Hotshot Doc(40)

“She’s like my right hand. Closing, dressing the wound, passing me instruments. I wouldn’t be able to operate without her.”

I’m staring down at my drink when I say all this, but then the deafening silence is too much to ignore. I finally glance up and Bailey is staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. My mom’s watching me with a curious little smile. My dad—thank God—is drinking his beer and keeping his lips zipped.

I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “Bailey, can I speak with you for a second?”

Before she answers, I step forward, place a hand on her arm, just above her elbow, and lead her to an empty cocktail table across the room.

“Slow down,” she insists. “You’re nearly running and I can’t move that fast in these shoes.”

I sigh and slow my pace, aware of how tightly I’m gripping her arm—not painfully, but unyielding all the same.

Once we reach the table, I deposit her on one side and walk around until we’re facing one another.

“Just to be clear,” she says, pleasant tone gone. “I was just being polite in front of your parents.”

Of course.

“What did Cooper say about this wedding when he invited you here tonight?” I ask, all business.

Her cheeks redden and she wrings her hands. “Um, I don’t know…just that it was a small ceremony. No pressure, that sort of thing.”

“He didn’t mention me at all?”

“Obviously not.” Her tone hardens. “Even though he definitely should have.”

I nod. The next few minutes are going to be extremely painful, but I have to be honest with her about the situation or it’s going to explode in my face. Cooper might want to play with people’s emotions, but he doesn’t have to face Bailey at work come Monday morning. I do.

“Do you have feelings for Cooper?” I ask, my head tipped to the side, eyes narrowed.

Her brows shoot up. She glances away. “Feelings? Ah…”

She’s all but grimacing with disdain and I want to grin, but I have enough sense to stifle the urge. “That’s what I thought, and it’s just as well, because Cooper only brought you here to make me jealous.”

Nothing like having the truth shot right out of a cannon.

Her light brown eyes are focused on the cocktail table and there’s untold emotion simmering there. Is she hurt by the revelation? Or just curious to hear the rest of the story?

I sigh and steel myself for her reaction as I continue. “It’s too complicated and stupid to have to explain, but essentially, Cooper got it into his head that I didn’t like you two dating. He’s under the assumption that I have some burning desire to be with you, and he thought bringing you here tonight was the perfect way to test his theory.”

Her brows scrunch together as she shakes her head. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” At least we agree on something. “Burning desire? For me? Pfft.”

Her gaze lifts to mine and a fist grabs hold of my chest.

Then, she does the absolute last thing I ever expected: she smiles.

“Honestly, I can’t even be mad that he invited me here under false pretenses. I wasn’t the one who agreed to this date.”

What?

Now I’m the one leaning forward, waiting for answers.

“It was my little sister.” She shrugs. “I really hate texting, so she started doing it on my behalf and got a little carried away. I didn’t even know about this wedding until after she had agreed I’d go.”

Relief floods my veins. “You’re kidding.”

She bites her bottom lip to stifle her smile and shakes her head. “No. She thinks I need to get out and date more. Cooper just happened to be the first guy to show any interest.”

“That can’t be true.”

In a flash, her smile is gone. “Well it is. We’re not all famous spine surgeons with thick hair and the brooding personality of Mr. Darcy.”

I frown. “‘Brooding personality of Mr. Darcy’…what in the world are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon.” She waves her hand in my direction. “I don’t have the energy to feed your ego. You’re a doctor and you’re attractive and if you bothered to go on a dating app, your thumbs would fall off from the amount of matches you’d get in 24 hours. They’d have to add a new server just to handle the overflow of traffic.”

I shoot her a disbelieving smile. “How many drinks have you had?” She doesn’t like my joke, rolling her eyes and moving to walk away, but I grab her wrist. “Wait.”

There it is again: skin on skin. We’ve been doing it all night. Her fingers brushed mine when I handed her my wedding program. Our thighs pressed together during the ceremony. I held her elbow as I led her to this table. Now, I have her wrist, and it’s so delicate it’s like she’ll bruise if I’m not careful.

“Usually we’re wearing gloves,” I say, suddenly sounding like I’m high out of my mind.

“What?”

I stare down at my hand. “In the operating room, when you hand me instruments, we’re wearing gloves. That’s why…”

This feels so intimate.

I swallow the words and release her hand.

“I think I should just go home. This night has been a total disaster.”