Page 74 of Love Sick

Hyperaware of his hand behind me, I take a larger drink. “This is so good, Julian. Why have you been hiding this from us?”

“If I remember correctly, I told you about this drink in February and you weren’t interested in straying from the tried and true.”

Julian has never touched me like this, playing with my hair, almost absently, like he’s not aware he’s doing it.Ishe aware? Does he somehow sense my piquing interest?

Raven glances at us. Her gaze dips to his fingers tangled in my hair. Julian straightens and withdraws his hand. Pretending nothing happened, Raven returns to the conversation, but after a few moments, she throws us a curious look.

I feign ignorance and face Julian. “If I’d known what I was missing, I would’ve been asking for this every night.”

I replay my words and hear the double entendre. Heat flickers over my face.

He suppresses a smile. “Would you? Every night?”

“Ha, ha.” I set my cold glass against the fire of my cheek.

But he’s not done. A devious humor lightens the deep brown in his eyes. “Would you say please?”

“Shut up, Julian.”

“Yes, please.” Kai toasts me. “Do shut up.”

Alesha giggles, nudging him with her bare toe. “And you thought you hated it when they were fighting all the time.”

Kai winces. “I know. This is so much worse.”

* * *

Dr. LaShay is a scatterbrained ditz. I don’t know how she graduated high school, let alone medical school. Dr. Echols insists that LaShay was top of her class, but LaShay is also sixty-eight years old, so I doubt he found records of her class rank.

Proof or it didn’t happen. That’s what I say.

She’s a private attending with a bustling OB practice and delivers all her babies at St. Vincent. Her greatest love is to use the residents for her grunt work.

“Where’s the resident?” she squawks.

I pop up from my place at the dictation desk. “That’s me.”

She looks at me like she’s never seen me before, though we’ve worked together dozens of times. Her short white bob is so starched with hairspray it doesn’t move when she cocks her head. “What year are you?”

“Uh—second.”

“What’s your name?”

“Grace Rose, ma’am.”

She looks me up and down. “Fine. I need help with my next C-section and Dr. Echols is busy.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

“Be ready in ten.”

I reseat myself and go back to work, but a small chuckle to my left draws my eye. A man sits at the computer next to mine. He’s young, handsome and his blue eyes shine through silver-rimmed glasses.

Cute.

I guess I have a thing for glasses.

His badge declares him a fellow resident, but I’m not sure what specialty.

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