7. Olivia
“How is she?”
I close the bedroom door quietly and turn to Nancy, Riley’s babysitter for the past three months. She’s wonderful at it and I’ve had no complaints. But she’s also young, just recently eighteen, and I know the situation rattled her a bit.
“She’s fine. The fever’s gone now, actually, and I think it started going down right after you called me.” I smile in reassurance. “You did a good job giving her medicine and that warm bath.”
Nancy eyes my smile, then sighs in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was nervous. I don’t usually get nervous since I’ve had plenty of experience babysitting, but I think this is the first time someone had a fever under my watch. Since you’re a medical assistant, I thought I should call you and let you know in case it’s something more serious.”
“It’s probably just the weather, but I’ll monitor her. Don’t worry about it. You can go home, Nancy. Same time tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
I walk her to the door, appreciating her more for admitting her nerves and being so concerned for Riley. After rechecking on my daughter and ensuring that she’s fast asleep, I head to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich, realizing that I skipped dinner in my haste to get back home. I’m halfway through the sandwich and contemplating making another one when there’s a knock on the door.
I’m already walking toward it when I realize that I forgot to give Nancy her daily pay. So I get my wallet first and answer the door with it.
“Hey, sorry about that, I forgot to pay you?—”
It’s not Nancy. It’s someone I never expected to come to my doorstep. I stare in shock, noting that while Luke looks well put-together, his hair’s a bit messed up…probably from my hands.
Who am I kidding? He looks hot as hell with that messy hair.
Stop thinking about that.
The Luke I’ve been working with always looks neat and perfect down to his combed hair. If I didn’t know better, I would think he rushed from the hospital toward this place…which can’t be, right?
“Takeout?”
I blink, taken aback. “What?”
Brown eyes peer into mine, then gesture at my wallet. “Who did you forget to pay?”
“Oh. Just a sit—neighbor.” Stop. Talking. I clear my throat, about to explain, but I suspect that I’ll stick my foot in my mouth the more I talk about this particular topic. So I switch topics. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried.”
“Worried about?”
Luke gives me a pointed look. “You said there was an emergency, but you didn’t say what and left immediately.”
Oh, I don’t even remember. I just remember getting the text and panicking a bit, especially since it took a phone call for me to get the full news from Nancy and to assure her that I was on my way home. All I got was that Riley was sick and…
Riley.
Oh, God.
The panic returns, strong enough that a whimper gets stuck in my throat. My defense mechanism kicks in and I frown at him, struggling to keep the whimper in check.
“Then you should have called me and asked.”
“I did.”
Oh. Nervously, I hurry to grab my phone from my bag, my mind in a jumble as I try to keep my panic at bay. In truth, I’m also stalling because I don’t know how to deal with this yet.
Do I invite him inside so he doesn’t worry further? Riley’s door is closed and she’s fast asleep, but…
No.
Then do I make up a lie or something? Or just tell him point-blank to leave without explaining anything?
I look down at my phone, frowning further when I see the missed calls and the two texts he sent me: first, to ask if I’m okay, and second, to call him as soon as I get his message. I want to blame him for this scenario, but in truth, it’s my fault for not checking my phone right away.
“Liv, what’s the emergency?”
His tone is urgent, but the switch from Miss Davis to Liv today sends a shiver down my spine. I shake it off.
“It’s nothing. My neighbor Nancy texted me to report an incident, but it wasn’t as life-threatening as I thought. It’s all solved now.”
“Life-threatening?”
“Not life-threatening. I just assumed it was, but it’s not.”
I can tell he’s confused and brace myself for the question: what was the incident? I frantically scan my mind for something to pop up, but it’s stubbornly blank.
Fire? Water leakage? Neighborhood thief?
“I see.”
Wait. That’s it?
I look at him and realize he’s not going to push the subject. My shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah.”
“Can I come in?”
And just like that, my shoulders are tense again as I step out of the door. It’s a decision made for me before my mind can even catch up. I don’t close the door fully, though, not wanting to leave Riley alone.
But I have to handle this.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Luke…my house is messy.”
It’s a lousy reason, I know. It’s obvious when Luke raises a brow.
“Do I look like I care about that?” At my silence, his worried expression morphs into speculation. “Or is this the same thing again?”
“What same thing?”
Brown eyes search mine, so compelling and beautiful. “You regret having sex with me. Just like you regretted what happened in the car.”
Immediately, the word sex throws the image of earlier straight into the forefront of my mind, where I get a very good view of everything: the feel of him touching me, the feel of him inside me, and the feel of him pounding hard until I’m thrown into the throes of passion and insanity. I can tell it has the same effect on him as his gaze glows with a sheer display of desire, one that looks even more intense than the last time.
My mouth goes dry. It can’t be helped, and I know my expression can’t hide how I feel about that moment, either. I can still attest the moment to being so starved after not having sex in so long, but…
Luke hit the right spots—all the right spots. And I know deep in my heart that he’s the only one who can hit those spots like that whether I’m sex-starved or not.
“I can’t lie and say I didn’t like what happened, Luke, just as I can’t say that I wasn’t a willing participant.”
Heat blazes in his gaze, pulling me in like a magnet. I resist, which dims the heat a bit as caution enters his features.
“But?” he prompts.
It’s crazy how he can read me so well. I take a deep breath.
“It’s just too complicated.”
“Why? Because I’m your boss?”
I can’t tell if saying yes means that he’ll do something about it—like make a request to transfer me to another department. I know I don’t want that, either, because despite all the tension between us, working closely with him has been undeniably eye-opening and fulfilling. In just a few weeks, observing and learning from Luke has widened my knowledge in so many ways, which in turn has reawakened my passion for the field I’ve chosen.
It’s hectic, but I’m enjoying the job, and yes, I’m enjoying dissecting the mind of the best neurosurgeon in that prestigious hospital.
“It’s not just that.” I want to explain, but explaining reveals another vulnerability—and I’ve revealed enough to him.
“Then what is it?”
I lift my chin. “Whatever it is, it’s my business. All I’m going to say is that it’s too complicated.”
His face falls, a rapid flicker of emotion that’s promptly masked. The brief display agonizes me, understanding I’m being unfair, too. But a larger part of me understands that I can’t think about him because I have to think about someone else.
Riley.
“I see. So that’s it, then.”
To Luke’s credit, his voice is neutral, and he doesn’t seem angry. But also, why does he sound so patient?
“Yes.”
Luke nods. “It’s fine. I came here to check on you, not to hound you about what’s happening between us.” A smile flits in. “Now that I know there’s no emergency, I overstayed my welcome.”
“That’s not…” Just agree. Please. “It’s late. You need to get some rest.”
“You, too. So…see you tomorrow?”
I nod, relieved at the direction this is going. We will probably revisit this conversation, but I hope it will be when I’m mentally more prepared—when my mind isn’t too jumbled, and I can make a clear, concise decision. Tentatively, I return his smile.
“Yes, of course. See you tomorrow.”
He holds out his hand, a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s not yet done figuring me out. And I’m not going to lie, it turns me on.
Then Luke sucks in a breath, his expression freezing in the blink of an eye. I give him a puzzled look.
Then I hear the small voice behind me and am rendered frozen, too.
“Mom, who is that?”