“Sorry.” His cheeks went pink as he lowered his voice. “But she’s hot, I mean, how can you work around that and not get distracted?”
How indeed.
“I’d bone her.”
“Get out.” I stood, stomped over to the door, and jerked it open.
“Huh?” He blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘Get out’?”
“Get the hell out of my office,” I said coldly. “And don’t come back.”
I towered over him.
Speaking of calf muscles, mine were just twitching to get a good kick in. As it was, my hands were shaking with the intense need to knock the guy’s teeth in.
“Are you serious?” Justin rolled his eyes. “I’m a paying patient!”
“Not anymore you’re not. If you don’t leave now, I’ll be forced to call security.”
“Jackass.” He shoved past me and then Austin, slamming the door behind him.
Austin whistled. “Good bedside manner? I think I may uncheck that box.”
“He was being disrespectful,” I said in a huff.
Austin’s eyes widened and then she burst out laughing. “Oh wow, he was being disrespectful? Interesting, so the only person who can say anything disrespectful about me is you? But if anyone else does it, you’re ready to kick his ass?”
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “No.” Hell. “Austin . . .” I licked my lips. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Fine.” She walked over to where Justin had been sitting and plopped into the chair. “Then let’s get on with the exam.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I didn’t get any notes other than your going through the patient’s forms with him—what else do you do during a consult for a calf implant, Doc?” She crossed her legs, and I could see a generous amount of thigh the way she was sitting.
Yup. I was in hell.
And it was scorching hot.
“Fine.” I feigned indifference when really, my left hand was shaking so badly, I had to shove it into my pocket. “Typically, I’ll show them pictures of different implants, and then we’d discuss . . . size.”
“Big,” she blurted. “I want huge.”
It hurt to breathe. Why did everything have to be a sexual innuendo with her?
“How big?” My voice was strained.
She tilted her head to the side, then pointed at my legs. “Well, how big are yours?”
“Mine are real.”
“Yeah, but how big?”
I was going to burn in hell, because the only thing I really wanted to do was take off my damn pants and say something stupid like, You tell me. Then she’d point at my cock and I’d say, Wrong leg, and then we’d screw against the nearest wall.
Yeah, there went that whole malpractice-suit business resurfacing.
Only when Austin was in the room with me.
The fact that I didn’t have a nurse with me was a mistake.
Right along with the door being closed.
“Why don’t I just show you pictures?” I cleared my throat.
“Aw, Thatch, you afraid to flash me a bit of leg?” She winked and moved in her chair, causing her dress to ride up higher—damn it, I could almost see ass cheek.
“I, uh.” My eyes begged me to look down, so I fought like hell to keep them focused on her eyes. “It’s just a leg.”
“Right, so you shouldn’t have any problem showing me yours.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I snapped, then tugged up my pant leg. “This is from squats, running, actual exercise. He had leaner muscles, most likely from long-distance running or cycling.”
“Hmm.” She touched my calf with her finger, trailing it down to my ankle. “So where does the implant go in?”
“Go in,” I repeated.
She nodded, still not removing her hand.
“At the . . . Achilles.” I blew out a curse, then braced both of my hands on her thighs, slowly running them down past her knees until I grabbed each calf with a hand and squeezed. “I’d put it in here.” I gripped harder. “And sew you up here.” I squeezed again. “You’d recover in a few painful weeks—the end. Though I’d kill any doctor who’d dare mess with your legs.”
“They are kind of lanky.”
I don’t know how it happened, but one minute I was gripping her legs in my hands, the next, my hands were inching back up her thigh, my fingers eagerly dipping into her luscious skin until her dress was up past her waist. Her half-lidded eyes told me all I needed to know as I hooked her legs around my waist and lifted her into the air. “I’ve always loved your legs.”
She gulped, her lips parted.
I leaned in.
My pulse hammered between my ears in anticipation of her taste. The exam room’s phone rang.
I sighed, then slowly slid her back down to the floor. My body cried out.
I answered on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”
“Your father’s in the hospital . . . ,” Mia said in a low whisper. “Again.”
“Hell.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be right there.”
I hung up, ready to punch the wall. “I gotta go.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
“Thatch—”
“You’re not my girlfriend anymore. I don’t have to tell you shit. Go write your silly little blog so whatever this is”—my voice cracked as I waved a hand between us—“can finally be over.”
She sucked in a breath. “I swear, it’s like one minute you’re the guy I fell for, and the next, I don’t even recognize you.”
“Maybe because the guy you fell for just wanted to get laid, ever thought of that?”
She gasped and slapped me across the cheek, then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter Twenty
AUSTIN
“He’s turned me into a stalker,” I whispered into the phone while I slumped down behind the wheel of my car and waited.
“Why are you whispering?” Avery said on the other end of the phone. “And who are you stalking?”
“Because stalkers whisper, and I’m stalking Thatch.”
