“Right. The food,” I say, balling up my sandwich wrapper as I scramble to my feet. I clean up the remnants of our meal and he turns his attention to the cart by the door.
“What’s that?”
“Just a little something I picked up from Pediatrics.” I toss the food wrappers in the trash, unable to suppress the grin that splits my face. “I figured you might be up for a little Xbox before I head out.”
“Sandwiches and video games?” He winks at me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You really are the perfect woman.”
My cheeks heat and awareness hums across my skin.If only that were true. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would.”
Just like that. No qualifiers. No embarrassment. Bold as you please.
You’re the one who told him this was no place for modesty.
Taking a page out of his playbook, I add a little swagger to my walk as I push the game cart over to the bed. “You might want to reserve judgment until after I’ve finished kicking your butt.”
“Damn.” He rubs his chest, like he’s massaging an invisible wound. “So it’s like that?”
“What can I say?” I cock a hip and flip my braid over my shoulder. “I’m feeling pretty confident.”
“We’ll see.” He gestures to the game console. “What game are we playing?”
I grab the games and hold them up. “I’ve got Monopoly and Wheel of Fortune.”
He winces. “Monopoly it is. I may be a jock, but I’m not a dumb jock. No way I’m playing a brain game against a Ravenclaw.”
“I thought for sure you’d choose Wheel of Fortune.” I smirk. “I mean, you did win second place in your spelling bee.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his hand, making the universal sign forget on with it. “Keep coming with the smack talk, we’ll see who lands on top.”
Our eyes meet and heat flares white-hot between us. My heart slams against my rib cage, and just when I’m sure he’s going to make a dirty joke, he says, “Let’s make it interesting.”
Warning bells clang in my head, but I ignore them, good sense flying right out the window. Chase tends to have that effect on me. “What did you have in mind?”
“If I win,” he says slowly, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “you go on a date with me. If you win, I’ll give you a foot massage.”
The prospect of a foot massage is practically orgasmic—my arches are screaming for relief even now—but I rally my willpower.
Not gonna lie. I have to dig deep.
“No deal.” I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. “It would be incredibly unprofessional to date a patient.”
“I won’t be your patient forever,” he says smoothly, clearly having given this argument some thought. “You know what I think? I think you’re just using the whole ‘no fraternization’ thing as an excuse.”
“This isn’t nineteen-fifty. I don’t need an excuse to turn down a date.”
“Oh, I know.” He grins, the corner of his mouth edging toward a smirk. “But as long as you’re throwing out excuses, you don’t have to face the truth.”
“Which is what?” I ask, fear creeping up my spine. He can’t know the truth. There’s no way. If he did, he wouldn’t be smiling. He’d be tossing me out on my ass.
“You’re afraid to let your guard down around me.”
Relief washes over me. My secret is safe—for now.
“We have chemistry, Harper. The scorching-hot kind,” he says, lifting a brow. He’s not wrong, but it’ll take a hell of a lot more than sizzling chemistry to make this work. Like, a total rewrite. “You can ignore it, but that won’t change the fact that it’s there, simmering just below the surface.”
Stay strong, girl.
