Chapter 22 #2
He scratches his temple, his fingers dragging through his hair, messing it up further. “I guess we should exchange numbers. Just in case.”
I bite back a laugh. He looks so uncomfortable, like asking for a phone number is more stressful than performing surgery. His weight shifts from foot to foot, and he won’t quite meet my eyes. I don’t understand. It’s a simple exchange, a practical necessity.
“Good idea. I might have a sudden craving for ice cream. Or pickles. Isn’t that what injured people do? Have weird cravings?” I’m being silly, knowing this is wrong.
“You’re thinking of pregnancy,” he says dryly, but I catch it. The tension leaves his shoulders, his stance relaxing slightly. My lightness disarms him, makes him more human. It’s such a small thing, but after him shutting me out, this feels like a small win.
He nods, and I rattle off my phone number, watching his long fingers move across his screen. He’s got nice hands. Strong, with prominent veins and clean, short nails. Surgeon’s hands? Or Zac’s hands?
My phone chimes a moment later, buzzing against the sofa cushion.
“Now you’ve got mine,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be back soon.” He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair, shrugging it on. The movement makes his shoulders look even broader.
“Take your time.” I mean it, thinking he might need space from me. “I’m fine here.”
He pauses at the door and looks back at me. Our eyes meet and hold for longer than necessary. Then he nods once and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.
I wait, listening for the sound of the car to start, and then only when he’s really gone do I grab my phone, save him as a contact, and pull up Brooke’s number.
She answers straight away. “Hey!”
“He’s gone to the store, so I have time to talk.”
“How’s it going? Is Sexy Sterling still being a grump?”
I close my eyes briefly, and the memory floods back. Stepping out of the bathroom, and everything going black. Then strong arms catching me, lifting me. The solid warmth of his chest against my cheek, the steady thud of his heartbeat underneath my ear.
“Well,” I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice, “I fainted, and he caught me.”
She gasps, then claps. “Good stuff. Please tell me you snuggled into his arms.”
“Brooke. I didn’t plan that.” Though I can’t deny it had felt… nice. His arms had been solid and warm, and for a moment before panic set in, I’d felt completely secure.
“Oh, I thought it was staged. You know, to get close to him.”
“And when have I ever done that?” I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “I’m not some scheming—”
“Listen, a hot guy alone in your house for who knows how long…” She draws out the words suggestively.
“He’s my doctor, and I’m his patient,” I say firmly, as much to remind myself as her. Because yes, he’s attractive. Yes, there’s something between us, this crackling tension that makes my skin feel too tight, but there are rules for a reason.
“You’re not at the hospital,” she counters.
“That doesn’t matter. It’s still unethical, and I need to focus on getting better. Tomorrow, I’m back at work.”
“Oh, that’s good. Are they letting you?” Her voice shifts to concern. “Do you have any pain?”
I look down at my elevated leg, where Zac carefully placed two pillows under it, adjusting them until the angle was perfect.
His hands were gentle despite his gruff demeanor, his fingers barely grazing my leg but leaving heat in their wake.
“No. I have a dull ache here and there, but mainly need the strong medication at night. The daytime stuff is manageable.”
“So, what’s the plan tonight? Please tell me it involves him shirtless, wearing a stethoscope. Maybe cooking in that attire…”
I laugh. “Dinner and an early night. But…” I pause for dramatic effect, “Zac can bake cookies.”
“Wait, is his name actually Zac?” Her voice pitches up. “That’s his real name?”
“Yep,” I answer, unable to keep the dry, amused edge out of my voice.
“Hot name.”
“It is a hot name.”
“But sorry to tell you, babe, anyone can bake cookies. It’s not hard. You buy the tube of dough, slice it, throw it in the oven.”
“No, not like that. I mean, from scratch. Like, he listed ingredients. Flour, butter, vanilla extract. The whole thing.”
“Oh, whaaat?” She’s nearly shrieking now. “Sexy Sterling is a double master with his hands? Surgery and baking?”
“Oh, he is.” I giggle, my cheeks warming. And I’m not just thinking about baking. I’m thinking about those hands carrying me tightly, touching me.
“This is too good.”
“He’s also less of an asshole.” I hold back a laugh. “Well, less than he was at first, I mean.”
“What do you mean? Has something happened?”
“No, but he isn’t so snappy with me anymore.
He’s still gruff, but…” I try to find the words.
“There are moments when he smiles, or when he teases me back. But I did try to ask about Dr. Peltz—he’s Zac’s boss—and he completely shut down.
Like, physically tensed up and changed the subject. Something’s definitely going on there.”
There is the keyboard tapping on her end. Brooke’s in research mode.
She whistles down the line. “Well, this might be why.”
I shuffle on the sofa, my pulse quickening. Something in her tone makes me freeze, every muscle instantly locking up. “What? What did you find out?”
“I just typed in his name, and there’s an article about him.” She pauses, and there is the distinct sound of her mouse clicking. “About a complaint.”