"Have a good night, Josie," Kevin says as he puts his gym bag on a bench and starts pulling out workout clothes. He's clearly going to take advantage of the small gym here at the hospital.
"Back at ya," I say lightly as I turn for the door.
My shoulders are tight with tension as I walk the back corridors to the emergency room lobby. All the ugly feelings of bitterness toward Aiden for choosing a life for us I didn't want. For making me fall in love with him and leading me on to believe that we'd be together forever.
For tossing all of our plans to get married, build a life together, and the happily ever after that never occurred.
All because he "got a calling" two years ago to join Doctors Without Borders, and that appealed to him more than I did.
There's a small internal voice inside of me calling out weakly, telling me I'm not exactly being fair to Aiden. It's not like I didn't know he had a passion for that type of work. And it's not like he didn't talk about it to some extent as we were making grand plans after we completed our residency. Mostly, it's not like he didn't ask me to come with him so we could be together. But I push that voice aside. I choose not to let the hurt and anger dominate my thoughts, or otherwise I'd succumb to heartbreak again. And that's something I decided I wouldn't do anymore.
Aiden is my past, and my future is without him.
I keep my head ducked as I walk through the lobby, slipping out the sliding doors and past security. Turning right, I head toward the east parking lot, my thoughts still vacillating between Aiden and kittens. My hand jams down into my purse, roots around, and comes up with my keys. My head lifts as I near my car and I come to a dead halt as I see Reed leaning back against the hood. There's a paper bag on the asphalt at his feet.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, and I know the irritation in my voice is because I'm angry over Kevin bringing up Aiden, which has in turn brought me down.
Reed isn't fazed and gives me a cocky grin. Bending down, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a six-pack of beer and a box, which he shakes. "Got beer and a new puzzle. You and me, girl...it's on tonight."
I look around the parking lot, then back to Reed as I start walking toward him. "Where's your Tahoe?"
"Had Marek drop me off," he says as he puts the beer and puzzle back in the bag. "We swung by the store first so I could stock up on essentials. You're about an hour past quitting time, which is par for the course, so I knew I'd be in for a little bit of a wait."
I come to a stop before him, looking up with a slight grin over his assumption I'd be free to drink and work on a puzzle tonight. "I could have had plans tonight, you know. Then what would you have done?"
"I'd have Ubered my way home," he says with a careless shrug, but then I get warmed down to my toes when he adds, "Been thoroughly disappointed, but I'd have survived."
Reed had been out of town this past weekend. He went to the beach with Marek and Holt for a little sun and relaxation, or as I assume to mean, chasing after hot women in bikinis.
Admittedly, that sort of stuck in my craw a little. Not that it should bother me, because Reed is nothing but a friend.
A friend who for the last two days has texted me constantly while he was away. Funny texts, stupid texts, one butt dial that resulted in an hour-long conversation, and even a late-night text that simply said, Wish you were here. We're having a blast.
That sort of made me think that he really meant it, but surely just as a friend. Because...we're friends. Nothing more.
"Give me your keys, Doc," Reed says as he holds his hand out. "You look exhausted."
I don't even think about it, but toss them to him. He catches them easily and then surprises me by stepping past me to the passenger door. He opens it for me and I get in, feeling both awkward and charmed at the same time.
I shamelessly gawk at Reed as he crosses back in front my vehicle. He's tanned and glowing from a few days at the ocean and walks with the assured grace of someone who is completely confident with not one worry in the world. That's just one of the things that makes him so damn attractive.
Reed has to adjust the driver's seat backward before he can slide in, but once he gets settled, he turns to look at me. "I do believe I missed you, Doc."
I just blink at him, because his tone is light, but his eyes are locked on mine as if he's trying to convey some type of deep message.
"Overload of Beach Barbies?" I tease, more as a defense mechanism than anything.
He shakes his head. "Not a single one to be had. Well, not by me at least. Marek and Holt weren't so discerning, though."
I snort, because as much of a playboy as I know Reed to be, I know Marek and Holt are even worse than he is. We've all hung out a time or two, so I've observed it. I've also had Reed entertain me with stories of their past exploits while we labored over puzzles or lounged by the pool on my days off.
"You up for beer and puzzle or just want a good night's sleep?" he asks as he starts my car.
"Beer and puzzle," I tell him without thought.
Because the truth is, I missed him too.
And for the rest of the night and into the next few weeks, Aiden doesn't cross my mind again.
