Hotshot Doc(61)

I take the hint and sit quietly, focused on the glowing lights of the city behind him.

“Maybe I was crazy to think I could pull this off,” he says finally, his voice nearly inaudible. “I told the Olsens I could do it and I’ve cleared my schedule, and yet—” He shakes his head and looks up at me, worry etched in his gaze. “Once I get in there and see what I’m working with, I might not be able to help her.”

“I’m sure you’ve done similar cases,” I venture.

He drags his hand through his hair, tugging on the roots, stressed and angry.

I won’t let him give up on himself. If anyone can pull this off, Matt can. I lean forward and ask determinedly, “How can I help?”

“You can look through every one of those case files I pulled and find ones with CTs and MRIs that are comparable to our patient’s.” He’s being sarcastic. He doesn’t think I’m crazy enough to take on the task, but I push to my feet and turn to the stacks of files on the ground by his couch. They nearly reach my hip. “Bailey, I was kidding. Go home. I’ll do that later.”

It’s too late. I’m kicking off my shoes and getting comfortable. I’m still wearing my scrubs from earlier. They’re a little loose around my waist and pretty soft; I can totally trick myself into thinking they’re pajamas. “So just look at the CTs and MRIs?”

“Bailey,” he warns. “You don’t have to do this.”

I don’t reply. I carve out a nice little spot on his couch, pick up a short stack of case files, and get to work.

He eventually leaves me to it, though he does think ahead and order some pizza. I insist he add on some warm chocolate chip cookies. Y’know, for morale.

I’m not a surgeon and I don’t have the expertise Matt truly needs for this case, but he shows me exactly what to look for and it’s not so difficult. He stays at his desk, working quietly. I’m too scared to ask him what he’s doing, and besides, I’m here to help, not be a distraction. We eat our pizza while we work and I fight back a yawn. Josie texts me that she’s too tired to wait up. I remind her to lock the doors before she goes to sleep. When I put my phone back down, I peer up at Matt from beneath my lashes. He’s rubbing his finger back and forth along his bottom lip, eyes narrowed down at a file. He’s lost in thought then he sighs and shakes his head, metaphorically balling up a piece of paper and tossing it in the trash. He flips a page and keeps reading. I should get back to work, but my eyes are tired from scanning image after image and they need a break.

He’s my break.

He suddenly shifts in his seat, looks over, and I jerk my attention back to the file in my lap.

“What is it?” he asks.

My cheeks burn and I scramble for some excuse as to why I was staring at him. “Oh, I was just wondering if you had a blanket, by chance?”

It’s a good deflection, and not totally out of thin air. I’ve been cold for the last thirty minutes.

He stands and grabs one from a small cabinet near his bathroom. I thank him with a smile and watch as he turns to grab his laptop from his desk before he comes back and claims the other half of the leather couch.

“My back was getting sore,” he explains.

I nod and stay quiet. It feels like it could be intimate with us sitting so close, but the couch is big enough that we aren’t in danger of touching.

I start to tuck the blanket around myself, only becoming aware of his gaze on me after I’m halfway done fully cocooning myself.

I blush. “Oh, do you want some blanket too?” I ask, holding up one corner for him. It isn’t that big, and with me hogging most of it, he’d only be able to cover a few of his toes, maybe his ankle if he really tugged hard. He must appreciate my meager offer though because he smiles in amusement before shaking his head.

“I’m good. You take it.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I wrap that soft blanket around myself and revel in the fact that it smells just like him. I reach for a case file and attempt to get back to work. It’s hard now that my stomach is full of pizza and cookies and I’m extra cozy on his couch, with his blanket.

I haven’t checked my watch in a while because I’m scared to look at the time, but I know it’s late. Sleep is calling my name, and I do my best to stave it off, even jerking back awake after my eyes flutter closed of their own accord. It’s no use, though. I tell myself I’ll only rest my eyes for a few minutes, nothing more.





Chapter 22





MATT



It’s late. My brain is fried. Bailey’s slumped against the couch, asleep, and I’m tempted to join her. I need to get some rest before tomorrow, but with her huddled up, she’s hogging most of the couch. For a small person, she really knows how to spread out. I kick off my shoes and set my laptop on the ground. She stirs and snuggles farther under the blanket. Any hope of wrestling some of it away from her flies out the window.

I could sleep on the floor, but I know my body will hate me for it in the morning. The couch is big enough. I shift her so she’s a few inches closer to the edge and then I fill in the space behind her. Now her feet are near my head and vice versa. It’s the only arrangement that will work. I keep expecting her to wake up, but apparently, she’s a heavy sleeper.