Chapter Two
Mia
Dr. Alfie Adams just tackled a patient in an alleyway.
The man has some speed on him, thighs tight against his pants, stretching the fabric to the brink before launching himself in the air like a lycra-sporting, oiled-up gladiator flinging himself off the ropes at a wrestling match.
Admittedly, Vincent got in a few punches.
Alfie’s face is a mess—split lip, black eye, bloody nose.
It has, astoundingly, made him even hotter.
What is it with a man sporting a few war wounds that makes him irresistible?
The police officer who is talking with Alfie looks toward me, and Alfie’s eyes follow.
I’d taken a step back from the madness of what had just happened.
The officer is aware I wedgied Vincent. I admitted it straightaway.
The speed at which his eyebrows flew up his forehead led me to believe that he hadn't been called to this kind of crime before.
Is wedging someone a crime? Surely not when I was doing it to save my boss from another cheap shot to the nose.
“Miss Sinclair?” he calls me over, and I decide to do what I know will get me out of this situation. I bring on the waterworks.
“Yes, Officer?” I sniffle a little for good measure, reaching for a tissue in my purse and dabbing it against my nose. The one thing I am sad about is the loss of my lunch.
RIP Scooby Snacks.
Taken from us way before your time.
My taste buds will miss you.
“Mia?” Alfie frowns, placing a large hand on my shoulder, bending down to meet my eye. I’m not even short. I’m five-nine, which is pretty tall for a woman, certainly not small. And yet, Alfie looms over me and the police officer.
“I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I think. I was so worried about you.”
The police officer’s head tilts slightly, and I can hear the aww on the tip of his tongue.
“I won’t keep your boyfriend for much longer, Miss Sinclair. I just wanted to confirm a few things.”
Boyfriend?
My eyes flick to Alfie, whose face of course remains neutral, like hearing someone else assume we’re together isn’t just ridiculous but also certifiably insane.
Alfie Adams is at the top of his game. I haven’t even started playing yet—just practicing until I get my PhD.
The thought of Alfie Adams looking at me and seeing a prospective girlfriend is, frankly, bonkers.
His palm remains on my shoulder, and the hot weight of it warms me until I feel the sudden urge to shake him off or snuggle in; I can’t decide which.
“Okay,” I reply, my eyes darting to Alfie, whose brow is now scrunched in concern.
I dab my eyes next, inching closer to my boss, who now squeezes my shoulder in solidarity.
“Why were you following Mr. Dodd?” he asks, his pen ready in hand, the other holding a notepad.
“We weren’t. We were buying Scooby Snacks at Alexei’s café. Have you been? They’re these huge sand—”
“So it was an accident that you ended up following Mr. Dodd?”
Alfie’s hand squeezes my shoulder again, but it feels less supportive than before. Now I feel like I’m ill-prepared for a test I didn’t know was happening. I was here, I saw what happened, and yet I get the feeling Alfie doesn’t want the police to know that.
“We walked down the street and saw him go down an alleyway. As we turned the corner, we could see the blonde woman in front of him. And given his history, we were concerned.”
“What exactly would you be concerned about?”
“We’re not allowed to divulge private patient information, Officer,” Alfie interrupts.
“Of course. But there was a reason to believe this woman could be in danger?”
“Yes, Mr. Dodd opened up his jacket, and the woman screamed, and that’s when Alfie tackled him.” One more dab to the corner of my eye should do it.
“And why did you decide to wedgie him?” he says with a surprisingly good poker face, not even a hint of a smirk.
“Officer, look at him.” I point to Alfie. “His face is his business. Do you know how many patients he gets just from his face? I can tell you there’s a waiting list a mile long. He’s supposed to be on TV in two days. How is the makeup department going to react when they see this?”
Alfie’s thumb digs into the fleshy part between my shoulder and neck as I notice the tips of his ears redden.
“Dr. Angel…of course. My wife is a big fan of yours.” The officer nods.
“I just couldn’t bear the thought of someone inflicting pain on him.
Alfie is a good person, he helps so many people.
I just had to stop it, and you know, I couldn’t pull Vincent away.
I don’t have the strength. Look at these limp noodles…
” I hold up my arm and try to squeeze my bicep, which pathetically flinches at the exertion.
Alfie’s eyebrow cocks in what appears to be admiration?
