Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Harlow blinked, and it was a testament to how well she’d suckered him that the pain she’d just managed to fake made him want to chuck this whole mess and wrap his arms around her.

  He thought he’d known better, but guess the old adage was true.

  Fool me once, you are forgiven. Fool me twice…

  Not anymore.

  “Well.” Harlow exhaled, finally breaking the deafening silence. “If that’s how you feel, then I suppose we’re done here.”

  And then she walked out the door.

  29

  Harlow should be numb. She should be tapped out in the feelings department, all done, nothing to see here, I gave at the office, finito. But all that emotion-blocking she’d done over the past couple of years was coming back to bite her square on the ass, because right now, she felt everything.

  And she wasn’t going to lie. This emotions thing sucked. Hard and without remorse.

  I should’ve known better than to trust you…

  Harlow rolled over in her bed, ignoring the fact that the sun had risen and was channeling all its effort into incinerating her bedroom blinds. She’d expected Connor to be mad—hell, she’d earned that. Just because she hadn’t wanted to send that email to the board didn’t mean the repercussions didn’t count.

  She’d been the one to make the decision to close the clinic, and she’d done it without telling him. Granted, she’d done it for good reasons. Or what she’d thought were good reasons, she guessed, and she hadn’t been wrong about it being their only option. But wrong or right, good reasons or bad, in the end, the result was the same.

  She’d thoroughly wrecked Connor’s trust. She hadn’t been able to save the clinic, and her heart had been broken into bits by the one man who had taught her how to use the stupid thing again.

  Welcome back, emotions.

  Harlow backhanded the pair of tears that had snuck out of the corner of her eye and reached for her phone, which she’d left on her nightstand. As much as it hurt, she was going to have to move forward sooner or later. The world wasn’t going to stop just because she hadn’t been able to balance the budget at the clinic and her relationship had gone down in a red-hot fiery blaze. While she was fairly certain a broken heart might earn her a pint of Chunky Monkey and a free pass to do one too many tequila shots with her girlfriends, she also knew it didn’t qualify as a suitable excuse to get out of work.

  Not that she probably had girlfriends now, she realized with a fresh helping of sadness. Tess had warned her not to break Connor’s heart. The act might’ve been mutual, but still.

  She’d kicked the ball into motion. All Connor had done was kick it back.

  “Work,” Harlow reminded herself, saying the word out loud for emphasis. Dropping her gaze to her phone, she thumbed past a message from her father, checking to make sure she was okay and giving her the day to “settle any last-minute details” at the clinic, then a handful of spam before she got to a reply from Langston.

  It was to the point (insert her not-shocked face here), acknowledging receipt of her acceptance of the board’s request and promising her that he’d take care of notifying the employees personally. The email had been time-stamped just shy of midnight, and she’d bet a decent amount of cash that the man had spent the next few hours arranging the very best severance packages possible for the employees he couldn’t place elsewhere at the hospital.

  A decent amount of cash, right. Harlow snorted. If only she had a decent amount of cash, the doors to the clinic wouldn’t have been closed.

  Wait a second…

  An idea bloomed in her brain, growing with frightening speed. It was a long shot—no. Check that. It was probably impossible and definitely bat-shit crazy. But she’d spent the last four days coming up with a pitch to save the clinic, not to mention the last month and a half running the place she’d grown to love, and she believed it was worth saving with all of her heart.

  No matter what was on the line.

  Her fingers flew over her phone, but her hands didn’t shake as she tapped the icon in front of her to place the call, then lifted the phone to her ear.

  “This is Harlow Davenport. I need to speak with my father immediately, please. Yes, tell him I’m not hurt, but it’s absolutely urgent. Yes.”

  She smiled for the first time in over twenty-four hours. “I’ll hold.”

