Justine
It was just a couple hours before my date with Zack—I still found myself in disbelief that was happening—and I was spending it not in front of a mirror, putting makeup on or trying on different clothes.
I was spending it over the man that, in a very odd and unusual way, had put the two of us on a collision course.
Cole Carter.
His vitals were stable, and he hadn’t worsened at all since he came in, so at this point, it was a waiting game. And as a doctor, this was one of the most frustrating parts of the job.
Years and years of medical school training, all set up to be in this spot where I could help people at their most vulnerable, had positioned me to…do nothing but wait. I had no more power, no more skill, no more sway in the outcome than any of the Black Reapers who stood watch outside to an almost paranoid level. Sure, I could make sure he had nourishment, he breathed fine, and that his body worked, but as far as getting him back to normal…there was nothing.
Normally, in such spots, I could detach from the situation pretty easily. I could empathize with patients, but I could also know when, for my own sanity, I needed to treat them as medical problems and not as human beings, as fathers and husbands. But that wasn’t the case with Cole. For whatever reason, his situation was affecting me pretty badly.
If I had to guess—or, perhaps better said, if I feared the worst—I worried that if he died, it would lead to so many more deaths. The Black Reapers had already pinned Cole’s coma on the Bandits, a group in Santa Maria, and seemed hell-bent on bringing more bloodshed to our town. I had never asked Zack to stop the violence, for I knew how fruitless such an endeavor would be, but as a pacifist in the first place, I couldn’t pretend I supported eye for an eye.
And when I thought about what his wife had said when she came that first day about moving away from this lifestyle…maybe I was projecting, but I would like to believe that if Cole woke up, he’d advocate peace, not violence. At the very least, I hoped that he would push for a swift resolution and not one that dragged innocent lives into the fray.
But that was why I was a doctor and not a soldier or a biker.
“Stay with us,” I said, putting my hand on Cole’s shoulder. “We’re all depending on you waking up.”
* * *
Once I was done with Cole, though, I was done with work. Stepping out of his room might as well have been like stepping out of the hospital because I quickly hurried out to my car, made a quick drive back to my house, and got dressed. I threw on a purple top that showed some of my cleavage and tight jeans. It was not the most common color combination, but then again, at the risk of sounding over-the-top, I wasn’t the most common person to begin with anyway.
I then made the drive down to Copper Lounge, a spot that Elizabeth swore by. I’d been a couple of times and had always enjoyed the interior, but it surprised me still when Zack had recommended the spot. Then again, Zack wasn’t like most Black Reapers, was he? The whole reason I’d even given him a chance in the first place was because of that.
When I walked inside, I saw him already seated at a booth in the back. And he was…
He was dressedimpeccably.
He had on a red button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sleek black pants, and dress shoes. He did not look like a biker so much as he did a banking analyst who had discarded his suit and tie for the evening. He was different, but I had not realized just how different he was.
Which was funny to think, considering how so far, he was looking verysimilarto the ideal kind of guy I would have liked but told myself I never had time for.
“Hey!” I said, barely bothering to hide my surprise at how he had dressed. “You look great!”
“I am capable of discarding the Black Reapers cut from time to time,” he said, though he sounded oddly pained saying it, like he didn’t want to say such a thing out loud. “You said to bring none of it here, and so it’s the last I will mention of it.”
Those were the words I needed to hear. They were words that let me drop any fear, any concern that this would lead somewhere I didn’t want it to…and ironically, I felt my attraction growing for him in a way that suggested maybe something more might happen, maybe something that I hadn’t planned on happening but now seemed like a decent proposition.
“Well, good on you, and I appreciate it,” I said. “Did you get a drink already?”
“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I did so without you here, now would it?” he said with a smirk that had me feeling something I didn’t want to say out loud. “Come, let’s go grab ourselves some cocktails.”
Zack rose out of the booth, put his hand on my lower back, and guided me to the bar. That touch sent way more goosebumps through my body that I cared to admit or even would have anticipated; even with men I was attracted to, it was usually just a momentary thrill. For whatever reason, Zack’s touch had me wanting to crawl all over him and release the tension that I felt.
Up at the bar, I ordered a copper cocktail, a mix that included earl gray tea, gin, apricot, lemon, and egg white, while Zack went for the more traditional and simpler Manhattan. I tried to pay for my own drink, but Zack put his hand on mine, gently pushing it down to the side.
“My request, my card,” he said.
“But you’re a biker, and I’m a doctor.”
“And? Is this a charity date?”
OK, I realized I’d probably come across a little arrogant saying that. But Zack not only seemed unfazed, he found the whole thing humorous, chuckling and returning his hand to my lower back. For as long as it had stayed on my body, the touch should have more or less worn off by now. Instead, it seemed to be charging me up, like a phone that remained plugged in to the wall.
Seconds later, our drinks came out, Zack paid the bill, and we returned to our booth.
