Grace
DECEMBER, YEAR 1
Mom’s incandescent smile glimmers out from my phone screen. “I booked your ticket with points.”
“Thanks, Mom. I can’t wait to see you guys.”
“Me too, angel baby. Thanksgiving wasn’t the same without you. Can’t wait for you to get here.”
Dad’s voice echoes through the speaker, though I can’t see him. “Tell her Thanksgiving was weird without her!”
“I just did!” My mom sends a flustered look off-screen, snowman earrings bobbing, then returns to me. “Your father is doing a cleansing ritual. No technology. You understand.”
Spinning in my rolling chair in the call room, I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Didn’t know technology was so toxic to the system.
My parents are always doing some ritual or fast. They’re staunch believers in essential oils, positive vibes and healing crystals. Each wear a sapphire because they believe it protects against negative energies and calms the mind.
They named me Sapphire for the same reason. Shortsighted on their part, unfortunately. When I grew breasts, the world’s view of me evolved from a quirky little girl to a porn star. But if naming me after a gemstone is the worst thing they ever do to me, I’ll count myself lucky. My parents are amazing.
“How are all the vaginas, baby girl?” Mom asks.
I laugh. “They’re doing fine, Mama.”
“That’s good. I always say, when she’s not happy, I’m not happy.”
“And neither am I!” yells my dad.
My mouth drops open. “Oh my god. Gross!”
“Honey, you’re a sex doctor. You need to get over the prudishness.”
“Not with my parents, I don’t!”
A text comes through from my senior this month. “Hang on, Mom.”
Asher: Lunch?
Me: Sure. Meet you down there?
Asher: Sure thing, baby cakes.
I snort. Asher’s a pretty good teacher. He isn’t as much of a douche as I originally thought. His blatant flirting is a pervasive theme in any conversation. I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it. It’s wired into his genetic code, or something. And he’s not picky, either. He flirts with every female in his vicinity—-including some patients—and somehow knows when it’s welcome and when it’s not, thereby skirting around a sexual harassment accusation.
I have almost forgiven him for his crude comments the day I met him.
“Hey, Mom, I have to go.”
“All right, honey. Call me later.”
My month with Asher has been more productive than my last month on L&D. He’s charmed our bosses into letting me primary most surgeries now. When I’m allowed to do my job, that lifelong dream feels a bit more attainable—the one of the girl in the white coat who’s commanded the respect of her peers. The competent woman, sure of herself and her place in the world. Surely, that will be me someday, right?
Doubts creep in that perhaps the title of “Doctor” doesn’t come with a preloaded certificate of accomplishment. Maybe confidence isn’t something that can be awarded to me with enough time and effort. Perhaps it comes from within.
I shake myself.
Regardless, Asher’s insistence and pull with the attendings has been invaluable, but I still get bumped due to silly excuses.
It has to be the rumor. Or, rumors . The first one was bad enough, but it spawned a whole host of vague gossip that paints me as a harlot who uses sexual favors to get out of the hard parts of training. Apparently, our call room is my own personal red-light district.
It’s crazy how information mutates in the hospital. Last week, I overheard a nurse being reprimanded for giving the wrong dose of medication to a patient. At the end of the day, everyone was whispering that she’d done it on purpose because she was selling the extra fentanyl on the sly. By next week, the gossip mill will put her in jail and the patient in the morgue.
Thanks to that single rumor in June, I started with a reputation in tatters, and due to idle speculation, it’s only shredded further from there. Crawling out of this hole is impossible. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m 92 percent positive it’s negatively affecting my training, I’m not sure I’d even want to try to crawl out anymore.
In the resident lounge, Asher and I find a round table in the corner. He pimps me over hemorrhage protocols while chugging a protein shake and I pick at the unfortunate lunch offering—-mystery meat. Yum.
After five minutes, he huffs a laugh. “Jesus. You know this shit better than I do.”
I lace my fingers on the table. “I study a lot.”
A grin warms his face. “I see that. You should get out more.”
“That will never happen,” Julian says, sliding into a seat next to Asher, apple and bowl of soup in hand. “Sapphire wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in the ass.”
I glare at him and his stupid scrubs and his perfect hair and the stubble on his cut jaw that reminds me of Robert Pattinson. Because of course my subconscious would compare this man to Edward Cullen—pretend boyfriend of my preteen self.
Julian wouldn’t feed on animals. No. He’d go straight for the human carotid.
