1. Adair #2
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets out the smallest smile. It's half challenge and half secret, and moves to Jenna’s side. Whatever happened, it got Dr. McHotty back in.
I'll take the win.
“Fine,” he says, pulling up a round, adjustable stool and sitting beside Jenna's ankle. His shoulder muscles ripple under his thin scrubs, and I force my eyes from staring.
“Let’s take a look, Adair.” He drags out the “r” in my name extra long, like he’s humoring me, and looks up at me as if I’m the patient.
He smells like cedar and clean linen, and my body betrays me, tingling everywhere.
I watch with what I hope is a supportive look on my face for Jenna’s sake as he lifts her ankle slightly. She’s still trying to make nice, waving apologetically, probably as charmed by his good looks as I am.
Her smiles are full of “come hither” that I find totally inappropriate for the occasion. When I catch myself feeling territorial over him, I smile. She's flying back to LA tomorrow, so he's all mine.
Kidding, not kidding.
Dr. Matthews examines Jenna’s ankle, gently prodding and assessing, and then finally looks up.
“As I guessed, it’s a sprain. Rest, ice, compression, and elevation, along with some over-the-counter painkillers. I’ll send the nurse in to wrap it up.”
He looks at me, clearly expecting a “Thank you, Dear Doctor” moment, and I’m not about to give him the satisfaction.
“Just a sprain?” I say, looking at her swollen ankle like I’m Sherlock Holmes on a case.
“Yep.”
“How can you be so sure without an X-ray?”
“As I mentioned earlier, I see these every single day.”
There’s a hint of smugness in his voice. I could almost swear he does a mini-wink. Whatever that is.
“This doesn’t warrant an X-ray,” he says, wearing a crooked smile that practically screams told you so .
I cross my arms in a huff, not bothering to hide it.
“I assure you, she’ll be fine. But it’s refreshing to see someone so passionate about her friend’s well-being.” His eyes flick briefly to mine. “She’s lucky to have you on her side. A little firecracker with purpose.”
I narrow my eyes at him, fidgeting slightly. “I guess that’s it, Doctor.”
He nods, but lingers just a beat too long. And when he turns to go, it’s with a slow kind of swagger that feels deliberate.
As he walks away, a flutter kicks up in my stomach and refuses to settle. The memory of his blue eyes on me lingers like static. So does the faint scent he left behind.
I glance at Jenna, who’s watching me with an annoying, knowing look.
"Are you seriously blushing over him?" Jenna teases, lifting a brow. "Did you guys just have a little thing right there?"
"Oh, shush," I mutter, dropping into the chair beside her bed and fluffing the flat, sad excuse for a pillow behind her back. "He was rude. We did not have a thing."
“Rude?” She snorts. “You sure it wasn't you trying to get under his skin? You were flirting, even if a little salty.”
"I was not," I protest feebly.
Because I totally was. In that petty, bratty way I tend to lean into when someone dismisses me and looks like a Calvin Klein ad. Jenna’s seen this version of me more times than I care to admit.
“Come on. He was hot. You can admit that, at least.”
Before I can respond, the nurse walks in with an ace bandage and a bundle of paperwork, and like that, the moment's over.
But my heart’s still thudding, but it's not because of Jenna or the accident .
It's because of him.
And the worst part is, I know that face. The only problem is, I don’t know from where.
Excuse me,” he says, popping his head back into the room while Jenna finishes up with the nurse. I nearly fall out of the chair. Not only did he startle me while in Lala Land, but I’m still reeling from the last time he was here.
I blink up at him, trying to keep my face neutral. My eyebrows go rogue, and my mouth is suddenly dry. Super smooth.
Of course he has the audacity to look even better the second time around. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, his jaw looks sharper, the scruff is peak stubble, and those crystal-blue eyes are even clearer.
The exact type of man I should avoid for self-preservation.
“Out of curiosity,” he says casually. “You ever spend any time in Miami?”
“Miami?” I repeat, instantly on alert. “I travel a lot. Why?”
One corner of his mouth lifts in that maddening, I-know-something-you-don’t way. The same one as earlier.
“Just wondering,” he says lightly, tapping on the door frame. “You look like someone. I don't know, never mind. Sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t make me pull out my Mama Bear again,” I laugh, deflecting, trying to make up for my earlier snark.
“I like the attitude. It becomes you.” He smiles, pushes off the wall, and slips back toward the hall.
I scoff and try to play it cool, even though the frog in my throat is anything but cool.
“I make sure my attitude leaves an impression wherever I go,” I yell after him like a doofus .
“No doubt about that,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away.
The soft padding of his sneakers fades, but my pulse doesn’t.
Okay, so maybe I’m staring at the empty doorway, hoping he'll glance back. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, why would he?
But I keep looking, regardless.
I shake my head, trying to clear the nagging feeling that maybe I do know him from somewhere. Could it be Miami? If it was him, that night, surely he’d say something, right?
No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t be here, in Palm Beach.
But the memory rises fast. A tide I didn’t see coming. Sticky air, a pulsing bass, the way his hand slid up my thigh.
And then nothing. No name. Just flashes, synced to the throb of the music playing outside my hotel window.
One summer night, a live band with forgettable songs, and a man whose hands moved in a way that was anything but forgettable.
I don’t remember much from that night. But I remember those hands.
I swallow hard, forcing the thought back down.
No way that’s him.
The nurse rushes past me as she leaves. "I'll be right back with your discharge paperwork."
Jenna shoots me a look as soon as the nurse is gone. “Something you’re not telling me, Addy?”
“What? No, of course not,” I snort, waving it off. I never told her about that random hook-up. Because it was just that, random and a one-off.
She squints at me. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not. ”
“You absolutely are.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“Addy...." She's not letting this go.
I hold up a hand.
“Swear on Citrine’s life, I don’t know him. There is something familiar, but I can't figure it out. He's probably a customer, or something. I think the sun from earlier and the stress of today and all of this,” I wave my hand around the room and her.
“Oh, you’re going to put this on me?”
"It's all getting to me. It's nothing."
She smirks. “But you want to know him, don't you?”
I groan. “I can't with you right now. Let's get out of here.”
Jenna nudges me with her elbow, grinning. “You two have chemistry. Just saying.”
“Chemistry?” I scoff, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “That was pure friction.”
“Friction’s a kind of chemistry,” she mutters, smug as hell.
I roll my eyes and grab her discharge papers as the nurse places them on the counter, giving me an out.
I get her into the car, already shifting back into business mode. I’ve got bigger things to focus on, like Citrine, money, and survival. There’s no time for distractions.
Even if they come with crystal blue eyes and make hospital scrubs look like high fashion.
But as I pull out of the hospital, my gaze flicks up to the rearview. I don’t know why I’m still thinking about him. It was one conversation. One look.
And yet, something about him still lingers. It’s uninvited, unwelcome, and totally under my skin.