  Connor felt like he’d been on a three-day bender full of rail tequila and questionable tacos. Not even the brief meeting he’d had with Langston an hour ago, where the guy had apologized for how quickly things had gone to shit with the board and assured Connor that not only could he have his old job back, but that he’d figure out a way to give the clinic’s staff—former staff, shit—good severance packages and excellent letters of recommendation. Langston had also given Connor the rest of the day off, probably because he looked like death on a pie plate. Although his mood was foul as hell, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go home, where Harlow’s bright red toothbrush leaned toward his in the cup in the bathroom and the pillows all smelled like her shampoo. This, he knew, because in a fit of frustration, he’d thrown every last one of the fuckers to the hinterlands of his bedroom last night, resting his melon on a balled-up Air Force hoodie instead.

  And now his neck hurt along with his stupid, trusting heart.

  The door to the supply closet where he’d been (okay, fine) hiding squealed open, but Tess only made it two strides over the threshold before stopping short on the linoleum. “Ho-ly shit,” she said, giving him a lightning-fast once-over. Finding no apparent injury, she asked, “What happened to you?”

  “Long story.” Connor went to lift a shoulder in a haphazard shrug, but the body part in question just twitched before surrendering.

  “Oh, goodie!” Tess said brightly, moving over to the spot on the far wall where Connor had parked himself. She sat down beside him, kicking her scrubs-clad legs out in front of her even though they were a solid ten inches shorter than his. “Those are the best kind, and this shift is boring as hell.”

  Connor looked at her as if she’d just uttered the worst sort of blasphemy, which, as far as emergency department staff went, she pretty much had. “Are you insane, Michaelson? Fate can hear you, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. ’Til she gets down to business, why don’t you start talking? Parker’s on my service today, and he’s got things covered out there. Plus, I’m not too shabby of a listener, if I do say so myself, and I’m definitely not kidding. You look like shit on a stick, my friend.”

  “Thanks,” Connor said, not rolling back on the sarcasm. He opened his mouth to tell Tess he wasn’t in the mood—re-living his hellish day wouldn’t make Harlow un-betray him, and it sure as hell wouldn’t open the clinic doors again. But damn it, as mad as he was, he missed Harlow, and unpacking the story for Tess, who was—spoiler alert—one of his best friends, was better than going home to throw out all of his bed pillows.

  “The board closed the clinic, effective immediately, and Harlow and I broke up.”

  “Whoa.” Tess’s eyes went round and wide, and she reached into the pocket of her doctor’s coat, pulling out a king-sized Snickers bar.

  Connor eked out a tiny smile. “Thanks, but I’m honestly not hungry.”

  “Oh, this isn’t for you, Ginormica. It’s for me. I’m going to need some fucking sustenance to get through this one. Go ahead and take it from the top.” She unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite. “And don’t even think about scrimping on the details.”

  And so Connor didn’t. He told Tess everything, even the way he’d confided in Harlow about Duke and how unbelievably strong she’d been for Evie. Getting to the shit-show of last night was a little tough, his voice going gravelly a time or two before the whole thing was out in the open. Finally, after a full minute of silence, he pressed back against the closet wall, letting his scraggly chin turn to the side as he chanced a look at Tess. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Connor, I mean this f
rom a place of love. I truly do.” Tess placed a hand over her heart as proof. “But you’re a goddamned idiot.”

  He choked out a sound akin to a gasp, only not as pretty. “What?”

  “Let’s review. You and Harlow had a rocky start, but figured out how to work together.” Tess held up her thumb, and great. She was keeping score. “You really dig her, and she really digs you.” Forefinger. “You made headway at the clinic, and even though you tried your best, it wasn’t enough.” Middle finger—how appropriate. “She made the hard call, and you got pissed and let her walk out.”

  “No,” Connor argued automatically, then backtracked. “I mean, that’s a really broad generalization. I got pissed for a pretty good reason. She made the call to shut down the clinic, Tess. Without saying so much as a word to me about it. We were supposed to be a team.”

