Don’t want. Not shouldn’t.
Don’t.
Dr Hanson continues, “Chief Gibson is right. We should get it X-rayed. I need to ask some personal questions first, so?—”
“Can I wear heels?”
The doctor shakes his head. “No, you need to rest, regardless of what the X-ray says.”
“But …” She frowns. “I have a reservation at a restaurant tonight. A nice one. I need to wear heels. I have a whole outfit planned.”
A snake of jealousy curls around my gut. Is Seth Sinclair taking her out again?
Dr. Hanson smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but you’re resting at least for a few days.”
She groans and mumbles about bad things happening to good people.
I think she’s forgetting the kind of person she is.
Monty is taken to X-ray, but the results show her ankle isn’t broken or fractured. It is just a sprain, so with a few days of rest, she’ll be fine. Once we’re back in the truckand heading home, I say, “I’m sorry about your date tonight.”
“Our date.”
I glance at her. “What?”
“The reservation was for us.” She slinks down in her seat. “I had this ridiculously hot dress I was going to wear. I even got you a tie matching the color, so we’d look fucking adorable. But no.” She gestures at her ankle. “I have the ankle strength of a small deer!”
I grasp at words. “You arranged a date for us?”
She shrugs slowly. “Not a real date, because I know you have boundaries, or whatever, but I thought it could be nice to get all dressed up and go into the city together.”
Fuck. That’s sweet. It’s been a long time since someone arranged a surprise for me. Ella used to do it all the time, but as for women I’ve dated? It’s been decades.
I tug on the steering wheel, doing a U-turn until we’re on the other side of the road and going in the opposite direction to home. Monty clings to the car door. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you on a date.”
“Don’t you dare. Look what I’m wearing!”
I laugh. “Not that kind of date.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re loaded up with drive-thru Mexican food and parked at a lesser-known lookout point. I used to bust teenagers smoking weed up here years ago.
I thought Monty might have turned her nose up at the suggestion, but she was excited. And now she’s devoured two tacos and is about to start her third.
“I think Dr. Handsome was a little taken with you, by the way.”
She snorts, almost choking on lettuce. “Oh, I know. I don’t date doctors, though.”
“Why?”
“He saves lives, I end them. We’d never work.”
I laugh so loud I surprise myself, and I thump my chest to dislodge some refried beans that definitely went down the wrong way. Monty grins at me.
“He could teach you first aid, though,” I point out, dipping a chip in guac and scooping it into my mouth.
She smacks my hand. “Stop eating all the guac, you heathen. And I already know first aid. I have to. One time, someone stabbed me right here.” She points at her right side. “I used a pantyliner to slow down the bleeding until I got to a doctor. Smart, right?”
