by Amie Knight
I nodded. “Yep, one and the same.”
“Okay, I’ll get them filled out, but I can just bring them by tomorrow. I have a few errands to run, anyhow. You don’t need to inconvenience Lucille.”
I arched an eyebrow. “But I love to inconvenience her.” It was true. I lived for it most days.
She giggled. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
I headed toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll whip us up something for breakfast.”
She followed me, shaking her head. “No, please, you don’t have to do that.”
The kitchen was crowded with both of us in there and it reminded me of the last time I’d made us breakfast. It may have been ten years ago, but it could have been two nights ago the way I recalled it. It was so clear in my mind. Her naked form perched on a different set of counters but still mine nonetheless. She’d been young and carefree and wild. So sexy.
I pulled out a carton of eggs and she stood there awkwardly, her hands fisted in the bottom of the sweatshirt she was wearing. I could see something was on her mind, and I wasn’t one to mince words or try to dance around questions.
Giving her an imploring look, I asked, “What is it?”
She dragged her plump, pink bottom lip into her mouth and even though I didn’t want to I noticed. I noticed it a hell of a lot, but I told myself I’d noticed plenty of beautiful women doing provocative things before. It had never affected my job. And it wouldn’t now. I wouldn’t look at her lips or legs. I’d be safe then.
“I don’t want you to think I came here expecting you to take care of me. I just need you to do the surgeries. The doctors said she would need three sometime during the first five years of her life.” She paused, and I took a break from whisking the eggs to look at her face. Her bottom lip trembled, but tears didn’t shine in her eyes, and I thought of how brave she was being for her daughter. I was impressed and I wasn’t easily impressed. I had to give it to her. She was giving it a fighting try, but she still needed me.
“What I’m saying is, I’m here so you can save her life. I’m not here for you to save mine. I don’t need saving. I need an amazing doctor. For her. That’s it.”
Inwardly I rolled my eyes and ignored the drivel she was spouting. She was a mess. It was clear she needed my help.
I poured the eggs in the pan and stirred. I wasn’t even going to acknowledge how ridiculous she was being. “So, what are your plans for today?”
The woman was stubborn. She didn’t know it, but I was more stubborn, and I’d had way more practice at it.
“I don’t know. I need to find a long-term place to stay and a job.”
Let’s just jump right into this, shall we? “Speaking of working.” I looked at her while I finished cooking the eggs. “We need to talk about that.”
She pursed her lips and a fire lit in her eyes that made me strangely giddy. Anything was better than the pretend nice she’d been spoon feeding my ass all morning.
“No, we don’t.”
Oh, yes, I really liked this girl. “We do.”
I wasn’t an easing into the things type of guy. I was a man with facts, and the facts were she needed my help and I was going to give it. And maybe, just maybe, I enjoyed getting her riled up. Maybe I wanted to piss her off a little. Light a little bit of fire under her ass.
“No working. No heavy exercise.” I spooned the eggs onto plates and turned toward her, ready for the fight.
Her face fell in shock just as her eyes lit up, and they were sparkling for a fight.
And stupid, stupid me, I couldn’t help it. It was like second nature. My hand just flew out and grabbed her own, clutching tightly. Her hand hung limply in mine and it pissed me off. For some reason, I wanted her to squeeze mine back, accept my help.
I met her eyes head-on. I held her hand tighter. She needed to hear me out. “You’re going to have to stop being stubborn about this. I need you to take care of yourself right now for your baby’s sake. Do you understand what I’m saying? We can’t afford to put any undue stress on your baby girl’s heart right now, and if that means you have to take a little help from me, then you need to just accept it. There’s no other way.” There, I’d put it out there as plainly as I could.
She pulled her hand from mine and ran both of her palms over her face before leaning against the counter. “Fuck.”
And just like that her fire was doused. I didn’t like it one damn bit.
I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to upset her. I just wanted her to understand what was at stake—her baby’s life.
“I get it’s not ideal accepting help from a virtual stranger, but I want to help you.” I grabbed her hand again. “Let me.”
I gave the meaty part of her palm one more hard squeeze and let go, because what I was about to say was going to thoroughly piss her off, but she cut me off.
“I think I need to call my mom,” she whispered.
I nodded, feeling like one of those ridiculous little figurines people kept in the front windows of their cars with the wobbly heads. Just bobbing my head whether someone was just cruising or having a life-threatening crisis. Christ, but I didn’t know what else to do but nod. Why was she here alone? It infuriated me. Where was the man who got her pregnant? Had she not already called her mom about all of this? I had a million questions, but a professional courtesy to her privacy kept me from grilling the hell out of her.
I wanted to save the rest of our conversation for another day. She seemed distraught and visibly upset, but it couldn’t wait. There just wasn’t time. The sooner we got her settled, the sooner she’d have less stress, the healthier her baby would be.
I pretended not to notice the beginnings of an epic meltdown, and I could see one coming a mile away. I’d delivered enough bad news to patients over the years to see the signs, and I could tell a tsunami of tears and hysterics were headed my way.
The way she kept wringing her hands. The frown line in between her eyebrows. The slight quiver of her bottom lip. They were all dead giveaways.
