Page 73 of Dr. Aster

“No, gorgeous,” I said, kissing her hand—the one that wasn’t forcing us out the door and down to an Uber that would be here to collect us in five minutes. “For a king and his queen.”

“Ah,” she said, stepping into the private elevator. “Well, maybe it is karma getting even before you could hurt me. You know, like after we’ve had sex, and then you realize that’s all you wanted.”

I smirked at her after we climbed into the backseat of the Uber, acknowledged the driver, and confirmed our destination to the closest emergency room. “You see,” I said, settling back into the seat, looking over at her, “I’ve already hurt you,” I reached for her right hand with the gash on the back of it, “and karma is taking my ass to a local ER instead of a luxurious bed where I could prove all night that I want sex and breakfast in bed and a relationship to follow.”

The Uber driver’s attention was caught, and his eyes drifted back to the rearview mirror more than once as Mickie and I decided to have this particular conversation in the backseat of his car. My night was fucked anyway, so we may as well have some fun with this poor bastard.

“But damn,” I lowered my voice, sounding breathless, “you do look so fucking hot right now,” I said that truth with a smile, but Mickie’s eyes looked as though she were embarrassed.

Don’t, she mouthed with a playful expression that I found adorable.

“I can’t resist. I mean…” I paused, and the driver’s eyes quickly darted back to the street from the mirror he watched us through. “Omar?” I called the name that was listed for his Uber services.

“Yes, sir?” he answered after he cleared his throat.

“How long would you say it is until we arrive at the hospital?”

“I’m sorry?”

His voice was strained with shock as if I were about to commit a sexual act in the backseat of his Prius—which I wasn’t, obviously, but it would be fun to see how long I could drag this out to keep my mind off the fact that I couldn’t believe we were on our way to a goddamn hospital.

“The hospital? How long?” I said, my eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror.

“GPS says arrival time is in fifteen minutes.”

I smiled at Mickie. “Fifteen minutes?” I arched an eyebrow at her and reached for her thigh, which she pulled abruptly away.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Mickie questioned nervously.

If she thinks I’m going to do something in this car, then she must’ve lost more blood than I thought.

“Perhaps I have,” I answered seriously. “I mean, Omar?”

“Uh, yeah?” he answered too quickly to allow me to believe he wasn’t falling for this bullshit.

“If you had a hot woman up in your hotel room but got screwed out of getting lucky, wouldn’t you take advantage of a situation where you were forced to do nothing but sit in the backseat of an Uber and think about it?”

“Um, I don’t?—”

“It’s okay, Omar,” Mickie rolled her eyes, “nothing is going to happen in your car. This man is my brother.”

Your brother? I mouthed in disbelief that Mickie would come up with something that wild after it took her a minute to catch on that I was just fucking around.

“Brother-in-law,” I settled into my seat, twisting some to face her and eye Omar’s reaction through his mirror.

“A lovely family, I suppose?” Omar said.

“It was,” I answered dramatically. “Until my brother stole my girlfriend fifteen years ago, and I decided to return the favor by stealing his wife.”

“You didn’t steal me,” Mickie said as if this were a true story. “I decided that prick could kiss my ass after he told me that I didn’t keep the house clean enough for him.”

I smirked, knowing she was trying to play along but failing miserably. Oh well. Omar was buying it, and that was the whole point.

“I told him to buy you that maid’s outfit for your birthday because you’d look so sexy in it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a hard pass from me, and he should’ve known I’d be pissed.”

“That’s why we’re in San Francisco, Omar,” I said, seeing the Uber driver’s apparent amusement. “The only way my brother appreciates anything is when he loses it.”

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