Chapter 7
Reed
I slow the speed on the treadmill, taking me down from a brisk run to a slow walk so I can cool down. I'm not much of a runner, but I try. Five miles under my belt and I'm ready to hit the weights.
Normally I like to run outside, but mid-July in North Carolina is too brutally hot and humid. So my workouts take place either at the gym at my town home complex or here at the arena. I actually prefer to work out at the arena because not only is the equipment better, but I have an abundance of teammates to work out with.
After I walk for five minutes to cool down, I power the machine off and wipe my face with a towel. I grab my phone and water bottle and turn for the barbells, as today I'm working my chest and shoulders. Marek and Holt are already lifting, both defensemen who tend to focus on brute strength versus speed and stamina, so they're less about running than I am.
"Have a nice run, princess?" Marek asks dryly as I set my stuff down near the bench press. They're both at the squat rack today.
"I'm not the one who has to prove my manhood by how much weight I can lift," I return with a sly grin.
"Yeah, well, your manhood is in a dry spell," Holt says as he loads some weight onto the bar.
I know he's making a point about this past weekend at the beach. Both Marek and Holt had a very good time with some of the local girls, and I got so much shit from them because I didn't. While I certainly did my share of looking while we hung out at the beach, I didn't touch at all.
Which, yes, is very weird and totally contradictory to my goal of experiencing one long fuck fest for the entire off-season.
But what can I say...I've got Josie on the brain, and as much as I'd like to say we're just friends, the truth is I don't want to be just friends with her. The thing I can't figure out is how to have something else with her, and that's mainly because I've given her the impression that I'm only interested in her as a friend.
Even more confusing is the fact that I don't get anything more from Josie other than a friend vibe, and that's driving me batshit crazy trying to figure out how to get around that. She's the very first woman in my life who's intrigued me in more than just a sexual way. That leaves me feeling off balance, because if it were just about physical chemistry, I'd have made a move long before now.
But not knowing if the chemistry is only one-sided has made it difficult to figure out where to go. I suppose I could man up and just ask her. Or I could make a move...
The only problem with either of those two solutions is that I'm afraid I'll get shot down and then Josie will never be anything but a friend to me, and that thought just plain fucking sucks.
"Notice he doesn't deny it," Holt says to Marek. I don't bother looking at either of them, content to let them have their fun while I load my own bar with weight.
> "I'm thinking he's got a very particular girl on the brain," Marek says slyly.
"Yeah," I respond in a bored tone. "And just who would that be?"
"That would be Josie, you fuck-wit," Holt taunts me.
I glare at him for a moment before I pull another plate from the weight rack. "What makes you think it's Josie?"
Marek and Holt both met Josie at the Cold Fury party the night Sutton went into labor. They both flirted with her shamelessly, which got my hackles up a bit. A few days after that party, I invited them to hang by the pool with Josie and me. They flirted with her some more, and she ate it up.
My hackles bristled hard but I didn't say a word. If I was a betting guy--and I am--I think they were doing it on purpose just to get a reaction out of me.
Of course, having just spent a few days at the beach with them where I remained chaste and virtuous while they banged everything that moved was sort of an indicator, I guess.
"Dude, why don't you just admit you got something for her?" Holt asks curiously, and it's because there's no teasing in his tone that I look back to him.
"So what if I got something for her?" I mutter. "She doesn't feel the same."
"How do you know?" he shoots back.
"Because we're just friends and that's all she wants."
This time it's Marek who presses me. "But how do you know?"
I shrug and then flip a leg to sit straddled on the bench. "It's just a vibe from her."
As I lie down on the bench and position myself under the weights to do some chest presses, Marek walks over to spot me. He looks down at me as I position my hands on the bar. "Make a move, dude."
"What kind of move?" I ask him, and then don't wait for an answer. I push the weight off and start my reps. Marek doesn't respond but counts off my reps until I hit ten, then helps me guide the bar back onto the rack.
When I sit up to take a sip of water, Marek gives it to me. "Romance her, man. Dinner, candlelight, sexy music. Whisper sweet nothings. Send her flowers or some shit like that."
I cock an eyebrow at him, ignoring Holt's snicker. "And this works for you? Because that sounds lame as hell."
"Chicks love that shit," Marek replies with resounding confidence.
"Josie's not like that," I say stubbornly as I set my bottle back down. "She's not into that stuff."
"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..."
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