Hotshot Doc(45)

“That’s because you’re married to your job.”

His eyes sweep up to me and he doesn’t hesitate before replying, “Yeah, well maybe that’s not enough anymore.”

And then he collapses back on his bed with a heavy thud.





Chapter 16





BAILEY



I stand immobile, waiting for him to snap back to consciousness, but no, he is good and dead to the world.

Oh good grief.

The lower half of his body is hanging off the bed, and he’s still wearing his wool coat and suit. I’m worried he’s going to throw up in his sleep and die. I should let him—it would serve him right for putting me in this predicament in the first place. I look around as if trying to decide what to do, but there’s really only one thing to do, the only decent thing: leave now and shoot up a prayer that he makes it through the night.

Just kidding.

I heave a reluctant sigh then step forward to take off his shoes. As I unknot the laces, I talk out loud, telling him things I’d never have the courage to say if he were awake.

“I hate you for doing this to me. This was supposed to be a fun night. I could be back at that wedding right now, dancing with Cooper and having the time of my life. Sure, I absolutely hate dancing, and yes, I’m not really that into him, but who knows—weddings do funny things to people.

“Also, how dare you ask me to sleep here with you?! What if I didn’t have enough sense to realize you weren’t being serious? You could really get a girl’s hopes up saying things like that!”

Once his shoes are on the floor, I heave his legs up onto the bed and assess the results. His body is bent at an awkward angle. He’s probably not that comfortable in his suit, but there is no way I’m undressing him. Also, with his weight on top of them, I can’t exactly draw the blankets down. His coat should keep him warm enough. I button it up, just to be sure.

After I’m sure he won’t roll off the bed, I head to his kitchen and pilfer a mixing bowl and a glass from his cabinets. I fill the cup with water and set it beside the bowl on his nightstand. Then, I think better of it and find a bucket in his garage so I can plop it onto the floor beside his bed. If he gets sick, I am not cleaning it up.

“I don’t think you’re evil, necessarily, though you are married to your job, which is probably why your wife left you. I don’t really blame her. She probably was neglected. Patricia tells me you sometimes sleep in your office at work. I bet in your residency days you slept at the hospital more often than not.”

I shake my head and realize now that he’s asleep in his bed with strategically placed water and a bowl and a bucket in case he’s sick, my work is done. I need to leave, except when I get my phone out of my purse to call an Uber, I find it’s dead. D-E-A-D. It was all that bathroom dawdling and reading by the fire.

NO. NOooO.

After some quick Nancy-Drew thinking, I retrieve Matt’s phone from the pocket of his coat, but it’s locked. I try to break into it using his thumbprint, but it’s no use. I need the passcode. What fresh hell is this?!

His phone will allow me to place a call to 9-1-1, and I actually consider it.

“Hello, yes this is a very serious emergency.”

Josie is probably worried sick about me, but there’s nothing I can do. Matt doesn’t have a house phone. I’ve searched high and low. I consider knocking on a neighbor’s door to ask to use their phone, but it’s late and even though this is a nice neighborhood, there are crazy people everywhere. I’m not trying to end up in anyone’s basement tonight.

Then it hits me: DUH, I’ll plug my phone into Matt’s charger and wait for it to juice up. I’ll be on my way home in no time.

His charging dock is on his nightstand, so I drop my phone onto it and then slide down to the floor so I can rest my back against his bed. I take off my jacket and use it as a blanket, then I stand and steal a pillow so I can actually get comfortable. It smells like him and I try hard not to let the scent wind its way around me, but it’s no use. I’m in his bedroom, listening to his steady breathing and using his pillow to cradle my head. I am all up in his personal space and I have free rein. I could snoop anywhere I want. I could turn and open the drawer of his nightstand. I shiver at the thought of finding condoms or some other proof that he’s a living, breathing man with needs—sexy, R-rated needs.

I put up caution tape and roadblocks around those thoughts and turn my attention to the window in front of me. The curtain blocks most of the light outside, but I can still see a sliver of the moon. I’m admiring it as a yawn breaks free. My eyelids feel oh so heavy. The two glasses of champagne I had during dinner have made me extra sleepy. Maybe that waiter did give me a heavy pour after all. I fight to keep my eyes open, knowing my phone will be charged soon, but it’s no use. My eyes flutter closed and I tell myself to stay awake…to check to see if my phone is charged…to…





I have the most delicious dream. I’m a princess and there’s a dragon holding me captive in a medieval tower. Fortunately, there’s a brawny prince with the bluest eyes and the darkest hair. He’s brave and chivalrous and really knows how to rock a suit of armor. All the other princesses in the land think he’s hot, but he’s my prince. He’s come to slay my dragon and rescue me from the tower. After an intense duel in which he comes out the victor, he finally reaches my room way up at the tallest peak, and he lifts me into his arms. I think we’re headed out of the tower, but instead he carries me over to a bed. It makes no sense—we need to go in the opposite direction, out of the room. I really need to go home. I tell the prince my sister is waiting for me, but he insists I stay on this soft, warm bed as he tucks me under the blankets.