A wannabe cowboy bumps into me, pushing me closer to Alfie and I give him the finger before taking a deep breath.
“She’s fine, Alfie. She’s having a good time.”
His eyes dart back to Helen. “I know…”
I step toward him, and he sucks in a breath.
“Why are you wearing this?” He pulls at the loose bit of fabric from the knot just below my sternum.
“It’s a hoedown. Or at least, it’s trying to be a hoedown. What are you wearing? You’re not very undercover.”
His eyes move around the room like it’s suddenly occurring to him that he’s sticking out like a sore thumb.
“If you’re going to do this, you might want to think about a few disguises.”
“Disguises suggest premeditation.”
“And this wasn’t premeditated? You just happened to be checking out the same line dancing venue as your patient, who was going on her first date since her scummy ex was thrown in prison?”
“Mia…”
“Alfie.” I raise my eyebrows. “I can see why you’re doing this. You care. But you’re gonna have to lean into this, otherwise you’re going to get caught. Let me help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yeah. I can prepare things you might need for your stakeouts.”
“No.”
“Yes. When is the next one?”
“No. There is no next one.”
I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath what an idiot he is.
“We should go, before Helen spots us.”
I’m jostled again, this time right into Alfie’s chest. “Watch it, asshole.”
He turns and gives me a wink, mouthingYou’re welcomebefore heading to the bar. My eyebrows pinch together. What the hell?
As I look up, my hands still flat on Alfie’s chest, my mouth inches from his.
Oh God. What did I say? Something about an authority figure with my livelihood in his hands? My brain fizzes like throwing a Mento into a bottle of Coke. All my thoughts are shooting out, overflowing, and I can’t remember what my exact argument was for not flirting. The smell of his aftershave fills my lungs, and I can’t help but breathe him in. He’s watching me cautiously, like he doesn’t know what to do. Like he’s itching to freeze this moment. Seeing Dr. Alfie Adams without an answer is oddly endearing.
“Alfie…”
His hand brushes a stray hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
Not the hair behind the ear tuck.
“The what?” he asks.
Oh God. I said it out loud. The hair behind the ear tuck.
“Nothing. We should go. Unless you’re going to dance in those things?” We both look down at his leather shoes before returning to our previous position, mouths inches apart. God, I’d never been so close to him before. It’s almost painful. Having a monumental, completely-cannot-happen crush on your boss is embarrassing enough, but clinging to him and panting like a puppy that’s been chasing him around is a downright fireable offence. And I’ve already used up my one free pass for saving him from Vincent.
“You might be right about the disguises.”
