Page 46 of Dr. Attending

“Poor Walker.”

Morgan rolls her emerald-green eyes dramatically. “Relax. The man doesn’t care about what anyone else does or who they do it with. If I told you half of the shit that we get into, you’d probably send me for a psych eval.”

She pauses to lick the sugar from the edge of her margarita, wagging her brows at me over the glass rim. “Actually, do you want to know? Will that make you feel better? Tit for tit, if you will?”

I laugh, feeling a blanket of warmth wash over me from the small amount of tequila I drank. “Don’t you mean a perfect tit for a perfect tit?”

“Exactly.” She giggles back at me mischievously. “Well, I just want to make it known that Iknewy’all were going to hook up. There’s no way you could share a bed with a man that fine, and not want to jump his bones. I mean, I could feel the sexual tension between you two all day. So much mutual pining. So much simmering beneath the surface. Was he good? Cassidy never told me anything because all she talks about is yourbrother like a boring boobie, but I bet Weston was good.Sooooogood.”

I let out a long sigh because I want to tell her the truth—that he wasn’t just good, he was the best. That I’ll be thinking of that night for a long, long time and probably dreaming about it too, if I’m being honest. But if I give her an inch, she’s going to take a mile.

So I tell her a lie.

“He was fine,” I answer casually. “Nothing to write home about. Kind of vanilla.”

Morgan’s face drops like I’ve just given her news that she has a terminal illness. “Just fine? Are you sure? I mean, I did hear that he sucked in bed. But that was years ago from Kayla in the ICU, and her coworker Lauren told me the opposite. She claimed he was some sort of sexual savant or something. Hmmm . . . I guess it’s true how they say there are different strokes for different folks.”

She lets out an exasperated exhale and squints like it’s going to help her think more clearly. “But it just didn’t look like he sucked from the way he was stroking your—”

“Morg!” I yell, feeling my eyes blow wide.

“What?” She laughs, nearly spitting out the sip she just took. “The video feed might have accidentally turned itself on when Walker went to the bathroom.”

She shrugs, brushing off my incredulous expression. “Chill. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. And as soon as I confirmed that you weredefinitelyokay, I turned it off.”

I stare at her, speechless. My brain is scrambling for a response, but I’ve never been a great liar, and if I try to spew more bullshit, she’s going to see right through it. So, instead, I reach for the tequila bottle in front of me and take a long, slow swig, no longer caring if it ruins the lining of my esophagus.

“So what’s Parker-pooper going to say?” Morgan asks as she watches me with amusement.

I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, and this time I don’t have to think before I speak because I’m telling the god’s honest truth when I respond, “Nothing. Because it’s not happening again.”

It can’t happen again. But if it did, it wouldn’t be any of my brother’s goddamn business. And I’d have no problem telling him that.

Morgan gives me a skeptical look, like she thinks I’m full of shit. “That’s what we all say.”

“Well, I mean it.”

She rolls her eyes and then bites her bottom lip like she’s holding back a massive fit of giggles.

“What?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

A wicked grin sweeps across her face.

“Just thinking about how you and Cass are lumberjack sisters now too. You know . . . because you’ve shared the same wood.”

Chapter 17

Weston

“Nice job,” I tell the intern across from me as I watch him close the basic abdominal incision.

He glances up at me like I just told him that he won a million dollars. Which I can understand because most of my colleagues don’t hand out positive feedback very often . . . or ever. The constant criticism from attendings was one of the things I hated the most about residency, and I always told myself that when I got to be in their shoes, I would do things differently.

“Thanks for bringing me in. That was awesome.”

“You earned it,” I reply as I step back from the table, feeling surprisingly satisfied.

I tug my gown and gloves off, tossing them in the bin by the door. This was my last case of the day, and it’s only two in the afternoon. Unless something urgent comes up, I should be free to head out of here once I finish up my notes.

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