Page 38 of Doctor's Bossy Match
Brant turns.And that’s when it happens.
He flashes me a smile.One that only lifts on one side.The one I remember way too well from the hospital parking lot.It curls low in my belly.What the hell is wrong with me?
He starts walking toward us, cradling the ball under one arm.Dusty takes it from him mid-step and sprints down the yard, bouncing it as he runs.
“Hi, Dusty,” I call when he hits the deck.
He grins, waving back.“Hi!”
Something about that wave feels like a tiny victory.
But I can feel Brant approaching, and no matter how casual I try to appear, my pulse gives me away.He stops in front of me and offers a polite smile.“Regan.”
“Brant.”I return the smile before moving to the table.
Food is laid out on plates, and I can’t believe how much there is.Roast beef, herbed potatoes, glistening vegetables, three different salads, and warm, crusty bread.
And of course, the table setting is ridiculous.Fancy restaurant ridiculous.Linen napkins threaded through gold rings.Too many forks.Crystal glasses that feel unnecessarily heavy in my hand.I sip from mine, trying not to look overwhelmed.
Scarlet gestures to the seats.“I arranged everyone so we’d have good conversation flow,” she says with a grin that tells me she’s up to something.
And just my luck, my seat is next to Brant.Of course it is.
The wine catches in the back of my throat.I swear, if I make a big deal of it, Scarlet will call me out in front of everyone.So I do the only thing I can do and pretend I’m fine.Taking my seat, I lower my glass to the table.
Brant appears beside me a moment later, and Milton hands him a drink like they’re teammates passing the ball.Somer, Milton, Greer, Scarlet, and Dusty settle in too.
Somer lifts her glass with a cheers.“To having Regan back in town.”
I look down at the table sheepishly.I don’t love being the center of attention, especially not when Brant’s sitting right here, watching me.But I force myself to smile.
We all clink glasses.I take a large sip and lean back in my chair, just as Brant’s knee nudges mine under the table.
I immediately shuffle back in my seat to break the contact.My head is a mess as it is; having his leg touching mine will only add to the confusion.
We start eating, everyone talking over one another like a big, lively family.Milton digs in first, his focus shifting to me.“So, how’s work going?Settling in okay?”
I keep my tone casual, but there’s a weight in the air.Brant’s gaze is on me; I can feel it.I glance over and catch the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that makes my stomach flip.“The funny thing is, Brant’s my mentor.”
That gets the whole table going.Somer laughs.Scarlet winks.Greer whistles.Even Dusty grins.
“No way,” Somer says.“If I were you, I’d count myself lucky.Brant’s the best one by far.”
It feels strange hearing everyone call himBrant.At work, it’s Dr.Harrison or justsir.“Brant” feels...personal.Like we’re friends.Like something’s different here… outside of the hospital.
“It’s been good so far,” I say, trying to keep it light.“Couple of arguments.”
“I wouldn’t call them arguments,” Brant cuts in smoothly.“More like two smart people disagreeing for the sake of the patient.”
I glance at him, unsure whether to roll my eyes or be flattered.But the way he’s looking at me with no trace of mockery unsettles me.
“It’s actually admirable,” he adds.“You care about the patients.You want what’s best for them.”
I take another sip of wine, bigger this time, trying to process the compliment.He’s said things like this before, at the hospital, even to my dad.But hearing it here, in front of friends, feels different.More real.
“I was right,” I say, unable to resist.
“You were,” he agrees.
