Chapter 11 - Catalina
“I’m calling because I want to prepare you,” I say through the phone, pacing the length of my hotel room, stretching out my back and legs from the terrible sleep I got last night.
I've been awake since three. That's two hours of lying in my own hotel room staring at the ceiling, running through the same mental checklist I use before a difficult surgery.
Except instead of reviewing anatomy, I was reviewing every single decision I made last night and cataloging exactly where I went wrong.
The whiskey. Staying for the second drink. Telling Jensen five things that no one else knows about me. The red lingerie. Agreeing to go back to his hotel room. All of it is forensically avoidable in hindsight. I made those decisions willingly while fully understanding the consequences.
It took me seconds before I decided to get out of his room.
I've made faster decisions with someone's aorta in my hands.
I grabbed my shoes, my bag, my dignity in that order, and I left before he could get out of the bathroom.
Which was the right call. The only call.
It was a one-time thing and no one else can know.
The fact that I stood in the hallway outside his door for another thirty seconds after it closed is irrelevant. And the fact that he didn’t check the hallway for me tells me everything I needed to know.
That was a mistake. A fun one, but a mistake that we won’t repeat. At least we agreed we’ll never discuss it again. Now we can just pretend it never happened.
I take a deep breath. “…I slept with one of the bull-riders competing in the Iron Horn Series last night.”
There’s a long pause through the receiver. “I’m sorry... You did what!?” my younger sister Daniela screams into the phone.
I jerk my cell away like she's going to blow out my eardrum.
"God, Dani, you're so dramatic sometimes."
I knew she’d react like this, and still, I’m annoyed. It's not like I'm a freaking virgin. I suppose going from a long-term relationship with the same man I'd been with since I was a teenager to having a one-night stand with one of my athletes is enough to make anyone want to scream.
“I’m video calling you,” she says, like that’s going to give her an explanation for what happened, and before I can hit decline, my phone vibrates with an incoming video.
I answer on a sigh that borders on a groan. Her face fills the screen—brown eyes identical to mine, the same angular cheekbones, sharp nose, the same aggressively judgmental eyebrows, except hers are softer and she's smiling this morning.
Growing up, we were always best friends.
It was easy because we were so close in age.
Until it felt like we were in competition for our parents’ attention.
I'm not sure if she felt that way too or if I was just projecting my insecurities, but something about that drove a wedge between us, and I've been struggling to get back to the way things had been ever since.
That's part of the reason why taking this job has been good for me. It’s forcing me out of my comfort zone and to work at being a little less critical of other people and their decisions and myself. Guess that's working a little too well for me, since I let my guard down with Jensen.
“You can’t just drop that on me with no back story. I need details!”
“You don’t need to know the details,” I say. “I just didn’t want it to accidentally come up when I see you and Lawson in two weeks.”
She blinks. “And how would that accidentally come up in conversation?”
I have no response. It’s not like I’m planning on blurting out Hey, remember how you dated your boss? Well, apparently, I’m collecting colleagues now too!
Maybe it’s not that I thought it would slip out.
Maybe… I just needed to tell someone. Anyone.
Because after creeping out of Jensen’s room like some sneaky ninja a few hours ago, I’ve been spiraling.
Quietly. Professionally. Like a woman who absolutely does not sleep with coworkers or men who aren't her boyfriend. Because I don’t do that.
I’ve literally never done that. And yet here we are.
Discussing my one-night stand with a bull rider at five in the morning like it’s a normal Tuesday.
“I’ve practically forgotten about it already,” I lie, trying for a straight face as a vine of panic wraps around my spine. "It's not a big deal. It was unmemorable."
I can't let my little sister think I don't have things under control over here. I've always been the one my sisters have looked up to. Making risky sexual decisions is not something I do. Even if it didn’t feel all that risky at the time.
Something shifted last night. Physically, emotionally, hormonally—who knows.
But I feel… different. Wilder. Maybe even a bit prettier.
Less buttoned-up surgeon, more slightly unhinged woman in a romance novel making new choices that change her perspective on life and love.
Like sleeping with a man whose idea of foreplay starts with him risking his life in a ring with a bull and ends with him between my thighs, worshipping me with the same focus and control he uses in the arena.
Fingers. Mouth. Tongue. Hips. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Is this what happens after you leave a long-term relationship and finally have sex with someone new?
Do people just… start glowing? Break open?
Get reckless? Because I feel all that and more.
He asked me if I was okay approximately four hundred times.
Which should have taken me out of the moment but instead felt… nice.
He was checking in. He was talking me through it. He held my hands. He let me touch his heart.
I pause and glance in the large hotel room mirror that's above the dresser. I swear, my skin looks brighter despite getting only a few hours of sleep. And if anyone understands the psychological chaos of sleeping with someone you shouldn’t, it’s Dani.
She dated her old boss years ago, had a literal heart attack at twenty-seven, vowed off men…
and then fell face-first into love with Lawson Marshall, the human equivalent of a golden retriever dipped in honey and cowboy charm.
I get why she folded. I almost folded when I saw Lawson too, and that was back when I thought a cowboy could never be my type.
Wait. No. Cowboys still aren’t my type. Jensen was a one-night thing.
“We had a drink after dinner with our coworkers,” I say, keeping my tone surgical-level neutral. “And then it happened.”
She narrows her brown eyes, suspicious as hell. “You had a drink with him alone?”
“Yes. I’m treating his shoulder.”
“You’re treating his shoulder?”
“It’s my job to treat him.”
