Round Thirty-Two #3
“Drop hints and make you ask me out properly, so I can act coy and shy and pretend to be a lady. But don’t worry, because I fully intend to end up back here in your bed on the first date anyway.”
And there it is, all better again.
“If this is my life now, I’m totally okay with that.
And though a part of me, an annoying little voice in the back of my head, says the joke is on me, because you were probably angling for something nasty and quick and you don’t want me to stay anyway, your hesitation in telling me about Darcy says you want me, too.
That voice is a liar, because you don’t want me to leave. ”
“I don’t want you to leave.” I wrap her close and taste her lips. Her tongue. Her. “Never.”
“Exactly. So here we are.” Her eyes glitter with emotion. Determination. “I don’t regret what we did last night, and I’m especially glad you spoke up about Darcy. Because if he mattered, I would feel something. If I mattered to him, he would’ve come for me by now. How long until we can call it?”
“Call what?”
“The point of no return. How long must I be this patient with no memories before I can just be Rosaline, a woman wanting to get on with her life? And did you notice I made you breakfast? Because you’re letting it get cold.”
I cough out a laugh and pray it covers my exhale of relief. “I saw, and I was so preoccupied with the Darcy stuff, I didn’t even worry you’d burn my kitchen down.” I draw her closer and kiss her lips. “Three months.”
She leans into my arm, trusting me to hold her up. “Three?”
“Mmhm. Ninety days. Then I’ll stop watching you like a patient and start objectifying you like a regular, pig bastard leering at a disgustingly sexy woman every time he catches a whiff of her shampoo.
But I’m not ready for you to move out yet, so if you could hold off on those plans a little while longer, I’d appreciate your patience. ”
Her eyes dance with a devious playfulness that makes my cock harden and ache.
“Got any more jobs around the house I could work on?” She peeks toward the sliding glass back doors. “The deck is basically finished, and I feel kinda bad for being a freeloader.”
“How’s that olive plant going in my living room? I noticed the leaves are still dull.”
She rolls her eyes and, with a noisy grunt, rocks forward, setting her feet back on the floor.
“It’s still fake.” Turning to the counter, she leans across—I do the leering thing—and hooks her hand around a bowl of oats.
Bringing it closer, she places it in front of me.
“Eat. Twelve hours is a long time to work without a proper breakfast in your belly.” She drags out her stool and plops down with her bowl.
“Also, do you ever stop and really think about the fact you’re in charge of people’s lives?
” She snags her spoon and digs in, tucking her hair back to keep it out of the way.
“The things you do, or don’t do, could mean someone lives or dies. Does the pressure ever get to you?”
All the fucking time.
I pick up my spoon and set my foot on the bar at the bottom of her stool.
“People have died on my watch. People who really matter.” I scoop a little porridge into my mouth and search her eyes.
“And the people left behind…” I shrug. “They don’t forgive easily.
I try not to think about it too much. Turning it over in my head makes me second-guess myself, and when I second-guess myself, more people die. ”
“Have you ever fallen in love with a patient before?”
I search her dancing, mischievous eyes and gulp. You mean, besides you? “No. But I’ve had to treat people I love before. It’s a small hospital, and sometimes your dad turns up in an ambulance, EMT pumping his heart for him, ‘cos it gave out while he was playing pickleball with his friends.”
Surprised, she lays her hand over mine. “That would’ve been really scary. Is he okay?”
“Triple bypass and some shiny new nuts and bolts.” I have fifteen minutes, at the most, before I have to get up and haul ass out of here.
But I take what we have and flip my hand over, clasping hers in my fingers and bringing it up until I can taste her skin.
Until I can feel her pulse under my tongue.
“He’s okay now. Had to retire from the force after that, and now he spends his time gossiping with the nattering old women around town. ”
She uses her left hand to scoop oats onto her spoon. “And your mom?”
One of the ones who didn’t make it. But I have no interest in spoiling our morning with that kind of talk, so I pepper kisses along her wrist and up to her elbow. “She’s not around anymore, which is why Gus has time to flirt with the book club ladies. You wanna go out to dinner with me tonight?”
She jolts and blinks, her eyes flickering back to mine. “Like, a date?”
“Mmm. We have dinner together every night, I know. But we haven’t done it in public before. Or maybe we could cook together here and watch a movie on the couch. Except, now I don’t have to sit there and pretend I don’t wanna touch you.”
Her lips curl teasingly high on one side. “Interesting. How many nights, exactly, have you sat there wanting to touch, Doctor Darling?”
“All of ‘em.” I eat quicker, shoveling oatmeal into my mouth and pushing it down to fill my belly. Then I look up in search of coffee—a necessity after only two hours of sleep.
Reading my mind, Rose detangles her hand from mine and slides off her stool, crossing to the cabinets and taking down two cups.
She fills them both with smooth efficiency, her processing memory completely intact after her run-in with Bitchy Barbara and her Pontiac. Dropping a little cream into each mug, she tosses the carton back into the fridge.
“Here, Darling.” She places a mug down by my bowl and presses a smiling kiss to my forehead. “Your surname is so cute, by the way. You didn’t have a chance: you had to be a romantic.”
“Who says I’m a romantic?” I drag her stool closer and thrill in the way she sits, one leg on either side of mine, so my shirt rides up and exposes her thighs. “I fucked you like a mongrel dog and left teeth marks in your thighs last night. Not very darling of me.”
“You fuck like an animal,” she agrees, trembling.
“But you play Uno to help me exercise my brain. You bring me Sudoku books and crosswords to help me remember, and demand I hammer a nail into your deck to prove I exist.” She picks a chunk of oatmeal off the upper lip of her bowl and places it on her tongue.
“You put my interests ahead of yours in every single scenario ever presented.” She smiles around the tip of her finger, her eyes alight with the kind of beauty that takes my breath away.
“You’re kinda perfect, Oliver Darling. And though I could let that intimidate me, knowing there’s no way I could measure up or truly deserve it, I’d rather sit here, eat my breakfast, and stare at you a little longer.
You have to leave soon.” Her smile drops into a soft, sweet pout.
“Twelve hours is a long time to be without you. But I’ll be right here when you’re done. Waiting.”
“Forever?”
Her lips twitch and her eyes dance. But fuck yeah, she nods.
“Forever.”