“I’m not insinuating shit, Dee. You just said my body is your business. I’m just following your logic.”
“I did not—” I slowly replay the words I spoke to him in my head, then smack my palm to my forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Right. You didn’t mean it like that and I didn’t mean it when I said you’re cute.” He shrugs a shoulder and steps back behind the door. “Keep watch, will ya? It probably wouldn’t be good if good ol’ Dr. Alexander got caught dropping-trou in the parking lot.”
I see his shoes get kicked off beneath the car door and then his trunks drop to his ankles as he carefully steps out of them. One leg lifts, and then the other. And then he repeats the action, stepping into clothes this time.
I wonder if he’s a boxer or brief man?
I shake my head clear and focus on what he said before he started stripping. He thinks I’m cute? That makes no sense.
I glance around the parking lot. “The coast is clear, as is your untarnished reputation.”
He steps back out from behind the door with a hat donned on his head, facing backward, sunglasses still wrapped around the fabric.
“Thanks. Still not going to comment on how my body is your business or how I find you cute?” He lifts his feet up one at a time to put short socks on them; then bends to grab his wet shoes, tossing them in his car before pulling another pair out and working them onto his feet.
I want to comment on both those things. But it wouldn’t be smart. He’s got me tripping over my thoughts and words already, God only knows what I might say if I respond. Instead, I should stick to something safe. “Why did you want me to come out here with you, Nate?”
“Because you’re a pain in my ass, you drive me up a fucking wall with your smart-ass remarks, your take no shit attitude is fucking hot, despite how irritating it is, and you’re cute—while still managing to be insanely fucking sexy and beautiful all at once. I don’t understand a single bit of it. But here we are. Running into each other, yet again, at my event this time. Tonight, you’ve seen parts of me nobody, and I do mean nobody, Dee, from work has or will ever see. So I figured why not act?”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. Whoa. So, I don’t know. I acted without overthinking. I acted without thinking period and asked you out here to discuss work we absolutely do not need to, just for a chance to get you alone for ten minutes without prying eyes and gossiping mouths noticing and talking.”
“But why?”
He shuts the door and steps right in front of me. “Were you the one in the dunk tank tonight? Ears full of water? Because your hearing seems to be shit. I just told you why.”
I reach out to shove at his shoulder. “There you go being all dickish again. No, I understand everything you said, but why me?”
“I wish I had an amazing answer. All I can figure is I saw a different side of you tonight with the kids, and it was the final straw. That one last piece of me, my sanity, and my rules—rules I was working like hell to hold together—breaking.”
“Being good to kids was the straw that broke the camel’s back? You do realize that isn’t exactly a compliment, right? Like, I hate to break it to you, but if you’re trying to charm me into your bed or something, telling me my actions were the last bad thing that caused this isn’t the way to get me there, right?” I’m not following him here. One moment he’s knocking me off my feet and making me land ass first in the gravel beneath me with his words, the next he’s literally saying my actions were the final catalyst to something that shouldn’t be happening.
“You don’t get it, Cassidee. It is a bad thing. I don’t do this. Not with women I work with. I don’t let anyone get close enough to know my brother is rich and famous, that I have an interest in doing charitable work. Coworkers don’t get under my skin and work their way into my brain so I can think of nothing else. So yea, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back because I’m in uncharted territory now. And I’m really fucking lost.”
“Oh.” He may be lost, but now my mind is reeling. This arrogant asshole, who takes digs and undercuts me every chance he gets at work, is now pouring his heart out to me for what? A quick lay? More? What does he think he is going to get out of this?
Even more than my mind is reeling, my heart is pounding out of my chest. Right now, he is Dr. Desirable, and there is a good chance I could actually get what I desire out of him. But… what does that do for me in the long run? Does he just want me out of his system? What would it mean for work?
I rub my palms over my legs, hoping to dry the sweat dampening them. Clammy palms are a sure sign of my anxiety and unease. I can feel them shaking as I raise them up and cross them over my arms.
“Oh?” He’s standing his ground, not coming any closer, not retreating, letting me mull everything he said over, but clearly waiting for some sort of response.
“I don’t know what to say, Nate. Christ, you drive me absolutely fucking insane and act like the biggest dick on the planet. You’ve challenged me professionally, questioned my judgment, and now you’re saying you can’t get me out of your head?”
“I don’t get it either.”
I look around at the parked, empty cars around us and take in a deep breath. “I can’t do this. We can’t. It’s unprofessional, and I don’t think I can trust you not to turn on me and become cold and dickish again. Tonight, you’re saying this. I have to admit, seeing you with these kids has done things to me, too. But tonight is special. Tomorrow, next week, the special is gone. And outside of special, you aren’t this man. Not that you’ve shown me, at least.”
“I am this man. But I have to protect myself and my family elsewhere. It’s as simple and complicated as that.” His shoulders slump and he looks down at the ground. “I’ve learned the hard way I can’t let people in, can’t let them know who I really am.”
