Chapter Fourteen
“Are you making onion soup?”
Charlie blinked then stared at the mostly watery goop on the cutting board. She shoved the mess away and washed her hands. “Sorry, Mom. Just thinking.”
Eddy made a noncommittal noise and scraped the onion puree into the tomato sauce. “I’m not even going ask about what.”
“Good, don’t.” Charlie flopped into a chair and traced a ladybug on the place mat with her fingernail. “The new apartment’s great. Two bedroom so you can stay as long as you want. Maybe you should think about moving out there with me.”
The wooden spoon slowed in her mother’s hand. “I thought about it but you know what, I like it here. Maybe I’m finally old enough to need roots or something, but this is where I belong. Besides, it’ll give you a place to come home to once in a while.”
Come home. She switched from a ladybug to a mushroom, running her finger over the printed fungi. This house didn’t feel like a forever place. Maybe you had to grow up in one spot to have that connection. Her mind leaped to a blue Victorian with a wrought-iron railing. A grinning face with blond hair crept into her mind and she shook it away. That pain was too raw to examine.
“It’s Friday,” she murmured then snapped her mouth shut when the words touched the air.
“All day long.” Eddy glanced at her. A suspicious glint narrowed her eyes. “Something significant about Fridays?”
The place mat lost its appeal so she stared out the window. The garage door was open and the bay empty. Custom Classics and Auto Restorations had taken her Firebird away only an hour ago. The hefty check in her purse should have her dancing with glee but all she could think about was when oil had dripped on Bastian’s face. He’d sputtered and slid out from underneath, cursing a blue streak. She’d laughed and called him a wuss until he roared and chased her around the garage, catching her and dotting slick smudges all over her cheeks.
“His surgery was this morning.”
Eddy sighed. “Baby girl, you have to snap out of it. It has nothing to do with you now.”
Charlie knew that. He needed the surgery. But she couldn’t help wondering if he’d had the vasectomy as well now that they weren’t together. She hoped he hadn’t. He deserved to be happy.
Jet lag was crashing down and her head ached. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in her arms on the tabletop. At some point, she was going to have to face him. Nathan had guilted her into staying through the Summer Kickoff. Three weeks meant nine shows of Let’s Talk about Sex with Dr. Hot and the Honeypot. Hadn’t some author written there were nine levels of hell? There had to be some symbolic meaning in there somewhere.
She peeked over her elbow. Eddy was adding some grass-colored herb to the sauce. “Mom, would you call him?”
“I called him several names. What do you want me to add to the list?”
“No,” she sighed. “About the show. Tell him I can handle the rest by myself. He doesn’t need to come in.”
“What about the bet and your listeners?”
Charlie snorted. “Easy. I’ll tell them I screwed him into a coma.”
Eddy shook her head. “Sorry, baby girl. You have to face the music. You want to tell him not to come in, you call him.”
WTXT had aired a week of old shows stating Doc and Honey were on vacation. Vacation, his ass. He was in limbo. Life went on around him but he existed outside of it. He treated patients by rote, ate out of habit, showered by routine, but he didn’t live. Life for him was a memory loop of Charlie in his arms under a lighted gazebo, pure love shining on her face. He pulled a hellacious double shift, spending his downtime staring into space and seeing Betty Boop eyes.
Now he sat staring at his phone. Hey, just wanted to let you know I have the next couple weeks covered. No need for you to come in. Dr. Hot can retire. See ya.
He’d spent two hours in the ring today but never saw that punch coming. She’d left a fucking message telling him he was out of a job. Nothing else, just business. As if he’d never meant anything to her except as a coworker. In a burst of irritation, he wondered if she had some ESP shit or something that knew the exact minute he was on the phone with the UC’s director finalizing his start date when she called. Any other time he’d have answered, but no, she hit the one five-minute span he was on the damned phone and had let the call go to voice mail.
The phone shattered as it slammed against the wall. He held up the ID bracelet, letting the dying afternoon sun bounce off the metal. With the other hand, he reached for the scotch again. His glass clinked against the bottle lip. The soft rush of liquor and the chime of melting ice seemed overly loud. So smooth going down, the scotch’s exquisite flavor held a fruity sweetness. He imagined it was peach.
A muffled knock on his office door raised his head. Caz peered around, then his eyes settled on the bottle. “Thought I heard something break. You drinking alone?”
