Hotshot Doc(39)

“Wait, what do you mean?” Coop asks indignantly. “Driving her home?”

Oh, this is rich.

Cooper’s the angry one now, and I can’t help but laugh. “Relax, Coop. It was raining and I didn’t want your precious date to walk home. You can stop looking at me like you want to kill me.”

“This is a mess.” Bailey tosses her hands up and walks away. “You two can sort it out. I’m getting a drink.”

When she’s out of earshot, I step toward Cooper so we’re toe to toe and he can’t look away. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing her here as your date? Is this a game to you?”

He squares his shoulders and cocks his jaw. “Not a game—an experiment. I knew it would make you mad if I brought her, so I couldn’t resist. You’ve acted so weird about me talking to her. I wanted to see for myself how you’d act if she came tonight, and my suspicions were correct.”

I arch a brow. “Oh yeah? Please, enlighten me.”

He smiles smugly. “You like Bailey. When I showed up, you weren’t upset that she was here. You were upset that she was here with me.”

I push him hard. He loses his footing and stumbles back.

My reaction surprises us both. Sure, we roughhoused as teenagers, but we’ve never gotten into anything physical as adults.

“You’re acting like an idiot,” I say, stepping forward again. I’m starting to get pissed.

He meets me halfway and gets right up in my face, finger hitting my chest. “Maybe so, but at least I’m not a miserable asshole. You’re so used to being alone, you don’t even recognize an opportunity to be happy when it’s staring you in the face.”

One of our uncles suddenly steps between us, laughing awkwardly. “Everything okay over here, boys?”

“Peachy,” Cooper says, holding his hands up in innocence. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my date.”

I let him walk away, run a hand down my suit jacket, and try to shove aside Cooper’s brand of pop psych trying to take root in my brain. He thinks I turn into a caveman where Bailey is concerned, and he assumes it’s because I have feelings for her. Maybe I just don’t want my brother screwing my employee. Maybe that’s a headache I’d rather avoid.

This is stupid.

I grab another drink from a passing waiter. It’s crisp, bubbly champagne, and though I’d rather sling the glass against the wall to release some of this pent-up anger, I down it in one go then drop the flute back on the waiter’s tray. His eyes are wide. I’m probably the first guest he’s seen shotgun a glass of champagne tonight.

I finish my other drink and hand it off too.

“Uh, sir…can I get you something else?”

I shake my head and brush past him, unsure exactly where I’m headed until I spot Bailey across the room at the bar talking to my parents.

Hilarious. What in the world could they be discussing?

Cooper’s nowhere in sight, but I’m sure he’ll reappear near Bailey soon and do something else to raise my hackles, like kissing her cheek or wrapping an arm around her lower back. He held her hand during the ceremony. Fucking ridiculous. I don’t like PDA, the touchy-feely bullshit. He did it to make me mad—he just admitted to that—and yet I don’t forgive him. If anything, it makes me angrier. Does Bailey know she’s just a pawn in his game?

It doesn’t look like it. She got dressed up tonight. Her silky blonde hair is down and curly. Her makeup accentuates every one of her flawless features. She doesn’t put this much effort into her appearance for work, and really, it’s not necessary. The makeup and the outfit are nice, and sure, she’s turning heads tonight, but I actually prefer her fresh-faced complexion. The cheekbones, the light blonde hair, the winning smile—she has a sort of girl-next-door charm that shines on its own.

Just for a moment, I indulge in the idea of considering her as I would any other woman. I ignore the complications of our relationship and think only of her fiery personality, her confidence and strength in the operating room. I drag my eyes down her tight blue dress and toned legs. A burning ache grips hold of me, but then it’s doused with a healthy dose of guilt. Bailey isn’t just a woman. She’s my surgical assistant, and she doesn’t want me checking her out.

“Matt!” my mom says as she sees me approach. “Bailey here was just explaining that you two work together. I had no idea!”

“I’m afraid we’ve been pestering her with questions,” my dad adds, sending Bailey an appreciative smile. “Mostly about what you’re like as a boss.”

“I’m not technically Bailey’s boss,” I clarify with a hard tone. “I don’t sign her paychecks.”

My black cloud temporarily sours everyone’s pleasant mood, but Bailey salvages it. “Just this week, we had an especially grueling surgery. Dr. Russell succeeded in doing a procedure only a handful of surgeons in the country could even attempt.”

My parents’ eyes are alight with wonder. I never talk about my job with them. “It wasn’t that exciting,” I clarify, slightly embarrassed by the attention.

My mom’s hand bats my shoulder. “Oh stop. Now, Bailey, what do you do during surgery? I’ve never even heard of a surgical assistant.”