Page 37 of The Potter

Is it inappropriate that the lower half of my body clenched at his threat?

Grinning, I ignore the tingles swirling in my stomach. “All I’m hearing is,‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’”

Vance just stares at me, his blinks slow and methodical before he inhales, and clips out, “You have thirty minutes and then we’re leaving.”

Halle

“I’m hungry.”

I turn in my seat and blink at the man who changes moods like he does socks.

“Okay,” I drawl. “Do you need to come in for a snack?” I motion to the motel door in front of where Vance’s car idles. “I have cheese puffs.”

He’s calmed down quite a bit from earlier in the exam room. I don’t know what changed, but I’m not mad about it. I can handle cranky Vance and moody Vance, but hungry Vance is a new one.

“I don’t want cheese puffs.” He frowns like saying the words personally offended his tastebuds.

“Okay, rude.” I put my hand on the handle, and the locks click into place—Vance’s sign that he isn’t finished speaking.

“I want dinner,” he admits clinically and detached.

Again, I try the handle, still finding it locked. “Well, I hope you enjoy your dinner. I’ve heard good things about several of the restaurants near here.” I flash him a smile. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning?” This time I wiggle the handle, so he knows I’m ready to get out. Other people are hungry, too.

Dropping his head, Vance takes a deep breath before he looks up, leveling me with a look of resolve. “Would you like to try one of those restaurants with me?”

Oh.Oh.

“Umm…”

“We can go over your surgery since office hours seem to offend you.”

“Office hours don’t offend me,” I snap. “You gave me an ultimatum. That offends me.”

He pushes back in his seat as if this sort of conversation is easier for him to deal with. “And have you found someone to care for you postoperatively?”

The smugness on his face deserves to be smacked. He knew I wouldn’t know anyone around here to care for me. It’s his way of getting out of doing the surgery. But he won’t win this battle. I can be just as savvy. “Actually, I have.”

I watch as the smugness fades into something like panic. “Who?” His entire posture has gone rigid.

Yeah, roll that feeling of defeat around, Dr. Potter. Taste it. Smell it. And get fucking used to it.

“Who doesn’t matter. Just as long as he’s there to pick me up upon discharge, correct?”

That crazy sexy muscle in Vance’s cheek twitches as he puts the car in gear, reversing out of the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” I nearly shout. “Let me out.”

For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me, but when the motel disappears in the rearview mirror, he finally grits out, “We’re going to discuss it over dinner. I need alcohol.”

“And a restraining order,” I add, taking pleasure in the return scowl. “You’re really getting too comfortable with this whole kidnapping thing.”

I chuckle at my joke, but then he mutters, “You’re no kid,” and I go quiet. The way he said it sounded like he was mad this wasn’t a mere kidnapping.

“And you’re no criminal. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” he repeats, a less than amused scoff behind his words.

I don’t know what to make of Dr. Potter and our interactions, so I decide that I’m just going to sit back and let him work through whatever he needs to while we, apparently, get dinner. Well, that is, until he pulls up to the valet for a prestigious restaurant I’m so not into. I want good, greasy food, not steamed vegetables and attitude. “I don’t want to eat here,” I tell him.

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