  “Riiiiiiight,” Tess agreed. “But I’m sure she anticipated that you’d fight her about agreeing to close the place if she came to you first.” She gave him a tart smile, nudging his shoulder with her own. “I mean, let’s face it. You’re cute, but sweet Gaga, you’re stubborn as hell. Especially when it comes to the things you love the most.”

  Connor blinked. “Did you just…swear to Lady Gaga like she’s a deity?” This conversation had officially gone around the bend.

  Tess didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, yes. Have you seen that woman walk a red carpet? So badass. Anyway”—Tess shook her head—“You. Cute. Stubborn. Clinic. Would you want to have argued with you over the board’s ultimatum? And let’s be clear. We all know they weren’t asking.”

  Well, hell. She was probably right about that. Just as she was right about the fact that he would’ve pushed back, even in the face of the facts. “Okay, so maybe I was difficult,” Connor admitted. “But Harlow knows how much Duke’s betrayal hurt me. She couldn’t have just told me the truth before she went to the board? I…” He closed his eyes. “I trusted her. Not just with the clinic, but…”

  Tess’s brows slid toward her bangs, her mouth parting in clear surprise. “Oh, my God. You love her.”

  Connor had been through the emotional wringer in the last twelve hours, but as mad and sad as he’d been, he couldn’t deny it. What’s more, he didn’t want to. “Yeah. I did. I do,” he corrected. No amount of mad was going to cancel out the ruckus that went down in his chest every time he slapped eyes on the woman. “I’m just not sure I can trust her.”

  “Let me ask you this,” Tess said softly. “Why is it that you think Harlow really made that decision and emailed the board without telling you? Do you think she didn’t give a crap about the clinic after all that time and energy you guys spent trying to fix things?”

  No. He knew he’d said it last night, but he’d been mad. Still, Harlow had to have had a reason for betraying him like that, and…

  Oh. Shit. Oh, shit. “She did it so I wouldn’t have to,” he breathed.

  “I knew you had some reason tucked behind that ridiculously handsome face of yours.” Tess grinned. “With how she took care of her mom, then Evie? Harlow’s a natural-born caregiver, just like us. She might show it differently, but I’d be willing to bet that part of her wanted to protect you from having to make a choice that would hurt you. See, I think she loves you, too. You were just too angry to see it.”

  Remorse claimed Connor’s gut, followed quickly by a cold slice of dread. “And I argued with her. God, Tess.” The remorse returned and went for a double-down. “I thought she was taking the easy way out by giving up, but she must be hurting as much as I am over the clinic closing. The things I said…”

  Christ, he’d been horrible. Accused her of unforgivable things. Things he knew must have hurt her.

  He had to fix it. He had to fix it right now.

  “Can you call Natalie and Charlie and put them on speaker? Like, this second, can you call them, please?” Connor asked, adding on, "You know what, call everyone. Jonah and Parker and Mallory, too. Can you do that?"

  Although Tess laughed and looked at him like he was nuts on toast—which, to be fair, he realllllly might be right now—she pulled out her cell phone.

  “Why am I calling every single one of our friends, exactly?” God bless her, she already had their numbers dialed up and ready to go, and Connor answered her with all the certainty in the world.

  “Because I need a strategy, that’s why. I’m going to win my girl back, and I need all the help I can get.”

  30

  After thirty-six hours, Connor had to admit that it was possible Harlow wasn’t going to answer him, let alone forgive him. He’d done nearly everything on the list his friends had helped him compile, from calling Harlow (duh) both at work and at home, to texting and emailing to cover his bases since his calls went directly to voicemail, to sending her favorite flowers (Jonah and Natalie’s idea), messengering scones over from Sweetie Pies (Charlie and Parker’s idea), and even having a really pricey bottle of cabernet delivered to her apartment with a card reading, Can we drink to the fact that I totally fucked up? (Tess’s idea. Naturally).

