“Deal,” I reply. “Girls’ movie night this weekend?”
“Only if you can convince Becca not to make us watch Moana for the 1000th time,” Monica replies with a laugh.
“But Moana is the best,” I reply, and she groans.
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” She pulls up outside the hotel, and glances through the windshield at the building, her lips twisted into a disapproving frown. “You know, Naomi, you can always come stay with us for a while, if you want.”
“I know I can.” I smile. “You’ve told me that only about a few hundred times since I moved out of Kevin’s, you know.”
“Well, the offer still stands. You don’t have to stay in this…” She waves a hand toward the building like it’s personally offended her. “Cold, anonymous monstrosity.”
“It’s not that bad,” I protest. “Free breakfast included. They even bring it to you in bed.” My pulse speeds up again, remembering this morning, the note Jason left me. Was it only this morning? So much had happened today. My head throbs again, not just from the sore spot where I hit it. “I like it, Mon. I needed a little… me time, I guess. After finalizing everything.”
“I understand that.” She presses her lips together, clearly resisting the urge to say anything else. “Okay. Well. Enjoy your me time. Call if you need anything, as always.” She leans across the seat to hug me, one armed.
I hug her back tightly. “Of course. You too.” I flash her a smile. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow, yeah?”
She smiles back. “See you then.”
With that, I slide out of the car, and pull my phone from my pocket. There’s a new message. I already know who it’s from, even before I open it and check the screen.
Can’t wait to see you.
I smile as I type out a response. Now who’s the impatient one?
I should rephrase, comes his response almost instantly. I can’t wait to come over there and make you beg for me again.
A shiver traces the length of my body, and my stomach clenches in anticipation. Still, I force my feet to move, and stride forward, into the hotel, as I type out my reply. Then what are you waiting for? I answer, as the elevator doors glide open on my floor. You know where to come and find me.
But I can’t help thinking, as I hit send on that response, that maybe Monica has a point. Maybe I should try to take things a little slower this time. After all, the last time I leapt in headfirst, I got burned. Badly. What if my judgement is just as bad this time around?
But even just thinking that, I almost burst out laughing in response to the question. Of course this is bad judgement, I scold myself. You’re hooking up with a guy you called for a good time. A guy who uses fake names and daylights as a doctor.
A guy who knew my body better than I did. Who did things in the bedroom that I’d never even dreamt of trying before.
Okay, so maybe I’m in danger. But if this is what playing with fire feels like, then I’m willing to risk a few burns.
7
He certainly wasn’t lying about being impatient to see me again. Barely half an hour after I send that message, there’s a knock on my door, and one peek tells me it’s not room service this time.
I fling the door open, already dressed strategically in the cutest nightgown I own. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard—especially after he ordered me to spend the day on bedrest. But it’s silk and clings in the right places and strikes just the right balance between casual and please fuck me now.
At least, so I hope.
To judge by the way his eyes graze over my body the second I open the door, I have to think it’s working. His mouth quirks into a broad smile. “I see you took my suggestion of bedrest seriously.”
I push the door open wide, and back up to let him inside. “I see you decided to join me in bed after all.”
He shuts the door behind him and tilts his head, watching me for a moment. “I did.” He raises his hand, and for the first time, I see what he’s carrying. My eyebrows shoot up. “Chinese takeout,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d been hoping to take you out on a proper first date, but you should be careful not to overexert yourself , so… This seemed the best bet. Chinese was the only takeout spot open between here and the hospital. If you don’t like it though, we can order something else.”
As if in response, my stomach growls, and we both laugh. “Actually, I love Chinese,” I admit. “And hell, Netflix and eating is actually my idea of a perfect first date.” He grins at that, and I add, “Though to be honest, I’d eat pretty much anything that isn’t a bowl of ice cream right about now.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I explain about my little nurse in training Becca, stuffing me full of sugar all day, as he sets the Chinese on the small table and bustles around the mini kitchen pulling out plates and silverware for both of us. Before he sits back down, he turns on my TV and flicks to Netflix. My favorite show, an embarrassing reality TV show about terrible first dates, pops up right on the previous screen. My face glows bright red, but he just grins at me.
“I love this show.”
