Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
rowan
“Claire LeBlanc?”
“That’s me,” confirms the gorgeous brunette who saved my life a few minutes ago as she directs me toward a small SUV in front of the hotel. “For a few more days at least,” she adds to herself.
“I thought we were walking to the pharmacy?”
She ignores my question and ushers me toward the back seat, though I instinctively stand by and wait for her to duck in first. She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way one corner of her mouth turns up before I shut the car door and walk around to join her on the other side.
“Is this an actual emergency? You’re not sick, are you?” the driver inquires after introducing herself as Tiana. I narrow my eyes at the destination set on the GPS screen as I buckle my seat belt.
“I told you I was fine.” The protest comes harsher than I intend, and I clear my throat self-consciously.
“And I obviously don’t believe you,” Claire replies before turning to Tiana. “Don’t worry, no one’s contagious. It’s a food-allergy situation, and I’m forcing this tête dur to get checked out for my peace of mind.”
Maybe I am being stubborn. While that injection seems to have successfully alleviated my most life-threatening symptoms, anaphylaxis and hives aren’t the only complications I’ve experienced in my prior peanut confrontations.
And I’d definitely prefer to mitigate the risk of any gastrointestinal side effects tonight.
“Okay, so I’m not fine,” I admit reluctantly. “But a dose of Benadryl and some hydrocortisone cream would have—”
“I can hear your tummy rumbling from here, Rowan. Do you really want my first impression of you to include dermatitis and diarrhea?”
Tiana snorts, and I groan and let my head fall back when my stomach gurgles loudly. At this rate, I really am going to die alone, even if it’s not tonight. I say a quick prayer under my breath that my gut at least holds out a while longer.
“Hey,” Claire continues in a more soothing tone. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But I can’t let you suffer for the sake of your pride.”
“My pride took enough of a hit when I realized you’re only hanging out with me so you can make sure I get medical assistance.”
She surprises me by reaching over to interlace her fingers with mine and offering me a rueful smile. “Maybe this isn’t about you. Maybe I’m just too thirsty to let a trip to the ER ruin the vibe with a cute doctor.”
I’m not sure how I feel about the way she keeps reasserting herself, since most of my prior dating experience has been shaped by more traditional gender roles. Still, my stomach dips as she stares me down, and I don’t think it’s the peanut oil from that jambalaya stirring up the butterflies now.
“Cute? Is that what you call it when a guy’s gut troubles flare up in the middle of his attempts to get closer to a woman, especially when she’s clearly out of his league?
” I ask, unable to hold back a smile. I’m not usually this forward either, but there’s something about her that seems to bring it out of me.
“No, but I thought it was more flattering than ‘refreshingly honest and inadvertently hot,’ ” she replies smoothly, lifting her shoulder in a shrug.
My gaze follows the movement down a bright collage of twisting vines and colorful flowers, and an appreciative growl rumbles through my chest without my permission.
I can’t remember thinking much of tattoos before, but I’m mesmerized by hers.
The way the delicate lines wrap around her toned arm might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help wondering whether there’s a story behind the artwork or if she’s hiding more of it beneath her dress.
Another involuntary growl escapes, this one originating from my stomach, but I suppose I deserve it after those last few improper thoughts. Claire stifles a giggle as I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“You can’t possibly think this is attractive,” I say, gesturing over the red rash covering my chest.
“For the record, I’d probably have gone with you no matter what, even if you’d have called my bluff on that joke about getting me back onto my knees,” she leans in to whisper near my ear, and my breath hitches when I realize this is where the fairy tale ends.
Because gorgeous and witty as she may be, Claire is obviously not the kind of woman I’m looking for. And I definitely can’t give her what she wants.
I try to disguise my embarrassment by scratching at my jaw, grateful when the car rolls to a stop.
“As much as I regret not being able to witness the rest of this as it unfolds, we have reached your destination,” Tiana announces. “Good luck with your shitty situation, and please remember to leave a positive review.”
Claire chuckles at our driver as she gathers her things.
“Listen, you don’t have to stay with me,” I turn to tell her. “I know we joked about it, but you deserve better than an evening in a hospital waiting room. Besides, Tante Verna would never forgive me if I subjected you to this.”
But I’m afraid I’ve already let things go too far. She frowns, looking disappointed when I brush over her suggestive offer once again.
“I can’t just leave you here, though,” she says quietly.
“My brother and his wife live a few minutes away. In fact, he’s a doctor, too. I can get him to pick me up later.” I don’t admit that Cyprien’s a podiatrist, but Claire doesn’t need to know that right now.
“Oh, well. I guess I thought …” She looks away, her eyelashes fluttering as if she’s actually hurt by my dismissal.
“Bruh,” Tiana groans from the front seat. “You can’t really be this dumb, can you?”
My head rears back in surprise. “I’m … sorry?”
