by L A Witt
We texted off and on throughout the weekend, suggestive emojis included. It was tougher when he was on shift, but he responded when he could. I had it easy as long as my cat didn’t kick my phone out of reach (again) before parking in my lap, I could reply as soon as Ryan texted me. I’d even started scrolling through some of the available emojis on my phone, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to send one. Ryan would have to settle for whatever clumsy lines I gave him to read between.
Assuming he wanted to read between them. Maybe he just wanted to get laid. I sure as hell wouldn’t say no if he did—just that kiss before he’d hurried out of the restaurant had left me thinking impure thoughts till dawn.
I wasn’t going to lie, though—after one truncated date and a couple days’ worth of texts, there was a part of me that thought this attraction might be more than physical.
And for the first time in decades, I hoped it was.
You’re still awake?
Ugh, Ryan wrote back. Just getting off shift. What are you doing up this early?
Always up this early to run before work. Kind of lazy about running today though.
LOL I don’t blame you.
I was typing out a response when a second message came through:
Since we’re both awake and you’re not going running, any chance of a quick breakfast?
Well hell. That was unexpected. And having breakfast with him definitely sounded better than the run I probably wasn’t going to talk myself into doing today.
After a few texts, we settled on a café halfway between the hospital and the precinct. I’d never been there, but Ryan insisted it was great.
Trust me—if there’s one thing I know, it’s where to get amazing food at weird hours.
I’d been a cop long enough to appreciate that kind of knowledge—God knew I’d had to find food at strange times during my years on the beat—so I agreed to meet him there in thirty minutes. This wouldn’t be a long meal together since I needed to get to work and he probably needed to get home and sleep, but I’d settle for an Egg McMuffin and coffee if it meant spending five minutes with him.
He was there when I arrived, and despite fatigue radiating off him, he looked amazing. The dark circles under his tired, bloodshot eyes couldn’t chase away how gorgeous he was, especially as he smiled.
“Hey.” He put a hand on my waist and kissed me lightly. “Thanks for meeting up.”
“Don’t mention it. I hadn’t thought of meeting for breakfast, but I’ll take any chance I can get.”
Jesus. That smile. This was literally the second time I’d been in this man’s presence, and I was already such a sucker for him it wasn’t even funny. I didn’t fight it, though. In fact, I liked it. I’d spent so many years avoiding anything that even smelled like a relationship, and it felt good to just give in and let myself go all stupid for Ryan no matter how early in the game this was.
A server seated us at a table for two, and we each ordered coffee.
I eyed the cup in Ryan’s hand. “You sure you should be drinking coffee when you’re about to go home and go to sleep?”
“No,” he admitted. “But at least this way I won’t pass out on you mid-sentence.” With a slight grimace, he added, “If I space out a little, don’t take it personally.”
“Long shift?”
He released a breath, and his shoulders drooped. I was surprised the coffee cup didn’t slip out of his hands. He managed to take a sip, though, and as he set the cup down, he said, “Long shifts are the name of the game. I’m used to it.”
“But you probably don’t usually expect to function after a shift like that.”
He shook his head, and his smile was tired but genuine. “I wanted to see you again, though. With our schedules, I’ll take whatever opportunity comes my way, even if I need some caffeine to keep me going.”
Under any other circumstances, that would’ve kicked my usual hardcore pessimism into gear. On their own, our jobs made it difficult to have much of a personal life. Combined? We were asking to be ships passing in the night more often than not. Usually, that would drain any optimism I had, and I’d just hope we could squeeze in a little sex before our lives pushed us apart.
But the fact that Ryan was here, sucking down coffee after a long shift, because he wanted to see me? That actually gave me some hope that he was as into this as I was. I couldn’t remember the last time someone thought I was worth anything close to that much effort.
“Well, it’s definitely good to see you.” I smiled over my own coffee cup. “I’ll try not to bore you to sleep.”
Ryan laughed, which did more to my pulse than anything in this cup ever would. “Somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” He took another sip of coffee. “So, what do you have on your plate this week at work?”
“More of the same.” I shrugged. “Investigating other cops, figuring out if they broke the rules, and generally cementing my reputation as the most hated man in the city.”
Another laugh, which was definitely worth the dry, self-deprecating comment. “I can tell you a few stories that might convince you I’m in line for that title.”
“Oh yeah?” Relieved that we were pulling the conversation away from my job, I said, “Do tell.”
“You familiar with the phrase ‘shooting the messenger’?”
I nodded.
“Yeah. Well.” He grimaced. “Try being the guy who has to tell a concerned father that his teenage daughter’s mysterious and escalating stomach pains are actually contractions.”
“Oh shit. That’s happened?”
“Uh-huh. More than once.” He absently scratched his scruffy chin. “Get a scared kid who’s in denial or afraid to tell her parents, and parents who can’t read the writing on the wall, and suddenly I get to deliver a baby while a nurse goes to get me an icepack because Dad didn’t like my diagnosis.”
