Unfriending the Dr: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance

“You’re drunk,” I told her with a growing smile.

“Nope. I’m tipsy—and not because I drank too much, it’s because I skipped dinner.” Her violet eyes darted around from document to document, avoiding my face, before she made a beeline for the kitchen. She was still embarrassed about propositioning me, which I understood, but I wouldn’t let her avoid me. I couldn’t.

Even if her embarrassment meant she wanted to take it back. It would suck to lose out on this night together, but there was no way I would lose her from my life. “There’s a sub in the fridge with your name on it.”

Persephone, who was clearly more than a little tipsy, let out a startled gasp and turned to face me with wide eyes and red cheeks. “You scared me!”

I shrugged. “Who were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed and put a hand to her chest. “You got me a sandwich?”

“Of course I did. Avocado with Swiss and provolone, bacon, roasted red pepper, lettuce, and cucumber.” It was the strangest damn sandwich in the history of sandwiches but she loved it, and often forgot to eat dinner.

“My favorite.” Her eyes gazed up at me like I was a hero. She was so damn gorgeous when she smiled, especially when it was aimed my way. “I’m starved.” Persephone took the sub and dropped down in a chair, unwrapping it like a present on Christmas day.

The woman had a voracious appetite in general, but when she skipped a meal, no one enjoyed food more. Or made it so damn enjoyable to watch. She grunted and moaned as she bit and chewed, dancing the whole time. Mine. The thought popped in my head again and I knew I had made up my mind.

Before we got down to that business, I grabbed the pitcher of tea she kept in her fridge and the onion rings that were warming in the oven. “Forget something?”

She looked up at me with a wide-eyed expression that slowly morphed into a smile. “Thanks, Ry.”

“My pleasure.”

By the time she’d made her way through half of the sandwich, Persephone had slowed down. She took a long sip of tea and ate the last onion ring before her eyes landed on my face. “Did I screw up everything between us the other day?”

Ah, so she was ready to talk. Good. “No.” Reaching across the table, I held her hands in mine and smiled. “How many times can I tell you that nothing will ruin our friendship before you believe me? We’re solid.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “So, you’ll forget I ever opened my trap to say anything?”

“No.” There was no way in hell I could forget her looking at me with fire in her eyes and a determined expression on her face as she told me she wanted me. Again. “Do you want me to forget it?”

If that was what she wanted, what she truly wanted, I would make every effort to forget.

When she removed one hand and then the other from mine, hope started to flee the room and my heart. “Yes. No. I don’t know, Ryan. But we should forget it. Right?”

Her uncertainty infused that fleeing hope once again. I shook my head and saw the conflict in her eyes. “No, we shouldn’t forget it. That night was incredible, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened. Have you?”

“Ryan,” she sighed.

“Have you?” This was too important to let her off the hook easily.

“No, I haven’t.” It was a reluctant admission, but Persephone couldn’t lie to me. “That’s why I’m convinced we shouldn’t do it again. If it’s horrible, how will we look each other in the eye ever again?”

I barked out a laugh. “Easily. If the sex is awful, then we can go back to being just friends, safe in the knowledge that we won’t have to put up with bad sex for the rest of our lives.”

Her full lips twitched. “Won’t it be awkward?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “But we’ll harass each other, mock each other, and then move past it. Rock solid, right?”

She nodded and fell back in the chair with a sigh. “So, you don’t want to forget we had sex.”

It wasn’t a question. She knew me well enough to know there was more.

Much more. “No, I don’t want to forget it. And I think we should do it again.”

Persephone sat up, eyes wide, the pulse in her throat racing like it was trying to escape. “You do?”

“I do. It was a hot night and no hardship for either of us, right?” She didn’t answer, but the heat that flared in her eyes was answer enough. “And if you really think it was a fluke, we should find out so we can get back to our lives.”

“And that’s it?”

I didn’t know what she was asking exactly, but the wariness in her eyes told me the answer was important.