now she’s not just adorable, she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
I wish she had to wear my name embroidered on her scrubs in size 48 font.
“You can come in, you know,” I say as I approach. “No one will shout at you.”
She laughs but stays perfectly poised right where she is. I’m not sure she believes me. “Yeah, right. This place might as well have a red carpet leading up to it and a bouncer by the door.” Her eyes widen over my shoulder. “Oh my god, is that a chocolate fountain in the corner?”
I turn and sure enough, it is. I’m slightly embarrassed.
“Jesus,” she says under her breath. “Do you guys get your lunches catered every day?”
I shrug. “It’s easier that way. None of us have time to brownbag it.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “You know the vending machine in our lounge doesn’t even accept dollar bills anymore? We have to go get change from the gas station down the street if we want a candy bar.”
I smirk. “Did you come up here to campaign for a new vending machine?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes then glances down at my plate. “Come on. Is that Boston cream pie?”
“It is. Want some?”
“No, I really shouldn’t…okay, maybe just a bite.”
I hand her the plate. “Here, take it. I’ll get another slice. What did you want to talk to me about?”
She dips her pinky in the cream and brings it to her mouth to get a taste. It’s innocuous, casual, and yet I’m staring at her lips as they pucker around her finger with such intensity it’s a wonder they don’t go up in flames.
“Matt?”
“What?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Not at all.”
She groans playfully. “I was asking if it would be okay if I knocked off a little early on Friday? I need to take Josie to a doctor’s appointment.”
I frown and shake away my errant thoughts. “Of course. I’ll have someone fill in if my surgery runs long. What’s wrong with Josie?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just a wellness visit.”
“Good. Okay. Do you need a ride? You can use my car.”
She seems taken aback by the offer. “No. Her doctor isn’t far from our house, a ten-minute bus ride, tops.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
She’s looking up at me as if I just offered to give her the shirt off my back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She’s smiling now, full-fledged, dimpled, I-know-something smile.
“Do you offer your car to all your employees?”
I wave away her insinuation. “Sure. It’s nothing. Patricia drives it all the time.”
She cracks up. We’re still hovering in the doorway to the lounge and there are doctors trying to get past us, but they can fuck off because I haven’t had an honest-to-God conversation with this woman in three days and I signed a stupid contract that forbids me from kissing her, but in this moment, that’s all I want to do. I want to tug on that ponytail until her head tilts back and her chin tips up. She’d have to go up on her tiptoes a little, but I’d bend down and make it easy for her. It’d be better than the last one, I know it. I wouldn’t have the constraints of a small car working against me.
Her knowing smile wipes clean. Her eyes widen. Her lips part. Oh yes, Bailey. I signed that stupid contract, but that doesn’t erase these feelings. You’re wetting your bottom lip because you’re thinking the same thing I am. You’re desperate for it and I wish you could see the shade of pink on your cheeks right now.
“Thank you for understanding, Dr. Russell.”
I laugh and shake my head. I’m Dr. Russell again, like a name change will keep me at arm’s length.
“Is that all?” I ask, brow arched.
She shakes her head no then nods yes, turns, looks back. “Yes. Okay. Thank you for the dessert. I’m going to go now.”
She starts walking.
I tip forward, leaning out of the lounge. “The elevator is that way, Bailey.”
She does an about-face. “Right. I knew that. I’m just going to…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence before she promptly bolts. I laugh and turn back to finish my lunch.
She won’t last another week.
We finish up the surgery on Friday on time so Bailey doesn’t miss Josie’s doctor’s appointment. I offer her my car again, but she insists she doesn’t need it. It’s snowing outside, not a blizzard, but enough that I don’t like the idea of her and her sister waiting at a bus stop.
Oh no.
I scrub extra hard, cheeks flooding with color. “What?”
Where’s that blasted resident now?!
“Did that contract say anything about us being friends?”
My stomach flutters. “Oh, well…yes. That was in addendum two. I—I mean, Linda thinks that would be okay.”
He laughs and shakes his head. I don’t think he knows what to do with me.
“You’re something else, Bailey.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, trying to fight back a smile.
“Just for the record…” I finish washing my hands and he hands me a fresh towel. “I don’t regret Sunday either. It’s just…”
He holds up his hands as if he gets it. “Hey, no need to explain. The contract did a pretty good job of that.” Then he holds out his hand. “Friends?”
I have to accept—any woman in her right mind would accept that outstretched hand—but the moment we touch, my gut clenches. It’s like we’re right back in his car, tearing at each other’s clothes, lost in lust. It feels so intense just to have his palm against mine my knees nearly buckle. I forget he’s waiting for me to speak until the dimple pops beside his mouth. He feels what I’m feeling. He knows there’s no way we’re just friends, which is exactly why he’s proposing the idea in the first place. This is a game to him, just like the contract was a game to me.
His eyes say, I know you want me to kiss you, but I’ll bide my time and play along.
I thought I was taking care of the situation by serving him with those papers. I thought it would give me the buffer I was so desperately seeking, but now I know it’s too little too late.
Dr. Russell wants me, and there’s a pretty good chance he’s going to get me.