I lean my elbows on the table. “Ha. You’re so funny. You know all about funny, don’t you? Being best friends with the Joker and all.”
His eyes flash, almost like they’re lit from within. Hmm. Does he actually like this fighting thing we do? Every time I start something, he seems to just…come alive.
“Yeah,” he says. “Him and the Riddler are taking me out for drinks later. It’s a whole thing. Don’t tell Batman.”
Asher laughs. “What’re you on this month, Santini?”
As usual, Julian’s intense stare is locked on me. “Surgery.” He tilts his head. “It’s really not as bad as I was led to believe.”
I scoff. Under my breath, I mutter, “That’s because you’re a man.”
“Or maybe it’s because I don’t complain about everything.”
I lean farther over the table and lower my voice. “You’d complain too if they spent the whole month using you as a sounding board for their hallowed thoughts on how terribly OB-GYNs are trained and anytime you tried to defend yourself, they were too distracted by your tits to listen.”
Asher’s snort is a distant intrusion into my standoff with my arch nemesis.
“Well. To be fair, my tits are very distracting,” he says.
His eyes remain focused on mine, but his peripheral vision is tangible, and I have to fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Everything slows. Heat creeps up my neck, burns across my cheeks. His face hardly moves, but as he takes in my reaction, satisfaction gleams in that bare expression.
He won that one, and we both know it.
To my utter horror, Daniel Halliwell sits next to Julian, disgusting hospital slop on his plate. He nods in my direction. “.”
I strangle an awkward laugh. It comes out as a choke. “Hi.”
Asher glances at me, then folds his hands behind his head. “Thought you were too good to sit with us peasants, Halliwell. Your people kick you out?”
Daniel looks around the room, empty of other residents. A few med students huddle together around one table. “You’re the lesser of two evils.”
Asher gives his head a small irritated shake. “I’m honored.”
I sit straight and try for a smile. “Are you Julian’s senior this month, Dr. Halliwell?”
Daniel scrutinizes Julian. “Yeah. He’s actually got some talent. Gives me hope for your specialty, after all.”
I curl my painted pink nails into my palms, but keep my smile frozen in place. He wouldn’t know if I had talent because I was never allowed to hold a scalpel or suture.
Julian perks an eyebrow, sending a challenging expression and mouthing, You want me to show him my tits?
“That’s good,” I say faintly, numbing the desire to laugh.
Asher chuckles under his breath. “You’re gonna die alone, Danny.” He turns to me. “You done? Let’s go check our laboring patients.”
I nod and gather my trash while he throws his away.
“I’ll meet you up there,” he says. “Gotta pee.”
Okay, then. “Thanks for the info,” I mutter.
“Hey, ? Wait up.”
Halfway to the door, I turn to find Daniel approaching.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he says.
“Oh. Um. Yeah?”
My palms grow inexplicably sweaty. This man made my life a nightmare for a month. He treated me like a dumb Barbie. One day, his memory will be a trigger for PTSD.
Behind him, Julian sits at the table, scrolling through his phone.
Daniel must have forgotten he’s there because he says, “I have a table reserved at that steakhouse, Primus, on Friday.”
“Okay…”
“You want to come with me?”
My mouth falls open, and I try to ignore Julian in my peripheral vision as his gaze burns into me. It’s almost painful, his stare. Like lasers drawing heat to the surface of my skin.
“I—um—like, a date?”
Daniel’s are-you-stupid expression is familiar. “Yeah, . Like a date.”
My eyes disobey every strand of logic in my head, and I glance at Julian. He is glowing , the deadly smirk on his face so full of humor that every muscle in my body contracts, ready to flee. Is this karma for the Rebecca thing? I take it back, universe! I never meant any harm. Please don’t punish me.
Pressing a hand to my cheek only hides half the blush. I take a staggered breath. “I’m not sure if—”
“Oh come on,” Daniel says, smiling. Smiling ! Like we’re friends. “I’ve heard about it all. You don’t have to be coy. At least I’m offering to buy you dinner first.”
Ice floods my veins. “What?”
His gray eyes narrow and he shoots me a skeptical expression. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daniel.”
With a condescending twist of his lips, he says, “Wow. You’ve got the pseudo-innocent thing down, don’t you, ?”
I stiffen. “I don’t think dinner would be a good idea. I’m sorry.”
Turning on my heel to flee, I shut my eyes against his muttered “Bitch” as I pass.
One last look at Julian goes unnoticed by him. Smirk gone, that dark predatory gaze is fixed on Daniel. I don’t have the headspace to process that, so I ignore it completely.
