Suspicion darkened Bishop’s eyes. “Don’t play games with me you dumb, manipulative bitch. You don’t get to ruin me.” His lips curled back over his teeth. “Today, I ruin you.”
Her spine stiffened, but she managed to keep herself still and her words articulate. “I’ve done literally nothing to you, oragainst you. Now release my arm and step aside so I can leave, unharmed. Or that will change.”
He raised his other arm, reaching for her, and snarled, “You—”
“You should know I’m recording this, by the way.”
Bishop froze, eyes blowing wide. His nostrils flared. His gaze dropped like an anchor to the tablet between them.
“On selfie mode,” Lynnette added pointedly.
He dropped his arm as if it had caught fire, finally realizing he’d just put himself indisputably in her space. Even if he could argue he wasn’t actively touching her, despite her words, he could no longer argue he wasn’t close enough to do so. He could not argue he hadn’t been threatening her.
Anger flared hot in his eyes when he lifted them to her again and his lips curled.
Lynnette raised a brow. “Gonna let me go yet?”
His nostrils flared again, reminding her of a cartoon bull. He released her arm with a shove and took a step backward. “Get the hell out of my sight.” Then he twisted on his heel and stormed from the room as if the confrontation had been her idea.
The air rushed from Lynnette’s lungs and she ended the recording with shaking hands. The tablet wasn’t hers to take home, but she could email herself the video file. Which she did, trembling hands and all, before she finally rushed from the damn room. She should have finished her rounds, but fuck that. She was done. There were about five minutes left of her shift, though, and she knew she’d catch hell if she clocked out even thirty seconds early.
Late was fine, but early was not.
It was her intention to make her way to Amy’s desk and kill time there. On the clock but doing nothing. Except she realized with defeat in her chest that Amy wasn’t at her desk, which meant Amy was on break.
So, she slipped thoughtlessly into Lance’s room, pushed the door shut, and walked around to the far side of his bed where she promptly dropped herself to the floor.
“Uh, is this a new game?”
“Shh. I’m not here.” What the hell was she doing?This might be worse than clocking out early.It wasn’t, really. She could easily spin something up if a doctor walked in. For some reason, she believed Lance would back her. Not that she’d ever asked.
“You are very hard for me to unsee,” Lance quipped, “but I can neglect to mention you to anyone else if you want.” He paused for a beat. “What’s wrong?”
Vindication and defeat warred in her chest and Lynnette let herself lean back against the cabinet, arms draped over her knees. “I’m just … avoiding someone. I have a few minutes before I clock off and I don’t have it in me to be here anymore. And as unprofessional as it is, I need you to forget you heard that.”
Lance hung his arm over the side of the bed, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “Lynn, you can be real with me. I don’t give a shit about the rest of the people here. I mean, Garland’s fine and all, but that day doc’s a dick and you already know you’re my favorite.”
A wet, choked snort of a laugh escaped her and Lynnette couldn’t stop herself from reaching up and curling her fingers around his, just for a few seconds. For a few seconds, they weren’t patient and nurse. They were … something else. Something more.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. She swallowed and pushed down her unsettled emotions. “Sorry. I should have just locked myself in a bathroom stall or something.”
Lance scoffed. “That is the worst cliché ever.” He somehow tightened his grip. “Never apologize for being real with me, forleaning on me, or anything like that. Hell, I can still kick a guy’s ass with my good leg.”
She almost leaned into his arm before she caught herself. Almost. Instead, she pulled her hand away and forced herself to her feet. By the time she made it to the desk to drop off the tablet, she’d be over her minimum. “I’m not asking you to do that, but I appreciate the offer. I think.” She let herself smile. “See you in a bit.”
He frowned faintly, but it didn’t linger. “Long as you’re good.”
“I’m good.” She was, and she would be. She wasn’t going to let Bishop beat her.
She slipped from his room, put her head down, and managed to clock off without issue. Part of her had worried she’d be told a complaint had been filed. It seemed if he was planning to go that route, he hadn’t finished it yet. That was fine. She would check her email and confirm the video later, then get it where it needed to go.Let that bastard ruin himself.
She didn’t linger in the hospital, taking her change of clothes to a nearby gas station and changing in the bathroom. Apparently, she was full of cliché ideas. From there, she hopped back in her truck and made her way to her favorite local deli.
They just so happened to make a variety of sandwiches for Mr. Not Picky, and since he struck her as a carnivore, she opted to get him the three-meat sub. She had them pile everything but the sauce on, to keep it from getting soggy, then ordered her own preference. The nurse in her hesitated over the chips and bottled beverage choices, but ultimately, they were both healthy overall and Lance needed fuel to feed his immune system more than he needed to worry about calories or carbs.
She hadn’t seen him fully undressed, but the man didnotneed to worry about calories or carbs or dieting in general. What she had seen of him was chiseled from granite.
Lynnette set her cargo in the passenger seat of her truck and shook her head. That was the sort of thought that would get her in trouble.I’m just doing something nice for someone who’s alone in an unfamiliar place.
