CHAPTER FOUR
brOOKLYN
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“Hey Dad.” I answer the phone. “No, it’s just a sprain.”
Travis refused to stay in the car or leave me on my own, which didn’t surprise me. Five seconds after meeting him, I worked out that he doesn’t take no for an answer.
He got a wheelchair for me, and I figured this was a safe place given we weren’t alone, and I know a lot of the staff here.
My father is a doctor.
These days he works in his own private practice, but as a little girl, I would visit and roam these halls. When a couple of nurses slowed to say hello as we headed through the hospital, Travis mumbled something.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re a doctor.”
“Okay, I won’t.” I giggled.
I’m not going to let him know, but I am having fun with our cheeky banter. He’s drop-dead gorgeous and way too confident.
If my ankle hadn’t been hurt, we might have been able to have a few drinks and enjoy a sexy night together, but now it just feels like we’d have to go on a date, and honestly, I just don’t want to go down that path with anyone.
Which is a shame because I swear he could cut glass with his jawline and I’m pretty sure he knows exactly how to please a woman.
Stop thinking about sex while talking to your father.
I shiver.
“Are you cold?” Travis asks.
“Who’s that?” Dad asks next.
“Um, a friend,” I reply. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Dad. Tell Mom I love her.”
“Okay, make sure Zarick gives you some pain meds,” Dad says, meaning Dr. Wiles.
I smile. “I will.”
The doctor walks in and hands me a bottle of pills.
“Just in time, Dad was telling me to get the good stuff from you.”
Dr. Wiles laughs. “Well, this isn’t the good stuff, but it will reduce the pain and inflammation for a few days. It’s just a sprain, so stay off it as much as you can. Elevate and ice. You know the drill.”
“I do.” I jump off the bed, forgetting my ankle, and let out a groan.
“Clearly not enough,” Travis mutters.
“Make sure she stays off it,” Dr. Wiles tells my so-called knight, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like Clark Kent.
The only thing missing is the glasses. His shirt strains against large biceps and his shoulders so much I’m tempted to advise him to buy a larger size. But women around Manhattan would hate me, and I’m enjoying the view, so I don’t.
A lock of his dark hair has fallen over his forehead, and every nurse that’s seen him has melted on the spot, blushing like a young girl.
I get it.
I’m just better at hiding it.
I think.
A pair of crutches is offered to me, and I shake my head.
“I can work from home for a few days, so save them for someone who needs them.”
Travis pushes away from the wall and disappears, returning with a wheelchair. “Get in.”
I drop down into it, knowing it's not worth the argument and happy to not have to hobble through the hospital. Or have him carry me.
Not that feeling his hard, muscular body against me was horrible.
It was way too nice.
I just don’t want either of us to get the wrong impression, and I end up dating this man for the next six weeks then have him break my heart.
Not happening.
I’ve learned my lesson. Four times.
Call me a slow learner.
Anyway, I let him bring me to the ER, but I’m not getting back in the car with him, even if he does have a driver. I grew up in Manhattan—my mom is a professor at Columbia where I got my BA, and my father is a doctor—so I’m street smart.
I have two best friends. Tony and Jasmine. Jasmine and I started at Columbia together, and we met Tony. After a year, it was clear the two of them were attracted to one another, and so they dated and are now married.
So, I’m stuck with them both.
Which I love.
They are doing IVF, so their world is very different from mine. No drinking and an insanely healthy diet. Lots of sex—lucky them—and all the drugs and meetings that come with trying for a baby.
So I’m not messaging Jasmine as she’s hormonal and will freak out. I drop Tony a message instead.
Sprained my ankle. At the ER. Can you meet me in a cab and help me up to my apartment? Only if you’re free.
What? You okay? Yes. Shall I come now?
Yes. Don’t worry Jasmine, I’ll be fine in a few days.
See you in ten. Don’t move.
I wave goodbye to the medical team, thanking them, and let Travis wheel me down the corridors.
“Quite the black stallion you have here, Lancelot,” I say, grinning ahead of me because he can’t see.
He’s quiet, so I glance over my shoulder. The glint in his eyes sends a quiet shudder through me.
