Chapter 7
Catherine Celia
Billie Rose was going to kill me if I wore jeans.
She had made that clear in three separate texts, one voice note, and a final message that said, Catherine Celia Davis, if you show up looking like you’re heading to rounds, I will personally drag you back upstairs and dress you myself.
So I stood in front of my closet on Thursday night, wrapped in a towel, staring at my clothes like they had personally betrayed me.
I had been working with the Blaze for a few days, and my entire wardrobe lately consisted of scrubs, leggings, and whatever didn’t need to be ironed.
I pulled out a short black dress and held it against my body.
It felt like a little much, but I put it on anyway.
The dress had thin straps, a low back, and hugged me in a way that made me very aware I had a body underneath the scrubs I’d been wearing all week.
I left my hair down in loose waves, added gold hoops, a little mascara, lip gloss, and heels.
Then I took a picture and sent it to Billie. Her response came instantly.
Billie Rose: THANK THE LORD.
Billie Rose: That dress says you’re single, hot, and emotionally unstable in a fun way.
Me: You’re exhausting.
Billie Rose: You’re welcome.
I laughed, grabbed my purse, and left my room. Dad was sitting on the couch with Jaden.
“Mom working late?” I asked.
“She’s on call tonight. They’re expecting a busy night,” he said.
“Every night is a busy night for babies in Dallas,” I noted.
Dad yawned. “You look pretty. Where are you headed?”
“Out for drinks with Billie Rose, Taylor, Liv, and Wren,” I said.
“That’s nice. I’m glad you’re settling in with the team. It’s good to have you around,” he said.
“It’s been good to be home,” I said, and it was true. Even if I was used to living on my own the last number of years, I was happy to have this time with my family.
“Can we do something fun together this weekend?” Jaden asked.
“Of course, bud. What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Six Flags?” he asked, looking hopeful. Dad had him in hockey camp during the week, but on the weekend, I could understand why he’d be bored. He was used to spending most of his time with Mila.
“We should all go,” Dad suggested. “Mom isn’t working on Saturday. We can head over there instead of the ranch.”
Jaden cheered.
“Sounds like a plan.” My phone buzzed with a message from Billie Rose. “I better go.”
“Have a good night,” Dad said. “Be careful out there.”
“Yup, I’ve been out for drinks before in Dallas,” I said playfully. I walked over to the couch and gave him and Jaden a kiss on the cheek.
Jaden wiped at his cheek. “Gross makeup.”
I laughed, said goodbye, and headed for the elevator.
The hallway was quiet, which was a blessing because I was not in the mood to run into anyone who knew my parents while dressed like I was making questionable decisions.
I pressed the elevator button and checked my phone one more time.
Billie Rose was already downstairs. The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open. Hunter Russell was standing inside.
For one second, neither of us moved. He wore black pants and a crisp dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. The top button was undone, and his hair looked like he had run a hand through it one too many times.
He looked hotter than hell. My first thought was, nope.
My second thought was, I want to jump his bones, which was not helpful.
His eyes moved over me. His gaze dipped from my face to the dress, down my legs, then back up again, and by the time his eyes met mine, his jaw was tight. At least I wasn’t suffering alone.
“Catherine,” he said.
My name in his voice was becoming a problem.
“Hunter.” I stepped into the elevator and turned toward the doors. “Going out?”
“Max convinced me.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I said with a laugh.
“It usually is.” He smirked.
The doors closed. The elevator started moving.
The space suddenly felt very small. I could smell his cologne.
Something clean and warm that made me want to lean closer, which was annoying because I was trying very hard to be normal.
I stared at the glowing numbers above the doors like they were the most interesting thing I had ever seen.
Hunter cleared his throat. “You look nice.”
Nice was what you said to someone’s aunt at a wedding. But his voice did not sound like he meant nice. His voice sounded like he had a lot more to say and was choosing the safest word available.
“Thank you,” I said, glancing at him. “You clean up okay too.”
His mouth twitched. “Okay?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” I grinned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirked again. His eyes dropped to my mouth when I smiled, and my stomach flipped so hard I had to shift my weight. The movement made his gaze drop again, just for a second, to the hem of my dress. When he looked back up, his face had gone very still.
I pressed my lips together. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. His eyes warmed at the sound, and that made everything worse. The elevator slowed. The doors opened to the lobby, and we both stepped out like we had not just spent too many floors pretending the air wasn’t charged enough to spark.
Max was waiting near the front doors, looking down at his phone.