I blinked. “I thought that shit only happened in the movies.”
“Well, you know what they say.” He grinned as he picked up his coffee again. “Art imitates life. Or…” He furrowed his brow. “Is it the other way around? Anyway, point is, truth is definitely stranger than fiction, and in my career, I’ve had that particular truth happen twice. Only one of them actually hit me, though.”
“You and Erin’s fiancé must have a lot to talk about, then.”
He stared at me for a second as if he didn’t comprehend what I was getting at, but then it must have clicked because he laughed. “Oh, yeah. After he showed up in the breakroom with that black eye, we all told him he was initiated into the elite club of doctors who’d been punched by patients. It’s usually just emergency staff like me, but once in a while you get someone from one of the calmer disciplines.” He paused. “We even had a neonatologist join us a couple of years ago.”
“Oh yeah?” I folded my arms on the edge of the table and leaned in. “How did that happen?”
He leaned a little closer too, eyes tired but sparkling. “She was examining a newborn who had some… I don’t remember what his symptoms were, but he was in the NICU and she was discharging him. She’s usually really good about warming up the stethoscope, but it must have been too cold for him or something, and he flailed.” Ryan gestured at his mouth. “Foot caught her just right to split her lip on her tooth.”
I snorted. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“I know, right? The parents were mortified, but she just told them they probably had a soccer player or a kicker on their hands. That, or a kickboxer.” His grin softened to just a smile. “After he’d been touch and go for a few days, I think they were just relieved that she was confident he had a solid, healthy future in front of him.”
“I can only imagine.”
“And she finally got to join our little club, so everybody won.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I always heard doctors have a twisted sense of humor. Guess that wasn’t far from the truth.”
“Oh, no. Not far from the truth at all.” Ryan cradled his coffee
between his hands. “In our line of work, a twisted sense of humor is pretty much a job requirement.”
“Right up there with a strong stomach, I’m sure.”
“And a solid poker face.”
“For giving bad news?”
“Well, that.” He shrugged, then paused for another swallow of coffee. “But also when you have to keep a straight face while a patient is explaining to you exactly what is stuck in their rectum and how it got there.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Really?”
“Oh God.” He rolled his eyes. “All the time. All. The. Time.”
“Yeah? Do tell?”
He chuckled, eyes losing focus. “Oh man, where to start. There have been so many—oh! Wait. I’ve got a good one.” Even his post-shift fatigue couldn’t temper the boyish enthusiasm. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a Matchbox car on an X-ray of someone’s lower digestive tract.”
“You’re joking.”
He shook his head. “Nope. So this guy comes into the ED one night…”
Breakfast went by way too fast. Ryan paid since I’d promised the other night that he could get the next one, and all too soon, we were heading out to the parking lot.
Though he’d managed to stay bright-eyed while we’d eaten and talked, the exhaustion was undeniable now. When we stopped beside my car, he even swayed a little.
“Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You want a lift home? You look wiped.”
“I’ll be fine.” He smiled, still tired but still genuine. “I don’t live very far from here, and I’ve driven on a lot fewer fumes than this.”
“Ryan…”
“I mean it.” He laced our fingers together, brought our hands up between us, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles, his heavy stubble grazing my skin. “I really wanted to see you again, and the coffee I had during breakfast will get me home. I promise.”
My heart went wild. “I just don’t want you putting yourself at risk for me.”
He stepped closer. “I know my limits. Don’t worry.”
I wanted to tell him I would worry. I was a cop. I was me—worrying came with the territory.
But before I could say anything, he curved his other hand behind my neck and silenced me with a kiss. The one in the restaurant had been quick and full of promise. This time? Oh, shit. It was still full of promise, and it was anything but quick. Public affection usually wasn’t my speed, but damn, I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my arms around him and let him kiss me like I’d wished he could’ve in the restaurant the other night, and good God, he didn’t hold back.
Jesus. Did I have to go to work? Did he really have to sleep? Because the brush of his stubble across my chin, and the way his tongue lazily moved with mine, and that low groan from the back of this throat—I didn’t usually play hooky, but I was damn sure tempted now. I wanted to see what could happen if we made it behind closed doors and didn’t have anyone to interrupt us. Aside from maybe the fire department. I could live with that.
When we finally came up for air, Ryan was a little out of breath. So was I. We stared at each other, and I was seriously tempted to suggest I blow off work and we go someplace else.
But then I saw that exhaustion in his eyes. He was lucky he was still standing at this point. He needed to go home and sleep before he passed out.
“We should go,” I said.
“I know. I really need to crash.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“In bed,” he clarified. “I’m fine to drive. I promise.”
“If you say so. Just… Drive safe, okay? And text me when you’re home so I don’t worry myself to death?”
Ryan smiled. “I will. I promise.” He brushed his lips across mine again. “And the first chance we have for dinner, I’m in.”
“Me too.”
Our eyes locked, and I could feel the unspoken “dinner is just a formality, we both know what we really want.”
“We’ll do something soon,” I whispered. “As soon as possible.”