“Your job.”
“Stop repeating everything I’m saying.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m great.” My voice is flat.
“Tell me exactly what happened during this drink and then afterward.”
“I’ve already told you everything.”
“But how? And why? Were you drugged? Were you aware you were sleeping with him?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s too early for this. “Goodbye, Dani.”
“No, wait! Sis, wait! Which one was it? I’m serious. I’m not judging. I just need the details. Also, I’m a little in shock.”
I hesitate. “Don’t tell Lawson. I don’t want it getting back to Regan or worse, Hayes.”
“I’m literally sitting on Lawson’s lap right now.” She flips the camera around to show her husband’s handsome face.
"Morning, Catalina." He has the decency to look genuinely uncomfortable, which I appreciate more than my sister’s reaction. Then he ruins it by adding, "For what it's worth, I think it's great. Everyone deserves a little chaos once in a while." He pauses. "That came out wrong."
"It did," I agree.
"I'm going to go make coffee," he says, already standing.
"Thank you," Dani and I say at the same time, and for a second it almost feels like having a sister again.
“Isn’t it early there?” I ask.
She shrugs with a grin. “We have an early flight, and we were just eating breakfast. We're flying down to Louisiana for a pitch.”
Of course they are. They work together in sales and marketing for the Marshall family business, which means they travel together constantly.
“Breakfast on each other’s laps?” I ask, making a face. I’ll never understand it. How two fully grown adults voluntarily sit on top of each other like they’re sharing a single oxygen supply. It’s too much. Give me my personal space back, please.
“So, back to how this all happened,” she prompts, trying to get me to talk.
“We had a couple drinks, he offered for me to come back to his room, and I said yes,” I explain, waving a hand like it was the simplest transaction in the world.
Dani’s mouth opens and closes but no words come out.
“That’s all it was. I left when he finished.”
“Did you finish?”
I wince. My sister and I are close but not talk-about-orgasms close.
This feels like we’ve crossed into a forbidden zone neither of us is emotionally prepared for.
Maybe if I hadn't immediately moved away for school as soon as I was eighteen, we would have had talks like this but something about the whole situation feels unnatural.
“Yes.”
“I’m happy for you,” she says, a little too gently.
I laugh. “Don’t be. It was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again.”
“Maybe it should happen again.”
I roll my eyes. “It won’t. Don't tell Isla.”
I'm not sure why I add that last part. Maybe because I'll always feel like their big sister, afraid of letting them see me uncertain and out of control. It's a one-night stand. I know it could be worse. But still.
Dani huffs. "Isla has had plenty of one-night stands, but okay."
Yep. Wish I didn't know that about my twenty-five-year-old sister.
“So, what’s next for you?” she asks.
“I’m about to head down to the hotel lobby to catch the shuttle to the airport.”
“God, that’s early for you. Where are you flying next?”
“Los Angeles. Our last ride before the break.”
She nods, then narrows her eyes. “That is not what I meant. I was asking what’s next for your new love life?”
I let out a snort. “Nothing. Actually… the team photographer, June, created a dating profile for me last night.”
Dani’s eyes widen. “And you allowed her to do that?”
I sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing the bright red dress pants I tugged on a few minutes ago and adjusting my cream blouse with my Doctor Alba badge clipped neatly on the pocket. I look put together, but I don't feel it.
Another day of red. Another day of wearing what I want—colors, softness, personality—instead of the suffocating black scrubs I lived in for years in the OR.
Another day of trying to figure out who I am outside of the operating room and outside of my old life.
At least now I feel like I'm moving in the right direction.
“Yes,” I say. “June’s… persistent.”
Dani laughs knowingly. “I’m excited for you. So, this cowboy you slept with... it was Jensen Grant, wasn’t it?”
My head snaps up. “Why would you assume that?”
She grins like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. “Oh my God! I’m telling Regan. We knew he’d be the one to catch your eye if you just let your guard down a little. Hayes said no way, but we were totally right!”
"He didn't catch my eye."
It’s a flat out lie and we both know it. Dani gets this smile she's had since she was seven years old, the one that means she's right about something and is giving me the grace of not saying so directly. I hate that smile. I've always hated that smile. I need Jensen to un-catch my eye immediately.
"He's a former patient, technically. I performed his heart surgery a few months ago. And he’s now one of my colleagues. It meant nothing. It was a one-time thing."
"Sleeping with a patient… ooh."
I think about last night. The way he said my name, Catalina, not Doctor Alba, like I asked. It didn’t feel like he was a patient then. I think about the way he checked the condom twice. The way he kissed my fingers after threading our hands together gently.
"I swear, if you tell Hayes I’m going to be pissed.”
Dani's smile gets wider, and I want to hang up on her.
“Okay, well, see you in a couple weeks! We can’t wait to see you guys in action. And Jensen! Have a safe flight.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
She smiles and hangs up. I stay there for a moment, phone in my lap, taking a few slow, controlled breaths like I’m prepping for a difficult procedure and not a routine walk to the elevator where I might run into my one-night stand.
Then I push to my feet.
I’m ready—or pretending to be ready—to walk to the lobby and join the rest of the team flying to California. It’s only been a few hours since I left Jensen’s hotel room, but I’ve already decided. I’m going to act normal. Professional. Unbothered. Like none of it changed anything. Because it didn’t.
My phone buzzes. I glance down. It’s a notification from the dating app that June set up for me. I don’t look at what it means. I turn the screen face over on the bedspread. Right.
Like I didn’t let a bull rider ride me.