Page 60 of Dr. Attending

He’s still wearing the outfit he must have had on for the party—a light blue button-down, khaki shorts, and loafers. His voice is warm and accepting, like coming home after a long day, and it ignites an instinctual need within me to drop my purse on the porch and race into his arms.

I close my eyes and bury my face against his shoulder, inhaling the muted citrus of his cologne as he pulls me in close.

I don’t have any tears left to cry, but if I did, the way he tenderly strokes my head might spur them on again. The simple comfort of his embrace is everything I didn’t know I needed . . . everything I didn’t know I wanted.

I’m not sure how long we silently stand in the open doorway, but I eventually force myself to step back and meet his gaze.

“Thank you for leaving the porch light on.”

It’s the first thing that made me happy today, so I make a mental note to write it down on my list when I have a chance.

Weston nods, staring at me for what feels like an eternity before he responds. “I’ll always keep it on for you.”

His expression is so earnest that I almost hear my heart scream at my head to shut up and give in.

But instead, I offer him a smile and turn to grab my purse.

“Wow,” I say absentmindedly as I follow him into his house for the first time, scanning the modern foyer. “This is . . . stunning.”

Whoever he paid to decorate everything did an incredible job.

The art on the walls is tasteful. The furniture matches the modern traditional aesthetic. Everything somehow comes together perfectly to feel functional and homey while still being high end.

“Thanks.” Weston closes the tinted glass door behind me. “I like interior design.”

“You did this?”

It shouldn’t shock me.

An eye for interior design and personal style seem to go hand in hand, at least they do when it comes to him.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Weston teases with a chuckle as he stops beside me. His voice is soft, but it sends a shiver of uncertainty up my spine. “Do you want a tour?”

I want to say yes. But considering how fast my heart is beating right now, I don’t trust myself walking through a dark hallway with him.

“I wouldn’t want to wake Carter up,” I respond quietly, staring at the geometric chandelier above my head with awe.

Weston nudges me gently to get my attention. “Baby monitor. Remember?”

“Right,” I swallow, turning to look at him.

It was a bad excuse because I’m well aware of the fact that his son sleeps well through the night. But I brought it up as a reminder for myself because Weston and I can be friends. We can enjoy each other’s company. Hell, we can even hookup. But we absolutely cannot cross a line into anything more—it’s for his own good.

I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, and I fight the urge to squirm as I wrack my brain for another reason I shouldn’t let him give me a tour. When nothing immediately comes to mind, I finally concede.

“Alright, sure,” I agree, offering him a hesitant smile. “Show me around then, Daddy.”

What the—

I feel my skin prickle with embarrassment because I have no idea where the hell that came from. It felt so wrong, and not in the good way—in the way that kills the mood entirely.

But I guess maybe that’s a good thing?

That’s what I’m going for, right?

Right.

Weston cocks a brow at me. Clearly, he thought that was weird as fuck too, and I’m thankful that he doesn’t comment on it as he starts his tour.

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