SEVENTEEN
Cade
When she opens the door, I hold up the bag of sandwiches from the deli. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I took a chance and got two options.”
She smiles widely, sending my heart racing like it usually does when she does that, and steps back. “I’m not too picky.”
“Well, I got a chicken salad sandwich and a ham and cheese,” I say, kicking off the flip-flops I slipped on my feet after running home and taking a shower.
“Either,” she replies, making me stop in my tracks.
“Pick.”
She looks up at me with a question mixed with shock. “Umm, the chicken salad.”
I flash a grin and lean in, pressing my lips against her forehead. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She shakes her head and moves into the kitchen. “I guess I’ve never really had someone ask me that,” she says, pulling two glasses out of the cabinet. “What do you want to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” I reply, pulling the two containers out of the bag and placing the chicken salad sandwich in front of the seat she used last time we shared a meal. When she sets the glasses down on the table, I ask, “What do you mean no one asked?”
She shrugs and takes her seat. “If my ex would have brought over two sandwiches, he would have chosen what he wanted first and left me with the second option, whether I liked it or not.”
I sigh, hating how this douchebag has treated her in the past. “What a dick.”
She grins easily. “That he is,” she confirms, opening the container and finding the sandwich she requested as well as a bag of chips inside. “Thank you for this.”
“Well, I can’t let you have just cheesecake for dinner,” I tell her breezily. “You need something to soak up the sugar.”
She grins and picks up half her sandwich. “This is perfect, thank you.”
“Of course,” I reply, opening my bag of chips and shoving a few into my mouth.
“Umm, I do have something I wanted to talk to you about.” She suddenly seems a little nervous, which I don’t like, but I do my best to keep myself casual.
“What’s up?”
“We found out who is filling in for Doc Houston until he returns,” she starts, shifting in her seat. “Lance is one of them.”
“Your ex, Lance?”
“Unfortunately,” she mutters. “Apparently, he’s going to be the physician coming to our clinic Tuesdays and Fridays.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” Oaklee agrees. “And I’ll be working directly with him because the new specialty physicians will be starting then, and Allison will be working with them.”
“Can you switch?” I ask, trying to come up with any way to get her away from the asshole who strung her along for years.
“I mean, yes, but it’s not that simple. Allison has filled in for a lot of those types of clinics when they’re down a nurse, so she’s trained in their procedures. And I’m the newbie, and the last thing I want to do is ruffle feathers.”
“But that’s not really ruffling feathers if you once dated the doctor and he’s a complete asshole.”
She giggles. “True. But this is personal. I need to keep personal and professional separate, you know?”
“I do,” I agree between bites. “I get that completely, but in this case, the two are firmly entwined.”
“Yes, but it’s only for a few weeks. A month, actually, and then Doc will be back and all will be right with the world again.”
