Page 106 of Doctor's Bossy Match
Laughter rolls through the room, and Carl slaps my back.“Nah, man.You’ve earned it.I hope you get it.”
“So do I,” I admit, then regret opening my mouth because he adds, “Hey, speaking of surprises, what was that pic in the paper today?You got a new girl or what?”
My stomach knots all over again.
“What picture?”
He grins.“Don’t play dumb.Your hand on her waist.Looking real cozy, Dr.Handsy.”
I groan.My mind goes to Regan and the way she looked that night.The way she felt in my hand.I wanted to kiss her right there in front of everyone.“Will you get a life?”
He’s already pulling it up on his phone.
“It was just a picture,” I add, trying to downplay it.
“Yeah, a picture where your hand’s gripping her like you own her.And look at her… she’s leaning in.”
He zooms in.I want to throw his phone across the room.Because that was our private moment, and I hate that it’s now being dissected by my buddies over beer and pizza.
“We work together,” I say flatly.“We’re around each other all the time.Obviously, we’re comfortable.”
“So you're saying you’re not hooking up?”
I pause, just a beat too long.“No,” I lie, hating the way it lumps in my throat.
I don’t want to lie to these guys, but I also can’t risk this messing with the chief role.Not when one wrong word could get back to the wrong person.And what am I even supposed to say?That we’re sleeping together, but not dating?That it’s casual, but I can’t stop thinking about her?
No, it’s too messy.
“Well, if I were you,” Carl says, “I’d be tapping that.”
“Yeah, well, glad I’m not you.”I try to control my anger that’s brewing.“Anyway,” I say, desperate to change the topic.“What’s new in your world?”
“Not much,” says Jackson.“Still putting out fires, literally.Saved a cat from a tree last week.”
He pulls up a photo of an orange tabby in his arms and holds the phone up like a trophy.
I smirk.“Do you pick up women with that story?”
“Obviously.”He winks.
My friends are all charm.Half of them are serial daters.None of us has figured out how to settle down, not really.Maybe it’s the shifts, or maybe we’re all just wired for burnout.
But one of us has a shot at something real.
“How’s Sophie?”I ask Nate, who’s been seeing her for a few months now.
He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he can’t hide the smile.“She’s good.”
“Moving in?Ring shopping?”
“Nah, nothing like that.Too soon.But she’s over most nights.”He grins.“Feels like she already lives there.”
I nod, not sure what to say to that.
The thought of Regan being over every night flashes through my head, and I can easily picture it.Her toothbrush next to mine, her scrubs draped over my chair, the sound of her laughter in my kitchen in only my T-shirt.
My chest tightens.
