3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Morgan
W hat boosts morale in the hospital more than a pizza party?
Festive decorations . . . duh.
Even though my inbox is filled with required training modules, I’m currently running around the unit with my arms full of heart-shaped garland. Valentine’s Day is only two weeks away, and I firmly believe that staff satisfaction trumps learning about boring new policies any day of the week. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself when I leave the training to the last minute and have to stay late to finish by the deadline.
As I’m standing on my tiptoes to hang a string of garland, a booming southern voice calls in my direction. I ignore it, stretching my five-foot-two frame taller to attempt to catch the edge of the sign above the ER desk. When I miss the mark for the third time, I let out a frustrated sigh and drop back down to the ground—what’s the point of wearing Hokas that add three inches if I still can’t reach anything?
“Brute,” I say, turning toward the voice that always makes me smile. I wouldn’t normally talk to a doctor like this, but Beau and I have always had the best banter—he doesn’t take things too seriously, and neither do I. “Make yourself useful and pick me up so that I can reach this damn sign.”
The light-brown irises of his eyes glow with amusement. “I pulled a muscle last night, if you know what I mean,” he responds cheekily. “Make Walker.”
I didn’t even notice Walker standing next to us, but it seems like my body certainly did because everything inside me suddenly feels tighter. Taking a quick breath to collect myself, I plaster on all of the confidence I can find and look up at him.
Walker’s face is unreadable, all emotion concealed by his olive skin and jet-black facial hair, but his brown-black eyes flicker slightly, like he can’t control his response to me.
“Since your intern is apparently incapacitated,” I say with a pointed look at Beau, whose smirk is growing wider by the second, “I require your assistance.”
“You know I can just reach the sign on my own, don’t you?” Walker asks, tone flat as his eyes quickly return to that stony indifference.
We haven’t seen each other since Cassidy’s engagement party, but I’d be lying if I said his reaction doesn’t make a tiny bit of pride swell within me.
He remembers.
And he should—I’m a memorable bitch.
I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t do it right.”
“Yeah, Walker boo-boo, you wouldn’t do it right,” Beau teases, leaning against the desk casually.His ridiculous cat-covered scrub cap is slightly crooked, and it would be so easy to make a joke to knock him down a few pegs, but I hold my tongue—I’m off my usual game because of Walker.
“You don’t do anything right,” Walker shoots back, glaring at Beau. “And you ,” he says, turning to face me with annoyance, “are such a little devil. Turn around.”
His commanding words ignite something in my core, fanning an inferno of lust that’s been dormant for too long.
Spinning around to face the desk, I allow a full grin to bloom on my face.
What can I say? I like to win.
Walker’s long fingers wrap around my waist, the same way they did at the condo when he found me in the hallway and pinned me against the wall. This time though, his grip is firmer, like he’s pissed that I’m forcing his hand and wants to remind me that he’s in charge.
I lean forward slightly when he hoists me into the air, pushing my ass toward his face as I begin to tie the decoration in place. I’m sure the view from down there is great, and hopefully reminds him what he missed out on.
Once I finish hanging the garland, I glance back at him. “Other side.”
His gaze lingers on mine for a moment too long before he grunts and sidesteps to allow me to continue with my work. When I’m done, I nod to signal that he can let me down.
Gently, Walker lowers me to the ground. I’m suddenly very aware of every point where his hands touched me, like his grip somehow seared my skin.
“Thanks,” I manage to say, trying to regain my composure.
He simply nods and steps back, putting some much-needed distance between us.
Beau snickers beside me. “Seen Claire?”
I roll my eyes, not surprised that’s why he actually came over.
Beau has been dating Claire officially for a month now, and he’s just as obsessed with her as I am. She’s been working on our floor as a nurse extern while she’s in school, which basically consists of me ordering her around while I attempt to teach her everything that I know. It’s a blast for me, but I’m not sure how fun it’ll be for her after an entire semester.
“I sent her to get us lunch,” I answer casually as I whip out my phone to check on my friend.
She’s been gone for a while now, and my stomach is gurgling like crazy—hospital sushi is calling my name.
“Know when she’ll be back?”
My gaze darts up from the screen, met with warm, gold-brown eyes that are impossible to hate but incredibly easy to tease. “Got a hot date in the ortho call room? Who knew bed sheets could be so versatile?”
