Page 10 of Flirting with 40

“But—”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Earth to Slade,” John says, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

“Definitely a woman,” Leigh says as she plucks the business card from her drink. Taking it from her hand would be a dick move, and frankly, I’ve lived, breathed, and suffered with these four, it isn’t as if they won’t get it out of me at some point. “Who’s Hillary? She the one who dumped you?”

“Nah.” I shake my head with a shy smile. “But she might just be the reason someone I wanted to get to know better walked away.”

I’d assumed Blakely had to leave when I’d taken the phone call. I’d figured she left me her card to let me know how to get in contact with her. I’d thought the attraction was mutual.

“C’mon, Romeo. Who is she?” Prisha asks.

“No one in particular. Just a woman in a bar.”

She is someone, who for some reason, I can’t seem to shake from my mind.

Maybe it’s because she was nothing like I’m used to and . . . so damn intriguing.

“Isn’t that how it always starts?” John teases. “Just a woman in a bar.”

“Ah,” Leigh coos, “did Slade find another lost puppy to fix and love before he adopts it back out?”

“Screw you.” I laugh and take a sip of my beer.

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” John says with a shrug from across the table. He’s wearing scrubs, and I realize wearing my own scrubs is one of the random things I miss more than I can express. “The need to save and fix and make whole again.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” I lean back, mimicking his casual posture.

“Projects. All of us residents love to have projects for the days we can’t save someone, then at least we can save the project we’re working on.” Prisha wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze.

Projects?

She’s crazy.

“I talked to the lady for like twenty minutes. She wasn’t a project. She was . . . I don’t know what she was.”

“The lady?” Prisha laughs. “Why so formal? That’s what you do when you’re hiding something from us.”

“Ohhh,” Leigh draws the sound out, “I think there was legitimate interest there with the lady, guys.” She clinks her glass of wine to the tip of John’s beer bottle. “Henderson doesn’t get like this over a booty call in the on-call room. I should know.” She raises her hand, and we all laugh, drawing the looks of those around us.

“Why you gotta bring up things that happened years ago?” I tease. Our fling was short, more than hot, but definitely magnified by the fact that we were merely two exhausted first-year residents who needed someone who understood them.

“It’s okay. We know how you roll, Henderson.” John chuckles. “In—make them get hooked on you. Out—oh crap, they’re hooked on you. Done—next, please.”

“You guys make me sound like a man whore,” I say and lean my head against the back of the booth with a shake of my head.

“But you do it in such a nice way,” Prisha says. “Never have I ever met a man who has so many exes—”

“Not really exes,” I try to explain.

“—who still love him after the fact.”

I lift my beer and ignore their razzing. I’m used to it with this group. “You guys are messed up.”

“And you miss the hell out of us,” John says, and the table quiets some, Prisha’s smile softens, and Leigh’s fingers play with the stem of her glass.

“I do.” I half snort, half laugh as my tone sobers. “More than you know.”