Dammit.
I held my breath, planning to back out of the doorway and go to the cafeteria unnoticed. But Dean turned to me with a surprised smile.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I gave him a tight smile and stepped into the room.
How long did I need to stay before it was acceptable to leave? Also, why did I care? This was the man who’d publicly humiliated me, broken his marriage vows, and taken my beloved coffee maker, and I cared about hurting his feelings? I was way too nice.
“You hungry?” Dean pushed a plastic container with a half-eaten sandwich in it toward me.
“No, thanks.” I went over to the coffeepot and poured myself a cup, wishing there was someone else in here to ease the tension. “So how’s Amanda doing?”
She was more than halfway through her pregnancy now, and visibly showing. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to talk to her since our conversation that day in the cafeteria, because it was just too awkward.
“I’ve, uh . . . been hoping we could talk about that,” Dean said.
I turned from the coffeepot to face him. “Talk about what?”
“Amanda.” He cleared his throat.
Oh shit. From his sheepish expression, I knew what was coming. He was going to apologize. Tell me he hadn’t meant to fall in love with someone else. But I was past all that, and I didn’t want to hear any of it.
“I’m happy for you guys,” I blurted, hoping to preempt his apology. “I think things happened the way they were meant to. And I’m happy now, too. So . . . it’s all good.”
“With the maintenance guy?”
“Carson.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Dean cleared his throat again. “I, uh, wanted to tell you that . . . I asked Amanda to move out a few nights ago.”
I almost dropped my mug of coffee. “You what?”
He shrugged and gave me a sheepish look. “It’s not working out. I’ve known for . . .” He sighed heavily. “Joss, I made a huge mistake.”
Leaning against the counter to steady myself, I said, “What do you mean?”
“I should have talked to you.”
“Talked to me?” I shook my head, confused. “About Amanda?’
“Before. When we were still together. Instead of trying to find happiness outside our marriage, I should have come to you.”
I sighed softly. “That’s all behind us now. It’s got nothing to do with you and Amanda. Dean, she’s pregnant, and she needs—”
“I’m still in love with you.”
He held my gaze, hope flickering in his eyes.
“You’re . . . what?” My heart raced with sick awareness as his words sank in.
“I miss you. I knew from the first time I saw you with . . . Carson that I’d made a huge mistake.”
“You are with someone else now.” My tone was low and admonishing. “And she is having your child.”
“That should be you having my baby, but I was an asshole.” He gave me an imploring look. “Joss, if I wasn’t with someone else, would—”
I cut him off. “No. This is crazy. I can’t believe you—even you—would do this.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but the door to the doctor’s lounge was pushed open, and two surgeons came strolling in, deep in conversation. One of them looked between us.
“Are we interrupting?” she asked.
I shook my head and bolted for the door. “Absolutely not. We were done a long time ago.”
Angry tears blurred my vision as I speed-walked down the hallway to get as far away from Dean as possible.
It just never ended. Now he’d left Amanda, and if he’d told her it was because he wanted me back, I’d become the talk of this place yet again. Only this time, I’d be the unwitting homewrecker.
I wanted nothing to do with Dean. Not now or ever again. Carson and I were only a couple of months into our relationship, but it was the best thing I’d ever had in my life.
Dean had taken enough from me—I wasn’t letting him take the happiness I’d finally found.
Chapter Fifteen
Carson
I grabbed the knot of the tie around my neck and tugged at it for the tenth time tonight. Damn thing was about to choke me.
Though I wasn’t a tie-wearing kind of guy, tonight I’d had no choice. Joss had been asked to sub for another doctor at a black-tie fundraiser event, and she’d asked me to come with her. She’d told me to wear whatever I wanted, but I didn’t want to stand out any more than I already did in this crowd, so I’d gone with a suit and tie.
The jacket and pants had set me back more than $250. That was before I bought a shirt, tie, and shoes. I’d glared at the salesman as I counted out the bills, though it wasn’t his fault. Hell, the guy probably made less than me.
When Joss turned to me and smiled as we walked through the room, though, it was worth every penny. She was like a ray of sunlight cutting through the dense canopy of a forest. Undeniably radiant.
And in her black V-neck dress and heels, she was also undeniably sexy. I’d run my hand up her thigh while driving here, the feel of her warmth making me achingly hard.
“Joss,” an older guy said as he made his way over to us. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Dr. Locke.” She shook his hand and then slid her arm around mine, leaning in to me. “This is my date, Carson Stephens.”
The doc shook my hand and introduced us to his wife, Alice. He asked about Joss’s research project, half listening to her and nodding, half glancing at me.
“You’re familiar to me,” he said when she’d finished talking. “Do you have privileges at TMC?”
I lowered my brows in confusion. “Uh . . . no?”
I’d had lots of privileges at the hospital with Joss—on the roof, in stairwells—but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he was asking.
“Carson does HVAC and electrical maintenance on third shift,” Joss said, looking up at me with a proud smile.