Chapter 19
MATT
I shouldn’t have signed that damn contract. It was fake—obviously. Legally binding documents don’t usually start with the phrase To whom it may concern. Nonetheless, it’s still important. Bailey obviously freaked out after our kiss. I get it. It’s not as if I’ve been flirting and courting her for weeks. There was a steep transition between us going from distant coworkers to lust-filled lunatics making out in my car, me tearing at her clothes like a bear. Just because I’m ready for more doesn’t necessarily mean she is.
I want to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. I want to respect her wishes and give her the space she’s clearly after. The trouble is, I’m not sure I can. Before we kissed, I might have written Bailey off as a passing fancy—a beautiful woman, yes, but not necessarily someone I should get involved with—but now, it’s different. How am I supposed to forget what it felt like to have her kiss me like she was dying for it, like she couldn’t get enough?
I catch her watching me in the operating room, the furtive glances she thinks I don’t notice. When our eyes lock, her cheeks flood with color. When my hand accidentally brushes against hers as she passes me an instrument, she acts like I just whispered a sweet nothing in her ear.
She’s a mess. After our surgery on Monday, she bolts as soon as possible. There’s no chance to pull her aside or have a private moment.
On Wednesday, she comes to find me in the doctors’ lounge. She’s standing in the doorway, wringing out her hands and catching the notice of a few of my colleagues, not necessarily for the right reasons. She’s still in her navy scrubs and though she isn’t trying to be, she’s adorable. Blonde ponytail. High cheekbones. Dark lashes. When she catches sight of me, she smiles, and now she’s not just adorable, she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
I wish she had to wear my name embroidered on her scrubs in size 48 font.
“You can come in, you know,” I say as I approach. “No one will shout at you.”
She laughs but stays perfectly poised right where she is. I’m not sure she believes me. “Yeah, right. This place might as well have a red carpet leading up to it and a bouncer by the door.” Her eyes widen over my shoulder. “Oh my god, is that a chocolate fountain in the corner?”
I turn and sure enough, it is. I’m slightly embarrassed.
“Jesus,” she says under her breath. “Do you guys get your lunches catered every day?”
I shrug. “It’s easier that way. None of us have time to brownbag it.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “You know the vending machine in our lounge doesn’t even accept dollar bills anymore? We have to go get change from the gas station down the street if we want a candy bar.”
I smirk. “Did you come up here to campaign for a new vending machine?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes then glances down at my plate. “Come on. Is that Boston cream pie?”
“It is. Want some?”
“No, I really shouldn’t…okay, maybe just a bite.”
I hand her the plate. “Here, take it. I’ll get another slice. What did you want to talk to me about?”
She dips her pinky in the cream and brings it to her mouth to get a taste. It’s innocuous, casual, and yet I’m staring at her lips as they pucker around her finger with such intensity it’s a wonder they don’t go up in flames.
“Matt?”
“What?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Not at all.”
She groans playfully. “I was asking if it would be okay if I knocked off a little early on Friday? I need to take Josie to a doctor’s appointment.”
I frown and shake away my errant thoughts. “Of course. I’ll have someone fill in if my surgery runs long. What’s wrong with Josie?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just a wellness visit.”
“Good. Okay. Do you need a ride? You can use my car.”
She seems taken aback by the offer. “No. Her doctor isn’t far from our house, a ten-minute bus ride, tops.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
She’s looking up at me as if I just offered to give her the shirt off my back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She’s smiling now, full-fledged, dimpled, I-know-something smile.
“Do you offer your car to all your employees?”
I wave away her insinuation. “Sure. It’s nothing. Patricia drives it all the time.”
She cracks up. We’re still hovering in the doorway to the lounge and there are doctors trying to get past us, but they can fuck off because I haven’t had an honest-to-God conversation with this woman in three days and I signed a stupid contract that forbids me from kissing her, but in this moment, that’s all I want to do. I want to tug on that ponytail until her head tilts back and her chin tips up. She’d have to go up on her tiptoes a little, but I’d bend down and make it easy for her. It’d be better than the last one, I know it. I wouldn’t have the constraints of a small car working against me.
Her knowing smile wipes clean. Her eyes widen. Her lips part. Oh yes, Bailey. I signed that stupid contract, but that doesn’t erase these feelings. You’re wetting your bottom lip because you’re thinking the same thing I am. You’re desperate for it and I wish you could see the shade of pink on your cheeks right now.
“Thank you for understanding, Dr. Russell.”
I laugh and shake my head. I’m Dr. Russell again, like a name change will keep me at arm’s length.
“Is that all?” I ask, brow arched.
She shakes her head no then nods yes, turns, looks back. “Yes. Okay. Thank you for the dessert. I’m going to go now.”
She starts walking.
I tip forward, leaning out of the lounge. “The elevator is that way, Bailey.”
She does an about-face. “Right. I knew that. I’m just going to…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence before she promptly bolts. I laugh and turn back to finish my lunch.
She won’t last another week.
We finish up the surgery on Friday on time so Bailey doesn’t miss Josie’s doctor’s appointment. I offer her my car again, but she insists she doesn’t need it. It’s snowing outside, not a blizzard, but enough that I don’t like the idea of her and her sister waiting at a bus stop.