“Don’t leave my girl hanging,” Tiana continues, “especially after she was willing to overlook your tummy issues and take you to the hospital.”
My jaw lowers. “But I didn’t mean to—”
“Lead me on?” Claire interrupts and finishes for me. “So you didn’t mean it when you said you’d do anything for the chance to talk to me a little longer?”
I swallow hard. “No, it was the truth, but … I’m not … I can’t …”
Tiana clicks her tongue and looks up to direct her advice at Claire through the rearview mirror.
“I get it now. Poor baby’s embarrassed. He’s probably afraid of letting you down later if things don’t go well in there, you know?
” She cringes and whispers the last part, reinforcing the suggestive nature of her comment.
Claire glances back at me with a furrowed brow and waits for me to respond.
“Technically, epinephrine is a vasoconstrictor, which means it’s more than likely restricting the blood flow to some of my … vital parts,” I explain awkwardly. “But that’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”
“You’re afraid of getting the bubble guts in front of me, then?” Claire offers and presses her lips together in an effort to keep herself from laughing, but it doesn’t work. She tilts her head back and cackles, and it’s so contagious that Tiana and I join in.
Gah, she’s beautiful, I catch myself thinking as I stare at her.
I’ve never heard a girl this pretty talk the way she does, but it’s surprisingly not a turn off.
In fact, I might actually like that she speaks her mind so freely.
It kind of reminds me of the way my mom and sisters interact, though Claire’s language is a little more colorful.
It takes an amused glare from her to bring me back from my thoughts.
“The looming threat of gastrointestinal distress is another valid concern, yes,” I concede after a while.
“Stop worrying,” Claire tells me with a reassuring grin. “I won’t hold any of your bodily functions against you. Besides, we’ve come too far for you to let me off the hook now.”
I let out a measured exhale, my heart quickening at the idea of having her by my side for the rest of the night, even if it’s spent in the emergency room.
So what if she’s more worldly and experienced than the women I usually date?
That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her company for a few more hours.
Now that I think about it, it’d be pretty judgmental of me to write her off because she might be into casual hookups or simply because she has a crude sense of humor in comparison with the women I’ve dated in the past. And it’s not likely we’ll find ourselves in a place of temptation with the aforementioned symptoms I’m experiencing, so there’s no point in stressing over having to explain my stringent moral code.
“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind the lack of romantic ambiance,” I say, softening my expression, and she shrugs.
“I’m not really into the romance thing, anyway,” she replies.
My smile widens when Tiana lets out a short squeal, and I go around and get Claire’s door, stopping to slip Tiana a few twenties from my wallet.
“Don’t charge her card if you can help it,” I ask our driver, and she nods approvingly.
“Good luck, you two,” she calls out from her window. “I’ll be on standby to give you a ride back later.”
Tiana drives away, and I lead Claire on through the emergency room entrance before stopping at the triage desk to check in. Once I reassure the intake nurse that epinephrine seems to have done its job and I’m only here as a precaution, I’m directed to have a seat in the waiting area.
Claire settles next to me on a bench, running her palms over her arms. “Are you cold?” I ask, instinctively looking for my jacket.
“A little, but this is what I get for wearing my hoochie dress,” she says with a laugh, taking the opportunity to scoot closer and press her side into mine when I reach up to scratch my neck.
My brow lifts as she makes herself comfortable. “Well, I’d give you my jacket, but I don’t seem to have it.”
“Tiana just messaged me. You left it in her car,” she replies matter-of-factly, tugging my arm and forcing me to wrap it around her.
“Right. I guess I was distracted,” I mumble and force my eyes away from the clear view of her cleavage. But I’m just as unnerved at the sight of her hand sliding casually over my knee.
“Do you ever work at this hospital?” she asks, glancing up at me.
“Uh, not really. I mean, I did a rotation here years ago, but that’s all,” I flounder through what should have been a simple answer.
She hums. “Where do you work now?”
“At a big women’s and children’s clinic on the edge of town,” I reply, though I can’t seem to remember the name.
“With Dr. Rozas?” she asks, referring to the infertility specialist in the practice who’s equally famous for pressuring his patients into IVF treatments and for his IVF success rate.
“Yeah.” Now I’m wondering about her history with an infertility specialist.
“I thought you seemed familiar. I’ve only seen him once, but I’m guessing your portrait’s hanging on the wall with the rest of the doctors there?”
I nod. “It is.”
“You mentioned traveling for work earlier,” she presses on.
“I’m going to start seeing patients at some smaller, more rural clinics. I want to make specialized care more accessible. I hate that my high-risk patients have to go so far when they’re already under so much stress, you know?”
Her expression softens. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
I open my mouth to downplay her compliment, but another loud gut gurgle interrupts me. “Ah, sorry. Excuse me for a second,” I say quietly and scoot away from her, and I hear her snickering behind me when I scurry over to the bathroom.