“Meaning what?” I’m not sure if he will answer, but it would go a very long way in telling me the man he really is. If it’s a flimsy, half-assed excuse, I’ll be able to assume he is playing me. If it isn’t, maybe he really is this man everywhere but at work.
“Meaning I’ve been used to get to my brother before, Dee. Do you know what it’s like to not only have decent money yourself, but also be the brother to one of the best hockey players in the country, maybe even the world?”
I shake my head back and forth. If that’s truly what causes him to be so guarded and rude, I feel awful for him. It must be exhausting hiding who you really are just because you can’t trust people to not use you.
“It fucking sucks. Falling in love with a woman, who is only biding time to meet your brother and make a play for him is a burn you don’t soon forget. It’s even worse when you work with her and can’t avoid her after she does it.”
I raise my head, seeking out his eyes, even though the sky has gotten darker, starting to hide them from me entirely now. “I’m sorry that happened. It’s shitty.”
“You have no idea.” He lets out a slow, steady breath. “Let me backtrack a little.”
“So now you don’t mean what you said?”
“I mean every word. But I think I put the cart in front of the horse a little. You don’t trust me, and as much as I want to, I’m not sure I trust you completely either. Will you give me a chance to try to be a friend to you?”
A laugh spills out of my mouth, and I sputter, “I thought you wanted in my pants. Now you just want to be friends? Talk about whiplash!”
He laughs too, and some of the tension in the air around us tapers off. “Believe me, I want in your pants. Well, parts of me do. All of me does. Christ, I’m shit at this.”
It’s hard not to giggle at his fumbling. “So are you wanting to be friends with benefits? Or just friends?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sooo decisive,” I tease.
“Can I let you in on another secret you have to take with you to the grave?” His lips pull into a smirk and he steps even closer to me.
My re
action is to zip my lips for his benefit.
“My brother, hell, both of my brothers are far better at this shit than I am.”
“What shit are you talking about, just so I know whether it’s being nice, talking to women, chewing gum and walking simultaneously.”
He shakes his head. “You really are a smart-ass. Talking to women. I can pick up someone for a quick and easy night—I don’t do that often, though. But actually conversing—”
“Is something you clearly suck at,” I interrupt, and finish for him. “I’ve noticed. Particularly within the walls of the hospital.”
“Who I am there won’t change, Dee. Even if you decide not to walk away tonight, you will remain Miss Parker at work. And we won’t fraternize. It’s too risky. I have too much to lose.”
****
Nate
The second the words are out of my mouth I realize how awful they sounded. Her face sours and her lips pucker. “You know, you really are a dick.” She isn’t wrong, I’m fucking all of this up, and I’m definitely coming across like the biggest asshole to walk the earth.
“Here’s the deal, Dr. Alexander.” Her use of my name in that tone and manner tells me exactly what she’s thinking and feeling about me right now. “I’m going to walk away from you tonight, let you think on this, decide what it is you really want. Because the digs don’t work for me.” She crosses her own arms and straightens her back, standing at full height, showing yet again she is a strong-willed, independent woman who doesn’t need a man. “I’m not asking you to be unprofessional. I have more to lose than you do right now. I am asking you to be respectful, though. To be human and kind. If I fuck up, tell me. If I make a cataclysmic mistake, I expect you to act properly. But to treat me like I’m less than you, professionally and as a woman, I won’t settle for it. Especially if you want to be anything other than Dr. Nathan Alexander, Orthopedic Surgeon and Cassidee Parker, Doctor of Physical Therapy.”
She has stunned me into silence. Every word she said hits a mark. I could never think of her as anything less than me. Hell, based on everything she’s done and said, she is a helluva lot better, stronger, and more understanding than I could ever be. I understand where she would feel I think less of her with how I have acted, but I don’t. I respect the fuck out of how much she’s done, how hard I know she had to work to get exactly where she is. But I guess I haven’t done a great job of showing that, either.
“You don’t have to walk away. I’m not trying to be a dick. I just don’t know how to be any other way.”
“Therein lies the problem. You don’t know how to believe I’m not some low-life manipulator, trying to get to your brother. If you can’t get past that, we can never be anything close to friends, because you will always second-guess me, my intentions, and my abilities.” She shrugs her shoulders and her face shifts from irritated to let down. “I feel bad for you, Nate. Living life like you’ve forced yourself to—not trusting, having no true friends because you won’t let them get close enough, because you intentionally act like a dick and keep people at an arm’s length—it must be very lonely.”
There’s very little I can say to her now. Her words are the final blow: irritating me, infuriating me, and making me realize just how right she is.
Tonight officially sucks.
“I’m going to get back to the carnival and my new friends. I hope you don’t bail out on Micah and that call to your brother you owe him. The kid deserves better than what I’ve gotten from you tonight.”
“I wouldn’t do that to him.” I wouldn’t. I know what it means to both him and Xavier.
Her head bobs subtly. “Good. I’m going to get back in there then. You did a great thing here tonight with this carnival. I’d love to be a part of the next, professionally that is.”