Beau’s lovable face flushes as a wide smirk spreads across his lips. “Oh, she told you about that, did she?”
“Very inventive,” I respond, placing my phone on the desk so that I can adjust my ponytail. A few wisps have fallen around my eyes, and they’re irritating the shit out of me.
“What can I say?” he chuckles heartily. “I’m an innovator.”
I shake my head as I pick my phone back up, gluing my eyes to the group messages between my friends. “She said the line in the cafeteria is long, so it’ll be a bit.”
He groans dramatically, and I have to keep my focus on the screen so that I don’t burst out laughing when I add, “She also said you have a tiny cock.”
Beau lunges forward to pry the phone out of my hands. “Let me see that shit.”
Unable to help myself, I glance over at Walker. The corner of his lip twitches slightly as he watches Beau’s dumb face scroll through my messages to find something that doesn’t exist .
“What the fuck is Team Daddies?” Beau asks, furrowing his bushy brows.
“It’s the group text between me, Claire, and Cass. We talk about romance books and how small your dicks are.”
The first part of my statement is true. I finally got the green light from Cass on a group text name because the one trope we all agree on is a single dad romance. There’s just nothing sexier than a hot dad who knows how to get down in pound town.
Beau shoots me a salacious smirk. “Mine’s bigger than Parker’s though, right?”
I roll my eyes, annoyed that I got myself into this situation. “Not from what I heard.”
I’m lying through my teeth because the one thing we definitely do not talk about in the group chat is the size of their boyfriends’ penises. I’m pretty sure Claire would lose her shit if anything sexual about her brother was shared—those details are unfortunately reserved for me.
Beau blows a raspberry and hands me back my phone. “Well, size doesn’t matter when you know how to use it.”
“Tell that to my current book boyfriend who has the girth of a soda can.”
“That’s not even anatomically possible,” Walker comments out of nowhere.
Beau and I glance at him and then back at each other before we burst out laughing.
“Obviously,” Beau says once he catches his breath. He claps his hand on Walker’s shoulder. “But that’s what women think they want.”
Walker looks genuinely perplexed as his expressionless eyes roam over my frame. “You’re so tiny. Even if you wanted to, there’s no way you could take a cock that big.”
He’s assessing me in the most clinical way possible, but my skin still feels like it’s boiling under his gaze. It makes me wonder what it would be like if we continued what we started a month ago—if our sizzle would turn into a simmer, or completely boil over.
So when his eyes find mine again, I shoot him a wink and say as seductively as possible, “Oh, Walker, I could take it.”
His dark pupils widen momentarily, like my response caught him off guard. “I seriously doubt that.”
We probably look ridiculous right now, staring each other down in the middle of the ER, but I couldn’t care less. This spark is the thing I’ve been missing with every other guy—a volt of electricity that makes my body come alive.
“Hmmm,” I muse, completely ignoring the fact that Beau is still standing beside us. “Ever heard of the size-gap trope?”
Walker cocks his head like he misheard me.
“You know, when the guy is way bigger than the girl,” I add.
I drag my gaze over his looming frame in a way that overtly signals I’m talking about us, because even with my tennis shoes on, he has over a foot on me.
“I got that, but what the fuck is a trope?”
“It’s like a theme in romance books,” I explain. “For example, this moron is a prime example of the secret relationship trope.”
I point to Beau, who groans dramatically. “Oh god, not this shit again.”
“What’s the problem?” I ask sweetly. “Big, bad Beau can’t be bothered to understand what women want?”
“I only have one woman to understand, and I’ve got that under control, thank you very much.”
“Sure you do,” I taunt, making a lewd gesture.
Beau shakes his head. “With that, I’m out,” he says with a loud exhale. “Morg, I love you, but sometimes you’re exhausting.”
“Not everyone can keep up, old man,” I reply. “Go find your girlfriend and tell her to bring me back some Diet Coke, please. I’ll be here educating Walker on my favorite books.”
Beau shoots Walker an apologetic glance and mouths the word “ sorry ” before he turns on his heel and scurries away.
I peer up at the handsome, yet intimidating, man still standing next to me. He looks just as exasperated as Beau, but instead of running away, he stays. And that tells me everything I need to know about Walker Chastain. He might not want to be interested in me . . . but he damn well is.