Back in the dictation room, Asher is furious when I tell him why I’m teary-eyed.
I wipe away the moisture with the tissue he gives me. “Why do people think this about me, Asher?”
A contrite crease appears between his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I don’t know how it all got started, .”
“So people just assume I’ll sleep with anyone?”
He winces. “There’s been talk you’ve been around. I’m so sorry I ever believed it. Sorry I said that shit back in June.”
“I don’t…do that.” I sniffle. “I never—”
“I know. I do set people straight when they say it in front of me.” He lowers his voice to a mumble. “Not that it shuts anyone up.”
“How do these rumors keep getting started?”
Shrugging, he clicks his mouse a few times. “It’s just conjecture. When I was an intern, I spilled some of that acid we use to treat genital warts on a woman’s butt cheek, and for almost a year, any time someone mentioned a resident fucking up, it was always, ‘Was it Foley?’”
“Oh gosh,” I say, laughter breaking through my tears. “Was she okay?”
He waves a hand. “She was fine. We joked that I gave her ass a chemical peel. But what I’m saying is that this is the same thing. If there’s talk of a scandal, your name always gets thrown in the mix.”
“I don’t even date! I haven’t in years.”
His eyes widen a fraction. “Why not?”
I blink several times at the computer monitor in front of me, its blurred light fracturing into starbursts. My voice shrinks, and my shoulders slump. “I—the last time—he broke my heart.”
No. He shattered my sanity.
The clammy sensation of his sweat from the last time we slept together still sometimes phantom-clings to my skin. I didn’t come—I rarely did—but he did, and his breath fanned over my skin, an invisible stain, as he stared at me.
“I love you, Matt,” I whispered, smiling at him.
“I can’t do this anymore, . It’s like fucking an ice queen.”
The worst part is that I begged him to stay. He’d promised me forever. Told me we’d get married. Made me sacrifice for him.
The things I did. The things I let him do. Just so he wouldn’t leave.
I hated myself.
And he left, anyway.
Because I’m cold in bed.
Asher pulls me from my thoughts. “I proposed to a girl last year.”
My head spins, and not even the tears can mask his sad smile. “What?”
“She laughed in my face and left me for a cardiologist. They’re getting married this spring.”
I touch his arm. He chuckles, covering our moment with good humor until we’re both chortling.
“We’re a couple of messes,” I say.
He shakes himself. “Life is messy.”
An hour later, my phone buzzes.
A picture from Julian lights up my screen. He holds someone else’s badge reel in his disturbingly alluring hand. It reads Bitches Get Shit Done.
Julian: Found this
Julian: Made me think of you
Julian: But if you ask me
Julian: Daniel Halliwell is the bitch
A watery laugh hitches in my chest, and I go back to work. So he does have a light side, after all. Who’d have thought?
* * *
The next day, I enter the resident lounge and find Daniel sporting a black eye. I turn to Asher, asking what happened with a pointed raise of my eyebrows.
He shrugs and gestures toward Julian eating his lunch in the corner. “Here’s what I heard—”
“Seriously, Asher? Rumors?”
He raises both hands. “Hey, do you want to know, or not? I got this from Maxwell, who got it from Julian, so it’s reliable.”
With a reluctant sigh, I motion him to continue, half hating myself that I’m entertaining any rumors at all.
He lowers his voice even though the room is busy and crowded. “Julian just happened to point out something Halliwell did wrong in front of his attending. Attending tells him to fix it, right? So Halliwell tried to make Julian do it, to which Julian said something along the lines of clean up your own mess. I don’t work for you .”
I gasp.
“I know, right? Like, bro. Yeah, you do work for him. He’s literally your senior resident. Anyway, Halliwell and him got into a screaming match in the gen surg call room, and that’s when you came into the picture.”
My spirits fall. Or lift. I’m not sure. “Me?”
“Julian said something like, learn to treat my fellow interns with respect, or you won’t get any respect from me . Halliwell figured out what he meant, and I think he might have accused Julian of doing…something…with you. Julian gets in his face. Halliwell pushes him. Julian pushes him back. Julian said Halliwell tripped over the rollie chair and hit his face on the desk.” Asher breaks into gleeful, vindictive laughter.
When Julian looks up, I blink at Daniel, then return to those depthless brown eyes. Julian doesn’t smile, but a blatant satisfaction comes alive in his face and he winks before returning to his lunch.
Casual. Hot.
Damn vampire.