But I couldn’t baby her. I’d already grabbed her hand in a moment of weakness. I couldn’t let it go further than that. I didn’t hold patients’ hands or hug them. I was a straight shooter. I’d tell them like it was and then save their child’s life.
Walking around the bar and toward the dining table, I said, “Sit. Let’s talk.”
She followed slowly behind me, the frown line on her forehead deepening, her lips turned down in what could only be described as a scowl.
She sat down in a chair heavily, and I placed her food in front of her.
I sat down across from her and sipped my coffee, studying her face. “No work. No exercise. The end.”
She didn’t say anything at all. Only stared at her food and bit her lip every now and then. I wasn’t even sure if she heard me.
“Surely, the other doctors told you to take it easy?” I couldn’t believe how upset she was. It was as if she was hearing this news for the first time.
She nodded as she stared into space before answering. “Yeah, they told me to take it easy. No heavy activity, but I at least thought I’d be able to work.”
“Well, that’s out. Now eat.” I inclined my head toward her plate of food she’d barely touched and started in on my own.
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
I wanted to smile. This was the Kelly I remembered. The one who took no shit. I’d liked her so much. It could have been more, but fate had other plans.
“Eat your food.”
“I heard you the first time, Doc. I’m not deaf. I’m also not dumb. So, I don’t need anyone to remind me to eat,” she snapped at me.
Doc. And that hit me right in the chest. Just a tiny pinch. But that was all it took. Doc. The memory settled over me so heavily. How she’d called me that so affectionately with a bit of pride and teasing laced throughout her voice. I’d missed it, damn it. I’d missed her. After only one night. It made me irrationally angry. It was my fault, but still, the
circumstances of how that night ended almost seemed completely out of my control.
I looked at my plate, feeling too many things, mostly overwhelmed. “Eat your food, Ms. Potter, and then I’ll escort you to your new home for the next few months,” I said to my plate of eggs.
I felt her eyes snap to me even though I was avoiding looking at her. “What?”
“I told you I’d find suitable accommodations for you and I did.”
“I didn’t ask for you to find me a place to stay.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why the hell did you?”
I grabbed my coffee and plate and headed for the kitchen. I was putting my plate in the dishwasher when I felt her behind me.
“Well?” she asked the back of my head.
I stood on a sigh and looked at the ceiling of my apartment, praying for patience to deal with the most beautifully infuriating woman I’d ever had the pleasure to meet twice.
My prayers didn’t work at all. “Because I fucking felt like it.” I pushed past her and started grabbing the dirty dishes off the coffee table in the living room and loading those in the dishwasher, too.
It was a comfort knowing some things didn’t change. The woman could still make a huge mess in two seconds flat.
“You fucking felt like it?” she yelled. “You felt like it?” she repeated, sounding crazed as she followed me around the apartment, and I couldn’t help but smile. I liked her like this. Like the Kelly I remembered. Full of life and spunk and heat.
I turned to her, gesturing to her explosion of clothes and toiletries all over my living room floor. “Yes, I felt like it. Now pack your shit. I have to get to work.”
Her mouth fell open. “You did not. You did not just tell me to pack my shit.”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say today?” I picked up a white, lacy bra hanging off the side of the couch.
She snatched it from my hands and stuffed it into her bag along with other clothes off the floor. “You’re impossible. I should have known. Miranda warned me.”
I smirked. Oh, Miranda and I had grown up together, and I enjoyed torturing her. “Of course she did. Chop-chop. You need to get dressed, and we need to get going.”
She paused and glared at me below the waist. “Oh, I’ll chop-chop, all right.”
I decided right then and there this was exactly how this was going to play out. She could hate me. She could literally loathe the sight of me, but she wasn’t going to cry or have nervous breakdowns. She wasn’t going to shout or scream. She was going to fight and if that meant she was fighting me, then so be it. I’d be her outlet. If I had to call her every day and rile her the hell up until her daughter was whole, I would.
Yes, I’d keep her fire lit and her storm raging. We’d get through the rain together.
This man was out of his ever-loving mind. I stood in the middle of an apartment that was identical to Anthony’s besides the decor, of course. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise since it was only two floors above his.
“I can’t afford this place. You are out of your mind.”
“The rent is taken care of.”
I stormed up to him, ready to pull every single hair out of my head. The sheer audacity of this man. I couldn’t even believe it. He’d been bossing me around from the moment I’d asked for his help, and it didn’t seem like he had any plans on stopping any time soon.
“You are not paying my rent, Anthony Jackson.”
I hadn’t depended on anyone but myself since I’d graduated college. I was a strong, independent woman. I didn’t take handouts from men.
He smiled down at me. It wasn’t a nice smile, but instead an asshole smile, but it was still sexy. God, he was pretty, damn him. Standing toe-to-toe with him, I had a pretty sweet view. He was better looking than he’d been ten years ago, and it just wasn’t fair because he’d been so handsome and breathtaking then. Why did men age so damn graciously? The slight lines around his eyes only made him look more distinguished. How did he have stubble today already, and why did it look like it needed a good lick? And damn it, but he smelled like his bedroom, and I found myself holding my breath even while wondering how he managed to make that absurd bow tie hot. I could have screamed.
