MATT

I shouldn’t have signed that damn contract. It was fake—obviously. Legally binding documents don’t usually start with the phrase To whom it may concern. Nonetheless, it’s still important. Bailey obviously freaked out after our kiss. I get it. It’s not as if I’ve been flirting and courting her for weeks. There was a steep transition between us going from distant coworkers to lust-filled lunatics making out in my car, me tearing at her clothes like a bear. Just because I’m ready for more doesn’t necessarily mean she is.

I want to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. I want to respect her wishes and give her the space she’s clearly after. The trouble is, I’m not sure I can. Before we kissed, I might have written Bailey off as a passing fancy—a beautiful woman, yes, but not necessarily someone I should get involved with—but now, it’s different. How am I supposed to forget what it felt like to have her kiss me like she was dying for it, like she couldn’t get enough?

I catch her watching me in the operating room, the furtive glances she thinks I don’t notice. When our eyes lock, her cheeks flood with color. When my hand accidentally brushes against hers as she passes me an instrument, she acts like I just whispered a sweet nothing in her ear.

She’s a mess. After our surgery on Monday, she bolts as soon as possible. There’s no chance to pull her aside or have a private moment.

On Wednesday, she comes to find me in the doctors’ lounge. She’s standing in the doorway, wringing out her hands and catching the notice of a few of my colleagues, not necessarily for the right reasons. She’s still in her navy scrubs and though she isn’t trying to be, she’s adorable. Blonde ponytail. High cheekbones. Dark lashes. When she catches sight of me, she smiles, and now she’s not just adorable, she’s drop-dead gorgeous.

I wish she had to wear my name embroidered on her scrubs in size 48 font.

“You can come in, you know,” I say as I approach. “No one will shout at you.”

She laughs but stays perfectly poised right where she is. I’m not sure she believes me. “Yeah, right. This place might as well have a red carpet leading up to it and a bouncer by the door.” Her eyes widen over my shoulder. “Oh my god, is that a chocolate fountain in the corner?”

I turn and sure enough, it is. I’m slightly embarrassed.

“Jesus,” she says under her breath. “Do you guys get your lunches catered every day?”

I shrug. “It’s easier that way. None of us have time to brownbag it.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “You know the vending machine in our lounge doesn’t even accept dollar bills anymore? We have to go get change from the gas station down the street if we want a candy bar.”

I smirk. “Did you come up here to campaign for a new vending machine?”

“No.” She rolls her eyes then glances down at my plate. “Come on. Is that Boston cream pie?”

“It is. Want some?”

“No, I really shouldn’t…okay, maybe just a bite.”

I hand her the plate. “Here, take it. I’ll get another slice. What did you want to talk to me about?”

She dips her pinky in the cream and brings it to her mouth to get a taste. It’s innocuous, casual, and yet I’m staring at her lips as they pucker around her finger with such intensity it’s a wonder they don’t go up in flames.

“Matt?”

“What?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Not at all.”

She groans playfully. “I was asking if it would be okay if I knocked off a little early on Friday? I need to take Josie to a doctor’s appointment.”

I frown and shake away my errant thoughts. “Of course. I’ll have someone fill in if my surgery runs long. What’s wrong with Josie?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just a wellness visit.”

“Good. Okay. Do you need a ride? You can use my car.”

She seems taken aback by the offer. “No. Her doctor isn’t far from our house, a ten-minute bus ride, tops.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

She’s looking up at me as if I just offered to give her the shirt off my back.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She’s smiling now, full-fledged, dimpled, I-know-something smile.

“Do you offer your car to all your employees?”

I wave away her insinuation. “Sure. It’s nothing. Patricia drives it all the time.”

She cracks up. We’re still hovering in the doorway to the lounge and there are doctors trying to get past us, but they can fuck off because I haven’t had an honest-to-God conversation with this woman in three days and I signed a stupid contract that forbids me from kissing her, but in this moment, that’s all I want to do. I want to tug on that ponytail until her head tilts back and her chin tips up. She’d have to go up on her tiptoes a little, but I’d bend down and make it easy for her. It’d be better than the last one, I know it. I wouldn’t have the constraints of a small car working against me.

Her knowing smile wipes clean. Her eyes widen. Her lips part. Oh yes, Bailey. I signed that stupid contract, but that doesn’t erase these feelings. You’re wetting your bottom lip because you’re thinking the same thing I am. You’re desperate for it and I wish you could see the shade of pink on your cheeks right now.

“Thank you for understanding, Dr. Russell.”

I laugh and shake my head. I’m Dr. Russell again, like a name change will keep me at arm’s length.

“Is that all?” I ask, brow arched.

She shakes her head no then nods yes, turns, looks back. “Yes. Okay. Thank you for the dessert. I’m going to go now.”

She starts walking.

I tip forward, leaning out of the lounge. “The elevator is that way, Bailey.”