* * *
“He did what ?” Alesha asks Saturday night as we snuggle into my couch for movie night.
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know for sure. No one confirmed . But there were strong hints that Julian Santini defended my honor.”
Snowden is paused on my TV while Alesha and I nurse glasses of Cabernet, and Raven drinks her lime La Croix. A candle in the middle of my coffee table fills the entire apartment with the smell of fresh-baked sugar cookies.
Alesha shakes her head. “That boy is good people. I don’t know why you don’t like him.”
I laugh. “At this point, it’s habit. Also, his persistent urge to call me Sapphire just to annoy me is infuriating.”
Stretched on the chaise portion of my sectional, Raven gives a knowing nod. Her black braids are loose around her shoulders. “We’re family, aren’t we? He’s like your brother—it’s okay for him to annoy you, but if someone else wants to mess with you, he gets protective.”
I ignore the bitter taste that rises at Julian being regarded as my brother.
Alesha snorts. “Brother. Yeah, that’s why he turned into a caveman.”
Shrugging, Raven toasts the air. “To irritating men who take care of bad guys for us!”
The three of us giggle and talk turns to work as it usually does. Eventually, Raven and I pounce on Alesha about her relationship status.
She pours another glass of wine. “I don’t date.”
“Why not?” I thrust my glass toward her for a refill.
She eyes me. “Why don’t you ?”
My eye twitches. “I had a bad experience last time I tried.”
“Care to elaborate?” She hands back my filled glass.
“Um. Well. The last guy I dated—”
Destroyed my trust in men?
Manipulated me into performing demeaning sexual favors?
Told me he loved me and wanted to marry me, all while screwing a dozen other women?
Gave me chlamydia?
“—wasn’t very nice.”
Alesha shoots me a skeptical stare. “Then why’d you date him?”
Because I didn’t know any better.
Love’s a lie. I don’t know why anyone falls for it.
“It doesn’t matter. Look, I don’t even flirt with men and the rumors that I’m a slutty little skeeze still get spread all over the hospital. Can you imagine what people would say if I actually dated someone?”
Alesha’s shoulders fall, and she drops her gaze to her glass. “Maybe the rumors would go away if you dated someone. People would lose their ammunition.”
I snort.
Raven cups my shoulder. “It’s not fair.”
Tears prickle in my eyes, but I smile and sip my wine. “It’s fine. It isn’t a big deal.”
I disregard the voice rustling in my subconscious, insisting it is a big deal. It’s breaking you…
Raven changes the subject. “Isaac and I are thinking of trying for another one.”
“What?” Alesha bounces on the couch. “Baby Washington?”
Raven nods, her smile glowing. “Monte is almost three. I think I’m ready to start over.”
I snuggle next to her. “You’ll make the cutest preggo.”
She laughs. “Let’s finish this movie.”
* * *
Dr. Chen’s annual holiday party the Sunday before Christmas is apparently a booze fest disguised as a potluck, and I have never been more ready for a party. Six months of intern year are almost finished, which means I’m on the downhill slide into second year.
This is cause for massive celebration.
I slip into a Christmas dress—forest green with a red belt about my waist—and spritz my hair with gold glitter. Satisfied I’ve covered the dark circles beneath my eyes enough that I don’t look like an OB resident, I slip on my new red heels and coat and step into the cold night.
On the sidewalk below, the thunk of steps above brings my gaze upward. Julian rounds the landing, clad in a black sweater covered by a black peacoat. A green scarf hangs around his neck and his dark hair is parted roguishly off to one side. A single rebellious lock falls across his forehead. When he sees me, he pauses on the steps and slips his hands in his coat pockets.
I meet his eyes. “Julian.”
“Sapphire.” A quiet smile refines his entire face. His lips hardly move, but his eyes come to life. This smile-without-smiling thing he does is disarming. I could never pull it off.
I resist it so hard, but my mouth disobeys and a grin breaks free. I look at the ground so he won’t see it.
“You going to Chen’s party?” he asks.
I glance at him through my eyelashes. “What gave it away?”
He descends the steps with meticulous care, his attention fastened on me. “The lipstick.”
A small embarrassed laugh bubbles in my chest as my body goes hot and cold all at once. “Christmas red. You like?”
He reaches the ground and stops an arm span away, shaking his head. “Devil-red. Like your nails.”
My nails are a shiny, sparkly red. They are beautiful , and he is the worst . I glare at him. “At least I’m not dressed like Draco Malfoy.”
