This is my mess.
I square my shoulders, tighten my grip on the coffee cup, and head for the conference room.
“This better be about Crystal’s imaging,” I say as I reach Jeremiah.
His smile turns smug as he steps inside, holding the door for me.
I stop just inside the conference room, keeping one hand on the door. “This better be about a patient,” I reiterate.
Jeremiah’s mouth quirks as he closes the distance between us.“Funny . . .” His gaze drifts toward the lobby. “I was actually hoping to talk about the one you looked awfully cozy with out there.”
My stomach turns. “He’s not a patient.”
“No?” He leans against the doorframe like he owns the damn building. “Could’ve sworn he was just in your helicopter.”
I reach for the handle of the door, but before my fingers make contact, his hand lands on the door, above my shoulder.
My pulse doesn’t spike.
It drops.
“Come on, Aspen.” His voice lowers. “You’re really going to ignore me for that guy?”
And just like that . . .
Every ounce of doubt disappears.
Ice floods my veins.
I turn slowly, meeting his stare head-on. “Move your hand.”
His smile falters.
“If you don’t move your hand this instant my next stop will be HR.”
He laughs and my blood boils with the desire to knee him in his ugly hairless balls. “You won’t.”
I hold his stare.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.
“Try me.”
His nostrils flare.
There he is.
“You’re a real fucking bitch, you know that?”
It’s my turn to laugh.
Sharp.
Humorless.
“Funny.” I tilt my head. “You only seem to have a problem with boundaries when another man’s watching.”