“Definitely.”
“Now get yourself home before you pass out, okay?”
He laughed softly. “Okay, okay. Just… before I go…” He lifted his chin and kissed me one more time, and fuck, could I just call in sick and go spend the day lounging in bed with Ryan?
No. Because he needed to sleep, and I had work to do. We’d see each other again. Hopefully sooner than later.
“I’ll see you soon.” He stole a featherlight kiss, then released me, and as he started toward his car, he added, “I’ll text you when I get home.”
And as he walked away and I got into my car, I had no idea how I was going to focus for the rest of the day.
“So…” Erin smiled over her coffee cup as I walked into the office. “How did it go?”
“Uh…” I glanced down at the phone in my hand. Then back at her.
Her eyes lit up and she sat straighter in her desk chair. “You guys are still texting, aren’t you? That’s a good sign, right?”
“Well, it’s not a bad one.” I sent the glad you made it home, get some sleep, we’ll talk later text, pocketed my phone, and continued toward my office. “He’s a nice guy.”
“A nice…” She huffed. “Oh come on. I better get more details than that.” She wagged a finger at me. “Don’t make me sic Zach on Ryan to get the whole story.”
I rolled my eyes, gesturing at her with the hand holding my travel mug. “You know, it’s almost impressive how you two manage to be the center of the grapevine at both the precinct and the hospital.”
“Mmhmm. So do you want me to get your version or Ryan’s version first? Because whoever I hear it from first is the one I’m going to believe.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “There isn’t much to tell. Sorry.”
“What?” Her shoulders dropped. “But you said he’s a nice guy, and you’re still texting…” She cocked her head. “Did you hit it off or not?”
“We did, I guess, but—”
“Okay, from you, that’s basically a glowing review.” She put her elbows on the desk and perched her chin on her hands. “Go on.”
From literally any other coworker—subordinate or otherwise—this kind of shit would’ve annoyed me. But I liked Erin. And anyway, she had been the one to set up my initial date with Ryan in the first place, so I supposed it wasn’t too much to ask for a detail or two.
“All right, fine. Yes, we did. But he got called away in the middle of dinner, and he was wiped out when we met for breakfast.” I shrugged. “Life in an ED, I guess. So we’re trying to nail down a time to try again.”
“Still, that sounds like a good sign,” She wasn’t just smiling now—she was beaming. “I guess that means you guys clicked?”
I considered it as I brought my coffee up for a sip, and then, I mean, hell. Who was I kidding? I could still feel his kiss even now, and I couldn’t help letting a grin slip by as I said, “It… it went well, yeah.”
She tsked and rolled her eyes. “God. Mark. As much as you understate things, ‘it went well’ might as well mean you’re going to elope this weekend.”
I almost spat out my coffee. “We are not eloping this weekend.”
She tilted her head. “So… next weekend, maybe?”
Groaning, I continued toward my office. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Erin giggled. “Okay, okay. I’m getting to work.” She called after me, “This isn’t over!”
Thank God I was in my office by that point, and managed to shut the door before I laughed. Knowing her, it wasn’t over.
I supposed she needed the distraction. Not only were we coming down off several intense cases, but the poor kid was in the middle of planning a wedding, and her fiancé was at the mercy of his schedule at the same hospital where Ryan worked. That pretty much left the bulk of the work and decision making on Erin’s shoulders, and with the date coming up fast, she was stressing hard about it in between keeping up with everything here in Internal Affairs. If s
etting me up with someone and then playfully digging for details afterward gave her something to think about besides in-laws, invitations, and depositions? Eh, I could play along.
Especially since it meant more time thinking about the man who’d been lighting up my phone for the last few days.
Chapter 4
Ryan
I’d never been a believer in anything supernatural. I had plenty of patients who were, from fifty-year-old lawyers who came into the ED clenching a rabbit’s foot in one hand as we figured out the cause of their chest pain, to an eight-year old who was absolutely, terrifyingly convinced that the reason her mother had slipped on the ice and now had back pain was because the girl had stepped on a crack in the sidewalk. I soothed their superstitions as best I could while treating the actual problems, then went about my day unchanged, no more convinced than I’d ever been of good luck charms and the evil powers of rhyme.
But damn if there wasn’t some sort of karmic moratorium on my ability to get together with Mark when neither of us was exhausted. Breakfast had been fun, but I knew I hadn’t been at my best, and since then all we’d managed was an afternoon coffee date where Mark was nearly falling asleep standing up, thanks to three straight days of overtime.
They weren’t the fun, light, potentially frisky dates together I’d envisioned for us, and yet every second of it was addictive. I’d take another coffee date, or a breakfast, or even a random meeting in a grocery store if it meant spending some more time with him. But that, unfortunately, was something neither of us had right now.
It was Saturday night, about to tip over into Sunday morning, and I was just getting off work. I slid into my sneakers, grabbed my coat out of my locker and checked the pockets to make sure everything was still there, then pulled out my phone. Two new messages.