“Oh.” The old doc chuckled. “Sorry, I assumed you were a physician.”
There was an awkward pause before Joss picked up the conversation again.
“Carson can fix absolutely anything. Even things he’s never worked on before. He just has a way of figuring things out that I’ve never seen in anyone.”
Dr. Locke nodded and gave me an appreciative look. “My father was like that. He never paid a repairman or mechanic in his life.”
Another couple approached and started talking to the Lockes. Joss squeezed my arm as she spotted Hattie and we made our way over to her.
“Girl, where’s the booze?” Hattie said to Joss.
“We haven’t found the bar yet.”
“I’ll go find it.” I moved my arm from Joss’s and slid it around her waist. “What sounds good, babe?”
“White wine, please.”
I looked at Hattie. “For you?”
“Same. Thanks, Carson.”
Her date was a tall guy wearing glasses who looked about as out of place as I felt.
“What about you, man?” I asked him.
“Oh, uh . . . a light beer?” He shrugged. “I’ll just come with you.”
We left the women, and he introduced himself as Danny, an attorney who’d met Hattie at the gym a couple of weeks ago.
“You guys come to these things often?” he asked me as he surveyed the room.
“Nope, this is the first one.”
We got to the bar, which had a line. Danny was telling me about the kind of law he practiced, which sounded boring as hell. I was trying to look like I was paying attention, but I wasn’t.
“Well, look who it is,” a voice said from behind me. “It’s the maintenance guy.”
I turned to meet the disdainful gaze of Dean. Fucking douchebag.
“How’s Joss?” he asked smoothly.
“Amazing.”
He just stared at me, his glassy eyes telling me this wasn’t his first trip to the bar tonight. I stared back, daring him
to say something to set me off.
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Hey, did you get ever get the banana out of that lady?”
“I can’t discuss cases. Patient confidentiality and all.” He sniffed and looked away. “There are more rules to treating people than there are for screwing in lightbulbs.”
I nodded. “Right. But speaking of screwing, how’s your pregnant girlfriend?”
“She’s fine.” His tone was clipped. “But I don’t see what that was to do with ‘screwing.’”
Danny interjected. “She couldn’t have gotten pregnant without you—”
“Actually,” I said, “I was referring to you screwing Joss over by getting with another woman. Dick move, man. But now she’s with me, so all’s well that ends well, right?”
“Who said it’s the end?”
The challenge in his tone made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This was the way I used to feel heading into combat. Fired up and strangely calm all at once.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
He shrugged.
“Hey, man.” Danny nudged my side. “We’re up.”
I turned to the bar, ordered two white wines and a beer, and told Danny to get what he wanted.
“Thirty-two,” the bartender said to me.
I took out my wallet and handed him forty bucks, then turned to Dean.
“Stay the hell away from her,” I said.
“What happens between me and Joss is none of your business. You’re just her fuck buddy. Keeping her bed warm.”
My single note of laughter was unamused. “And you’re her ex-husband. No longer welcome in her bed. So have a good night, Dean.”
“It’s Dr. Drake to you.”
My laugher was amused this time. “No, Dr. Drake is the woman I get to take home tonight. And she is fucking incredible, man.”
“It doesn’t bother you that she kept my name?”
A muscle in my jaw twitched with aggravation. I knew the asshole was just trying to fuck with me, and I hated that I was letting him.
“She’s with me in every way that matters.”
The bartender cut in, speaking to Dean. “Sir, what can I get you?”
I picked up one of the beers and one of the glasses of wine and turned to leave, deliberately running into Dean as I did.
“Watch it,” he muttered.
“Or what?”
He cleared this throat and looked at the bartender, avoiding my gaze. Chickenshit.
“Come on, man,” Danny said.
We made our way back to the women with the drinks, and Joss gave me a concerned glance as I passed her the glass of wine.
“Did he say something to you?” she asked, her brow creased with worry.
I shrugged. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Her expression relaxed as she took a sip of her wine. There was something in her eyes I couldn’t place, but it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up the same way Dean had just now.
“Why?” I asked her.
“Why what?” Her eyes met mine.
“Why do you ask if he said something to me?”
Hattie took Danny’s arm and led him away, probably sensing a conflict on the horizon.
“She seems to know why.” I nodded toward Hattie and took a long pull on my beer.
Joss sighed softly and looked away. “Let’s not talk about this here.”
“Talk about what? Is there something going on between you and Dean?”
“No.”
I could tell from her tone, and the way her eyes held mine, that she meant it. My muscles slackened with relief.
“Tell me, babe. I’m not gonna lose my shit, I promise.”
“It’s nothing, really . . . I just ran into him the other night at work, and he told me he asked Amanda to move out and that he wants me back. I told him it’s never happening.”
I hated her tentative expression. She was wondering if I was about to get jealous and pissed off. There was a flare of anger rising inside me but not toward her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly, taking her free hand in mine.
She exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. I should have. I mean, I would have. I guess I was just worried you’d feel threatened, but you shouldn’t. Things with us are so good, I just didn’t want to . . . upset the balance, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. But you can talk to me, okay? Do I really seem like that much of a loose cannon?”
She squeezed my hand. “No. I just didn’t want you to think it was anything, because it wasn’t. The whole thing just made me mad at him and . . . sad for Amanda.”
“What kind of a douchebag does that?” I shook my head. “Kicks his girl out when she’s pregnant with his kid?”
“I know. But Dean only cares about himself.”
“Let’s not talk about that asshole anymore tonight, babe. Let’s try to have a good time.”
She smiled up at me, her eyes filled with warm happiness. I kissed her forehead and whispered, “Next time just tell me, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for understanding.”
We walked over to the tables of stuff up for auction to raise money for the hospital foundation. I kept hold of Joss’s hand as we checked out vouchers for ski trips, gift baskets, and even baked goods.
“Ohhhhh.” Joss’s whole face lit up as she eyed a platter of chocolate chip cookies. “Alan’s wife makes the best cookies. Seriously. Her cookies went for three hundred bucks one year.”
“Must be some damn good cookies,” I said in a low tone.
Dean was right next to us, pretending to look at the auction items, too. It took all my willpower to ignore him. Joss was with me now, and I planned to keep my focus on her.
I wrapped my arm around her waist, though. Just to remind him what was up.
Joss walked a few steps farther, to a display for a five-day trip to Hawaii.
“Ever been?” she asked me.
“Hawaii? Nope. You?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. Maybe I should bid on it.” She smiled up at me. “Would you come with me if I won it?”
“Uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know.”
Her expression fell, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have . . . we haven’t even been together that long.”
“It’s not that, babe,” I said softly. “I just don’t want my girl paying for stuff like that.”
She smiled and shook her head. “That’s silly, Carson. You pay for things for me all the time.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, but not trips to Hawaii.”
“Maybe we could just start with a weekend somewhere we can drive to.” She squeezed my hand.
I nodded, but the seed of unease had already been planted. As we walked around, meeting surgeons, hospital administrators, and connected New Orleans business owners, I realized I didn’t belong here.
Not just at this fundraiser, but in this world. Joss was a fucking doctor. She lived in a world where a trip to Hawaii was only a matter of scheduling. I lived in a world where it was something to budget and save for over the course of many months—years, even.
But she was the one getting the short end of the stick in this relationship, not me. And she didn’t care about the differences between us, so why did I?
Because it made me feel like less of a man. I hated that it was true, but it was. I wanted to do and be things for her that I’d never be able to. The nagging feeling I had about it wouldn’t go away, even after three beers and a good dinner.
I laughed and smiled at all the right times, but inside, I was slipping into a dark silence. I didn’t belong here. I’d fallen hard for a woman I’d never be good enough for. Why would she want a moody electrician when she could have her pick of men?
It was all I could do to keep sitting there as Joss and Hattie bantered back and forth about each other. Joss was a bright, beautiful light in the world. Just her smile made my p
ulse pound. I wanted more than anything to be deserving of her.
Danny had just returned to our table with four shot glasses of whiskey when the auctioneer announced he was opening bids for the platter of chocolate chip cookies.
I decided in a split second I was buying Joss those cookies. I couldn’t buy her a fancy vacation, but I could get her the cookies she loved so much. Three hundred dollars was a lot, but she was worth it.
I downed my shot of whiskey as the cookies got bid up to $200. I jumped in at $250, holding up my number without saying a word.
“Carson?” Joss turned to me, confused.
I gave her a silent wink as the auctioneer accepted a bid for $300 from someone else.
I put my number in the air at $325.
$350.
$400.
$450.
“Carson,” Joss said firmly. “What are you doing?”
“Buying my girl some cookies.”
Her eyes softened as she smiled. “Thank you for wanting to do that, but—”
The auctioneer looked at me as he called out, “Five hundred?”
I nodded.
“Stop.” Joss’s tone was firm.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want the cookies that much. You can’t spend five hundred dollars—or more—on cookies.”
My jaw tightened with tension. “What, because I’m just a maintenance guy? I must be broke, is that it?”
She pulled back a little at my edgy tone. “No.”
The auctioneer gave me a questioning look. “Seven fifty?”
Hell. Now I was in over my head. Without even thinking about it, I nodded.
“Stop this,” Joss whispered, her tone urgent and aggravated. “I won’t even enjoy the cookies for this kind of money. Just stop.”
The auctioneer called out, “Whoa! This generous fella is offering one thousand dollars for those cookies now.” He turned to me. “How strong’s your sweet tooth, son?”
I exhaled through my nose and shook my head, setting my auction number down on the table.
“Thank goodness,” Joss said, sighing.
“Sold to . . . Dr. Dean Drake,” the auctioneer called out, leading a round of applause.
I turned toward the table everyone was smiling at, where Dean was giving me a smug smile.
Healing Touch Page 10
