Abruption (15 page)

O
kay, now I was getting pissed. She had a life—I got that. A career—me too. Hell, I had a family that came first, but I still scrounged up thirty seconds to pick up the phone. What was her excuse? Four days of incommunicado made no sense, especially after that night. Even more so with the way she lit up for me the morning after.

I got that we hadn’t spent much time together. But it hadn’t stopped her from making the small stuff matter. She remembered everything, every detail, even things I wasn’t sure I’d said aloud. Not to mention she didn’t have the widower look. Instead of the
oh you poor thing, let me make it better
look, she had the
I sympathize, but it doesn’t give you a reason to be a dick
look. That I could appreciate. Hell, I even liked it. So much so, I reluctantly let my guard down for the first time since
her
. And I wasn’t lying when I told her she was a natural. With Finn. With Max. With me. So whether she was toying with me or just plain not interested,
this
needed to be resolved. I was too old and had been burned too many times for games. And I definitely wasn’t going to tolerate limbo, especially with my children involved. Letting them hang together was an amateur move on my part. I knew better. This was the exact reason I didn’t date. There was no time for this bullshit.

I ripped the sweaty blue cap from my head and kicked my feet up on my desk. Two hernia repairs down, a hemicolectomy, and two appys to go. I snatched up my phone and stared at the screen like some text was magically going to appear. No such luck.

I should let the whole thing go, chalk it up to another life lesson about women, complete with phenomenal sex as my parting gift. But I couldn’t. History might prove I wasn’t the best judge of character when it came to the opposite sex, but Jules seemed different.

The real deal.

Hell with it. I scrolled, tapped her name, and hit speaker. She worked Monday and Tuesday night, was off Wednesday, and was due in today at eleven. It was a quarter to, so there was no reason she shouldn’t answer. Great, I sounded like a stalker now. Whatever, they were just cinnamon rolls.

“Hello.”

Damn, her silky voice had a way of taming my irritability. “Hey,” I said back, hoping she couldn’t hear the smile in my voice.

“Is everything okay? How’s Finn?” Her tone was laced with genuine concern.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s much better. Crazy—must have eaten something rancid. My poor boy no sooner stopped throwing up, had to deal with the other end. Rough two days, but turned out to be a crash course in potty training.”

“That’s so strange, but you’re lucky no one else got it. The whole potty training thing is an awesome feat though, he must be so proud of himself! He really is such an amazing kid.”

“Now I’ve got to schlepp all over to try and find Power Ranger boxers. He’s giving Maya a hell of a time over wearing whatever kind she picked up.”

Jules’ soft laugh,
that
laugh filled the air waves before she said, “I’m not sure they make Power Ranger
boxers
, he might have to settle for briefs. Just hit up Amazon Prime. He’ll have them in two days.”

“Good suggestion, thanks.” I probably should’ve known that.

Were we really talking about my son’s underwear options? I appreciated her concern for Finn, but I’d never guess this was the same woman who crossed the line from Finn’s nurse to our last exchange when she tucked a pair of drenched panties in her purse. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it. One way to find out.

I clipped the growing silence and said, “Talk to me, doll.”

“What do you mean, what’s up?”

What’s up … you tell me, your finger broken?
Along with festering and stalking, I obviously started growing a vagina over the past four days. Luckily, whatever circulating testosterone I had left prevented my mouth from spewing the words. “What’s up?” I repeated.

“Answering a question with a question? Interesting, Dr. Hunter.”

I usually found her sarcasm cute. Right now, not so much. I cut to the chase. “You around this weekend?”

“Um, think so, why?”

Because I can’t get your damn laugh, your sexy body, and your bossy attitude out of my head. Because the last time we were together, I was balls deep in a sweetness I’d never known.
I shifted to adjust myself. Well, that put the vagina fear to rest.

“Because you’re off, I’m not on call, and my kids are with the in-laws. How’s some adult time sound?”

“Wait, how do you know I’m not working this weekend?”

“That wasn’t the question, doll. Adult time, yes or no?” Now wasn’t the time to get into my newfound friendships.

Her response was immediate and not what I was expecting. Actually, I didn’t know what the hell to expect anymore. “I could do adult time.”

Then why the hell is she avoiding me?

“Great. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning, and just so you know, I expect two full days.”

“Okay.”
Okay?
That was easy. “Oh, wait …” Damn, I spoke too soon. “Saturday dinner. But that’s all right, it’s at two, and we don’t have to stay long. You can meet everyone and then we can skip out before dessert. That will work.” Now she was the rambler.

I paused to take in what she said.
We? Family dinner? Everyone?
She didn’t pose it as a question either. What the hell did I say to that?

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“Are you going to call CeCe to tell her we can’t make it for gravy because we have other plans? Because I’m sure not. We’ll make an appearance, have a quick bite, and be on our way.” Definitely not a question.

“Yeah … sounds good.” Shit. I had nothing against schmoozing with the folks, as long as they weren’t my in-laws, but it wasn’t exactly my vision for this weekend. We’d technically only been on one date, granted it was the longest first date in history and six hours of it were shared with my kids and vomit. But for some reason that interruption didn’t taint the memory of the first two hours and definitely didn’t touch the blazing memory of the last two. Nothing was touching
that
memory. But the last thing I wanted this weekend was to share her again.