I wait for his cheeky comeback, but it never arrives.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m trying to keep the comment to myself about having a big stallion for you to ride if you’d like.” We stop and he pushes the button for the elevator, then glances down at my blushing face. “Or the—”
I hold up my hand. “I got it. I walked into that one.”
Our gazes lock and I can’t stop my smile.
“Fine. I’ve met my match. You are smart and funny.” I laugh.
His hand slaps his chest. “A compliment, milady. I am honored.”
The doors open and Travis pushes me inside. Then does that sexy lean thing again and gazes down at me. “So, what happens next?”
I’m surprised he asked instead of telling me. This man is all alpha and I have no doubt he’s used to giving orders.
I shiver again, imagining how he’d be a dominant lover.
Another reason to steer clear.
I’d like it.
I like him.
I’d get my heart broken.
“I texted a friend. Tony is meeting me in a cab downstairs in a few minutes.”
“Tony?” His eyes darken.
Is he jealous?
Ping.
The thick metal doors grind as they slide open, and Travis pushes me out into the lobby.
“Yeah, he’s going to take over from here, Lancelot.”
“I was going to take you home.” Travis growls, stopping inside the entrance and moving to stand in front of me, looking unhappy.
When I move, he helps me out of the chair, so I’m standing holding his forearm, feeling his delicious muscles under my fingertips.
“Were you just? So that you can show me your big stallion?” I hold up the pills. “Sorry I’m injured and stone cold sober.”
“Wow. Kill a man’s confidence, why don’t you.” Travis takes a half step back, feigning offense.
He has so much confidence it oozes from him and it’s clear from the sparkle in his eyes that he’s enjoying this interaction with me just as much as I am.
“Well, I don’t want to end up on the side of the next milk carton.”
“I’d buy that milk. Talk about making breakfast sexy.”
I chuckle. “Stop.”
When I glance up, all his humor is gone, replaced by deep gray globes, which tell me he’s about to get what he wants.
Remember, you’ll just get hurt.
“You need to get off your ankle, but before I let you ride away into the sunset with Tony, give me your number.”
This is how it starts.
“Why?”
He smirks, loving the challenge. “Maybe I want to show you my castle.”
“Do you? Have a castle?”
“I have a round table.” Travis shrugs.
I can’t help my small laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Let me take you out for dinner.”
“I don’t date.”
“Nor do I,” he replies.
I blink, surprised by his response. “Okay, so are you looking for a wench or a queen? Because I’m not joking, I am not dating right now and—”
“Brooklyn.” Travis cups my face, and my body explodes into a billion sparks of light at his touch. “I promise I will not ask you to marry me or invite you to move into my castle.”
I can’t speak.
I know this is the game, but suddenly he feels larger, more powerful, all-encompassing, and...I want him to kiss me.
I really want him to kiss me.
“Come to dinner tomorrow night and I promise to treat you like a queen, then fuck you like a naughty wench.”
Jesus Christ.
My mouth falls open as I wait for his lips to crush to mine. Instead, he slips a card between my fingers, and disappointment replaces my arousal.
Just.
The glass doors of the hospital open in a low hum.
“There you are,” Tony calls out.
Shit.
Bad timing buddy. Go away. Come back another time.
Travis lifts my hand, kissing the back of it while I try to get my lungs to start working. And fail.
I can’t breathe.
“Goodnight, Genevieve.” Travis winks and gives me the sexiest, most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen.
And he has dimples.
Jesus, you are cruel.
Travis slowly backs away, confident as fuck, then turns and strides out the door.
And out of my life.
“Who was that?” Tony asks, walking over.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.
Glancing at the black card he handed me, I flip it over and over.
How strange.
On the front, his name and cellphone number are displayed, but the back simply has a large, bold, silver A.
“I really don’t know.”
“Let’s get you home.” Tony leads me out of the hospital, and I glance around.
He’s gone.
Travis is gone.
As we drive through the dark Manhattan streets, it almost feels like it was all a dream. Like a knight swept me off my feet (after injuring me) and made me fall in love with him.
Ridiculous, obviously.
But I have a feeling I’ll be thinking of Travis Warner for a long time. Because I’m not calling him.
I promise to treat you like a queen, then fuck you like a naughty wench.
Despite that very nice offer.