No-smile turns into a smirk. “Touché. Want a ride?”
My mouth falls open. “You—you’ll—in your truck?”
His eyes laser-focus on my parted lips before he shoots a half smile at the sky. “Is there another type of ride you might want?”
Was that…innuendo? Treacherous heat dances along my skin.
“Broomstick, perhaps?” he adds.
“Ha, ha. I was going to Uber so I can drink.”
“Well, I’m not drinking, and we live in the same place, so if you want to save money…”
I nod before I’ve actually decided. Or maybe my body just decided for me. “Yeah, okay. That’d be great. Thanks.”
He jerks his head toward the parking lot. I follow him to his truck, canceling my Uber on the way. The passenger seat hovers at the level of my shoulders. My heels slip on the running board and I almost kill myself in a graceless maneuver onto the seat.
A silken sensation slips around every nerve as the door closes and I’m inundated by his scent. A tiny pulse stirs between my legs.
Welp. This is a mistake. I now have to face the undeniable fact that the scent of Julian Santini does weird, erotic things to my body.
Is there anything more intimate than breathing someone into my lungs? Letting the essence of him saturate into my bloodstream and filter into every organ? What if my body grows receptors for him? Adapts to him? Wants him?
I cross my legs and ignore it, glancing at him as he pulls out of the parking lot. He’s chewing gum. It makes the muscles in his jaw ripple.
He’s not cute.
Look at that jawline, though.
He’s rude.
But he knows how to smile without using his mouth.
That’s not hot.
It absolutely is.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I snap my head forward, but fire scalds my skin. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re such a jerk.”
“Takes one to know one, Sapphire.”
“ .”
He flashes me a quick grin. “Oops.”
I huff as we roll to a stoplight. “You’re working Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“Sucks for you.”
He taps on his steering wheel with his thumb. “You’ll get your turn. What are your plans?”
God, he smells good. I have to readjust the vent so the heat blows in my face in hopes of eradicating his godforsaken scent from my nose. “I’m going home. I fly out tomorrow.”
“Where’s home?”
“Danville, California.”
He smiles. “A Californian. Should’ve known. And how does your family celebrate the holiday?”
I cross my arms. “With a tree and presents. What about you? Animal sacrifices?”
“No, that’s Easter.”
The light turns green, illuminating his face. Such a careful driver, he obeys every traffic law and allows other drivers passage before him. He has the patience of a frickin’ saint, and my knee jiggles as he refuses to go faster than the speed limit. We aren’t late, but the familiar agitation before a party gnaws at me.
Those dimples go full-scale adorable when he grins. “I think you forgot to put out some fires when you left hell. Your hair has embers in it.”
“They’re sparkles, Julian. They’re pretty.”
“Is there anything about you that doesn’t sparkle? You’re practically a My Little Pony .”
I should take offense to that, but can’t. My Little Pony was a staple for me as a kid. “I’d rather be that than Gollum.”
He side-eyes me, eyebrow lifted. “You’re kind of a dork, aren’t you?”
A startled laugh climbs my throat. “What?”
“ The Lord of the Rings , Harry Potter , Avengers . Just…dorky references. But it keeps me guessing. Will you call me Darth Vader or Prince Joffrey next? Maybe Feyd-Rautha?”
“You would be a Harkonnen,” I mutter.
He chuckles.
I shrink in my seat. “Shut up. You understand the references, so clearly you’re a dork, too.”
He nods. “And unashamed of it. But I should warn you, I have a date with Maleficent later, so we’re gonna have to leave this thing early.”
Defying my wishes, a chuckle escapes.
“That reminds me.” He checks his blind spot before changing lanes. “Did you know I had to go on a date with that girl you gave my number to? She wouldn’t stop texting me. Hints didn’t work. Finally caved and took her out a couple weeks ago.”
My chuckle grows a distinct edge, and now I’m cackling despite a thin weave of poison speeding my pulse. The picture of him out with that blonde IM resident is an ugly one I don’t want in my head. The cackle hides my discomfiture. “Are you madly in love now?”
“Yeah, we married yesterday. Didn’t you hear?” He shakes his head. “She’s so—her tenacity is… Just, please , . Torture me any other way, but please don’t give my number out to women.”
My full attention locks on his face. Adrenaline floods my system. “You called me .”
He gives me a double take. “What? No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You called me .”
“I…” He scratches his temple and shifts in his seat. “Okay?”
“Did you confront Daniel Halliwell for me, Julian?”