I have to swallow the huge knot in my throat down before I can speak another word. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Not in the least bit. “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your night, Dee. I mean that. And, um, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. Enjoy the hard work you put into all of this, Nate.” And just like that, what could’ve been the start of something extraordinary has turned into a what might have been situation. And it has given me a lot to think about.
There were truths in her words I haven’t faced. Truths I need to if I ever want to have more than work, occasional meaningless sex, and a real relationship with anyone other than my brothers in my life.
Eleven
Dee
I don’t know what to make of all that happened last night. Nate, Dr. Alexander, Dr. UnDesirable, Dr. Desirable—I don’t even know what to call him—spun my world round and round, left me dizzy, and has me entirely confused about everything.
Friends, friends with benefits, more? Just coworkers? I know what my body wants. I know what my heart thinks it wants. But my mind is shouting at me to avoid him at all costs. He doesn’t even know what he wants. How the hell am I supposed to fit into that? I understand his apprehension trusting people. I understand he must have had his heart wrecked, all to get to his brother, but that doesn’t excuse the way he treats people—namely me.
He is so cold; then he warms up and is entirely different than he seems at work, only for him to freeze me out and treat me like shit again. It’s like stepping into a vortex and not knowing when or where it will spit you back out, or where you’ll land. It’s dangerous. Therefore, Nathan Alexander is dangerous.
I confided in Bridget last night. I needed to share with someone. I need to bounce my thoughts and feelings off someone, and since she and her husband were in a similar position, well, I figured she would be my best bet at navigating all of this.
She helped, but she’s also confused. Nate’s holdup isn’t because we work together; it’s because of his own personal stuff. I didn’t tell her who his brother is; I didn’t spill anything he shared in confidence. But I did say he had some personal things in his life, connections and experiences, that make him act this way. I told her about his stripping behind the car door, all of it.
Simon may have heard some, too.
It helps having a male’s advice. The only other one I’d trust to talk to and shoot straight with me is Cody, and I can’t bother him or Tate right now, he has a huge rodeo this weekend. Not that I trust Simon, necessarily; I don’t know him well. He is Bridget’s husband though, and they dated while working together, so they do understand the complicated dynamic and need for discretion.
Ugh. Just, ugh!
It’s too much for me to handle right now. A new place and fresh start should come with fewer complications, not more, especially if it includes guy trouble. I just walked out of a mess of feelings and confusion. I don’t need more.
I’m not sure I can avoid it now, though.
My coffee finally finishes filtering through my Keurig, and the final spits empty into my cup with a cloud of steam rising and billowing out from the gap between the top of the mug and the dispenser. I need this to function. It’s like magic potion, essential for life. If only it were magical enough to solve all my problems. Hopefully an afternoon spent up on the building rooftop, lounging on one of the chaises, and reading a good book will help clear my mind though. I have the day off, just like he does, and I need to decompress.
I make my way from my kitchen with coffee and phone in hand, through the small foyer, and out my front door. I should really take the stairs up to the roof, but I’m all about laziness today. The building is modern inside, but the shell is all brick and beams, remnants from the old cotton mill that used to be in this building.
The elevator is empty when I get on, always a good sign, and I’m hopeful the deck on the roof will be empty. I don’t hate any of my neighbors, in fact, they all seem like genuinely nice people, but I just want to be alone.
I hold my breath when the elevator dings and I step out from the little interior space, through the unlocked rooftop door, and out onto the deck. It’s silent up here, and a glance around reveals there’s
not a single person besides me. It should give me plenty of time and privacy to work through my thoughts.
****
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting up here pondering and replaying last night. I think I might really be interested in him, there’s something undeniably attractive about him, and there’s this pull—like two magnets unable to avoid each other—I feel every time we exchange words, regardless of them being light and easy, or heavy and complicated.
Bridget said if I needed to talk things out more, I should call her. I hate interrupting her Sunday and time with her family, but I only have two more days to figure everything out before I will have to face him again.
If I go to work this confused, I’m not sure what I may say or do. I can’t risk that, not personally, and especially not professionally.
I grab my phone from beside my lounger and shade my eyes to scroll through my contacts until I find Bridget’s name. I slide my thumb across the screen, initiating the call, then lean back and wait for her answer.
“Hello?” She sounds moderately distracted, and I immediately feel bad for calling.
“Hi, it’s me, Dee. I’m so sorry to bother you, I can call back later, or we can talk on Tuesday.” I know I’m rambling, but this is a new friendship. I don’t want to be the annoying, whiny person before she’s really decided if she wants to continue being my friend.
“Dee! You’re fine. I was just trying to break up an argument between the boys over silly things. You’d think they were both children, not just one of them.” I can hear the amusement in her voice, and I’m certain Simon is within earshot.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. What are you up to?”
I adjust myself on the lounger and bring my knees up, feet flat on the plastic, sitting taller. “I’m thinking about Dr. Alexander, last night, work on Tuesday.”
Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel Page 7