“Yeah.” Alone. Sounded about right for his life right now.
He’d gotten rid of the formal table and chairs in the dining room. Now his desk, his father’s hand-me-down, sat under the aged chandelier. His modern chair looked completely out of place next to the antique but he loved them both. The leather-upholstered, ergonomically designed chair back cradled his slumped spine, and the huge bottom desk drawer had a lock.
He never kept beer in the fridge or any other alcohol in the house. It just seemed like too much temptation with Caz around. But Charlie had given him a bottle of scotch for his birthday because he liked it once in a while. His desk had been the perfect place for it.
He’d planned to crack the seal with her one day, celebrating something or just having a quiet night at home. He never imagined he’d reach for it when his heart was in tatters and his balls not far behind. There was a hole in his chest, an aching void he couldn’t fill. Charlie had walked away and left him standing in shock, holding an engraved promise that meant nothing.
“You okay?”
Another sip caressed his tongue. “I don’t think so, Boo.”
Caz sat on the corner of his desk. A sharp whistle pierced the quiet room. “Damn, Johnnie Walker Blue? You’re an expensive drunk.”
“It was a birthday gift…from Charlie. And I’m not drunk yet.”
“Getting there, though.” Caz tossed his hair over his shoulder. “You ready to talk about what happened?”
The chair didn’t even squeak as he spun in slow circle. A sardonic laugh rolled from somewhere under his ache, deep in his gut. “I got kicked the balls.”
“Charlie kicked you in the nuts?”
“No, she aimed for the heart.”
He rolled the glass between his palms before bringing it to his mouth. He leaned back, propping both feet on the desk edge. The amber liquid sparkled, surrounding the ice until the cubes glistened. But they were melting away just like dreams he’d thought were coming true. He laid his head back, wishing there was a medication to ease the hurt churning through him. Time was the only prescription. Time, distance and a whole lot of emptiness.
“She was going to say yes.” The murmur came without thought.
Caz stared at him, unblinking, those pale brown eyes openly reliving his own hell. He sniffed and his gaze dropped to the bottle. His tongue skated across his lip. He reached but Bastian wasn’t that drunk. He caught Caz’s arm before he could lift the bottle. “Don’t.”
“It’s no big deal,” Caz whispered, his grip tightening on the bottle neck.
Bastian shook his head. “I shouldn’t have opened it when you were home. I’ll put it away. Just let go.”
Something cold and frantic flickered across Caz’s face. “I’m an adult. You can’t stop me from having a drink.”
“No, I can’t. But I can stop you from drinking mine.” He squeezed harder but Caz didn’t let go. “You’ve come too far to slide back now. Don’t.”
“Why not? You’re giving up. What’s the big deal if I do, too?”
“What?” Bastian yanked his hand back. Caz never let go of the bottle but he didn’t pick it up either. The raw misery on his face echoed the bottomless empty space in Bastian’s chest.
“I don’t know what the hell happened between you and Charlie, but I don’t need to. You’re sitting here, just you and Johnnie, while the woman you love is walking away. Been there, done that, got the nightmares to prove it, so listen up. When you start drowning the pain in a bottle—alone—then you need to take a good look at your future. I think you said she was in Arizona.”
“She’s home. She just called.”
“What’d she say?”
“Basically, I’m fired.”
“You don’t need that job. You do need Charlie. Why the fuck are you sitting here getting drunk? Go after her. Face the bully, Bastian.”
The scotch on his lips was suddenly heavy and sour. “It’s not that easy.”
Caz smirked and let go of the bottle. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth it. Is Charlie worth it?”
Bastian jerked the bottle off the desk, capped it and shoved it in his drawer. The lock clicked with a loud, cold pop. Draining the last bit of liquid courage, he stood and fished in the top drawer for his keys. Caz yanked them out of his hand.
“My turn to play knight in shining armor. I’m driving.”
He contemplated knocking but shoved the idea away almost immediately. Facing Eddy again was not on his Things To Do list. With Caz tight on his heels, he stomped into the kitchen. Too much alcohol flowed through his veins to think about being polite. The mouthwatering fragrance of Eddy’s homemade lasagna churned his gut. Either that or he had a major case of nerves.
