Chapter 6
SOFIA
The code blues went on, and on. Saving two and losing one. It’s been a long, frustrating, and overall rough day. Sending the twin away was the easiest thing to do. Dealing with them in unison can be a little much. Today wasn’t the day for that. They can take it out of me. Together, they’re trouble.
Everyone can tell by looking at them. Muscular, handsome, way too much machismo for their young age.
Still in college, from what I overheard.
When my patient turned those tan eyes to me, the edges rimmed with dark chocolate, he seemed almost sweet.
Then he opened his mouth, said vulgar stuff about my butt or lips, and the sweetness died.
It’s seven on the dot when my shift ends. I’m curious to see if my little papito obeyed.
My little papito.
What am I thinking?
One push through the door confirms it. The smell hits me first. My stomach growls.
He did. Sitting in the chair by the window like a sinner waiting for mass, legs folded in, broad shoulders hunched down to fit into a space too small for him.
A large brown bag is on the table next to him.
The logo from some overpriced restaurant glares at me.
The smell of richly brewed coffee sneaks up my nose, probably from another fancy place.
As agreed, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
Just watches like he’s starving and not for food.
I pretend the monitor needs my full attention.
Numbers are steady. My patient, just like his twin, is strangely silent.
I’d blame it on some inner telepathic communication that some twins have.
But with the guy in my bed, I doubt he has it.
His mouth kills any inner thoughts. I waste time charting a note. My gaze looks at the bag.
He nods toward it. Still obeying the silent order but leaning forward. Waiting for me.
“Bro, if she doesn’t want it, I do.”
Emilio groans from the bed, tapping his tray, which holds his own hospital food. His grin is reckless, his ribs angry at the effort. For his part, he glares at his brother. My patient groans again, more frustrated. His lower lip juts out. Looking more pitiful than Paco.
“They’re starving me in here. Broth. Fucking jello and some shit they call mashed potatoes and gravy. Trust me, it’s not,” Emilio whines from the bed, stabbing his fork into the hospital tray. “Then this dickwad comes in with real food and doesn’t even share. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
He groans when his ribs protest, and he falls silent when I raise an eyebrow at him.
My eyes swing back to his brother, who still hasn’t said a word.
His chest rises, falls. Matching tan eyes glued on me.
It’s sort of endearing. When I finally nod, giving him permission.
He exhales like it costs him his life and dives for the bag.
“Black coffee. Exactly how you like it.”
He pulls out the covered cup, steam seeping from the tiny hole. Then places it on the table beside the bag.
“Ugh, who drinks black coffee. That’s the worst. I need mine with a gallon of milk, some creamer, and hold the coffee,” the nene grumbles and picks at a piece of hard cornbread.
Yeah, the patient’s food isn’t that great. The comment goes unnoticed by Massimo. He starts pulling out container after container. Far too much for what I eat. Usually, it’s a sandwich and a bag of chips if I’m lucky. If the shift is calm. That rarely happens. Mostly it’s a protein bar.
“Grilled chicken with lime. Black beans and rice. Sweet plantains, still warm.”
He opens the box. The aroma escapes and runs straight up my nose, down to my stomach, where it growls in betrayal. His brother leans forward, salivating at the sight of it.
“Good. What else do you have?”
That meal looks remarkably delicious. But I can’t let on that I’m growing more impressed by his effort. Already more of an effort than my ex, who used to get his panties in a bunch when I forgot my lunch at home and asked him to bring it to me.
“Glad I bought choices,” he mutters to himself, closing the lid and placing it next to the coffee.
“Turkey and avocado wraps cut in half. Yogurt with walnuts and honey. Fresh mango and pineapple. Two boiled eggs with salt. Protein packed.”
His eyes track mine with every item, begging for approval.
“Acceptable,” I say, moving toward the coffee and plucking it from the table.
The heat seeps through the cup, warming my palms. The first sip is always the best, and when I moan with pleasure, both men stop and stare.
“Fuck if that sound didn’t give me a stiffy.”
My patient falls back against his pillow, straining with pain but still watching me drink my coffee. For fun, I let my tongue run across my lips, collecting any remains.
“Damn DSLs.”
His brother’s eyes darken. He moves to the edge of his chair, as if he’s going to get up, but doesn’t. I hide my smile behind my coffee, relishing the instant response I get from them.
