Page 3 of Hold Me Instead
Amber:I bet he’s fucking gorge now.
Ugh, me too.
“You a doctor? Nurse? Or is that part of your costume?”
The older woman’s voice shook Charlie back to her surroundings, and she shoved the phone in a coat pocket like she’d been caught ogling a photo of the man in his presence. She looked up, briefly surprised at the questions until she remembered her Halloween scrubs and cat ears headband. Didn’t matter it was the weekend before, Halloween costumes could be celebrated all month as far as she was concerned.
“I’m a veterinarian,” Charlie replied. “Dressed up for my patients. So today, I guess I’m also a cat,” she said, touching the headband in her frizzed hair. Her forced, nervous chuckle faded quickly at the unnecessary admission she’d dressed in costume for the animals—not for the amusement of clients or coworkers. She cleared her throat, hoping it erased her ridiculousness.
“Oh, how lovely,” the woman said. She sorted through an endless treasure trove in her purse before producing a tiny brush, then swiped at the wispy grays of her hair, her hand following to pat them in place. Seemingly unconcerned about Charlie’s penchant for Halloween or the wealth of thoughts performing a mosh pit in her brain.
“You...been here awhile?” Charlie asked, then immediately cringed.
What was fair game to ask strangers in a hospital waiting room that didn’t hit a nerve? Or, apparently, sound like a bad pickup line? Better question, why did she feel obligated to converse? Couldn’t they just sit in awkward silence? If Nana were here, Charlie wouldn’t have to ask herself these questions, what with Nana’s constant chatter.
“Waiting for my honey to get off his shift. Should be along any moment now.” She applied her lipstick, compact mirror in hand, blotting tissue ready to absorb excess red paint. The woman had to be early seventies, and she rocked the bold shade like it was made for her.
Charlie had never been able to pull off red lipstick—it always seemed too jarring against her own fair, rosy skin. Though, they did have similar skin tones...
The woman smoothed a hand down the front of her striped blouse, then unbuttoned another button, expertly positioning the shirt against her collarbone with practiced, red-tipped fingers that matched her lips.
“Here for family?” she asked, looking up with a soft smile. She radiated happiness, a demure look emphasized by her confidence.
Charlie wanted to be her when she grew up.
“My boss.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing at the impersonal title. “I’ve worked with him for almost ten years. He had a heart attack.”
The woman tittered. “My husband survived two of his own. The damn cancer got him.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
The woman shrugged. “Life is shit at times.” She looked beyond Charlie. “And then it’s great again.” A smile lit up her face that, for a fleeting moment, suggested love or romance could arrive at any point in life.
A man with styled white hair wearing dark blue scrubs stood at the entrance to the narrow room. “Ready?” he said.
The woman stood and gave Charlie a pat on the shoulder as she walked to the hallway. “My best to your boss, dear. Hang in there. Oh!” She stepped back into the tiny room and whispered, “This gentleman coming down the hall isn’t the young hot doc I mentioned, but he’s certainly a looker. Ah, if men are your preference, that is,” she added with a smile. Then she was gone, the fragrance of roses lingering.
Charlie didn’t have to wait long for the reveal—a man appeared in the hall beyond the waiting area and stopped in her line of sight, staring ahead at the double doors. His black hair was short, the wavy length on top mussed as he gripped it. A charcoal bomber jacket cloaked broad shoulders, his posture long and lean. He wore dark blue jeans that hugged thick thighs, and even a quick glance revealed a solid ass. In fact, it deserved a second look. He had his father’s frame. Taller, sure—wait,hold up.Not the ass part.Or the“thick thighs,”Charlotte!
There was no mistaking that the man in front of her was Zachary Lee.
That old, familiar flutter plucked at her organs, threatening a tango of nausea and giddiness. He turned his profile her way, hands on hips as he stared at his feet. His tawny skin tone was the same as Daniel’s, but the rest was soZachary. His profile sent her heart—no, herheartbeat—into overdrive, that jawline one of his most powerful features. With the help of a grin she remembered so well, he was captivating.
Not that he was smiling now.
Head down, he walked into the waiting area, seemingly unaware of her. The smell of fresh rain on fabric enhanced a warm, earthy scent emanating from him, bursting through the dwindling floral air. He moved past her to the far corner of the room and folded his six-foot self into a chair, sinking with a look of despair.
Charlie faced forward, knee bouncing as she stared at the painting. If only Mary Poppins could help her hop into that framed meadow. Maybe she hadn’t given it enough credit—she’d prefer frolicking freely through monochromatic fields over this anxiety-ridden, hormone-addled swirl of emotions.
This was silly—they knew each other. She should say something. Acknowledging him made perfect sense. Perhaps he didn’t recognize her, and when she said hello, he’d swoop her into one of his tight, all-consuming hugs, and they could sigh in companionable relief. She’d been on the receiving end of his embrace only once, but it was one she’d never forget.
She dared a glance out of the corner of her eye. He leaned forward, forearms propped on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. Eyes drilling holes into the tan tile floor. It was more than despair. He looked…angry.Not that Charlie could fault him. Unfortunately, it was a look she remembered all too well, their last encounter imprinted on her mind. Dread kicked every other feeling out of the way as she realized she was probably the last person he wanted comforting him. Though she still didn’t know why.
“Stop staring at me, Harris.”
Charlie’s eyes bolted forward, her breath frozen, as his deep voice skated over her arms and smacked her in the chest.
She was right. That tone was definitely full of anger. Toward her.