Her hard, unflinching eyes pinched into a glare and he met them in silence. Grudgingly, she tilted her head toward the living room. He pretended he didn’t see her flip him off as he left the kitchen. Caz made some comment about food and their voices dropped, a hushed but sharp conversation he didn’t bother trying to overhear. His concern was two steps away.
Curled in an overstuffed armchair, she ignored him, turning her face away, but he saw it all in a camera flash. Charlie had been crying. Those huge baby-blue eyes were rimmed in pink and bloodshot. Her nose was red and her hair stood on end.
Easy, go easy.
Never mind, screw easy.
“If you’re going to fire me, do it to my face.” He dragged a flowered footstool closer and sat at her feet.
Her mouth opened then shut. She leaned closer to him and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”
“A little.”
Her gaze dropped to his sweatpants then slowly rose to his face. “You shouldn’t be drinking this soon.”
“I turned twenty-one a long time ago and you’re avoiding the topic of conversation.”
“There is no conversation. You’re off the show.”
“Screw the show. I don’t give a shit about the show. I do give a shit about us.”
“There is no us either.”
“Because you’re being a bitch.” Her eyes went wide and he mentally grimaced. He had to have a little talk with his tongue and Johnnie Walker.
Charlie thrust out of the chair. “If I’m a bitch, you’re an asshole.”
“Then we’re perfect for each other,” he said dryly.
She snorted a crude phrase he was positive was anatomically impossible to do but she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall over his shoulder. The delicate wedge of her jaw clenched so tightly he saw the muscles bunching and jumping and longed to kiss the tension away. He didn’t dare try. He liked his teeth in his mouth.
“Talk to me, damn it.” He leaped from the footstool. “You were going to say yes. I saw it in your eyes. What did I say that pushed you away?”
“It’s what you didn’t say.” A single tear dropped from her lashes.
“Wait, you’re pissed at me for something I didn’t say but that you heard loud and clear? That makes perfect sense.” Apparently a hangover didn’t wait until all the alcohol left the blood because a headache exploded behind his eyes. “On what fucking planet?”
“You’re being a martyr,” she snapped. “You threw away something you’ve wanted for years because I’m not good enough for you.”
His jaw dropped. “What? Where in the hell did you get that idea?”
A mocking laugh twisted her mouth. “You. If I were Lisa, you’d never have had a vasectomy.”
“Lisa divorced me.”
Her chin lifted. “And I’m going to Arizona.”
“You can go to hell.”
Pain colder than the north wind shot through her, freezing her vision into a sharp point. “Fuck you.”
“You wish.” Bastian wasn’t drunk but he was close to it. His angry breath smelled of sweet scotch and heated fury. Hurt turned his voice from rich velvet to brittle shale. “All this time, I thought you knew me better than anyone. You don’t know shit.”
“Why don’t you just get out?”
“I’m not finished,” he growled.
This was going to get uglier before it died. It was something she’d never wanted. All the livid fear from that night around the campfire rushed back. She was losing her best friend in cruel words and bitterness. She’d rather be filleted with a rusty knife.
Out of pure pretense, she dropped her shoulders into a bored slump. Tightening her lips into a line kept her teeth from chattering and her heartbreak from whimpering out. “Then by all means, continue being an asshole.”
“I might be an asshole but I’m not a martyr. If that title belongs to anyone, it’s you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
A sneer carved a deep groove around his mouth. “Not good enough? In whose mind? Mine? Or yours?”
Shock widened her eyes. “Yours.”
“Wrong.” One long finger pointed in her face. “Name one time I’ve ever said or did something that gave you that idea. You can’t because I never have.”
Her fists balled at her sides. “Royce was right. You’re hiding behind my skirt. But you’re not gay. You’re afraid. With me, there was no pressure. I never throw shit in your face like Lisa did. The minute that changed, you freaked and decided to play slice and dice.”
“No, Charlie. The minute that changed all I could think of was you.” Soft, deep as espresso, his tone robbed all her anger. “You need to go off the Pill. I don’t want to lose you to a stroke when I have the power to prevent it.”
A jittery quiver exploded in her belly and sent waves of nausea rippling through her. She knew down deep why he’d made his decision, why he’d turned away from a dream being handed to him. He did it for her. She wasn’t worth that sacrifice.
“We could’ve just used condoms.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Raking his hand through his hair, he glared at her. “You’ve been using the dual protection argument so long, it’s ingrained in my head. It’s the best choice for our future and your health.”
