“No promises on the second.”
His eyes softened. “Hey, man. He’s slept with you twice, survived weeks of you bossing him around, and seen you wearing scrubs that make everyone look like a sack of potatoes—and he still wants to spend his day off with you. I’d say your odds are excellent.”
“When you put it like that…” I smiled. “Thanks, Shane. Really.”
“Anytime.”
I twisted the key. He nudged the door shut and stepped back with a wave as the engine sputtered to life, indie guitar scratching through the speakers—something about open roads.
Right on.
For lack of better options, I’d wedged the Corolla into a stretch of curb where even idling got you a ticket, hazard lights clicking out a slow heartbeat. “Law-free zone indicators,” my dad liked to call them whenever we passed drivers loitering where they shouldn’t, his tone wry and a hint disapproving.
Yep—that was me today.
Finn emerged from his building as if he’d walked straight out of some outdoorsy lifestyle ad—blue hoodie peeking out from under a black jacket, dark jeans, trail shoes, curls swept to one side in a way that tried for casual but veered straight intoI put some effort into this. When he spotted me, he smiled, quiet but direct.
It felt like a stone in still water. Ripples all the way down to my toes.
Keep it together.
I leaned across the passenger seat and popped the door. “You clean up nice.”
He paused halfway to sliding in, mock-offended. “This is me cleaned up? Yikes.”
“Compared to sweating through hospital-issue scrubs that look good on exactly no one? You’re ready for the runway.”
His laugh came out gentle like a caress. He plopped into the seat, daypack thudding to the floor. “That’s very generous.”
“Wait until you see the picnic I packed. Sandwiches, fruit, coffee—the works.” I watched him for a beat, hands on the wheel, something sweetly achy pulling at my chest. Nothing separated us but the small gap between our seats and the distant shadow of hospital realities, his eyes the same shade of blue as the sky just tipping into daylight.
I could kiss him. He’d let me—probably, very likely, would maybe even meet me halfway. Just a quick, light brush of our lips while the city yawned awake. Low risk.
“Generous?” His voice was a hint too low, hushed even as it tilted into playful territory. “Honestly, I was hoping for a five-course tasting menu and a string quartet.”
“That’s the second date.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Got to earn it first, huh?”
“No such thing as a free lunch.” I eased us into gear.
We drove for a block before he said, “So…Harriman. You been before?”
“A few times, yeah. Mostly during my residency, whenever I needed to clear my head.” I flicked him a sideways glance. “Big trees. Quiet lakes. Spotty reception—in case you’re one of those people who panic if they can’t refresh their social media feeds every five seconds.”
“I’ll try to cope.” It carried amusement, and yeah, I didn’t really see him as the type of guy who lost hours staring at his screen. “You’ll just have to entertain me instead.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“It’s an invitation.” He huffed out a small chuckle and slouched back, tipping his head slightly to study me. “Also, I had a twenty-four yesterday and my schedule’s been a little messed up. Just a warning in case I start sleep-talking about blood gas levels.”
“Nap,” I said immediately.
“I’m not napping on our first date.”
Our first date—Jesus. I breathed through the faint sense of disbelief. “Why not? It’s a one-hour drive, and I’ve got the radio to entertain me. I’ll be fine.”
His mouth curved up. “And then you’ll tell everyone I’m bad company. ‘Fell asleep five minutes in, can you believe it?’”