  He’d even gotten so desperate this morning that he’d put in a call to her father, leaving him a voicemail message that probably revealed far too much of Connor’s feelings for the man’s only daughter and his deep desire to speak to her, even briefly. He’d been an inch away from considering Mallory’s idea to show up at her condo naked (under a trench coat, so as not to get arrested or broadcast all over the Internet) and pledge to pleasure her any way she wanted, for as long as she wanted, when he realized this whole thing was just crazy.

  Harlow wasn’t going to forgive him. And so he’d done the only thing he’d been able to, which was go back to work.

  God, he missed her.

  “Hey, hey,” Jonah said, whipping by him on a straight shot to the ambulance bay. “Trauma incoming in five. Motorcycle versus minivan. You coming?”

  Connor couldn’t even get his mouth open to reply with a sad-sack “I guess” before Tess took the nitrile gloves out of his hand and passed them over her shoulder to Boldin.

  “He is not,” she called out. To Connor, she said, “Your presence has been requested in the executive boardroom.”

  The din of the ED was suddenly the backdrop for the slam of his heart in his ears. “Why does Langston want to see me?”

  “He doesn’t,” came a familiar, feminine voice that made Connor’s heart stop altogether. “I do.”

  He caught Tess’s grin out of the corner of his eye, and Charlie’s and Mallory’s, too, as he turned to look at Harlow. She wasn’t, as he’d feared, a mirage, nor was she a figment of his overtaxed brain. She stood there by the intake desk, just as gorgeous as she’d been on that first day she’d come down to get him and offer him the director’s job, and oh, God, Connor wasn’t sturdy enough for this.

  “I’ve been trying to call you. And text. And—”

  “I know,” Harlow said, every single thing about her unreadable. “I got your messages. And your gifts. They weren’t necessary, though.”

  This did not bode well. “They were, actually. I owe you a huge apology.”

  “Connor,” she started, then clamped down on her bottom lip. “I didn’t come down here to talk to you about us. I came on business. We really would like to see you in the boardroom, please.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment filled his rib cage, but he nodded. “Okay.”

  He managed to make it all the way to the elevator before asking, “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “No,” Harlow said. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Being the greedy bastard that he was, he used the elevator ride to take in her dark red power suit, the pretty gray blouse beneath it, the perfectly tidy twist of her hair. She was wearing her favorite pair of shoes, black patent leather pumps that he’d once begged her to leave on as he’d taken everything else off of her without using his hands.

  Apparently, his heart wasn’t the only part of him going through major Harlow withdrawal.

  He�
�d dispatched his moderately awkward hard-on by the time they reached the boardroom, thanks to thoughts of chronic BO and hemorrhoid cream. Shock crowded out his confusion at the sight of Dr. Langston sitting at the end of the table, flanked by Maxwell Davenport on one side and a put-out looking woman who he vaguely recognized as a member of the board—Jolene? No, Joanne.

  “Thank you for joining us, Connor,” Dr. Langston said, gesturing his big, dumb ass into a chair. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, so I’ll get right to it. The last twenty-four hours have brought a fairly large turn of events, and now that the legalities are in place, we need to share those with you.”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t understand,” Connor said. “Isn’t the clinic still unable to operate because of the financial situation?”

  Mr. Davenport sent a loaded glance at Harlow—still cool as a spring morning, damn it—before replying. “The financial situation at the clinic has changed.”

  “It…what?” Connor gaped, unable to help it. “How?”

  “A substantial gift was made to the hospital this morning, with very specific instructions that the money go to balancing the clinic’s debt so the doors could open again. Indefinitely,” Davenport said.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. He swung toward Harlow. “You found a donor.”

  “No, Connor,” she said. “I am the donor.”

  “But…but how…?” he stuttered, and after the third attempt at actual speech, he had to give up.

  Lucky for him, Harlow knew him well enough to lead him through all the holy fucking shit spilling through his brain. “It’s quite simple, actually. You and I had already established that a donor was the only solution to the clinic’s financial problem. The board and the CEO made it clear that we weren’t going to be able to find one conventionally. So, I took your advice.”