Page 46 of The Potter

“You sure?” He doesn’t seem convinced, and given all my moaning, I can see why. But I learned a long time ago that a pretty face and sweet gestures would never be enough to make me fall in love again. Lust? Maybe. But never love. Not again, anyway.

I promised myself that I would never hang my love on whispered promises. Actions. I need to see those promises in action before I ever drop my guard again. So, while Dr. Potter may be making my body hum under his fingers, my heart is still firmly locked away in ice, where it’ll stay until I decide to let it defrost.

“Halle?”

I’ve gone silent, too busy reliving the past and not paying attention to the present. “I’m fine,” I answer absently, almost forgetting Vance asked if I was okay to stand.

Suddenly, strong arms slip under my back and legs, lifting me. “Wait!” I scramble to hold on to something, but I can only lean into the aggravating man, cradling me to his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, which smells pretty freaking amazing if I must admit.

“I told you I could stand,” I grumble as Vance walks us back into the kitchen.

“Not fast enough.” He nods to the refrigerator. “Grab two waters.”

Tilting my head back, I meet Mr. Impatient’s eyes, and yep, he’s serious. “Okay,” I agree. “Put me down and I will.” Dr. Potter has a nasty habit of just picking me up and moving me to the location he prefers. It’s a serious problem he needs to address before it gets more out of hand.

“Vance?” I try, when he just stands there, his grip even tighter than before. “I’m serious. Put me down.”

He blinks slowly as if I didn’t speak. I swear he could drive a nun to drink with his stubbornness.

“So, we’re really doing this?” I motion the few inches between our chests.

“Seems like it’s the only way you follow directions,” he finally says, smugness creeping into his tone.

This man needs a serious reality check.

I fold my arms and lean back into his arms. Never mind that I really would love a pain reliever and sleep, this lesson is much too important for Vance to miss. Sometimes, people can’t just be moved until they do what you want.

Vance shifts his weight in response. “You can either grab a bottled water or you can drink from the bathroom sink. Your choice.”

How sweet.

And annoying.

“Fine, but this little showdown is not over.”

He nods in agreement like he’s looking forward to our next run-in and shifts so I can open the fridge, grabbing two bottles.

“The only reason I’m doing what you want is because I don’t want to deal with a moodyandsleep-deprived Dr. Potter tomorrow.”

“Good thinking.”

He doesn’t even deny the fact that he’s intolerable on workdays. He simply walks us down the hall and past…

“Where are you going?”

He passes the guest room and proceeds down the hall where I’m starting to think his room is.

“Vance? Are you really not going to answer?”

He kicks a bedroom door open farther, revealing a room that reeks of masculinity and wealth. Gray walls, minimal furniture, and a bed made for a king. The massive California-king sits in the middle of the room, imposing and… destroyed. The black satin sheets look as if Vance spent the evening wrestling instead of sleeping and are mostly on the floor while the pillows are scattered about the mattress.

“What’d you do in here?”

He lowers me to the bed, the mattress firm, the sheets cool against my skin. “Slept.”

I think his Harvard education failed him. “Sleeping is usually peaceful.”

Those dark brows of his arch. “Is that why I found you on the floor of my living room? All the peace in the guest room got to be too much?”

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