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“Excuse me?” Yeah, it might be the truth, but why would he assume? What business was it of his, anyway? And no, she had no desire to be with him.
“The accidental touches when we brush past each other? Me telling you jokes? Striking up a conversation every day we’re on the same shift? Buying you coffee from the cafeteria? That’s flirting.”
Had he touched her before? Polly frowned. She’d never noticed. She’d always chalked up the brushes and comments to hospital chaos or friendly banter. Had she really been that unaware—or had he just been that subtle?
“I thought we were friends.” She bit down on her temper. “I haven’t responded to any of those overtures because I’m not interested in you in that way.”
“Not interested? Hello. I’m a catch, sweetheart.” When she didn’t respond to that admonition, he huffed out an impatient breath. “Friends to lovers? I had a girlfriend who reads those romance novels. Said it was her favorite way to fall in love with a guy. Give me a chance. You won’t regret it.”
Her stomach knotted. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding anymore. Something about the way he stood there, so sure of himself, so dismissive of her discomfort, sent a ripple of unease down her spine.
Before she could say that sometimes, friends were just friends—the door swung open, and Charli appeared.
“There you two are. I felt like I was manning the whole hospital by myself. Polly, we need you stat.” She thumbed over her shoulder to the hallway and ER beyond. “That homeless man—Gerald Vaughn?—came in with a dog. He’s hugging the mutt so tightly I can’t get a BP reading or put a monitor on him. There’s no way to tell if he’s having a heart attack or bad acid reflux. The doc wants to check him for frostbite, too. You had good luck treating him when he came in before—but the dog is new. Your mom is the vet, and I know you’ve had pets of your own—could you come help? Please?”
“The dog should be checked for frostbite, too.” Grateful for the reprieve from this unsettling conversation, as well as concerned for the repeat patient and his pet, Polly scooted around Tate.
But five strong fingers clamped around her arm, nearly spilling the supplies from her grasp, and forcing her to juggle everything to keep the hot coffee from splashing onto her hand.
“We were having a private conversation here.”
Charli grinned. “Oh yeah? You need to work on your game, Tate. Even I can see that Polly isn’t interested in you.”
“We treat humans here, not dogs.” Tate huffed a derisive noise and sounded as if he was lecturing Charli on hospital regulations. “Gerald’s not right in the head anyway. He won’t be able to pay us anything. And since he’s homeless, they probably both smell.”
Polly froze. His grip wasn’t violent, but it was firm. Controlling. Like he had a right to stop her. A chill crept up her neck. Maybe she hadn’t been imagining things. Maybe her growing sense of unease was her picking up on Tate’s unwanted attention aimed her way. She didn’t owe him an explanation or an apology. She just wanted to leave.
“Fine, Mr. Clean,” Charli chided before tweaking Tate’s cheek in a playful gesture. He smacked her hand away, as if he resented being teased. A red mark bloomed on Charli’s hand, and she puffed up with temper. “I was looking for Polly anyway. She’ll actually help.”
Polly pulled her arm from Tate’s grasp, her heart thudding hard now for reasons that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. “I’ll be there as soon as I put this stuff in my locker.”
“Polly…”
Tate reached for her again, but she shoved the coffee cup back into his hand and shut the supply room door right in his handsome face.
Chapter Four
After stowing the supplies in her locker, Polly gave her friend a quick hug and whispered, “Thank you for the rescue.”
“Anytime. Tate’s ego is bigger than his brain. The fact that you don’t see him for the stud he thinks he is must be like catnip to him. Don’t let him rattle you.” Charli winked as she pulled away, then nodded toward the end of the hallway. “Gerald’s in Exam Four. I’ll keep Tate out of your hair for as long as I can.”
“I owe you.”
Her friend smiled. “No, you don’t. We women have to look out for each other. Just promise me you won’t end up dating that douchebag.”
Polly chuckled. That was a promise she could keep. “I won’t.”
She followed Charli out the door, giving herself a moment to settle her nerves before she pasted a smile on her face and went back to work. She stepped into the exam bay, and was immediately enveloped by the sharp, metallic tang of antiseptic and the musty, unwashed scent of dog and street.
Gerald Vaughn sat hunched on the gurney, his threadbare coat draped around his thin shoulders like a protective shell. His wiry salt-and-pepper hair stuck out in erratic tufts beneath a faded blue Royals stocking cap, and his brown eyes darted around the room with a mixture of fear and suspicion. Gerald’s gaze zeroed in on her, his cracked lips pulling into a relieved, gap-toothed grin. “There she is! My Polly-girl. Like Polly’s Pop. Independence, Missouri’s own hometown soda pop.”
His voice was raspy from years of hard living and harder choices. Today was apparently a chatty day for Gerald—although he was just as likely to come in with an ailment or injury, and she’d have to drag enough words out of him to make sense.
She smiled. “That’s right. I’m named after Polly’s Pop.” She was actually named after one of her mother’s aunts who had helped raise her mom, but if the soda pop connection amused Gerald and kept him talking, she’d go with it. “Who’s this?”
Curled protectively against his chest, a small, dirty black-haired mutt with mismatched ears and a wiry tail trembled beneath the fluorescent lights. “My boy here—Smudge—said he didn’t want nobody else touchin’ me. He said you were the kindest nurse of ’em all. Said you smelled like them treats he likes.”
Heat climbed up Polly’s neck. She’d slipped a few of Luna’s bacon-flavored biscuits into her scrubs that morning, a last-minute reward for good behavior after their morning walk. Guess she’d forgotten a couple.