He scowls. His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Daniel Halliwell is an asshole.”
“Julian?” My voice is soft.
“I would have done it for any of you girls. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I lean toward him when a muscle in his clenched jaw tics. “Then why are you being weird?”
“I’m—I’m not.”
I’m still staring at his sharp profile when he pulls to a stop at the curb of Dr. Chen’s millionaire cottage and looks at me. Glittering Christmas lights stipple his skin and sparkle in his eyes. I can’t look away from him. That lock of hair is so attractive I want to cut it off. Because he’s evil, and evil isn’t appealing.
He’s not evil. He’s a knight in shining armor who tears into people for you.
Violence isn’t attractive.
Tell that to your libido.
“We’re here, she-devil.” His voice has deepened.
I fold my hands in my lap. “I’m a perfect angel, Julian, and you know it.”
“Hmm.” He reaches for his door handle without looking away from me. “Angels don’t wear that color lipstick.”
He does the no-smiling smile and slips out of the truck. The door thunks shut.
Holy—
What just happened?
A supernova erupts in my chest, imploding my entire body. It doesn’t feel like animosity, either. It’s hotter. Blistering.
I fumble for my own door handle, but he opens it from the other side, offering his hand to help me down.
“Why do you have such a tall truck?” I try to keep my heel from slipping on the running board again.
“Because I’m a tall man.”
That’s for damn sure. Even in my heels, he towers over me.
I slide from my seat. His shoulder helps brace me as I land on the ground close enough that I can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. Once I’m steady, we spring away from each other. He locks his truck and we head inside.
The kitchen is full of people filling plates. Christmas carols on the overhead speaker system can barely be heard above the chatter.
Maxwell, bedecked in an ugly Christmas sweater and reindeer antlers, cocks his head as we walk through the door. “Did you guys come together?”
“What?” I laugh and reflexively push Julian away from me. “No. What? Why would you think that?”
Maxwell eyes me, the space between his brows narrowing. “Because you walked in together?”
Julian laughs under his breath. “Chill out, Hermione.” He shakes his head and turns to Maxwell. “I drove her. You ready?”
Maxwell nods. “You in?”
“Yeah.” Julian joins him, lifting his chin toward me in goodbye. “Have a drink. Take the edge off.”
I stare after him.
“Boo!”
I jump, almost screaming.
Kai roars in laughter. “Damn, girl. Play your cards closer to the chest.”
“What?”
He stares after Julian, then shoots me a knowing look.
“Shut up!” I hiss. “Gross.”
He throws an arm around me. “Let’s get you some Christmas wine. Raven’s covering L&D, but Alesha needs her sidekick.”
He leads me to Alesha, deep in conversation with Lexie and Asher.
“I’m not kidding!” Lexie says while Alesha giggles.
Kai hands me a glass of wine. “What aren’t we kidding about?”
“I got an ER consult today for a vaginal laceration. I asked her what happened. She said she was performing a Wiccan sex ceremony that involved a crystal dildo.”
My mouth drops open. “Did it break?”
Lexie shrugs. “She said she got a little aggressive.”
Grinning, Asher leans toward us. “Pretty sure Practice Bulletin sixty-nine discusses crystal dildo for orgasmic dysfunction in Wiccan populations. Do crystal dildos work? Synopsis: no.”
“Depends what you use them for. Level A recommendation: sex magic.” I shoot a wink at Asher, and he bumps my shoulder with his, laughing. His Christmas sweater says Brodolf the Red-Nosed Gainzdeer . I point at it. “Where did you even find that?”
“I never reveal secrets, y-kins.” His contagious smile drags me straight into our normal camaraderie. This month with him has been awesome, and I want to make sure he knows it. He may have said some crappy things in June, but he’s more than made up for it.
We’re friends, Asher and I. Good ones.
Our attendings grow rosy-cheeked as the party escalates. Which of them are on call? I hope it isn’t Dr. Levine, who’s slurring his words. He’s drunk enough that he unabashedly bursts into our conversation, proclaims Lexie has the best tits in the program and stumbles away.
Kai’s eyes grow wide. “Well, that was uncomfortable.”
Lexie grimaces. “It’s not the first time he’s said that to me.”
I’d tell her to file a complaint, but we all know it would go nowhere.
“Do you all remember Cora?” Lexie asks in a hushed voice.
Alesha leans closer. “The third-year who got kicked out last fall?”
I shoot her a look. How on earth does she know this?
She shrugs. “The stories get around, girl.”