“Nobody loves this show,” I argue, rolling my eyes. “We just watch it because we’re addicted. Like eating Chinese food because of all the MSG in it.”
He snorts and drops onto the couch beside me and hits play. “Says who? Much like eating an entire container of Chinese food, this show is the perfect way to shut your brain off after a long day of dealing with patients.” He raises an arm, and I snuggle under it, leaning into his warmth.
Damn. Not only is he hot as hell, and a doctor who shares my love of trashy reality shows, but he’s also a really fucking good cuddler. I rest my head on his shoulder as I reach for my dinner. “Is that what you say about us patients after work?” I tilt my head back to smirk at him. “You complain about what big pains in your ass we are?”
“Sometimes.” He runs a hand through my hair, grinning. “Today though, weirdly, I didn’t get annoyed by my patient. In fact, I found myself thinking about her all day, wondering what she was doing, if she was taking my advice and taking care of herself.”
I tilt my head back to catch his eye with a smile. “Are you admitting you were worried about me, Doc?”
“Maybe a little.” He kisses my forehead, and I smile, relaxing against him. “Then again, I knew you had the best medical care available to treat you, so I was sure you were going to be fine.”
I laugh and elbow him lightly. “Y’know, I always heard doctors were arrogant, but I’ve never actually seen it in action before.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s the truth,” he protests, reaching for his own Chinese food.
We eat side by side, with my favorite cheesy show playing, snuggling. He really is a damn good snuggler, I have to admit. In between bouts of drama on the show, we talk about the rest of his day—nothing about the patients, of course, thanks to that whole oath doctors take about not sharing. But he has some funny stories about the nurse’s station, and some woman who tried to sneak her husband out of the ER so they could go to the football game next door, even though he’d been told he needed to stay for more observation.
We’re both laughing by the end of that. “That’s dedication to a sport,” I say.
“That’s dedication to her husband.” Jason grins. “I hope someday I have a wife that devoted, that she’s willing to disobey doctor’s orders and risk the wrath of the whole hospital to help me out.” Something in his expression shifts as he watches the TV in front of us—just a little upturn at the corners of his mouth that make it look like he’s suddenly daydreaming. “I always imagine that’s what marriage will be like, you know? A real partnership-in-crime, two against the world.”
I set aside my takeout box, my stomach suddenly churning. “Yeah, well. Don’t we all think that, at first. In practice, though… it doesn’t always
turn out that way.”
He glances at me, eyebrows lifted. “I take it you speak from experience?”
I sigh and snuggle a little closer against his side. “Unfortunately, yes.” I expect him to change the subject. I’m used to guys not wanting to hear anything about my exes, preferring to think they’re the first person to ever get close to me. But when I turn to steal a glance at him, Jason is watching me with his brow furrowed, a serious expression on his face. Almost like he actually cares what I’m about to say.
I’m not used to that.
“Can I ask what happened? Only if you feel okay to talk about it, of course.”
Weirdly, with him looking at me like this, and with his strong arm around me, holding me against his side, I do. “Actually, I only just signed the papers to finalize my divorce…” I check the clock next to us, realizing. “Oh god, yesterday afternoon, really. Wow, it seems like a lot more time has passed.” So much has happened in the last day—calling that number, spending last night with this man, waking up next to him to. I blush all over, remembering. Then I blush even worse remembering how I wound up in his hospital after that crazy accident.
But he doesn’t seem freaked out by this admission. He just rubs my arm gently, comforting. “Well, you have had a little bit going on since then,” he points out, with just a hint of a smile sparking in his eyes.
“That’s the understatement of the year.” I grin. “But it’s been good stuff.”
His eyebrows lift again. “What, even the car accident?”
I flush. “Okay, mostly good stuff.”
He laughs.
I relax back into him. “Looking back, it seems crazy. My ex and I only knew each other a few months before we got married, and none of my friends liked him. They all tried to convince me to wait, to take my time, not rush headlong into anything. But… I guess I was just impatient, and I felt like, he was there, and nice enough. Or, not horrible.” I laugh, weakly. “Then, of course, he winds up cheating on me and making me feel like a complete idiot, before we’re even married a year, so…”