No fighting fires.
No chopping wood.
No cooking over an open flame.
No fishing in the river by my camper.
“Becky . . .” I aim for charming and fail spectacularly. Everything about it sounds fake and desperate.
“Don’tBeckyme.” The brakes lock and she comes to stand in front of me, her chunky black shoes tapping impatiently against the gray tile floor. “Iknowthat tone. My grandkids use that tone when they want something.”
I open my mouth, intent on pleading my case, only to close it.
She’s got me dead to rights. I did want something, but I’ve got no business asking her for information about Aspen.
Not that it would make a difference. Becky doesn’t bend rules.
Familiar laughter cuts through the corridor, stealing my attention. It’s as bright and beautiful as it was yesterday, yet there’s unease woven through it.
I shift, looking around the charge nurse, my focus like a magnet for that sound. Becky moves, blocking my view, a satisfied smirk tilting her lips.
“Something caught your eye?”
“Move,” I grumble.
“I don’t know who taught you your manners . . .”
“Please,” I grit out.
She shuffles to the side, just enough for me to see Aspen, coming down the hallway.
Everything about the unfamiliar doctor walking with her sets my teeth on edge. He’s the reason for her pinched expression. She keeps a healthy distance between them, but the arrogant ass ignores her obvious discomfort and reaches out, brushing the small of her back.
It gives me the inexplicable desire to throat punch him.
Becky’s watching me with a raised eyebrow, daring me to do something stupid. But I can’t look away from Aspen and the doctor.
If pompous fuckwad had a spokesperson, it would be this guy, with his smug smile and flashy watch—every bit of him screaming privilege.
The way he watches Aspen lights my nerves on fire. It’s too close to the way a cat watches a mouse. Like she’s something to toy with.
I grip the wheels, ready to roll up to them and tell this guy exactly what I think, but the brakes catch, and I’m stuck with Becky in front of me, watching me like a hawk.
“Fucking brakes.” By the time I’ve got them disengaged, they’re here.
“Becky.” Doctor Dick-weed winks as he moves on.
My fist tightens around the rubber wheels. So,sopunchable.
I brace for Aspen to follow, but she stops, crossing her arms under her chest and leaning in to mirror Becky’s fed-up stance. As ifI’mthe problem.
“Just had to piss her off one last time?” Aspen teases, but there’s an edge that lingers in her tone.
The thrill of seeing her is tangled with concern, but with Becky watching, there’s nothing I can do without putting Aspen in the spotlight.
“Guess so. I thought you were off.” It’s then that I notice she’s not in scrubs. Instead, she’s wearing a pair of wide-leg jeans and a cardigan, with necklaces stacked around her neck and rings littering her finger. It’s casual, but still polished.
Perfectly poised.
