He smiled. “Then I guess you’ll just have to get better at ignoring me.”
“It’s obviously not that simple,” I said, cheeks flushing. “I tried.”
He pursed his lips. “Then maybe you need to stop ignoring me instead.”
The air shifted, suddenly electric.
I reached for the door, my hand already on the knob. “We’re at work.”
“I know,” he said confidently.
“So we need to keep things professional.”
“Right.” His navy eyes flicked to my lips and back up. He released me and stepped away, returning to his desk.
“Well then,” he said evenly, shuffling his papers, “you just let me know when you’re ready for me to kiss you on this desk so you can finally forget what you’re so worked up about.”
My mouth fell open. “Absolutely not.”
He bit his lip, failing miserably to hide his smirk.
“I amnot—” I trailed off, my thoughts betraying me as I pictured exactly what that might feel like. My cheeks were suddenly hot. “We’re at work,” I said firmly.
“Okay.” He returned to his paperwork, radiating a confidence that made me want to low-key smack him.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, opening the door. “We arenotkissing in your office.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I left, closing the door behind me, slightly out of breath when I returned to my exam room.
CHAPTER 51
At six o’clock, the last patient left the clinic. The charts were finished, and the rooms were cleaned. Macey and Tyler said their goodbyes, and the front desk staff left soon after. By that point, my nervous system was hanging on by a thread.
When the clinic finally emptied, I lingered at my locker for a second staring at nothing. We’d driven together. Which meant I couldn’t just leave.
I sucked in a breath, gathered my courage, then turned and walked down the hall.
His office door was open, and he was shutting down his computer when I stepped inside.
“Ready to go?” he asked easily.
“Not really.”
He paused, his eyes leaving the screen to look at me fully now and a flicker of confusion crossed his features.
“Everything okay?”
I bit my lip. “I’ve decided I might have overreacted earlier.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” I exhaled. “I stand by my stance against workplace makeouts. Generally.”
“Generally,” he repeated.
“But,” I added, “the clinic is closed. Everyone’s gone. And we are technically off the clock.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. “Amapolita.”