He glanced up, saw Hunter first, then me, and his eyebrows rose.
I gave him a look that said don’t you dare.
He smiled like he was absolutely going to dare.
Before he could say anything, Billie Rose appeared from one of the lobby chairs and let out a whistle loud enough to make the concierge look up.
“Well, damn,” she said in her thick Texas drawl. “Look at you, Catherine Celia. That dress is doin’ the Lord’s work.”
I groaned. “Billie.”
“What? It is.” She stopped beside me and gave Hunter a bright smile. “And who do we have here?”
Hunter looked amused. “Hi. Hunter Russell.” He shook her hand.
“I’m Billie Rose,” she said, holding out a hand. “Best friend, emotional support menace, and the woman responsible for that dress.”
Hunter shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I turned to Hunter because I needed to move this along before Billie started asking questions that would get us all killed. “This is Max McGuire, my cousin. Max, Billie Rose.”
Max gave Billie an easy grin. “Nice to meet you.”
Billie looked him over without shame. “Well, Dallas hockey is certainly not hurtin’ for pretty men.”
Max’s grin widened. “I like her.”
“You would,” Hunter muttered.
Billie hooked her arm through mine. “Where are y’all headed?”
“VIP lounge at a club,” Max said. “I convinced Grandpa here to leave the building.”
Hunter gave him a flat look.
Billie laughed. “We’re going to a lounge for drinks with the girls.”
“Girls’ night?” Max asked.
“Exactly. No men allowed unless they’re bringin’ drinks,” Billie said.
“Not a problem,” Max offered.
“No,” Hunter and I said at the same time.
Billie’s eyes moved between us.
I tugged her toward the doors. “Uber’s here.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, drawing it out like she had just discovered evidence in a murder investigation.
We said quick goodbyes and headed outside. I didn’t look back until we reached the car. Obviously, I looked back. Hunter was watching me. Max was watching Hunter watching me. Perfect. I slid into the Uber and shut the door. Billie Rose climbed in beside me, buckled her seat belt, and stared.
I stared back. “What?”
She leaned closer. “You were not lyin’.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About how hot Hunter is. That man looked at you like he was tryin’ to remember the Ten Commandments and failin’.”
I covered my face. “Please stop.”
“I will not. I’m deeply invested in this now. He looks so well hung,” she went on.
“Billie, that’s enough.” I didn’t need her pointing out how well hung Hunter was because I already knew.
She snorted. “Bless your heart, babe.”
“Don’t bless-your-heart me,” I cooed.
“That was the most sexually tense lobby interaction I have ever witnessed, and I once watched two residents make eye contact over a placenta.”
I stared at her.
She shrugged. “OB is wild.”
By the time we got to the lounge, I was already regretting introducing Billie Rose to anyone in my personal life.
Taylor had picked the place, which meant it was swanky without being obnoxious.
Low lighting, velvet chairs, gold accents, music loud enough to feel fun but not so loud we had to scream.
Liv and Taylor were already at a round booth with Wren.
Wren worked with the physical therapy staff and had started last season as an assistant to the main PT.
Taylor waved us over. “Finally.”
“You’ve been here ten minutes,” I said, sliding into the booth.
“That’s almost a lifetime.”
Liv hugged me from the side. “You look hot.”
“Thank Billie.”
Billie Rose tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I accept praise and cocktails.”
Taylor pointed at the girl beside her. “Billie this is Wren. She’s a physical therapy assistant with the Blaze.”
“Nice to meet you,” Billie said. “OB/GYN elective, so if anyone needs to discuss cervixes, I’m your girl.”
“Hi.”
Wren smiled. “Good to see you outside of compression sleeves and gait assessments.”
“Same,” I replied.
Taylor lifted her glass. “And on that note, drinks.”
Liv handed me the cocktail menu. “We’re ordering something fun.”
“What counts as fun?” I asked.
“Something with elderflower,” Taylor said.
Billie made a face. “Elderflower is what rich people invented so vodka could feel fancy.”
Wren nodded. “She’s not wrong.”
We ended up ordering some swanky champagne cocktail with elderflower, lemon, and a sugared rim.
“To summer,” Taylor said, lifting her glass.
“To being single,” Billie added.
“To getting paid,” Liv said.
Wren laughed. “Some of us barely qualify.”
“To not crying in a supply, closet this week,” I said.
Billie clinked her glass against mine. “Amen.”
The first sip was dangerous because it tasted like lemonade and bad decisions.