My computer is in front of him. The screen is open, just as I left it before I went for my walk this afternoon, but he must have bumped or moved it, because it's bright and awake. And myWhimsy Listshines from the screen in all its glory.
Crap.
I spring across the room and snap the lid shut. My face is on fire—heat rolling from my cheeks in thick waves, red enough to match his arm. I know he saw my list, and I’m certain he read it. And I’m even more certain that I just want to dissolve into the floor and become one with the earth.
“I just slid the computer back, and it turned on.” He shrugs innocently. “What’s a whimsy list?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It’s fascinating,” he says, watching me intently. He’s either unable to read my reaction, or he’s reading it just fine and not caring that I’m toeing the edge of hysterics.
Gianna hasn’t seen that list. Astrid hasn’t either. No one knows about my curated secrets but me …and now the hottest guy I’ve ever known.
My eyes close, and I release a silent, internal wail.
“I’m assuming it’s yours,” he says, a tease to his tone that makes me want to punch him. “The pink font at the top was a dead giveaway.”
My eyes fling open, and I toss the cream and bandage box on the table. Then I turn toward the sink. “It’s nothing. Forget you ever saw it.”
“If you think that I can forget that you haveorgasm with a manon a wish list, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
Kill me now.I consider how long it would take to run to the door, jump in my Jeep, and speed off the ranch. But I don’t know where my keys are, and I certainly have to take my computer with me. There are too many steps to pull it off quickly enough for him not to intervene.
“It’s complicated, okay?” I say, taking a deep breath and facing him.
He’s leaning back in his chair, wearing a cocky grin and still no shirt. “It’s really not that complicated. I can teach you, if you want.”
I grip the countertop behind me so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Yes, I want him to teach me. I’ve had several orgasms while thinking about him over the past few days. Having one with him would be a dream come true—but that’s not going to happen. Not after he knows how pathetic I am.
“Can you leave?” I ask.
“Sure.” He narrows his eyes, studying me. “But can I give you a piece of advice before I do?”
“Will it get you out of here faster?”
The seconds between us grow. The stillness sinks around us, and the silence softens the stress of the conversation. Brooks watches me without judgment or pity, just with patience. The quiet isn’t threatening or awkward. Surprisingly, I feel … safe. And with that sense of safety comes relief.
He grins softly. “Hesitation gets you hit, Doc.”
“What?” I ask, my brows pulling together.
“Boxers who overthink situations hesitate, and hesitation gets them hit.”
My pulse kicks into overdrive. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m just saying that if that list over there is yours, and it’s a list of stuff you want to do, then you should stop thinking about it and do it before it’s too late.” He shrugs. “Life has a way of smashing you in the face if you wait too long. And your nose is too cute to be broken.”
My lips press together, but his words infiltrate my brain anyway.You should stop thinking about it and do it before it’s too late.
This has been the weirdest day.Lunch alone in a new place, my surgical debut, and now discussing my deepest, darkest dreams with Brooks Dempsey?I don’t know how I got here.
But what I do know for sure is that my ribs feel cracked open, and the anxiety and uncertainty building inside me are pouring onto the floor and pooling at my feet. I knew it was time to make a change in my life. Now it feels destined.
“I may be having an existential crisis,” I say before I thoroughly consider sharing it with him.
“Is that a medical issue?”
Laughing softly, I grab the chair in front of me. “It’s more of an identity crisis with a dose of personal philosophical questions for fun.” My smile falters. “That probably sounds crazy.”
