Reed (Cold Fury Hockey 10)

"All women are into that stuff," Holt says, acting as if he knows what he's talking about, when in truth I don't think either of these bozos have ever had a serious relationship before. They're as whorish as I am when it comes to women.

I stand from the bench and grab two more plates to add to the bar. "No offense, guys, but Josie isn't like other women."

"Whatever," Marek says dismissively. "I think you're just chicken to try for something."

Okay, that might hit a little close to the unease that this subject is causing within me. Because if I'm wrong, and Josie isn't receptive, then I stand to ruin what has become a really, really good friendship. I love hanging with her, and I don't want to give that up if she ends up getting weirded out by whatever move I might make on her.

"You could get her drunk," Holt suggests. "Alcohol will lower inhibitions and all that, you know?"

"Enough," I growl at both my buds. "I'm not getting her drunk and I'm not doing romance with her."

"Then you're not getting laid," Marek points out.

"It's not about getting laid," I say, and then immediately regret it. Not because it's not true, because that's not my main goal with Josie. I mean...do I want her in my bed? Hell yes. But that's not the driving desire to see if there's something more.

I just want...more of her.

But I regret saying that, because I know damn well this is going to cause these guys to laugh hysterically. And right on cue, both of them start cackling. I listen to it for a few minutes while I clamp the weights on and position myself back on the bench.

Marek spots me again, all while laughing.

I let them have their fun, instead allowing the anger to bubble inside of me to fuel my reps. I knock out twelve solid and rack the weight again. When I sit up, they're still chuckling.

Finally, Holt asks me, "Since when is it about something other than getting laid?"

"For you two boneheads, never," I grit out.

And I leave it at that.

I don't bother to tell them I have too much respect for Josie just to want that from her. She's in another league from the women I've been with and would never be satisfied with meaningless sex.

What I won't ever admit to them, and am barely able to admit to myself, is I don't think I could be satisfied with casual fucks with Josie either. I think about having sex with Josie and my imagination never just ends with a satisfying orgasm. God help me, and perhaps I'm turning into a woman, but I think about sleeping in bed with her all night and waking up with her in the morning to drink coffee and chat over a puzzle.

Fuck. I'm a woman.

My phone buzzes, as I have it on vibrate, and I glance down to where it's lying on the ground near my towel. I can see Josie's name like a shining beacon.

I grab it, flipping to the texts, and see her message. Knock knock.

There's no stopping the smile that comes to my face as I write back. Who's there?

Amos.

I glance up at Marek, who is now back at the squat rack getting ready to spot Holt. Amos who?

A mosquito, she types back, followed by the laughing with tears emoji.

You're a dork. And I very much like her dorkiness.

True, she responds, and then adds another line. I'm just on break and thought I'd say hi. Workout going good?

Of course she knows I'm working out because I'd texted her when I left my house to let her know I was coming here. Why I did that, I have no idea, although I suspect it was just to incite a response from her. Josie and I have become frequent texters of jokes, general observations, and "Hi, how are you"s.

Workout is going good. Want to eat dinner at my place tonight?

I cringe even as I send the text, because that was done without any thought and being fueled slightly by Holt's and Marek's ridiculous suggestions that I should romanticize an evening with Josie.

Pizza, beer, and puzzles? She writes back.

I cringe again. That's all she clearly expects from me.

I'm cooking dinner, I respond.

I wait for her response and then I wait some more. I glance over at Holt as he strains under the immense weight on his bar, veins bulging on his forehead.

My phone vibrates and I look down at her response. I try not to read hesitation in it, but I do. Sure. That sounds good.

Okay. Now I'm committed. Just come on over when you get home.

I turn my phone off without seeing if she responds. Besides, I don't want any temptation that I might chicken out and cancel. I toss my phone back down on my towel and look up to find both Marek and Holt staring at me with shit-eating grins.

"What?" I ask grumpily.

"Hot date tonight," Marek says assuredly.

"With Josie," Holt adds. "It's all over your face. You look scared shitless."

"Fuck off," I mutter as I flip my leg back over the bench for another set.

"Going to take her to a fancy restaurant?" Marek asks, completely undaunted.

"Order champagne," Holt suggests. "That will loosen both of you up."

"Bring flowers," Marek teases.

"But not a corsage," Holt advises. "This isn't high school prom."

I growl under my breath, not amused at all. They're not helping. If anything, they are causing my anxiety to flare, because I have now committed myself to taking this to a different level with Josie. I might strike out. She might be horrified that I want something different. Or even worse, what if we just don't have the type of chemistry needed for something more? I know I'm attracted to her, but that doesn't mean it will be good if we do have sex.

Fuck, I'm out of sorts. No fucking confidence whatsoever, feeling like when I lost

my virginity in Melody Carey's bedroom our sophomore year of high school.

I pop back off the bench and decide to add some more weight to the bar. If I'm lucky, I'll drop them and strangle myself so I don't have to go through with this insane idea that could go wrong in so many ways.

Chapter 8

Josie

Standing on Reed's doorstep, I smooth my sundress down and take three deep breaths. It does nothing to loosen the anxious knot in the center of my chest, and for the tenth time since I walked out of my house, I consider going back to my bathroom and removing the makeup I'd put on.

It's going to be so obvious that I'm different when he opens the door. I normally will just hang with him in my scrubs and hair in a ponytail, not worrying about what Reed thinks of me.

But tonight is different because he made it different.

Cooking dinner.

For me.

Bah.

Why in the world would he do such a thing, when I know he hates to cook? He and I are pizza-and-beer kind of people. Low mess and no fuss.

Reed definitely made tonight different, which was why I was compelled, for the first time since I started working at Raleigh Memorial, to recruit another doctor to cover my last cases so I could leave right when my shift was over.

I came home, and for the next forty minutes I'd showered, shaved, put on makeup, dried my hair, and put loose barrel curls in it. I put on a freaking dress of all things. It's not dressy, but totally casual and summery, and it's definitely obvious that I'm different tonight.

I'm different because Reed's offer was different, and there's a very good possibility he's going to open the door, take one look at me, and determine that I'm nuttier than a fruitcake. Worse yet, he could take one look at me and see the naked, pathetic desire I might have for the possibility of something more than friendship. He'll see that my dress scoops low and I'm showing cleavage. If he were to get under my dress, he'd find not my normal cotton high-waist panties, but my silk and lace ones.

Damn, but my face heats up and I actually turn away from his door, intent on going home and texting him that I've come down with a very contagious virus. I even take one step across the porch, when I'm halted by the sound of Reed's door opening.

"Josie?" he says hesitantly, and I cringe. A full-body cringe that I'm sure he can see from behind.

I spin back around and level him with a seriously bright but completely fake smile. "Oh, hey. I was getting ready to knock on your door, but then I remembered I left my...um...my..."