Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

JULES

I couldn’t stop thinkingabout Josh or what happened in the library. Not only the part where he went down on me—though I’d replayed that particular experience more times than I could count—but the look on his face when he told me his patient died. The way he’d kissed me, soft yet desperate, like he craved comfort but couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. And the way he’d looked when he left, like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

They were thoughts I shouldn’t have. There was no room for them in our arrangement, but that didn’t stop them from occupying space in my head rent-free.

“Stop it, Jules,” I ordered as I walked toward the park where the hospital’s all-staff picnic took place. “Get it together.”

A nearby family gave me a strange look and quickened their steps until they passed me.

Great. Now I was talking to myself and scaring off parents and children.

I released a deep sigh and tried to tame the flutter of nerves in my stomach when I neared the park entrance.

It was a picnic, for God’s sake. I only agreed to come because there was free food, and I never turned down free food. It wasn’t like it was a real date.

A breeze swept past and blew my dress up around my waist.

“Shit!” I hastily pushed down the billowing cotton, already regretting my outfit choice. It was finally warm enough for dresses again, but my weather app had fucked me over once again and failed to mention how windy it was. I’ll have to spend the entire day holding down my skirt unless I wanted everyone at Thayer Hospital to find out what color underwear I wore.

“Flashing people already? We haven’t even gotten you drunk yet.” Josh’s lazy drawl drifted into my ears.

I looked up to find him leaning against the entrance, arms folded across his chest. There was no trace of the tension and grief that lined his face in the library. Instead, a sly grin dimpled his cheeks, and a faint glow of amusement lit his eyes as they skimmed over me from head to toe.

Relief kindled in my chest. Cocky Josh was a pain in my ass, but for reasons I’d rather not examine, I preferred him being a pain to being in pain.

“This is a family picnic, Chen,” I said as I approached him. “No alcohol allowed.”

“Since when did you become such a prude?” He gave my braid a light tug and laughed when I swatted his hand away. “Braid, flats, white dress.” His second, slower perusal triggered another cascade of flutters that filled my chest and tickled the base of my throat. Maybe one of the kind doctors at the picnic could perform an impromptu checkup, because my internal organs were clearly malfunctioning. “Who are you and what have you done to Red?”

“It’s called a versatile wardrobe. You’d know if you had taste.” I returned his scrutiny with a pointed one of my own, though in hindsight, that was a bad idea.

A short-sleeved green shirt stretched across the muscled ridge of Josh’s shoulders and offset his tan. His jeans weren’t tight, but they were fitted enough to show off the long, powerful lines of his legs, and he’d tamed his normally tousled hair into a neat coif. That, combined with his aviators, exuded an Old Hollywood movie star during a casual day out on town vibe that was more appealing than it had any right to be.

“Versatility doesn’t equal taste.” Josh placed a hand on the small of my lower back and guided me into the park. Tingles gathered at the base of my spine and radiated outward until they blanketed every inch of my skin. “Even I know that.”

“Whatever.” I was too distracted by the traitorous tingles to formulate a better comeback. “You’re one to talk about taste. Look at the painting in your bedroom.”

“What’s wrong with the painting?”

“It’s hideous.”

“It’s not hideous. It’s unusual. The guy I bought it from said it used to belong to a famous collector.”

I rolled my eyes. “It belonged to a famous collector and somehow ended up in your hands? Okay, sure. On that note, I have something I’d like to sell you. It’s called the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Don’t be a hater. Not everyone can have the same discerning eye for art.”

“Someone call Roget’s Thesaurus. Apparently, discerning is now a synonym for appalling.”

Josh laughed, unfazed by my insults. “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Red. Missed that poisonous tongue of yours.”

My smile faded at the reminder of why I’d been in such a terrible mood at the library. I’d received yet another “reminder” text from Max that morning. I could call him out on his bluff, but I didn’t think he was bluffing. Max loved toying with people, but when push came to shove, he had no qualms about throwing anyone under the bus.

When added to the stress from school, bar prep, and Bridget’s upcoming wedding, it was too much. I’d cried over my textbooks in the library like an idiot and messaged Josh in the heat of the moment for a distraction.

I’d gathered myself by the time he arrived, but I didn’t regret texting him. His presence had been oddly therapeutic, and what he did in the stacks…

My toes curled.