Raging bulls, huh?
These two are enough to put up with. I have to admit, his offer of being sandwiched between them was on my mind the rest of my shift. It’s something I’ve been intrigued by but would never do. I don’t trust men already. So why would I trust two? And to be trapped between two of them? That’s loco.
“Is that all you brought?”
Massimo clears his throat and slowly shakes his head.
Another box appears, and rather than go over it, he simply opens the lid to show me.
Some lasagna with a salad and bread. There’s no way I can eat all of this.
It would be a soggy mess by the time I lug it to the subway station and then to my home.
“Good boy.”
The word lands like a crown on his head. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t smirk. He sits taller, waiting for the following order.
“Unfair,” Emilio mutters, pointing his finger at the spread. “She can’t eat all that. I could—”
“Enough. Eat your food so you can have pain meds. We start weaning tomorrow, and your abrasions are really going to be hurting.”
He turns away with a huff and digs into what remains of his tray. It’s not enough, but with how much and how strong the pain meds are, we don’t need him nauseated either.
“Bueno.”
I step toward the food. Massimo stands up this time. Partly blocking the tray and my dinner.
“Now, it’s my part of the deal.”
I cock my head, knowing full well he doesn’t have a deal. I gave him orders, and he followed. That’s the end of it.
“No—”
“Yes.”
His one word lands cold to my ears while his hand is warm on my arm.
Searing into my flesh. It’s suddenly hot in here.
Hotter with him touching me. With them on my mind the entire shift, especially while taking care of his brother and getting hit on, there’s attraction there.
Who wouldn’t find them attractive? He said it himself.
But that’s the bad part, they know it. I’d be one-and-done with these two.
I don’t have the time or energy for casual sex. I work far too much for that nonsense.
“Stay here and eat with us.”
“Aw man, I don’t want to watch her eat if I can’t have some,” Em whines like usual. He’s immature. Whines like a baby every time he doesn’t get his way. Which is always in here. “Mas, I know we want to fuck her, but there has to be some other way.”
“Ay!”
I jerk my arm out of Massimo’s touch. Mad and offended despite his brother saying as much when he blocked the door.
But coming from my patient, I don’t know.
Makes it uncomfortable. The constant hitting on me, I can take and throw it back at him.
The other stuff hits differently depending on my mood.
“Shut up, Em!”
Massimo moves to follow me as I head to the door. His brother is actually silent for once.
“Sofia, he’s an idiot. You’ve got to know that, but he means well. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
I reach the door. Coffee in hand. Debating on walking away from some fantastic food at the expense of my sanity.
“But we just want to spend time with you. I brought all that for you. If you want to take it and leave. That’s fine. But I’m serious about the other stuff. I want to know you, see you, and yeah, we want to fuck you. Can you blame us? I mean, look at you.”
I see my reflection in the narrow window in the door. My hair is everywhere. The bit of makeup I started the shift with is long gone, and I’ve sweated all day through my scrubs. I’m looking at myself, and I don’t see what they see.
His hand is back, this time on my shoulder. Rubbing gently, as if working the knots out. My eyes beg to close from how good it feels. I stifle a groan and glance over my shoulder at him.
“It’s against hospital policy to eat with patients in their rooms.”
Without missing a beat, he sprints back to the bag and packs it all up. Blurts out an apology to his brother, who flips him off and cusses him out while hustling us out the door.
“Where can you eat this? The cafeteria? Or the lob—”
“There’s a park, toward the back of the hospital, that I sometimes go sit in.”
He smiles, his hand on the small of my back.
“Perfect, lead the way.”
He doesn’t say anything more. I walk slightly ahead.
His hand grazes my ass more than once. The last time gets him a sharp glare over my shoulder.
Yet, he’s pretending to look down a hallway.
The food is balanced in one arm, leaving the other free.
Yeah, he knows, I know what’s up. For the rest of the time, I’m weaving us through the maze of a hospital, sipping my drink until we slip out the side doors to the garden behind it.
“This is surprisingly nice.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, looking even more handsome in the setting sun. It turns his tan eyes a deeper cinnamon, but also makes the bags under his eyes appear more blueish-black.
“Just didn’t expect a park at a hospital.”