“Yeah,” Lexie says. “I heard she was sleeping with Levine, and that’s why she got fired.”
Asher shakes his head. “Nah. I heard she was addicted to coke.”
I roll my eyes. “I heard she was a space alien who came to earth to kill us all. You guys, rumors are so stupid.”
Alesha straightens. “You’re right. Why are all the rumors about women?”
“They’re not,” Lexie says with a small laugh. “I heard one of the second-year peds residents shirked his shift last week to karaoke Disney songs with one of his patients.”
“That’s not even scandalous!” I say. “It’s just precious. Where’s the rumor that he gave his attending a blow job for an extra day of vacation?”
Asher grips my shoulder, giving one reassuring squeeze. I pat his hand in silent thanks. Luckily, the conversation soon turns elsewhere.
I’m three glasses deep, slightly tipsy, and cracking up at Asher’s jokes when a commotion stirs in another room. Alesha and I trade curious glances and head toward a smaller room with a poker table in the middle. People crowd around as Julian and Dr. Chen face off, the only two left at a table set for seven.
I know nothing about poker, but Julian’s pile of chips is far larger than Chen’s. An intensity settles about the room.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Asher.
“Chen’s annual BrOB-GYN poker game.”
“You don’t play, Asher?” Alesha elbows him.
“Sometimes. I was too busy trying to get out of the friend zone this year.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me playfully.
I snort. “Whatever.”
Chen and Julian take each other’s measure. The round plays out with an exchange of cards and some tossing of chips. Hands revealed, groans and whoops fill the room.
Asher catcalls Julian.
“Did he win?” I ask.
Asher glances at me, eyebrows drawn together.
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “I’m clueless.”
He laughs. “Yeah, girl. He won.”
With a smile, Chen stands and shakes Julian’s hand, murmuring something near his ear. Julian showcases his crooked grin.
“This year’s victor!” Chen raises Julian’s hand.
Everyone claps and toasts. Alesha shrieks and jumps into Julian’s arms. He gives her his real smile, crinkles and all.
“You think something is going on between them?” Asher nods toward my friends. “They seem really close.”
I start to answer in the negative but pause. What if…
No, Alesha would tell me. She tells me everything. “I don’t think so.”
Right?
Surely not.
We wander back to the party and snack on brie and Grinch brownies. Asher and Aislin take turns trying to one-up the other on funniest patient encounters. Nearly in tears from laughter, I stiffen when electricity opens a current over my skin, raising all the hairs on my body.
He’s behind me. He isn’t touching me, but his presence is tangible. My heart trips in my chest.
Beside me, Asher grins, greeting Julian with a lift of his chin. “Hey, Santini. Nice game.”
“Yeah, thanks.” His voice is beside my ear, but he leans closer anyway and the tips of his fingers touch my elbow. His scent engulfs me. “You ready?”
Asher looks between us, the smile slipping off his face.
I turn my head to meet his dark eyes. “Already?”
“Some of us have to work in the morning, Sapphire.”
“I could take you home later if you want to stay,” Asher says.
I wave my hand and back away from the group. “It’s fine. He lives in my building, so it isn’t out of his way.”
“I’m sure it’s not,” Asher says. The words are sharper than normal, but he’s smiling.
Hmm. What’s this now? I think the alcohol is messing with me. I move in for an embrace, which Asher returns at once. “Thanks for a good month,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”
“Safe flight tomorrow. Have fun with mommy and daddy.”
I shoot him a sour face. After hugging Alesha and Kai goodbye, Julian and I head out.
In the darkness of his truck, I study the way the streetlights pass over his face, casting shadows in interesting places. “Congrats on the game.”
He shrugs. “It’s easy to beat a bunch of intoxicated people at poker.”
I chuckle. “Is that why you didn’t drink tonight?”
“Yep. Bragging rights.” The no-smile flashes at me. “Next time, you can be the DD.”
Something in the rear of my mind purrs at the words next time .
Back at our building, we walk side by side up the stairs. When I reach my landing, I turn to say good-night.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?” he asks.
“Early.”
He scratches his neck, then examines our empty surroundings. “I have something for you. Do you have a minute?”
I’m stunned to silence for only three seconds before I say, “Sure.”
“Let me go get it. I’ll be down in a sec.”
My apartment is clean, but I scan the living room for anything embarrassing just in case. My heels fly toward my bedroom with two swift kicks. I throw my coat over the entry rack.