She does an about-face. “Right. I knew that. I’m just going to…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence before she promptly bolts. I laugh and turn back to finish my lunch.

She won’t last another week.

We finish up the surgery on Friday on time so Bailey doesn’t miss Josie’s doctor’s appointment. I offer her my car again, but she insists she doesn’t need it. It’s snowing outside, not a blizzard, but enough that I don’t like the idea of her and her sister waiting at a bus stop.

I check the weather on my computer in my office, scowling when I see the little image of snowflakes falling from clouds every hour for the rest of the day.

I curse and it must be pretty loud because Patricia pokes her head into my office. “What is it?”

“Do we not pay Bailey enough? Why can’t she get a damn car?”

“What are you talking about?”

She’s confused, for obvious reasons.

I sigh and try to get back to my paperwork so I can get out of the office at a decent time. This is slightly hilarious on my part. I pretend like I want to hurry up and finish so I can leave and enjoy my life, but this is my life. In the last few years, I’ve spent more time in this office than I have at my house. I ignore that cold hard truth and forcefully open the file on my desk.

For the next hour, I work for fleeting moments between checking the weather, looking at my phone, glancing out the window, and then chiding myself for being distracted. At this rate, I won’t finish my work until Monday.

The office clears out. Patricia scolds me for staying late on her way out, and yet here I sit, throwing my toy basketball up in the air and catching it over and over again. It’s helping me think. Also, it’s keeping my hands occupied. For some insane reason, I have the urge to pick up the phone and call Bailey. Her cell phone number is in her file, which is still housed in my desk drawer. I wrote it down on a sticky note and stuck it to the edge of my computer screen. It’s taunting me.

I want to check in and see if she got home okay.

The phone call would be short, just a few seconds really.

I reach for my phone and dial her number before I think better of it.

She answers after a few rings.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounds different.

“Bailey?”

“No. This is Josie. Bailey’s in the shower. Who’s this?”

I sit up and reposition a few papers on my desk, not sure how to proceed. I should hang up, but instead, I reply, “This is Dr. Russell.”

“NO WAY. Hold on.” Then she tilts her head away from the phone and shouts, “BAILEY HURRY UP—YOUR HOT DOCTOR IS ON THE PHONE!”

There’s rustling on her end and muffled conversation.

“I don’t believe you,” Bailey says, clearly enough for me to hear. She must be out of the shower now. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh my god. She thinks I’m playing a prank on her,” Josie says to me.

“Josie, you’re not even that good at acting,” Bailey continues. “I know no one is on the phone.”

Josie laughs. “I swear he is! Here.”

There’s more rustling and I assume Josie is handing her the phone because a moment later, Bailey speaks, and it’s much easier to hear her now. “Ha ha, very funny,” she says, sounding confident she’s caught Josie in a lie. “Hello Dr. Russell, I’m so happy you called because I was just daydreaming about you in the shower.”

I chuckle and she screams.

“There is someone on the phone!” she shouts.

“I told you!” Josie responds.

Bailey clears her throat, attempting to compose herself. When she speaks again, it’s calm and measured. “Um, hello?”

“Bailey? It’s Matt.”

“Oh hello, Dr. Russell. Please ignore everything I just said. I was just joking about the, err…daydreaming.”

I smirk and decide to go easy on her. “I was just calling to see if you got home okay in the snow.”

“Really?” She seems shocked.

“It looked like it was getting pretty bad out there,” I say, suddenly self-conscious. I look out the window and there’s not a hint of snow on the ground. It melted as quickly as it fell.

“Yup. Safe and sound,” she says before speaking inaudibly to Josie. There’s a heavy groan and then a slammed door. “Sorry, I was just kicking my little sister out of my room.”

I lean back in my chair and stare up at the ceiling. “Does she answer your phone often?”

“She doesn’t have a phone of her own, and she must have been browsing Instagram when you called. She’s obsessed with the Hadid sisters.”

“Who?”

“The models? Oh whatever. I won’t keep you. We’re back home. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Wait!” I don’t want her to hang up. “How did Josie’s appointment go?”

She’s slow to respond, like she’s not quite sure she wants to. “Fine. Though she likes to complain about my cooking, she’s growing normally and all that. Did you honestly just call to talk about this stuff or is there something else?”

Oh, you want the truth? The truth is that I’m alone in my office on a Friday night and maybe that used to be enough to satisfy me, but now suddenly, it’s not. I want to know what pajamas you’re going to put on now that you’re out of the shower. I want to know what you’ll make for dinner, if you’ll watch a movie after or if you’ll hang more candy canes on that stupid tree. I want to know what it feels like to kiss you again, but you won’t let me so I’m calling you under the guise of checking in and maybe I’m more transparent than I think because I don’t say any of this and I’m pretty sure you still hear it because your tone softens when you speak again.

“Is everything okay, Matt?”

I jerk forward and shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

I slam the phone down onto the receiver.