“Okay, that’s it, intervention time, you can’t keep just hoping he’ll come back, sweetheart. Ugh, I knew it was a bad idea for you to hang out with him for your final project—you’re going to get attached, then get hopeful, and then, boom, I’m going to find you buried under a pile of MoonPies.”
“What a good way to go, though, you know?”
“No, Austin!” she yelled. “Not a good way, not even a normal way! You need to get over him, and you can’t get over him if you’re still pining for him. This is my fault. I told you to dress sexier in hopes that he’d snap out of it, but when we walked in on their conversation . . .”
Pain sliced through my chest. “Yeah, I don’t think that conversation bears repeating, it was rough.”
In fact, he’d been nothing but hot and cold to me since our little heart-to-heart at my house a few nights ago. It was like a switch was constantly being flipped.
And he hated me.
Then didn’t hate me.
Almost kissed me? Maybe?
Damn it!
“He doesn’t get to hate me!” I yelled into the phone, my eyes searching for Thatch’s car. “I’m the woman scorned! How dare he take that away from me! It’s like ever since I promised I wasn’t going to get even, he’s been . . . mean and distant, hot, cold—like the other night he kissed me on the forehead, and today he picked me up and nearly had his way with me!”
Avery gasped. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because I was too busy stalking. Sorry.”
“Why are you stalking again?”
“Well, after he picked me up and nearly pulled my dress off—”
Avery gave a little cheer.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t celebrate just yet,” I said, then continued. “So he was leaning
in, I met him halfway, he got a phone call and suddenly he shut down, like completely shut down.”
“So you followed him out of the office?”
“Right.”
“And then tailed him with your red car?”
“I didn’t say it was the smartest plan, Avery!” I snapped.
“Sorry!” She yelled right back. “Okay, so where are you?”
“The hospital,” I said lamely. What was I doing with my life? I couldn’t even take a hint, could I? He was helping me because he felt bad, he rejected me, and I still couldn’t leave it alone—I had to go and trail him with my freaking car!
I was “that girl” again.
I hated that girl.
I needed to go out on a date and forget about Thatch once and for all.
So when Thatch walked out of the hospital looking like absolute hell, when he slammed his hands against his steering wheel and screamed at the top of his lungs?
I ignored the need to go make it all better.
Because that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to support him. I wanted to pull him close and ask what he was doing at the hospital. I wanted to be the person he went to when he was stressed.
But I needed to get a clue. If he wanted me there, he would have told me to come, or at least shared why. I wasn’t in his life anymore. The sooner I realized that, the better.
“Austin? You still there?”
Sighing, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Lucas still got that friend?”
I had tears streaming down my face from laughter. Matt, my blind date, was hilarious, his gestures so big and over-the-top that I hadn’t stopped laughing since we sat down. He immediately put me at ease.
He was dressed a bit too nice for my taste, in a full pin-striped suit with a purple tie that he kept adjusting. According to Lucas, Matt was a higher-up at a bank, though I didn’t ask what he did, and since he didn’t offer, I figured it was too much info for a first date. I imagined if we hadn’t met right after work, he would have been wearing something more casual—just like his personality.
From his dimples to his big brown eyes, he reminded me of a cute puppy—unfortunately not one that I wanted to take home and invite into my bed.
“So, what do you do?” he asked, popping a peanut into his mouth and chewing a few times before dabbing the corners of his lips with a napkin. The guy had good manners on lockdown. It should be attractive. The suit, the smile, the easy banter, he was the whole package. But for some reason, all I wanted to do was reach across the table, muss his hair, and ask if he’d ever been tempted to sport a man bun.
“School.” I jolted myself out of my weird Thatch daydream. “I’m getting my MBA at UW’s fast-track program.” He popped more peanuts into his mouth and smiled with it closed. He reminded me a lot of my dad. Impeccable manners, nice suit, chewed with mouth closed, smiled with his lips, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. Was that what this whole Thatch thing had done to me? Pushed me into the arms of someone who could be my father? I shivered. “I’m a few credits shy of graduating, so hopefully once I’m done, I can get a good-paying job.” In the real world. With real people like Matt, whose starting salary was probably more than I would make in five years.
“It’s tough out there.” He nodded seriously as he leaned in, no doubt to give me some amazing life advice, since he’s been in the field for more than three years. Holy shit. I was on a blind date with my father. How did this happen? “But Lucas says you’re wicked smart, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
Wicked. Smart.
Hah.
I regarded him with what I hoped was a “gee, you’re really great” look and slowly started to grab my phone from the table; all I needed was to make up an excuse.
My dog died.
My father needed me.
Avery’s in the hospital.
Or maybe just the truth: my dad has that exact same suit, and I’m pretty sure if I married you, it would be like incest.
He blinked at me.
I smiled back.
Insert a few beats of silence.
Because we’d officially run out of things to talk about.
It was awkward.
Gone was the teasing, easy banter; ah, I was wondering when the awkward blind date would arrive. There was no warning; instead, tension settled around our tiny little table at my favorite bar like a cloud of stink, and all I could do was pray for an interruption from the universe.
