Page 103 of Doctorshipped
“It’s more than alright with me—as long as Fiona doesn’t find out about this from one of them.”
“And what is this?”
I push a lock of Jayme’s hair back and tuck it behind her ear. It falls forward, and I smile. Her hair is as unconventional and free as she is.
“You are asking me what this is?” I motion a finger between us.
“I am.”
“Thisis a man who can’t stop thinking about you.Thisis me finally acting on feelings that snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking.Thisis me wanting to date you and make you happy. As far as where that leads, I’m still me. I’m cynical and unromantic. I don’t believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. But, I also can’t imagine ever letting you go. And that may make me a selfish jerk. So …”
I trail off, realizing how lame I truly am, and questioning why I’d ever foist myself on a woman like Jayme who deserves something far more like what she writes in her books. Minus the blood, and biting, and walking-undead elements.
Jayme’s eyes travel across my face, meeting my gaze, roving across my cheeks and nose, tracing my lips, and finding her way back up to my eyes. She scoots closer and cups my jaw. The kindness I see reflected back to me makes me want to look away, for her sake, but I don’t.
“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I feel my brow scrunch in confusion. “You heard the part where I’m a cynic?”
“This is supposed to be a news flash to me? Grant, I know who you are. I don’t know everything about what you’ve lived through, but I know enough. And I’ve watched you with Fiona, with your patients, and with your dad.
“I’ve gotten to know you over these past couple months. Even if I look back to the day we met, you couldn’t help but let me drool on your shirt, and then you rushed over to hand me my bra in the middle of an airport when everyone else stood by watching me scrabble to clean up the contents of my exploded suitcase. You may not think you’re romantic, but I know differently. You’re the best kind of romantic there is.”
“In my defense, that was one heck of a bra.”
She blushes and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.
“It’s my boss-babe bra. I wear it when I need to feel powerful.”
“Okay. Enough talk of bras,” I say, clearing my throat and shifting a little in my seat.
Jayme laughs.
“I hope you know where I stand now,” I tell her.
“I do. And I feel the same, except I do believe in happily ever afters. Not perfect ones, but I believe a couple can be so well-matched that they’re able to make life bearable when the really painful and challenging stuff hits the fan. I believe in weathering storms together, and I believe in partners helping one another become the best version of themselves. And I believe in fun. Lots and lots of fun.”
“Then why did you swear off romance?”
I have to ask.
“Because I didn’t believe in that for me.”
I want to know why, but it’s not time yet. Over time I want to learn everything about her—about her past, her dreams, her secrets. And that means I’ll have to let her into mine. I take a deep breath.
“And now you do believe you could have all that?”
“You make me think it’s possible.”
I lean in and claim her mouth in a kiss. It’s impulsive and I take her by surprise, but she catches on quickly and before I know it, she’s gripping my face with both her hands and taking charge of the kiss. She runs one of her hands down my arm, and pulls back, breathy and mussed.
“I love your arms,” she says, like it’s a confession she couldn’t stand keeping to herself one more moment.
I chuckle. “Yeah?”
She keeps running her palm up and down over my bicep and then my forearm and back again giving occasional squeezes of appreciation.
“I love your arms, and your eyes, and your broody, dark eyebrows.”