“Great. You sure you don’t mind coming up here? My parents live a few blocks over. Oh, and then you’ll get to meet Casey.” Her voice had been deliberate and pensive up until she mentioned Casey, then it jumped a few octaves.

“Your dog?”

“Of course.” She was excited for me to meet her dog. Damn, she was adorable. “Anyway, just got in, unit’s exploded with new admissions. Gotta run.” She hung up. Just like that. Dudes were supposed to be the ones short on the phone.

Fuck it.

She wants to see me again, good enough for now.

Even if I had to share.

I tossed the phone on my desk and leaned back, threading my fingers through my hair. It was getting long, but who had time for a haircut, I sure didn’t. I pulled on the strands and it brought me right back to the morning I was between her legs. Fuck if she didn’t taste delicious and what I wouldn’t give to be back there.

“Hunter!” Hard on crushed by the sound of my buddy shouting and rapping against my closed door. I could tell this was a personal visit and not a “get your lazy ass up to scrub” stop in. He’d been on my team for several years now, a sick surgical PA and good friend. Married, with his second kid on the way, we often met up for a quick drink or glance at the game before heading home. It was nice to hang with a dude who got the spit-up/diaper routine, even if he perpetually nagged me about branching out. Think he felt bad for me—he had a warm bed to go home to with a wife he loved. That ship had sailed for me. Or so I thought. Now I had this woman who barreled into my life screwing with my compass.

“Yeah.”

Barging in, Bryce parked his ass across from me and kicked his filthy clogs up on my desk. “What’s up with the chick?” he asked, balling up his cap before throwing it at me. Hospital gossip sucked.

“You suddenly a girl, Bryce?”

“Dude, come on, give me something?”

More than lager and soccer, we had California in common, too. We commiserated over shitty East Coast weather all the time. But last time I checked, we didn’t have heart to hearts. And I certainly wasn’t the kind of man to kiss and tell. What happened between me and a woman willing to bare it all for me stayed where it belonged. Between her, me, and my sheets. Or any other surface, wet or dry, for that matter.

“You want to hear we kissed, I felt her up, we screwed, go get tickets for Dr. Phil, asshole.”

He busted out laughing. “That good, huh?”

All right, maybe I was still a little tense. I kept telling myself I was annoyed she hadn’t called, but that was a lie. I was angry I let someone in again. So damn easily. I wished it was just fucking. Because anything else was
more
. And
more
wasn’t supposed to be in the cards. It wasn’t only about me anymore. And I let her get to know my kids. How’d I let it get this far?

“You have no fucking idea,” was my sharp response.

He swallowed back his laugh, stood up, and leaned into my desk. “Shit. You screwed?” He knew my story, most of the gory details. Some shit was better left unsaid, but he got me. He knew I wouldn’t let my guard down for anyone.

“Hope not.” With that I got up, backhanded his stomach as I walked toward the OR for my next case. “Let’s go.”

Falling in stride behind me, he said, “Colons … take your mind off of good pussy any day of the week.”

“You talk to your woman with that mouth?”

“Hell yeah, like you don’t, smartass.”

I shook my head while he continued to laugh at his own stupid joke. He wasn’t wrong. I definitely had a dirty mouth in the bedroom, or anywhere clothes were optional, for that matter. As long as she was just as into it. Then I spent the whole damn colon resection wondering if Jules was the type of woman to get off on the things I wanted to say or if I’d even get the chance to find out.

After a pit stop at Pete’s—a recommendation from cinnamon roll gals—for java and a couple of breakfast sandwiches, I turned down her block and realized why she forgot to text an apartment number with her address. No high rise buildings on this block, only rows of well-kept brownstones with various aged facades. Unlike the Upper East Side, this was a neighborhood. The kind you would see flower beds hanging off windowsills in the spring. It was personal. Quaint. If the Bronx and quaint weren’t somehow an oxymoron. There was even a grass park on one side of the street. Well, there would be grass once the piles of dirty snow melted.

Pulling up, I saw her immediately. She was standing behind a hip-high wrought iron fence with an overweight yellow Lab leashed and lounging at her feet as she chatted with her neighbor on the adjoining front stoop.

Luckily, I found an open spot a few houses past hers and parked. Another enigma of New York living—parallel parking. So dumb, if you asked me.

Her back remained to the street so she didn’t see me. The infamous Casey cocked his snout but made no move. Not a bark, not a growl, nothing. Some guard dog, more like a slobbery lump of fur. Jules still hadn’t budged, so I took advantage of the view. I had difficulty making it past her painted on black running pants that covered her mile long legs and sweet ass. And for some god-forsaken reason, she had no coat on in this freezing ass weather, only an oversized off the shoulder gray sweatshirt that exposed a black lace strap that made my dick twitch. Her hair was up in one of her messy ponytail things again. My chest thumped. This woman was going to give me a coronary without even trying.