by Piper James
“You should just take it to Walton’s. I’m sure Nate would fix it right up for you with a friends and family discount.”
“I’d rather ride with Shaggy every day of the week,” she growled, using the name we’d jokingly given her neighbor. His real name was Tristan.
“Whatever your problem with Nate, he’s a damned fine mechanic,” I argued.
“I’m sure he is,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But he’s an asshat. I’ll figure it out. Thanks for the ride.”
With a little wave, she walked out. I shook my head as I read over the charts again. Nate had rubbed Ivy the wrong way from almost the beginning. I had no clue what he did to get under her skin, but she’d hated him ever since and barely tolerated being in the same room as him.
And any time I tried to talk to her about it, she deftly changed the subject.
Pushing thoughts of them from my mind, I hung my stethoscope around my neck and headed out of the locker room. It was time to get to work, my now-second-favorite thing.
Being with Jessa Maddox had quickly pushed work out of the top spot, but I refused to allow myself to worry about that now. I’d think about it later, when I wasn’t so busy.
Yeah. Later.
24
Jessa
“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked Dad as I brought in a breakfast tray filled with eggs, bacon, toast, and black coffee.
“Right as rain,” he said, but I thought I detected a hint of frailty in his usually robust voice.
“Dad? Are you sure?”
I set the tray across his lap, and he grabbed the coffee cup. Taking a long gulp, he sighed with pleasure. Then he picked up his fork and stabbed at the eggs before shoving a too-big bite into his mouth.
He was stalling.
“Dad.”
My voice was firm and expectant, as was the way I planted my hands on my hips. He sighed, dropping his fork to the tray and taking another sip of coffee before meeting my eyes.
“I’m just tired, sugar pie. That’s all.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?” I asked, worry setting in as I sat on the foot of the bed.
“A little,” he admitted. “Something I ate yesterday upset my stomach, is all. I was feeling a little nauseous, and it made it hard to sleep.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“I’m sure,” he said, his voice stronger than before.
“Okay,” I said, accepting his reasoning for now. But I would be asking Rafe his opinion. “Do you think you can eat this? Or should I take it away and bring you some broth or something?”
“God, no.”
My dad looked mortified by the suggestion, wrapping his arms over the tray as if to protect it from me. I laughed at his antics, and he seemed to relax. I climbed to my feet, giving his foot a squeeze through the blankets. As I walked out, I turned back at the last second to search his face.
“Dad?” He looked up to meet my gaze. “You’d tell me if you were feeling worse, right?”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, I would.”
I nodded and walked through the door, closing it softly behind me. I headed straight for the kitchen and plucked my phone from the counter where I’d left it. I pulled up Rafe’s number and sent him a text.
Me: Good morning.
His response was almost immediate, like he’d been looking at his phone when my text came through.
Rafe: Good morning, beautiful.
I ignored the tiny stutter of my heart at the words.
Me: Sorry to be one of those people, but I need some medical advice.
Rafe: What’s wrong? Are you okay?
Me: I’m fine. It’s Dad.
There was a slightly longer pause before his next message came through.
Rafe: Is he exhibiting different or worsening symptoms?
Me: I don’t know. He looks tired, and he said he was up feeling nauseous last night.
Rafe: I’ll come by and check him out, if that’s okay.
Me: Thank you, Rafe. That would mean a lot.
Rafe: I’ll be there in half an hour.
I took a quick shower and pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I ran a brush through my hair, rolled on some deodorant, and called it good. I was too worried to primp and fuss over my appearance. Besides, Rafe wasn’t coming here to see me. He was coming to check on Dad and make sure the old man wasn’t lying to me or downplaying his symptoms.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said as I pulled the door open after Rafe knocked.
“Of course,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “Is he in his room?”
“Yeah,” I said, cocking my head to study him as he walked away without another word.
That was…weird.
My first urge was to follow him, but I plopped down on the couch, instead. Dad would be much more likely to confide in Rafe and tell him the truth of how he was feeling if I wasn’t around. My knee bounced as I waited, unable to relax, for what felt like an hour.
Checking the time on my phone, I frowned. Rafe had been in there with him for only ten minutes. I stood, prepared to barge in and demand to know what was going on, then sat back down. Patience had never been a virtue I’d possessed.
When Rafe finally rounded the corner, I leapt to my feet and rushed toward him.
“What did he say to you? Is he okay? Should I take him back to the emergency room?”
Rafe held up a hand to halt the steady stream of questions, then dropped it to my shoulder.
“He’s fine,” he said, the words slow and succinct like he’d dealt with freaked-out family members a million times. “He isn’t exhibiting any other symptoms besides the nausea, and even that’s gone. It’s not a relapse, Jessa. It really was just something he ate.”
My body melted with relief at his diagnosis, and I practically staggered back to the couch to sit down. I hadn’t realized exactly how frightened I’d been until the fear was removed. I looked up at Rafe, who hadn’t moved.
“Why are you acting so weird?” I asked. “When you came in, you barely looked at me.”
