Page 4 of A Kiss on a Dare
I groan louder as Cat leans over the table to peek at my phone, her face lighting up like she’s just won the lottery.
“You’re my bitch now,” she cackles, giving me an affectionate slap on the back. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll be tasteful.”
Tasteful. Right. Whoever came up with this stupid game should be banned from society. But I know one thing for sure: when playing this game with Cat, it’s always better to just do the dares. Otherwise, she’ll redeem the wishes at the worst possible moment.
“Fine,” I say, clenching my jaw. “Shoot.”
Cat’s face lights up. “I dare you to go ask Dr. Gaybrows if he works out.”
I nearly choke on my gin and tonic, laughter exploding out of me before I can stop it. Cat joins in, and for a few glorious minutes, we’re both laughing so hard my stomach starts to hurt. Somewhere in the middle of it, the absurdity of the situation hits me—and with it, a rush of reckless courage.
“Easy,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. But as soon as I take a step, it’s like the room tilts sideways, and I feel all the alcohol hit me at once.Shit. I’m way drunker than I thought.Not that it matters. That’s a problem for tomorrow Ray.
I straighten my back, set my sights on Gabrielle, and start making my way across the room.
Chapter 2. Four Dares
I approach Gabrielle at one of the buffet tables, where he’s loading up a plate with mini sandwiches and canapés. He doesn’t notice me at first, so I stand there awkwardly, waiting for my moment.
“Hey,” I say when he finally looks up. This time, the word feels natural, not forced.
“You’re still here,” James says, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. His tone is even but not unfriendly. “I had to go check on one of the patients—Mr. Fisher.”
Straight to work talk. Of course. Well, it’s better than awkward silence.
“The kidney guy?” I ask, nodding, though I suddenly feel self-conscious. I’m way too drunk to be having this conversation, and I can’t tell if he notices.
“Yeah,” Gabrielle replies, picking up a mini sandwich from his plate and taking a bite. “He’s determined to leave before Christmas, but I told him he can’t unless he’s ready to die in the comfort of his own home.”
His tone is dry, almost too casual, but it makes me smile despite myself.
“That’s where you were for two hours?” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.God, why did I have to sound like I was keeping track of him?
“Yeah,” Gabrielle says with a sigh, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “But we gave him some painkillers, so he went to sleep. I can finally relax knowing he’s not going to make another escape attempt.”
“He already tried that once, didn’t he?” I ask, remembering something one of the nurses had mentioned a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Fisher isn’t my patient, but his antics have made him something of a hospital legend.
Gabrielle nods, his expression softening slightly. “Yup. Butt-naked and barefoot. The security guard caught him trying to make it through the metal detectors.”
I can’t help but laugh, incredulous. And then I catch it—a shadow of a smile forming at the corners of Gabrielle’s mouth. God,that smile.
Gabrielle doesn’t smile much. He’s the brooding type—not quite Mr. Darcy’s levels of brooding, but close enough to qualify. At least during work hours. Since I’ve never seen him outside of the hospital, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve caught even a glimpse of that smile this past year.
But now? It’s there, faint but real, and it does something dangerous to me. It melts something in my chest, leaving me feeling soft, gooey, and a little sticky—like caramel left out in the sun.
My phone buzzing snaps me out of the daze. I glance down and see a message from Cat lighting up the screen:
Didya do it?? Write me when its done.
I’m not a hardcore grammar purist, but the mix-up betweenitsandit’sstill makes my teeth ache.
When I look back up, Gabrielle is in the middle of devouring another sandwich. The way he opens his mouth, tilting his head back just slightly, shouldn’t be that distracting. But, of course, my overworked, undersexed brain takes a hard left turn intoveryinappropriate territory. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about how to steer the conversation toward the whole “working out” dare. Instead, my mind is spiraling into thoughts about what else he could do with that mouth.
It’s embarrassing how quickly my brain goes there, but honestly, I’ve been so horny these past few months that it’s becoming a reflex. Between long shifts, sleep deprivation, and zero time to date, my sex drive has been turning even the most mundane moments into thirst traps. At this point, it’s starting to feel like my superpower.
I must have been blatantly staring at him because Gabrielle catches my gaze. He chews quickly, covering his mouth with one hand, and says, “Sorry, these sandwiches are really good. You should try them.”
At that moment, two brilliant ideas hit me. First, eating will help sober me up a little and cover for the fact that I was ogling him. Second, food is the perfect way to ease into the workout topic without sounding weird.