“Chill, bite size. I’m not paying for anything, so put a pause on your conniption fit. I have a doctor friend in Syria who’s away with Doctors Without Borders. He’ll be gone for the next six months. He said it was cool if you stayed here.”
Did he just call me bite size? Conniption fit? The man could drive a saint to murder. “I can’t stay here.”
I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t feel right about Anthony calling in favors for me. Besides, it was way too nice of a place. I could find a crappy studio apartment to stay in for the next couple of months. I had a little money saved up, and if I played it right I could make it work for a little while.
“You can and you will.”
“No, I can’t. I can’t even afford a portion of the rent on a place like this.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s paid for already. All you have to do is keep it clean. I know that’s asking a lot, but I think you can manage if you try really hard.”
Oh, the condescension in that sentence almost really did send me into a conniption. Asshole. I rolled my eyes. I backed up and grabbed my bag off the floor and headed toward the door. I didn’t have to stand here and listen to him despite what he thought. I only needed him in a professional capacity. Nothing more.
“Uh uh uh,” he said from behind me, lifting the bag from my shoulder filled with all of the belongings I owned, and carried it to the hallway off the living room.
“What the hell are you doing?” I knew what he was doing. He was taking my stuff to the bedroom. And I knew what I was doing because he was pissing me off so I was making a scene.
I stood at the foot of the bed with my arms crossed and looked at the bag he laid on the bed.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” His eyes met mine with a dare even as he unzipped the bag slowly, seductively like he’d unzipped the back of my dress that night so long ago, and a shiver started in my toes and slipped right to my nipples. He must have seen it because one side of his lips hitched up in an almost smile.
Damn hormones. I couldn’t be held responsible for my body’s actions. I mean, the man was wearing an ugly bow tie, for goodness’ sake. Clearly I was out of my mind.
He reached into the bag and of course found that lace bra again and held it out. “I’m helping you unpack.” He smiled at me.
I snatched the silky piece of material from his hands and quickly shoved it under my shirt. “You are doing no such thing.” It was embarrassing the first time, even more so this go around. That bra was huge and not pretty. It had been a while since a man had seen my bra, and of course it had to be a giant, ugly pregnancy bra. I moved closer to the bed and blocked his path to my bag.
His jaw ticked. “Unpack the bag, shortcake. Now,” he gritted out.
Shortcake? He was just full of all kinds of short girl nicknames, wasn’t he? I flicked that bow tie again because it was fun. And it annoyed him. “No.”
His hand shot around me and dragged my bag off the bed and onto the floor. He pulled the handle toward the dresser and opened one of the big drawers at the bottom.
Grabbing my bag off the floor and holding it in his arms, he looked at me. “I was going to do this the easy way, but since you seem to like things hard.” He paused with a smirk and a raise of the eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes at his emphasis on the word hard because even though he was a thirty-something-year-old educated man, he had the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old boy.
I pursed my lips, and he grinned evilly before turning my bag over and dumping all the contents in the bottom of the dresser drawer. “We’re gonna do things your way, Ms. Potter.” He gave the bag a final shake. “The hard way.”
I walked quickly toward the dresser drawers, jaw slack as I looked at all my toiletries and cloth
es thrown in the dresser haphazardly and spilling out over the side.
He slammed the drawer closed even though half of my shit was hanging out and then looked at me. He eyed me up and down, frowning at my stomach, and then bent over, opening the drawer again before standing back up and reaching under the bottom of my shirt and snatching the bra I’d hidden down there minutes before and tossing it in the already too full dresser drawer before slamming it closed again.
He’d been too quick for me to do anything but stand here like a fool. My eyebrows smacked my hairline. “You’re insane!” I screamed two inches from his face.
He dusted his hands together and started walking to the front door. He was certifiable. He was not leaving. I was leaving.
He laid his hand on the doorknob and turned around to look at me. “I’m insane.” He halfheartedly laughed. “I’m insane? You’re the most stubborn, infuriating woman I’ve ever met in my life!”
“I’m stubborn? That’s hilarious, Doc. You’re the absolute king of stubborn.” I pushed his hand off the doorknob. I was being immature; I just couldn’t summon the will to care. The man drove me nuts.
Hands low on his hips, he turned to me. “I’m the king of a lot of things, baby, but stubborn isn’t one of them.”
“You’re not leaving. I’m leaving!” I shouted, trying my damnedest to ignore his ridiculous sexual innuendo and him calling me baby. I didn’t like it at all. Not even a little bit.
“You’re not leaving. You’re going to sit your ass on that couch and relax. Because it’s what’s best for your baby.”
He stopped, looking at me because he knew he had me.
“Doctor’s orders,” he clipped out, adjusting his stupid tie and pulling at the cufflinks under his navy-blue blazer. He opened the door, giving me a final look before closing it quietly behind him like we weren’t just having the throw down of all throw downs. And I knew a throw down when I witnessed one because I was a throwing down kind of girl.
I stood here, staring at the door, mad as hell, mostly because I hated how much I loved that blue blazer on him.