“Royce said you’d never make part—”
“And fuck Royce and his BMW,” Bastian spat. “You can’t let him dictate our lives. He’ll screw anything in a skirt if it stands still long enough. Please tell me you aren’t comparing me to that son of a bitch.”
“So what about Doug and Karen?”
He jerked his chin back. “What about them?”
“They’re separated.”
“I didn’t know that but it doesn’t surprise me.”
“What?” She gaped.
“Didn’t you listen to them? They had nothing in common but a hot sex life. We don’t have that but we’re best friends. We’ve spent years together because we like each other and enjoy each other outside the bedroom. We know we’re right together. That’s all that matters to me.”
There were a few things he’d overlooked.
“I took the job out west. You signed a two-year contract here.”
He snorted. “The hell with the UC. I’ll buy my fucking contract out if I have to.”
Charlie blinked. “Where are you going to get that kind of money? We’re not talking pocket change here, wise-ass. No bank is going to loan you a couple hundred grand to leave a job unless you have another one lined up. You don’t.”
The stiff line of his shoulders shifted as he stomped to the window. The drapes were pulled but he didn’t seem to notice. He inhaled and exhaled ten times. She counted each noisy breath. A frown drew his brows low above his eyes.
“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I can practice medicine anywhere. I’ll find a job but I’m going to Arizona with you.”
“I never asked you to.”
He laughed but there was nothing funny in it. “I have no choice. I can’t live without you. Hell, I’ll just sell the house. Even after paying Boo half, that should cover the broken contract penalty.”
“You can’t do that!” Her stomach plummeted to her knees then surged to her throat. “That’s your forever place.”
“You’re wrong.” Bastian shook his head. He rubbed his thumb between his eyes then looked at her, sincerity bleeding the stiffness from his body. “It’s just a house. I don’t need it. I need you. I love you. My forever place is with you, wherever you are.”
He fishbowled in her vision. Everything around him faded away, and only Bastian filled her gaze. “You’d sell your house for me?”
“I’d sell my soul if that’s what it took.”
How could he sell something so important? There were permanent notches charting his height from age two to sixteen in his dining room. A delineation in the backyard marked where a wooden play structure had stood for countless years. The bay window stuck in the summer because he’d “fixed” it when he was seventeen and bent the latch.
He’d come home to the same walls, the same rooms, the same familiar rattle of pipes nearly all his life. But the blue Victorian that had been his home from the time he was an infant wasn’t his forever place. He hadn’t even hesitated about giving it up. His forever place was…with her.
Blood rushed away from her head, leaving her dizzy. Then it soared to her face and sweat broke along her brow line. She’d memorized twelve addresses by the time she was nine and could recall at least fourteen different bedrooms. There were more things she’d forgotten than she could ever remember about home. She’d never had a forever place.
Bastian was the one thing she couldn’t picture her life without.
I’d sell my soul…
That wasn’t what he’d done. He’d sold his future. He’d had the surgery. Her watery eyes dropped to his crotch. Bastian never wore sweats outside the house unless he was boxing. He considered them sloppy, more lounge-around-the-house wear than anything to be seen in public in. But she supposed having your testicles operated on made jeans a bit confining. Fashion had to take a backseat to recovery.
Damn him, if he hadn’t had had a vasectomy then she might have had time to change her mind about kids, thought about it as a concrete possibility not a what-if situation. Now there was no chance for her to give him a flesh-and-blood piece of forever. He hadn’t talked to her first. He’d done something so permanent, something that went against the very basic fiber of who he was, just for her. How could he not grow to hate her in a few years?
“I wish you’d waited.”
“Waited for what? For you to move to Arizona and forget about me?”
As if she could ever forget him. She pinched her eyes tight. “No, asshole, the vasectomy. You should have waited. You should have…Why, Bastian? Why would you throw your chance of having children away?”
“You don’t want kids.”
“You never gave me a chance. I want…wanted you. If that meant kids as well, then I’d have thought about it. You took the opportunity away from me.”
Bastian blinked. “You’re right. I did. And you have no idea how sorry I am for that. But I didn’t have the surgery this morning.”
“What?” Her eyes darted down again then jerked back up. “You’re wearing sweatpants.”
Confusion rounded his brows. “So? I went a couple rounds with the bag, then drank too much scotch and sat around feeling like a piece of shit all day.”
