Page 30 of Masked Doctor Daddy

He calls.He doesn’t text first.

Hecalls.

At first, I stare at my phone because I don’t recognize the sound it’s making. But then I realize why it’s ringing. Dr. Damian Baylock is calling. No one calls anymore. Not unless someone’s dying or you’re over forty. Which, to be fair…he is. The second one.

I let it ring twice more before answering. “Hello?”

“Perry.” His voice slides through the speaker and into my spine, deep and steady and entirely too comfortable in my space. I have a ridiculous urge to sit up straighter even though I’m alone in my living room, one twin asleep in a bassinet to my left and the other snuffling softly in the swing to my right.

“Doctor,” I reply automatically.

He exhales something that might be a laugh. “Are we still doing that?”

“Probably not.”

A beat.

“I thought I’d try something outdated,” he says. “A phone call.”

“It’s bold.”

“You’ve used that word twice to describe me. I think I like it.”

I shift carefully on the couch. My body is still…not mine. Everything aches in inconvenient ways. When my brain even flirts with sexy thoughts, my uterus sends up a protest flare. Too soon. Way too soon.

But talking? Talking is safe. Maybe.

“I didn’t realize you were old-fashioned,” I say.

“I’m not. I just prefer hearing your voice.”

That does something to me that I do not appreciate. “Well, congratulations. You’re hearing it. Now what?”

“And now, we talk. Unless you can only flirt via texting…”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “You flirt like someone who’s been successful at it for a long time.”

“I have been,” he says calmly.

The honesty of that makes me laugh. “Confident.”

“Experienced.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been around the block?”

He chuckles lightly. “Not for a long time. But yes, back in my day, I did my fair share of dating.”

“I’d say it’s still your day, Damian. The years have been more than generous to you.”

A brief pause. “You’re not so bad at flirting on the phone yourself. Care to continue?”

“Yes.” I settle deeper into the couch, adjusting a blanket around Nicholas with my free hand. “What does one ask on a first…phone call?”

“Basic things. Where did you go to school? What do you like? What don’t you like?”

“That sounds dangerously like dating.”

“It might be.”