His knock on my half-closed door startles me, flooding me with butterflies. I swing it open to find him holding a cardboard box with a red Christmas bow.
“I got your name for Secret Santa.”
Sparkles bloom hot and fast in my chest, spreading to my mouth. A smile breaks loose. “You did?”
He nods, forlorn.
“Julian Santini, hater of all things Rose was forced to find her a Christmas present?”
His lips press into a flat line.
“Whatever could be in there?” I slip closer to him. Cold December air mingles with his scent, icing it to something dark and exotic.
“You have to open it to find out,” he says.
Close enough to take it, I hold out my arms. He shifts the box to my hands.
I stagger under its weight. “Holy—what is in here?”
He lifts one of the cardboard lids, and I peek in the package.
Sugar.
Granulated sugar. Powdered sugar. Brown sugar. Cane sugar. Sanding sugar. Splenda. Sugar cubes.
My gaze shoots to his. “What the hell, Julian? What am I supposed to do with all this sugar?”
Merriment gleams on his face. His cheeks grow rosy. “I suggest using it to bake the children. Helps with the bitterness.”
My disobedient mouth twitches into a smile. “Do you think this is funny?”
He nods as the laughter takes hold, then pinches the bridge of his nose. A fuzzy little ball of warmth expands in my stomach. That’s such a cute laugh…
“I think—” he tugs on a lock of my hair “—it’s hilarious. Sapphire .”
“You know it’s ,” I say, voice softer than I want it.
“Right.” He brushes a hand over his mouth, hiding his self-congratulatory smile. “I keep forgetting.”
“You are so difficult. Fine. Come in, and I’ll get your present.” I’d been planning to leave it on his doorstep tomorrow morning, but I need to even the scales.
His smile disappears. “Wait. You got my name, too?”
A cynical chuckle vibrates in my throat. “As the world works perpetually against me, I’d think that answer obvious. Come in, Julian. It’s cold outside.”
“Come in…to your apartment?”
I wave my hand about the place, from the carpeted floor to the popcorn ceiling. “Do you think I have Julian traps in here? I don’t bite.”
His expression blanks. He rocks on his feet at the threshold.
“Julian?” I tug on his coat lapel. “The heat.”
After crossing over and shutting the door, he lingers in the entryway. His attention travels from my worn blue sectional to the art on my walls to my bookshelf. It isn’t until he steps into the living room that the sensation of my space being disrupted, invaded and conquered sweeps over me.
I flush from head to toe. “Hang on. Let me get it.”
Heart racing, I set the box of sugar on my dining table and slip into my bedroom to grab his gift. The mirror snags my attention and I fix a few stray glittery hairs before stepping out.
He eyes the present like it might explode in his face. I kick myself that I didn’t think of that. A frickin’ glitter bomb! Pink glitter. Maybe with unicorns.
The witch hiding in my limbic system titters evilly, hoping she gets his name for Secret Santa next year.
He takes it in his hand. “Did you wrap this?”
“Of course I did. Why?”
“It’s very…sparkly. It has ribbons. And a bow.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Is it too pretty for you, Julian?”
His gaze leaves the gift, straying to me. “Yes.”
I sweep an impatient gesture toward the box. “Then unwrap it.”
Several seconds pass before he blinks and slides a finger under the edge of the paper. He pulls out the green and silver coffee mug I’d found on Etsy, complete with a snake as the handle.
A dark eyebrow arches. “Slytherin.”
“Now everyone will know exactly what you are when you drink your coffee in didactics.” I shoot him a satisfied smirk and clap him on the shoulder, but my focus zeroes in on the hard muscle beneath my hand, palpable despite his winter coat.
Squee!
He doesn’t look built under the scrubs and black Henleys he wears, but the marble beneath my hand is lean and cut. My mind conjures potential images of him shirtless and every nerve ending in my body jolts energy to places I refuse to acknowledge.
The air thins as my hand lingers on his arm. My survival instincts flare red and scream at me to let go.
I don’t.
If he was a lion and I was a zebra, I’m not sure I’d run.
His eyes go dark. Raptorial. Like he can smell the pheromones. My stupid hormones melt my willpower.
Look how sexy he is , they say. No one with that jawline can be evil.
He holds up his Slytherin cup, rattling me with a lopsided grin. “I guess they will.”
I release his arm like he’s electric. My lips part, uncertain what game he’s playing.
He brushes the tip of his thumb over my bottom lip, down to my chin so he can pop my mouth closed. “Merry Christmas, she-devil.”