“You need to have the surgery! To repair the tear or whatever.”
“I’ll have it. I just postponed it until next week.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I’ll do about the vasectomy, okay? Your leaving just about killed me. I wasn’t in any frame of mind to make that kind of decision.” Licking his bottom lip, he walked to her and carefully reached out, taking her hand as if she might suddenly slug him. “I need to talk to my best friend before I do anything…if she’ll still talk to me.”
All the fight drained out of her and fear rushed in. She’d been pissed when he took the choice from her but it suddenly seemed too big a decision for her to make. Responsibility weighed on her. How could she steal his hope?
A tiny kernel of faith took root. He could have walked away, found any other woman to carry his child. But he hadn’t. He wanted her. He had to believe in her, right? If not, any uterus would do.
“I have no idea what to do with a baby. I’d be a terrible mom.”
Bastian inhaled, slowly, cautiously. “So you say.”
“What do you think?”
He looked away. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. Kids don’t come with a manual, but people figure it out every day. You could. You’ve never backed down when life gets hard. You just get stronger and face it. Any child would be lucky to have a mom like you.”
Charlie drew a shaky breath. Behind him on the wall, Eddy had a collage of picture frames. Her gaze darted to each photograph. The backgrounds were different, the houses, the streets, the towns, sometimes even the states. But in each one, Charlie was smiling.
That toothless baby grin. One where she wore a stupid floppy hat with a bathing suit, ice cream all over her face. Her elementary school science fair. The awkward year her knees grew faster than her legs. Her first car. Graduation. Her college diploma. Picking out pumpkins with Bastian last fall.
Bubbling from somewhere beneath her ribs, a sense of completeness filled her as nothing ever had before. It swelled until her eyes overflowed. It was so simple. How had she not seen it before?
Forever wasn’t a place. It was who you were with. Who loved you. Eddy might not have been June Cleaver but she’d been there, always, a touchstone no matter where they lived. Now it was Bastian. He was her foundation, her support, her security, her future.
It wasn’t a house.
Bastian was her forever place. The future was whatever they made it, together.
A tiny cackle spilled from her lips, shaking her shoulders and scratching her throat.
Bastian frowned. “What are you laughing at?”
Her hysteria grew until it racked her whole body. Her bones rattled inside her skin, and her hair bounced against her forehead. She whipped around and shot into the kitchen. Heavy footsteps told her Bastian followed but she couldn’t stop. Caz and Eddy sat at the kitchen table, both with blank faces that pretended they hadn’t overheard the argument. Charlie didn’t care. She caught her mother in a hug, squeezing with all her strength.
“What’s all this?” Eddy stroked her back.
“Love you, Mom,” Charlie whispered and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek.
Eddy was still blinking at her in bewilderment when Charlie headed for the back door.
“Where are you going?” Bastian stopped at the threshold, confusion knotting his forehead.
She threw back her head and laughed into the setting sun. “I’m having an epiphany, damn it. Come on!”
Her feet smacked up the stairs to her apartment and his thundered behind her. With her chest heaving and her cheeks aching with a grin, she bounced into her kitchen and stood waiting as he topped the last step.
“Charlie, what in the hell are—” His attention riveted on the disc of birth control pills in her hand. Hope surged onto his face before he tamped it down, replaced it with a cool professional mask. Still, he couldn’t hide the sudden twitch in his cheek as he pulled his eyes up to hers. “What are you doing?”
“If I said I’d marry you but no kids, would you have the vasectomy?”
His spine stiffened. Something darkened in his expression when he looked at her. The small smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes. “In a heartbeat. You’re more important than anything to me. And I gave up the real idea of a child a long time ago.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying. Sure, I wish things were different but they’re not.”
The disc hit the trash can with a clank. The very last hidden hope Bastian probably didn’t even realize he held faded from his eyes. He nodded. “That’s the best decision you could have made.”
“No, this one was.”
She crossed two steps and kissed him. He returned her kiss but it tasted hollow, scotch and sorrow, just actions responding to her. Looping her arms around his neck, she nuzzled under his chin. “Don’t have the vasectomy.”
Every muscle in his body snapped taut. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying yes.” The whisper barely broke the air.
He pulled back and cocked his head. “Excuse me?”
“Yes.”
