Fourteen
Despite her insistence to not forget her past with him, three days later, she’s presented with a stark reminder that Wesley Quinn is an itch she can’t scratch.
He’s been a constant presence in her mind with the potential to fester into an infection, and now he’s sitting in room three of The Wild Rue.
His face breaks into a radiant grin, his eyes glittering with unsuppressed delight. “Hi.”
“Hello,” she says, her heart racing.
She knew he was here before she opened the door—his name was on the schedule when she reviewed the patient list that morning—yet her body still fizzes with unrestrained surprise.
Crossing the room, she perches in the chair, sets down her laptop, and opens his medical record. “My name is Charlie, and I’m your medical assistant today. Can you please confirm your name and date of birth for me?”
He does, and she types in a date in January, her gaze flicking between him and her computer screen. His mouth twitches with mirth.
“What brings you to the clinic today?” She knows this, too, as the reason for his appointment is listed next to his name.
“I’d like to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Infections,” she corrects. “We’re moving away from the term disease because it implies a more serious medical condition, and typically an infection like chlamydia or gonorrhea isn’t—” She stops when he presses his lips together in silent laughter.
Returning to the screen, she nods. “Anyway. Any known exposures?”
“No,” he replies, his voice laced with amusement. “But you can never be too careful.”
Since returning from NYC five days ago, they haven’t spoken, and he hasn’t reached out to schedule another tutoring session.
She certainly isn’t going to be the one to do so.
She’s busy enough with her job and school; she doesn’t need to use her remaining brain power to linger on Wesley Quinn and their day in New York.
She doesn’t have time for distractions.
Besides, the podcast is scheduled for release later that week. Nausea makes her gut writhe each time she thinks about it.
Rising from her chair, she retrieves the blood pressure cuff from the wall. “I’m going to grab your vitals and draw your blood before the clinician comes in to see you.”
He rolls up the sleeve of his T-shirt, and her gaze lingers on his left bicep before she schools her features into a picture of clinical professionalism.
“You know,” he says, “I hear it’s good to get tested when you have a new sexual partner.”
She hums. The cuff around his arm begins inflating, the numbers rising on the automatic machine. Reaching for the pulse oximeter, she clasps his right hand in hers. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m anticipating having a new partner soon.”
Her hand slips, snapping the device closed before she can attach it to his finger.
Her face heats under his stare. “I’m sure she appreciates your due diligence.” Keeping her tone neutral, she tucks a curl that has escaped from her bun behind her ear. “Or he.”
He laughs, warm and full.
She glances at his blood pressure after the cuff deflates. “A perfect reading.”
He grins. “I’m the picture of health.”
Ending their little charade, she asks, “How was the rest of your trip?”
His expression flickers, his smile straining at the edges. “Fine.”
His tone suggests he doesn’t want to elaborate. Her curiosity is piqued, but she reminds herself for the millionth time since leaving his father’s office that they are not friends and that his family problems are not her business.
She’s already navigating her own.
After gathering her supplies for his blood draw, she sits and rolls her chair forward, pausing before her knees brush his legs.
“How do you want me?” Sprawled in his chair with his thighs parted, he smirks knowingly, a devious glint in his eye. An image of sliding between his legs flashes through her mind before she returns to the task at hand, ignoring her body’s reactions to his nearness.
She sits up straighter. “You’re fine like that.”
Pulling on a pair of gloves, she positions herself so her thighs bracket one of his knees but don’t quite touch it. Grasping his left arm, she wraps the tourniquet around his bicep, swipes an alcohol wipe over his skin, and presses the butterfly needle into his vein.
A flash of blood appears almost instantaneously.
Tugging off the tourniquet, she pops the vial into the vacutainer in one smooth motion. Wes’s blood fills the tube.
“You’re really good at that,” he says quietly. “I hardly felt the poke.”
She smiles. “A patient once told me I have gentle hands.”
His skin is warm under her gloved hands, the veins in his forearm pronounced even without the tourniquet. She resists the urge to trace her finger down the length of his vein.
“You do. Very capable and dexterous. Are you working Saturday?”
She replaces the full vial with another. “No.”
“Do you want to come over to my place?”
She snaps her gaze to his.
“For tutoring,” he clarifies.
A flush rapidly takes over her chest and neck. His mouth curves, his eyes flicking between her face and the needle in his arm.
“Sure,” she replies, her voice slightly higher. She clears her throat. “I can do that.”
His smile is positively wicked.
She finishes taking his blood, removes the needle, and covers the site with a Band-Aid. He doesn’t speak while she deposits the needle in the sharps container, the tubing in the biohazard bag. But she feels him looking at her, and she knows she’s not imagining the heat in his gaze.
A physical reaction, she reminds herself, to a pleasing stimulus. That’s all.
Pocketing the vials, she retrieves her laptop. “Rachel, our physician assistant, will be in shortly to discuss when you can expect your results and answer any questions.”
He leans back in his chair, as casual as can be.
How aggravating to be affected by a simple blood draw and touching forearms.
“Anything else you’d like me to mention to her before she comes in?”
He tilts his head, considering. “Victoria isn’t here?”
“Dr. Angelo,” she says, “has the day off.”
“Good for her.” He winks. “I’ll be sure to tell Rachel her medical assistant provides exceptional care.”
His soft chuckle follows Charlie out of the room.
Later, she bites back a smile when Rachel forwards her a five-star review on their website from a W. Q., extolling the wonderful phlebotomy skills of the clinic’s medical assistant.