“How else could I help him? He could have been killed with the way Vincent—Mr. Dodd was punching him.” I sniffle again, dabbing the tissue into the corner of my eye whilst my body instinctively turns to Alfie. His grip on my shoulder loosens and drags down my arm as he pulls me in towards him.
The officer’s face transforms from suspicious to sympathetic in one swipe of a tear.
“Miss Sinclair, I understand. I would have done the same for my wife.”
I suck in a deep breath, holding in the laughter that threatens to escape.
Putting on my sweetest smile and pulling out the big guns, which is laying a hand on top of the officer's forearm, I say. “Thank you, Officer, but you’re the real hero here. Putting yourself on the line every day to keep us safe. I just did what anyone would do in my situation.”
The officer blushes, coughing into a clenched fist.
“Well, we’re nearly done here. Miss Sinclair, feel free to take a seat and I’ll finish up my questions with Dr. Adams here.”
“Thank you, Officer.” I take a look at Alfie who gives me a curt nod.
Not quite the theatrical fake boyfriend I expected him to play given that he didn’t correct the officer’s assumption that we’re a couple.
Then again, Alfie isn’t really one to play games.
Despite his obviously dry sense of humor that comes out occasionally, the guy is a bit of a stickler.
He is obsessed with rules, seemingly running his life by a set of them that harbor no imagination at all.
He’s set in his ways, or at least I thought he was.
Judging by his reaction to Vincent, the officer, and now me, I’d say there is more to Alfie Adams than he’s letting on.
◆◆◆
“The tissue was a nice touch,” Alfie mutters as we walk out of the alleyway.
I take one last glance at the two Scooby Snacks and take a wistful sigh.
“I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Adams. I felt overwhelmed with the situation,” I reply, lifting my chin as I look ahead.
“Mia, you were like a kid at Disney,” he tuts.
“That’s an exaggeration, and a thank you would be nice.” I turn to face him as soon as we’re out of sight of the officer. His face is murderous, as if me saving him from Vincent-Hands-of-Stone-Dodd was an inconvenience for his already bloody nose and swollen eye.
“A thank you? Mia, they need to surgically remove Vincent’s underwear from his ass crack. He’s going to be tasting cotton for weeks because of what you did to him.”
I clamp down on my lip, desperately trying not to laugh. Alfie doesn't crack a joke very often, but when he does, it slaps hard.
“I saved you. He was beating the shit out of you. I can show you a mirror if you don’t remember?
” He grabs my wrist tugging until I spin around to face him.
The long slope of his nose finishes with flaring nostrils that look like they’re trying to take off.
His brow pinched together, cheeks flushed red, yet perhaps that’s a result of being pummeled by the heavyweight champion back there.
Regardless, it’s clear I embarrassed him.
What guy wants to be saved by a woman in heels whilst he’s getting the shit kicked out of him?
“We’re going to talk about this later,” he snips,
“Sure thing, Dad. Are you going to ground me too?”
His nostrils start flapping again and I realize, as his eyes draw in on me, I may have taken this a teensy bit too far. We stomp back to the office. He now seems to care very little about my footwear situation as I trail behind in my heels.
Fuck him.
I really did save him, at least from getting a few more punches from Vincent.
What did he want me to do? Cower in the corner like a scared kid?
No thanks. I grew up with four brothers.
I was the only girl in the family, so let me tell you, I know how to win a fight.
It might not be through sheer strength, but a wedgie at the right angle and speed will inflict more pain than a punch to the nose.
But if in doubt, a swift throat punch will work wonders, especially if your attacker is coming at you face on.
He tuts. “I’m almost too frightened to wear underwear anymore in case I get on your bad side.”
Did Alfie just talk about his underwear and me in the same sentence? Because that was not on my Tuesday afternoon bingo card.
“And besides, I’m not that old,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“You called me Dad.”
“In the words of Pedro Pascal, Daddy is a state of mind.” I wink, pulling out my key to the office.
I push through the security door and hightail it to my desk. We had to cancel the afternoon sessions due to speaking with the police for so long after they carted Vincent off to the hospital.
“You can’t say that to me, Mia.”
I meet his gaze, noticing the pained expression marring his face. The scrunch of his brow, the flat line of his lips.
“It was a joke, Alfie.”
“Dr. Adams,” he corrects.
Really? He’s really trying to act all professional when he literally just stalked a patient and tackled him to the ground?
“Yeah, okay. Sure. Dr. Adams. If you’re gonna play like that, why don’t you tell me why you were stalking Vincent Dodd today?”