Page 21 of Egotistical Jerk
Stubborn, infuriating woman! One part of me wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she listened. The other part wanted to steal the fighting words from her tongue. I wanted to kiss her until the only words she knew wereyes,more,andplease.
I didn't do any of those things. Instead, I drew in a breath through my nose before releasing it slowly.
"You can't get involved."
Even though I'd spoken as calmly as I could, it didn't matter. Fury flashed in those big, green eyes. Mia planted her fists on her hips. Tilting her chin a bit more, she glared at me. Resentment rolling off her body in angry waves.
The absolute last thing I should have been thinking was how damn sexy she looked when she was furious.
And yet…
"Pot meet kettle," she spat, oblivious to the turn my thoughts had taken. "My free time is not yours, Dr. Ryker," she repeated her words from earlier before marching to the elevator.
Unable to take my eyes off her, I shoved my hands inside the pockets of my jeans. Her fury still evident in the way she was stabbing the button repeatedly. And then, almost as if I'd willed it to happen, she angled her head and looked at me over her shoulder.
Our eyes locked and I swear, my heart stopped. Her lip disappeared between her teeth at the same time as a crease marred her forehead. I would've given anything to know what was going through her mind right then.
The doors behind her parted, and just like that the connection between us was severed. If I hadn't been so focused on her, I would've missed the small shake of her head before she ducked into the elevator.
The moment she disappeared from my view, I released the breath I'd been holding, then dragged my ass back to Cheryl's room. Upon entering, I found her exactly how I left her; big eyes on the door while she nibbled on something.
I smiled wearily as I made my way to where she was sitting on the bed, noticing for the first time how pale and bony she looked.
"Now, who needs TV when real life is more entertaining?" she remarked when I reached her. Her mouth stretched wide, eyes crinkling in the corners and sparkling with amusement.
"That so?" I jerked my chin toward the container resting on her legs. "What's that?"
Her gaze flicked down. "Oh, Mia brought me some treats." Cheryl eyed me again. "But you don't get to change the subject so easily."
Perching on the side of the bed, I lifted my shoulders and feigned innocence. "What subject?"
"Uh-uh, I might be old, but I'm not blind, mister." I almost laughed when she leaned forward, looking about as serious as a heart attack. "What's going on between the two of you?"
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Sebastian, you stormed after her like your butt was on fire."
"Uhm." Focusing on a spot on the wall behind her, I dragged my palm over the back of my neck. "It's complicated," I finally confessed.
Cheryl reached forward and patted my leg. "Things are only as complicated as we make them to be. If you like this girl, tell her that. Don't wait until it's too late."
She spoke with so much emotion, I had no other choice than to look at her. The expression on her face caused a strange stirring behind my breastbone. Was she speaking from experience? She'd told me once that she never married but hadn't elaborated on why.
Like she knew exactly where my thoughts had gone, she simply stated, "Trust me on this. You don't want to be living with regrets when you're old and gray." Her fingers flexed against my leg. "I know how dedicated you are to your work, but work won't keep you warm at night."
Those words still rolled around in my head long after I left the hospital. They were still there when I walked into my dark apartment, and Teddy lazily weaved through my legs. They were especially loud when I crawled into my king size bed and found it cold and empty.
Chapter 11
MIA
The large colonial that Bridget and Simon called home was absolutely stunning. It was situated just off the highway in a suburb where I could easily envision happy couples milling about and even happier children laughing and playing in their front yards.
Speaking of laughter, I heard peals of it followed by even louder squealing as I approached the Hogue's front door. I couldn't keep the smile off my lips even if I tried.
Whenever she got the opportunity to do so, Bridget would gush over her son and twin girls. But like any other mother I knew, she would also add that with three kids running amok, a silent house had become somewhat of a myth.
Still grinning, I lifted my hand and tapped my knuckles against the wood. There was a lot of shuffling and yelling coming from inside before the door flew open to reveal a slightly disheveled Bridget.
