Page 22 of Bad Medicine
I returned to the unit desk, thinking my night was finally going to calm down, when a tingling sensation on the back of my neck had me jerking my head up from my charting and looking around.
Sure enough, there he stood, all long legs and lean muscles, looking like a rockstar in his beat-up leather jacket, the dark grey button-down he wore underneath doing nothing to conceal the broad expanse of his chest.
God, I hated the way just the sight of him could affect me, the way seeing him looking at me could steal the very breath from my lungs. Catching me watching him, he smirked, and I felt as though the floor had fallen out from beneath me. Grabbing on to the desk for support, I froze as Rocco pushed off the wall, stalking toward me like the predator I knew him to be.
“Dr. Carmichael,” he drawled, his low voice rumbling right through my belly like a missile. “I am gonna take you out tomorrow.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re coming out with me tomorrow. What time do you get off?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, then cursed myself. That wasn’t a no. Why didn’t I say no?
But I knew why.
“What time to you get off?” he repeated.
“I really can’t,” I protested weakly.
“What time do you get off, Doc?”
“Eight,” Donna called from her place behind the desk, and I shot her a glare.
She didn’t even look up.
“Alright. Was that so hard?” Rock said, and I glared at him, too.
“So, you get off at eight. I’ll pick you up here, and then we’ll see if we can’t get you off again, alright?”
Reaching out, Rocco gently brushed his knuckles down my cheek, his eyes following their path along my jaw to my chin, where he paused before giving it a gentle pinch.
“See you then, Doc.”
And then, just like Francesca had before him, Rocco turned and disappeared out of the ER like he had never been there at all.
As I stared at the doors he had exited through, Donna let out a low whistle, and I growled, tossing the chart I had been pretending to write in on the desk beside her.
“You traitor,” I accused, but Donna only laughed.
“Dr. Carmichael, I just did you a favor.” Winking at me, she fanned her face dramatically. “You can thank me later.”
Chapter nine
Rocco
ParkedoutsideEnzo’smassivehouse, I leaned against the side of my car—carefully, because there was no way I wanted to scratch my baby’s paint job—and waited for Francesca to emerge. Knowing Enzo wanted her at The Shed while he worked, and that she had some personal family shit come up this afternoon—on top of the fuckin’ car bomb someone had left in her truck— there was nothing to do but wait while she handled her business.
Needing something to keep myself busy, I sparked my lighter and brought it up in front of me, holding near the smoke I had pinched between my lips.
The first I’d put there in hours.
Which honestly surprised me, because I was a pack a day guy and had been for years.
But Mia’s words kept bouncing around in my head, doing more damage than any of Enzo’s punches ever could. And now, every time I even thought about lighting up, all I could see was her cute as fuck nose all scrunched up in disgust, looking at me like I had leprosy or some shit.
I’d been a smoker since I was fourteen years old, and not once had I ever considered quitting. But one conversation with the good doctor, and I was suddenly rethinking my every move.
What that hell had gotten into me?
