Hotshot Doc(95)

I shiver at the thought. “Oh dear. Right, I’ll hurry. Okay, so you were married once, right?”

“Yes. Once.”

“So you know what love feels like?”

The tip of his mouth lifts and could I be more stupid?! This whole thing is transparent. I’m supposed to keep my cool and lock my feelings away until some distant time in the future when it’s obvious he loves me too, and then—and ONLY THEN—should I be honest about how much I am head over heels for him.

“No!” I say quickly. “I’m not bringing that word up because I’m about to declare it…I was just hoping for some clarification.”

“Okay,” he replies, and I’m glad he sounds mildly intrigued, but unfortunately, I can’t seem to figure out the best way to explain myself. Then a brilliant idea smacks me in the face.

I grin. “Okay, how about this? Let’s play doctor and patient.”

I don’t miss the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“You have my full attention,” he muses.

I laugh and press my hand to his chest to keep him at arm’s length in case he gets any wild ideas. “No. Stay focused! I’m going to give you my symptoms and you’re going to decide if what I feel for you is just lust or if, y’know, maybe—”

“You’re in love?” he finishes for me.

My face burns.

My brows pinch together as I ask, “Does that scare you?”

His gaze holds mine, but he doesn’t reply, and I hate how indiscernible his features are. He never hides his feelings from me. Not usually.

“This is stupid,” I say, turning to stare up at the ceiling.

“Tell me your symptoms,” he goads with a cheeky smirk.

I roll my eyes, but he kisses my neck and nudges me with his nose, like a dog begging for pets. “Tell me.”

“All right, well, let’s see…my stomach flips with excitement whenever you enter a room.”

“Mmm, could be either.”

“Right.” I nod and continue, “Um, you really turn me on.”

He laughs. “Either.”

“I’m considering moving to another country with you.”

He hums.

“I see a future with you—not in a let’s-get-married-tomorrow sort of way, but more like wow I really admire and respect you as a person and think you’d make a great husband, a great dad.”

He pulls back and frowns, really studying me. It’s not exactly the reaction I was going for—more balloons and confetti, maybe a smile would have been nice—but at least he doesn’t push me off the couch and make a quick getaway.

“Dad,” he repeats slowly.

I frown as a thought pops into my mind, one that hadn’t occurred to me until this moment. “Oh, god. You want kids, don’t you? Please say yes because my heart can’t take much more this week.”

His brows soften and he nods, kissing my forehead, tugging me close. “Yes. I want kids.”

“Okay good.”

“A couple.”

I grin. “Even better. So, do you have a diagnosis for me?”

“I should probably run a few more tests,” he quips as his hand wanders across my back and over my butt. He squeezes twice. “But even without them, it’s pretty clear what you’ve come down with.”

“Oh yeah?” I lean my head back and smile up at him.

His other hand rests on my forehead like he’s taking my temperature. He hisses under his breath. “Just as I suspected—you’ve got it bad.”

I crack up. “Love, huh? Well then, what’s my treatment plan?”

“Kissing,” he says before laying one on me. “That should help some.” Then he rolls up and over me so his body pins me to the couch. “Sex. Twice daily, or more as needed.” His mouth is over mine as he speaks and I feel his smile against my lips.

I groan.

“Side effects may include elevated heart rate, sweating, feelings of euphoria.”

“Matt. You’re killing me.”

He doesn’t let up though. He’s really enjoying this.

“If symptoms don’t subside in four to six months, we might need to adjust our treatment plan.”

I quirk a brow. “More sex?”

How original.

He grins and shakes his head, leaning back so he can really get a good look at me. “No, Bailey. Commitment. Marriage. Happily ever after.”

My smile feels shaky. My insides are made of ooey-gooey mush.

“Happily ever after?” I ask, my voice coming out squeaky.

His face turns somber and he produces an Oscar-worthy frown. “I’m afraid it might be the only cure.” Then he breaks character, grins, and lays another one on me. “Now how do we convince Josie to move to Costa Rica?”





Epilogue - TWO YEARS LATER





BAILEY



“Can you hear it?” I ask impatiently.

Matt’s mouth hitches in an amused half-smile as he glances up at me. “I can hear the sandwich you had for lunch working its way through your bowels.”

“Charming.”

His eyes widen. “Hold on. Shh, I have it.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I reach for the stethoscope. “Let me hear! Let me hear!”