He shook his head, then walked over to sit beside me on the couch. His hand brushed over mine before pulling away.
“I was angry with myself,” he said in a low voice.
“Why?” I asked, holding my breath as I waited for his answer.
“Because I thought your father had relapsed while I was…” his dark eyes darted up to meet mine, “distracted.”
“I’m a distraction?” I asked, numbness creeping over me as I watched several emotions cross his face.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, no.” He drove his fingers into his hair with a growl. “You are distracting me, Jessa.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I was more afraid to hear his answer than I was willing to admit to myself.
“Not usually,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. Then he motioned between us. “I don’t want this to end. Not yet. I just need to keep my priorities straight a little better than I have been. If your Dad… You know what? No. He’s fine.”
Relief hit me hard, and I didn’t want to analyze that feeling any more than I’d wanted to examine the fear I’d felt a few minutes ago.
“So, we’re good?” I asked.
He glanced over his shoulder toward the hall where my Dad’s bedroom was located. Finding the coast clear, he grabbed me and jerked me onto his lap, where my knees fell naturally to either side of his hips. His hands tangled up in my hair, pulling my face down for a searing kiss that left me breathless.
“We’re good,” he whispered against my lips before kissing me again.
I kissed him back because it felt good. Not because I needed it. Or him.
Nope. I refused to acknowledge or dwell on that pang of anxiety I’d felt when Rafe was acting standoffish. Light and casual. No strings attached. That’s what I’d asked for, and that’s what I got. It was perfect.
And I was definitely ignoring that fucking bitc
h voice in my head that called me a dirty little liar.
“Well look who decided to come out of her sex cave and grace us with her presence.”
“Sex cave? Really?” I sassed, rolling my eyes at Felicia as I set her margarita down in front of her.
It was girls’ night, and I’d never looked forward to one more. I needed to talk to someone about Rafe, and I certainly couldn’t ask for Dad’s opinion.
Actually, I could, but… The thought trailed off as I shivered. No way was I asking my father for advice about my casual-hookup-possibly-turned-something-else relationship. Or whatever it was.
“Yes, thank you,” Karly said, accepting her own margarita from my hand. After taking a long sip, she gave me a pointed look before turning to Felicia. “Uh, oh. Jessa’s drinking. Something must be wrong.”
I lifted my shot glass in salute, then tossed the top shelf tequila back before plucking a lemon from the small cup of wedges I’d procured from the bar. Sticking it between my teeth, I bit down and let the juice chase the taste of tequila away.
“Oh, shit,” Felicia said, setting her margarita down. “What happened? Did you break up with Rafe?”
I laughed, but there was little humor in it. “I’d have to actually be with him to break up with him. And no, we’re still…doing whatever it is we’re doing.”
I took the second of three shots I’d lined up for myself on the table. Felicia and Karly looked at each other meaningfully before turning back to me.
“Spit it out,” Felicia ordered, and Karly slapped her on the arm.
“What she means is, you can talk to us, Jessa. Maybe we can help.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “Both of you.”
I told them what happened with my dad and with Rafe. I did my best to describe my fear and anxiety—not just for Dad, but for how Rafe had acted when he showed up. He might as well have had the words “back off” tattooed on his forehead. I recounted our conversation, word for word so the girls could help me decipher it.
“Well, Rafe’s point of view is obvious,” Karly said, taking another sip of her drink.
“It is?” I asked.
“Yep,” she said. “He said he doesn’t do relationships because he’s so busy, and his work comes first, right?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
“So, he’s been so busy playing doctor with you—Holy shit, are you blushing? Oh, we are so coming back to this,” she said, giving me a knowing nod. “Anyway, if your dad got sick again, and Rafe was too busy fooling around with you to be there or notice the signs, he’d blame himself for it.”
“Because he wasn’t there,” I murmured, realizing Karly was right.
Rafe’s words about keeping his priorities straight echoed back to me, making perfect sense. Karly had hit the nail on the head. Rafe felt guilty, thinking he’d somehow neglected my Dad’s care while focusing on me.
And he wasn’t even technically my father’s doctor, anymore. But he had other patients who needed him, too.
I took my third shot, not even bothering to chase it with the lemon.
“Do you remember,” Felicia asked, snagging my attention, “when I said we’d revisit your pact to keep it casual when it failed?”
“What?” I asked, the booze fogging my brain. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I turned toward the bar, signaling for the bartender to send over another round of drinks. Felicia and Karly’s margarita glasses were still half-full, but I refused to order another round for just myself. I was the boss, albeit temporarily, even if it was my night off.
“Oh, God, Jessa. Don’t be dense. If what you have going with him was really casual with no strings attached, you would be mildly disappointed if he broke things off, right?”
“Right,” I agreed, giving her a firm nod.
“But you weren’t mildly anything,” she said. “You were freaking the fuck out because you really like the guy.”
“Of course, I like him,” I said, thanking the server for the drinks as she placed them in front of us. “I wouldn’t have sex with him if I didn’t like him.”
