Page 57 of Asystole

I don’t miss the way Dr. Porter’s eyes rake over him, and I can’t tell whether he’s checking him out or sizing him up, but it makes me shift uncomfortably.

“Dr. Porter, this is my friend, Logan,” I say, placing my hand on the small of Logan’s back in a protective manner. His tattoos aren’t visible—not that I think Dr. Porter would mind—but he has his earrings in, and my mentor is not trying to hide the fact that he’s intrigued by my guest.

Something about his perusal makes me want to shield Logan with my body.

“You look different out of your flight suit,” Dr. Porter finally says, allowing me to relax a little.

Of course. He recognizes Logan from the hospital, since Logan delivers a lot of trauma cases.

Logan chuckles.

“I look a lot better with the helmet on. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Dr. Porter replies with a knowing smile, and I swear to God his voice just dropped an octave. “Please help yourselves to drinks. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I look forward to hearing more about your experience flying for Boston, Logan.”

“Of course,” Logan replies, shaking the man’s hand a second time.

Once Dr. Porter is out of earshot, I turn to Logan.

“What in the holy-fucking-hellballs was that?!” I whisper-yell.

“What was what?”

“You two were flirting!”

“We were not,” Logan says, but the color rising up his neck tells a different story. “He is a total fucking smokeshow, though. I don’t know how anyone concentrates in the OR with that man lurking around, barking orders.”

“Ohmygod, stop,” I plead, making Logan chuckle.

“You know,” he says, nudging me with his elbow, clearly enjoying my discomfort, “I’ve heard the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

I can’t stop the image from barreling into my brain like a brakeless tractor-trailer as it hauls ass down a mountain. I’m so startled by it that when I open my mouth, I say the stupidest thing possible.

“You bottom?”

Logan doubles over in laughter, drawing unwanted attention our way. Dr. Porter is among those eyeing us.

It isn’t until he straightens up and looks at me that I realize how rude that question was. It’s none of my fucking business.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line,” I apologize quickly.

Logan shrugs a shoulder, clearly not offended.

“Maybe from someone else.” He huffs a laugh. “And no, I don’t generally bottom, but that’s mostly because everyone I find myself attracted to already claims the spot. It’s been a while for either, so I guess there’s a chance things may have changed, but I’m open to both roles.”

Before I can respond, a light touch lands on my arm, and Sarah’s familiar voice fills my ears.

“Hey, Chase. You clean up well,” she compliments, handing me a glass of champagne.

“Sarah,” I say, greeting her with a nod. “You look lovely as well.”

Women in medicine are built differently. Sarah would never swoon; she has far too much pride and dignity for that. Instead, she gives me a demure smile and a thank you before adding, “Who’s your friend?”

“Sarah, this is Logan. He’s one of the Life Flight pilots.”

Her eyes brighten at this news.

“Oh, so Dr. Porter invited you? You two didn’t come together?” she asks, clearly relieved.