“So . . .” I glanced at my phone and then back up at Matt. “You must work really long hours, huh?”
“Yeah.” Fake smile was back. Great. “I mean, I love my job, so it’s worth it, but I hardly have any time for dates.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I have to be up early tomorrow, but I’d love to see your place.”
It took a minute for what he said to sink in. “My place?”
“Yeah.” This time his grin reached his eyes. Of course it did—the bastard thought he was getting laid. Sorry, I hadn’t had enough alcohol, and I’m pretty sure even with my rose glasses on, I would have still scrunched up my nose at his offer.
“I live with my parents,” I said sweetly. Take that!
“I know,” he countered. “Your dad’s the mayor.”
A prickly sensation washed over me. “Lucas told you?”
“I researched you online.”
Well, that’s . . . nice. “Um, why?” asked the stalker. Great, Austin. It’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same thing if you weren’t so sad all the time about Thatch!
“I don’t date nobodies.”
That was his answer.
I don’t date nobodies. He slid his hand across the table and placed it on mine.
I was just getting ready to jerk my hand away and toss my drink in his face movie star–style when a gruff voice sounded from behind me. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Thatch.” I leaped out of my seat—two more feet and I would have been in his arms. “Thank God.”
“Who the hell are you?” Matt stood and puffed out his chest.
Thatch straight up growled and then said in a low voice, “A surgeon. Her boyfriend. Great in bed. Rich. And right now? Leaving. With Austin.”
Matt’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You need to go, without my date.”
“The hell I will!” Thatch and Matt were chest to chest.
And then Thatch made a really poor life decision—he shoved Matt in the chest, causing Matt to flail backward. When Matt regained his footing, his right arm surged through the air, hitting Thatch square in the nose.
“Son of a bitch!” Thatch held his nose as blood gushed down his lips.
“Better hope you’re a good surgeon, asshole.” Matt straightened his jacket. “Sorry you had to see that, Austin. Should we go?” He held out his hand.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
“No.” I shook my head. “I think this date is over.”
He frowned. “You’re choosing this guy?”
Thatch glowered at Matt.
What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment. “Yup, I guess I am.”
Thatch’s taut muscled shoulders visibly relaxed while Matt shoved by us both and said, “I’m too good for this shit.”
Sighing, I grabbed my phone and purse, shook my head at Thatch, and said, “Let’s get you home, Rocky.”
Chapter Twenty-One
THATCH
My only goal had been to apologize to Austin for treating her like shit and being distant; anything beyond that, I wasn’t sure I could stomach.
But now that my dad was in the hospital, I figured the truth was getting closer to being exposed, and I’d rather she hear it from me first.
God, my parents were so good at ruining my life, weren’t they?
And now they were going to ruin hers.
Fantastic.
My nose throbbed. Luckily, I didn’t think the bastard broke anything, though it hurt like hell to the touch. When I’d texted Lucas for Austin’s lo
cation, he hadn’t said jack shit about her being on a date.
So I wasn’t prepared to see another man touching her hand—my hand.
I still felt those hands slide down my skin at night when I fought back the anxiety over our breakup. I still dreamed of the woman attached to those hands.
My nose pulsed—yeah, life wasn’t fair, not by a long shot.
“We’ll pick up your car tomorrow.” Austin finally stopped the silent treatment as we pulled in front of my apartment complex and she got out of her car, slamming the door behind her.
I followed suit, and hated that she was making me feel small, like I was the one who had done something wrong—I did just defend her honor, right?
The bastard was touching her!
The worst part? He was allowed to.
She wasn’t mine.
My fault.
I’d done this.
And I was finished.
I couldn’t even handle him breathing near her and touching? No. Just no.
Thinking about it was almost as bad as reliving it. His hands looked manicured. What the hell type of man goes and gets manicures?
His suit made me want to puke.
And I could have sworn I saw a ring on one of his fingers, and not a wedding ring, no, a gaudy gold thing that looked like he was one step away from becoming a pimp.
I followed her up to my apartment, dug my keys out of my pocket, and quickly ushered her inside. Dad was supposed to still be at the hospital, but I didn’t want to take any chances of a run-in—not before I got a chance to talk to her about everything.
“Um, were you robbed?” Austin asked once we made it inside and I flicked on a few lights in the kitchen and living room.
I searched for a towel and some ice, and muttered, “No.”
“You sure about that?” She pointed to all the magazines lying on the floor in front of the couch, the clothes thrown all over my floor, and the dirty dishes in the sink.
Yeah, I was normally a complete clean freak. I liked to be organized in both my personal and professional life—and Austin knew this.
So my apartment looking like shit? Out of character.
“I may have lost my temper.” I glowered at her.
“And you took out your temper on the clothes? What about the dirty dishes?” She walked around the breakfast bar and shook her head at the sink. “What’s going on?”
Cheater's Regret (Curious Liaisons Book 2) Page 15
