Page 78 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
“I’m a medical professional, Mitchell.I have surgical precision.”
His smile shifts, taking on a calculating edge.“Speaking of medical professionals, I heard there was some trouble at your hospital in Chicago.Something about a suspension?”
My spine stiffens.“You heard about that all the way out here?”
“Insurance business,” he shrugs, but his eyes remain sharp.“We keep tabs on medical professionals before hiring.Risk assessment and all that.”
I feel a presence directly behind me, a solid warmth that sends electricity down my spine before I even turn.The scent of pine and winter air wraps around me as Adam steps close—too close for casual acquaintances.
“Everything okay here?”His voice is calm but carries an undertone that has Frank taking a half-step back.
“Just chatting with Chicago about hot chocolate recommendations,” Frank says smoothly.“I’ll leave you two to it.”
As he walks away, I’m acutely aware of Adam’s presence behind me, his breath stirring the hair at my temple.I should step forward, create professional distance, maintain boundaries.Instead, I find myself leaning back slightly, the solid wall of his chest a reassurance I didn’t know I was seeking.
“The unicorn hot chocolate is truly best,” Adam murmurs.
My shoulders don’t tighten.My jaw doesn’t clench.Instead, my traitor body wants to lean back, experience his strong arms around my waist, his lips on my hair.
It’s the romance-novel talk with Margaret and Sally affecting my neurotransmitters.Nothing more.Chemical response.Totally explainable.
“Do you want one?”I ask, keeping my voice at a proper professional distance from breathless.
He shakes his head.“Nope, but I’ll grab another waffle.Doyouwant one?”
“With chocolate?”I hear myself ask, like we’ve been doing this for years.
“Yes, ma’am.”
And as we stroll through the park to sit on benches by the ice rink, far enough from the crowd to pretend we’re alone but close enough that no one will assume we’re having sex, I bite into the waffle.The crisp exterior gives way to a tender center, steam rising with the scent of butter.Melted chocolate drips down my fingers, and I can’t help but involuntarily make a sound that belongs in an entirely different setting.
Adam’s eyes darken.“That good?”
“That good.”I confirm.
Before we can elaborate on just how good, Megan rushes toward us, her father in tow.
“Nurse Eve, Nurse Eve!”She jumps ups and downs, showing me how she’s remembering to do her diabetes reading, like I showed her.And Wes gives me one of those smiles that makes so much worth it: like I made a difference in someone’s life.Made it better.
“That’s great,” I whisper and clear my throat.“Great.”Now I sound like I’m using a loud speaker.Why am I like that?Not knowing how to talk to a kid if I’m not wearing my scrubs.
My scrubs used to be a safe place.Then it became armor.And now?Now it’s both home and scary all at once.
And without them?I’m even more lost.
The moment with the group was a glitch.Nothing more.So why do I wish it could be a baseline?
“Can you watch me ice skating?”
“Sure,” I reply and for a few minutes, Adam and I watch Wes and Megan take on the ice.The laughter.The music.It’s too much.It feels right.The kind of right that makes every muscle loosen, that makes me forget to brace for the next blow.My shoulders actually drop, and for a terrifying second I believe I could stay like this.
“This is weird,” I say suddenly.
Adam’s thumb pauses on my thigh.“What is?”
“Being here.Doing...this.With you.”I watch Megan spinning.“Feeling almost like myself.”
“Is it bad?”