Confusion furrowed his brow then his lips parted in surprise. “You’re saying yes? To my proposal? To marrying me?”
“Uh-huh.” She giggled, hysteria smoothing to calm assurance.
“But what about…if you threw the pills away and I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“I have no idea what’s going to happen. You and me, we’ll figure it out together.”
“Why are you changing your mind?”
The fear in his question squeezed her heart. He was afraid to believe her. She smoothed her hand across his chest. His heartbeat raced under her palm.
“Selling your house, moving across country, a vasectomy…You never hesitated in any of those. If you love me that much, then can I offer you any less? I didn’t want a baby without a husband, and I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone enough to get married. I trust you. There’s no man I’d want to have a baby with…except you.”
His lips moved but no sound came. She watched the uncertainty dart across his eyes, watched him seeing all the pieces falling into place. His breath grew sharp and stuttered, his throat worked with convulsive swallows, and a fine tremble racked his entire frame.
“Oh my God.” Bastian’s eyes went wide before he grabbed her and hugged her close. “You mean it?”
“I mean it. I love you, Bastian.” Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Charlie laughed even while tears streamed down her cheeks.
Bastian tugged her closer to him. “Say it again. I need to hear it again,” he begged against her mouth.
“I love you. I want to get married. No pills, no vasectomy, just us, forever.”
“Oh, Charlie.” He breathed her name like a prayer. “I love you so damn much.”
Love exploded in her blood like a powder keg the instant he claimed her mouth. A few short, hard kisses opened the pathway to deeper, richer, more intimate strokes of tongue on tongue, lips on lips. Scotch flavored his kiss with a woodsy allure that intoxicated her. Her hand dove into his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of the burn.
His entire frame shook with emotion. Stumbling forward, Bastian pinned her against the wall. His welcomed weight pressed against her, fitting along her body like a hand in a glove. Her skin flushed in awareness. A simmering ache settled low. The thick corn silk of his hair trickled through her fingers as his mouth slid down her jaw to her ear, murmuring sweet words of joy and love.
“I need you.”
“Yes.” Catching his lower lip in her teeth, she nipped him. “Hurry.”
He lifted and she clung, locking her legs around his hips. She deepened the kiss, twirling her tongue with his. Warmth spread as he moaned into her kiss. Awkwardly shifting and pulling, they managed to get her shirt over her head. The cotton of his T-shirt was soft but she wanted skin. She fisted the material up his back.
Bastian growled and palmed her ass. He carried her into the bedroom, lowering her to the unmade bed and crawling on top of her. His shirt hit the lamp and her bra flew somewhere behind him. The long line of his back sizzled under her hands, his chest scorching her taut nipples. Air was rationed against the taste, the need, for his mouth on hers.
She rocked her hips, cradling him, calling to him. In answer, his hips thrust. The ridge in his pants firmed and she went wet. Wicked nibbles sent crackles along her skin and she arched. One warm hand cupped her breast, his fingers worrying the tip until it ached for his mouth.
A soft sound broke from her lips. It was going to be so good.
Bastian froze.
“Shit.” He pulled his head back, hot breath misting over her face. “We need to stop.”
“Why?”
“I can’t,” he groaned, burying his forehead in the curve if her neck. “Not until after the surgery.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? This isn’t some holdout to win the bet?”
“I don’t give a shit about the bet.” His chest rose and fell with his gulping breath. Tension knotted his jaw. His fist banged on headboard. “Damn it, this isn’t fair.”
“When’d you reschedule it?”
“Next Thursday. Then there’s a recovery period and…Screw it. I’ll be all right.” He dove into her mouth, stealing her breath, rocking his erection against her.
“Oh no!” She dug her fingers into his hair and yanked him back. “Not if it might hurt you. We’ll wait.”
“I don’t want to wait. I want make love to you.”
A smile burst through her frustration. “God, I love hearing that, but no. No sex until the doctor says so.” He opened his mouth but she clamped her hand over it. “Not you, the other doctor. We’ll wait until it’s safe.”
His shoulders went slack. “Figures. I’m ready to get naked and now you’re saying no. You just like to torture me.”
“Yep.” She rose and gave him a sweet peck. “Set a wedding date, medicine man. I want to hit the Arizona airwaves a married woman.”
A wicked glimmer took root in his eye. “Oh, you’re going to love this idea.”