Felicia looked at Karly. “Now she’s being intentionally obtuse. You try.”
I frowned at the fact that she was talking about me like I wasn’t even there. Plucking the salt from the table, I licked my hand near the base of my thumb and sprinkled a healthy amount on the wet spot. Picking up my fourth shot, I licked the salt, slammed the tequila back, and sucked the shit out of a lemon wedge.
I realized on some vague level that the liquor was hitting me hard, and even my thoughts were getting belligerent. When had I last eaten? Noon? One?
“Who the fuck cares?” I mumbled under my breath, picking up another glass and shooting it back.
“You might want to slow down a bit there, sparky,” Karly said, sliding my last shot glass out of reach. “All Felicia and I are trying to say is that despite your best efforts, your feelings have gotten tangled up in this thing with Rafe.”
“Nuh-uh,” I argued. “I don’t let my feelings get tangled up in anything. I don’t let anyone in, and I don’t get hurt when they leave. Easy as that.” I paused, my gaze darting back and forth between them. “Except for you two bitches. You slipped right under my armor and made me love you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at them like being good friends to me was the worst betrayal. They both erupted into laughter, and I forgot what I was angry about and laughed with them.
Our server showed up beside me, brandishing a big bowl of chips and a smaller dish of salsa. She set them in the center of the table, then slipped away without a word. I looked over my shoulder toward the bar to see Janice standing there, a towel draped over one shoulder.
“Eat,” she mouthed, waiting until I’d popped a chip in my mouth before turning back to her business.
My eyes strayed to the bartender, who shot me an apologetic look. I shook my head at him, letting him know it was okay. If I knew Janice, and I did, she forced him to tell her how many shots I’d ordered. She was just looking out for me. I grabbed another chip, dipped it into the salsa, and popped it into my mouth.
“So, now that we’ve established that Felicia and I are bitches whom you love, let’s get back to that blush, missy,” Karly said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, cringing as the words slurred together a little.
“Give her the last shot,” Felicia said, smirking. “That’ll loosen her tongue.”
“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “I tell you guys everything else, might as well tell you this.”
I launched into the story, starting with the flirty text I got from Rafe about needing a checkup. I lowered my voice when I got to the juicy bits, they laughed uproariously when I told them about Rafe running into the room buck naked as I let his siblings in the house, and they practically melted when I described his fantasy and our time in the shower.
The tequila didn’t let me hold anything back, and before long, they knew every dirty bit of it.
“Holy shit, no wonder you’re falling for him,” Karly said, fanning her face.
“I most certainly am not falling for him, Karly Brooks,” I shot back, my hackles rising.
“Oh, yes you are,” Felicia cut in. “But that’s okay, right? Rafe’s a good guy. He’s responsible, has a good job, and doesn’t slack off between the sheets, apparently. Maybe you should renegotiate the whole temporary clause in this agreement between you.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, you’re not at work, Felicia,” Karly snapped, giving her friend a light shove. “Let me interpret her legalese for your sluggish, intoxicated brain, Jessa. You’re falling for him, girl. And you need to decide what you really want before this goes any further.”
25
Rafe
“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”
“Oh, come on, Ivy,” I said, moving the car into the right lane. “It’s not going to be that bad.�
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She shot me one of her patented laser-glares that should’ve fried me on the spot. I shook my head at her and held my hands up in surrender before returning them to the steering wheel.
“Is it so bad that I want my best friend to join me for a family dinner? You’re like my sister, Ivy. I want you to be here.”
“Oh, no. Don’t you try to sweet talk me, Rafe Walton. I’ve got your number, buddy.”
She wasn’t wrong. She did have my number, so to speak, and always had. That’s why we were such good friends.
She knew the real reason I’d invited her out to dinner with my family tonight was because of the other guest joining us—Jessa. I’d thrown out the invitation without thinking of what it might look like…to Jessa and to my siblings. It felt almost like raising her status to something more than a casual fling.
The thought of that actually didn’t bother me, and that was what had me panicking and strong-arming Ivy into coming, too.
I’d begged because her presence would make everything seem much more casual. And it would keep Nate’s attention off Jessa and me.
“I’m sorry, Rafe, but you know I can’t stand your brother. This dinner is going to be a disaster.”
I would have loved to have said Ivy and Nate had a love-hate relationship, but that would be a lie. It was raw, unadulterated hate on both sides, and I couldn’t figure out why. How could two people I loved, who loved me back, hate each other so much?
I just didn’t get it. And I’d stopped trying a long time ago.
But tonight, their mutual disgust for each other was going to work in my favor. We’d have dinner, hang out for a bit, and all the weird tension would be focused on them. Not me and Jessa.
“I’ll buy you the boots you’ve been ogling to make up for it,” I threw out as we pulled into the lot of the restaurant.
“Those boots cost two hundred dollars,” she murmured, giving me a disbelieving side eye.
“Done.”
“Okay, fine,” she sighed, her posture losing some of its rigidity. “I’ll send you the link. I need a size eight. And you better spring for the express shipping.”
