Page 99 of Doctorshipped
“I might look like a member of the lollipop guild, or an ideal choice for one of Santa’s little helpers, the one who tests the cocoa and cookies, of course. Still, I’m a grown woman and as a grown woman, I don’t do crushes. I don’t fangirl, and I don’t fantasize about men based on their amazing forearms, their sexy eyebrows, or their broody demeanors. I’m grown up enough not to be taken over by all those things.”
Okay, I fantasize a little. But none of that fantasizing had much to do with what happened between me and Grant. At least not for me, it didn’t. I wasn’t merely acting on the overwhelming physical attraction I feel toward him. When we kissed, my heart was fully on board. That realization both thrills and terrifies me.
Laura rolls her eyes. Shannon looks at me with something akin to pity, and Lexi has a little glimmer in her eyes telling me she probably sees through my smoke and mirrors comment.
“Oh, you’ve got that all wrong,” Lexi says. All grown women have crushes. Look at me and Channing Tatum.”
“Yes. Look at you.” I laugh. “Trevor’s such a good sport about taking second place in your heart.”
“And that’s a pretty specific list of what doesn’t float your boat,” Shannon teases. “Eyebrows … broody demeanor? Who could that be? No one specific, that’s for sure.”
“Okay. Okay! I have a crush on the grumpy doctor. Gah! And now he kissed me.”
I fan my face. It’s awful. I’m actually fanning my face over the thought of a kiss.
“So, was it good?” Lexi asks.
I start to answer, but Laura holds up her hand. “Allow me.” Then she turns to Lexi. “Was it good? Was it good? Look at her. She’s fanning herself at the recollection of the kiss. And he’s all tense and growly. Imagine him being all wound up over our girl Jayme and then he finally has a chance to kiss those adorable baby doll lips of hers. Was it good? That's such an amateur question.”
She finishes her assessment and the four of us bust out laughing. She’s right though, that kiss could only be defined as intense.
When we get a hold of ourselves, I look over at Lexi and mouth, “The best. OMG. The best.” She gets all fluttery, and starts making jazz hands at me.
If any kiss deserves jazz hands, it was definitely that one.
Laura smiles. “Another one bites the dust.”
“Seriously?” Shannon chides Laura.
“What? It’s kind of awesome how Jayme, of all women, this amazing, spunky, sexy little romance author who swore off men, has finally found the guy who gets to have access to all her awesomeness—and of all the men, it’s Grant, the broody, moody grump of a doctor.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
Laura laughs. “You don’t? Girl. Have you seen your curves? And you’ve got sass and spirit. You’re a spitfire. What man doesn’t want a little challenge and fire in his life? You never back down. You even took on Chris. But you’re also this fluffy ball of light-pink cotton candy, all sweet and airy. You’ve got the perfect trifecta: curves, sass and sweetness.”
I have never in my life seen myself as sexy. But, when Laura gives me a glimpse of myself through her eyes, I feel like I could strut down a runway. What a day. The kiss of my life, and then I find out I’m sexy.
Put a toothpick in me. I’m done.
Now if only I knew how Grant and I were going to navigate telling Fiona—and what exactly he thinks we have to tell her.
32
GRANT
I’m alive.
I look at my reflection in my bathroom mirror and wonder to myself how many people walk through life half-dead.
Looking back, that’s what I was—a shell of a man, going through the motions, disconnected from my own heart.
Kissing Jayme brought me back from the dead. She’s been driving me half-insane for nearly two months, and now I know why. I needed her, and the depth of my need frightened me.
Had I known what she’d taste like, what it would feel like to hold her and to have her respond to me with such eagerness, I would have kissed her weeks ago. That’s what did me in, the thing that resuscitated me. The way she kissed me told me everything. She wants me as much as I want her.
I’m not skipping through the house singing kumbaya this morning, but I am different. The change is visceral. Something has shifted and I’m not even fighting it.
I walk into the kitchen to find Dad at the table with a mug of coffee and a smirk on his face.
