MATT

“Ah, there he is, the man of the hour.”

My pen stills and I pinch my eyes closed.

Cooper.

Shit. I completely forgot I was supposed to have drinks with him tonight.

I look up and my little brother is standing at the doorway of my office with his arms crossed. He looks pissed, which is a rare expression for him. His factory setting is easygoing nice guy. His feathers don’t get ruffled very often, but then, if I’d been stood up by my asshole brother, I’d be pissed too.

I glance at the clock and cringe. An hour. I made him sit there for an hour. I push away from my desk and stand.

“There’s no excuse. I’m sorry. C’mon, we can still go. I’ll finish this later.”

He shakes his head and cuts me off before I can reach for my coat. “Don’t bother. I already had two beers while I was waiting. If I have another, I’ll feel like shit in the morning.”

He walks to my leather couch and pushes a mess of hardware out of the way, clearing a spot so he can sit down. I would snap at anyone else for moving my shit, but not Cooper.

“Paperwork keep you?” he asks.

I roll my desk chair over toward him, take a seat, and lean back. “Always.”

“Must have been a busy day if you’re still in your scrubs.”

He’s right. Usually, I change after surgery.

I rub the nape of my neck, massaging the tired muscles. “The day got away from me. It was hectic to say the least.”

He holds up his hand. “Spare me the details.”

I get it. Cooper’s in this world too, just in a different realm. He works in sales for Hasting Biosciences, the largest medical devices company in the country. We were both jocks in high school, stars on the baseball team, but he amplified his popularity and I ran from mine, more comfortable concentrating on my grades while he ruled the lunchroom. That outgoing personality has paid off for him; he’s the leading salesman in the northeast region.

“You missed a good opportunity to hang out and bond with your dear brother,” he says, pushing to stand and passing me by to head to my desk. “I leave tomorrow for Cincinnati. I’ll be gone for a while.”

He opens my topmost desk drawer and roots around until he finds what he’s looking for: a small toy basketball.

“What’s in Cincinnati?”

“A prospective doctor.”

“Big fish?”

He walks back around the desk and inspects the floor until he finds the small X made out of duct tape. I’ve had to redo it a few times, but it’s more or less in the same spot it was when we placed it there a few years back.

“Biggest fish I’ve ever seen.”

He lines up his shot, aims the ball at the hoop hanging on the back of my door, shoots, and misses by a hair.

I hiss and stand to retrieve the ball. “Will you be back in time for Molly’s wedding?”

“When is that again?”

“Mid-November, I think.”

It’s my turn now, so I head back to the X, aim, and sink the ball into the net.

“Pfft.” He shakes his head. “Luck, nothing else.”

I smirk and hold the ball out to him. It’s the least I can do after standing him up for a drink. “You better fly back for it. Aunts, uncles, cousins—everyone’ll be there. I won’t last without you. Besides, they like you better anyway. They only ever tolerate me.”

“Aw c’mon, you’re going to make me blush.” He swats the ball out of my hand, shoots, and scores. “Oh hey, I forgot to ask—did you submit that grant proposal you’ve been working on?”

I laugh. “Yeah, like six months ago.”

“When do you hear back?”

“Before the holidays.”

My heart races thinking about it…the possibilities, the lives it would affect.

His brow arches with interest. “Think you’ll be able to give up this cushy life if the committee picks you?”

“I’ll manage,” I reply sarcastically.

We continue like that for a little while, taking the toy basketball game more seriously than we should, but we get like that with each other. I’m concentrating so hard on landing the perfect shot that I don’t really pay attention as he starts describing the girl he just picked up at the bar across the street.

“—total babe. So you see, it wasn’t all bad. I’m actually glad you didn’t show. She’s sweet. Blonde, just like I prefer. A little short, but on her, it works. She put her name in my phone as Bailey, Girl from the Bar, like I wouldn’t remember her.”

I jerk forward, throw, and end up missing the net by a good two feet as I turn to face him. “Wait—what’d you say she looked like again?”

He frowns, confused by my sudden interest.

“Blonde, perky, freckles.” He shrugs. “Not your type, don’t worry.”

I grunt. “Yeah, you’d be correct in assessing that she’s not my type considering she works for me as of this morning.”

“No way. Not this girl.”

I roll my eyes. “Were her eyes a really light brown? Almost hazel?”

“I don’t know. The bar was hazy.”

“Did she have high cheekbones? Dimples when she smiled?”

“Shit. Bailey? Blonde, happy-go-lucky Bailey works for you? What does she do? Is she a nurse?”

“She’s my surgical assistant.”

He cracks up. Eyes-closed, knee-slapped levels of laughter spill out of him.

“No,” he says, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “No fucking way.”

I thrust the ball against his chest. “Are you going to take your shot or what?”

He tosses the basketball over the arm of the couch with total disregard for where it’ll end up. It pings off the wall, collides with my chair, and makes a final sad descent beside my trashcan. “Tell me exactly how that came to be because the last time I heard from you, you didn’t have a surgical assistant. According to you, no one could keep up.”

“Dr. Lopez foisted her onto me.”

He shakes his head and steps closer, pressing his hand against my chest. “No, no, no. Don’t bullshit me. You hired her.”

I shrug and try to move around him but he blocks my path. I let him. I’ve got a few inches on him. I could easily go around, but I don’t want to make this seem like it’s more than it is, because in fact, it’s nothing. My little brother, the golden boy, tried to pick up Bailey. Big deal.

“Why?”

“She was in the right place at the right time. I was out a surgical assistant and she was out a surgeon. It works.”

A slow, sly smile unravels across his face, and I have the sudden urge to hurt him.

“Well, will it be awkward for you when we start dating?”

I step back, brows furrowed as my annoyance morphs into something a little more sinister. “Dating? What do you mean? Didn’t you just meet her five minutes ago?”

He shrugs and moves away. Suddenly he’s a sly punk running his hand along my desk, touching things that don’t belong to him. “Yeah, but we hit it off. There was this instant connection. You get it. You probably feel the same way when you get a new medical device, this sort of excitement down in your loins.”

His eyebrows are wagging suggestively.

“That’s really funny, Coop,” I tease, reaching out for his shoulder and squeezing it a little too tight. “I wonder if that doctor up in Cincinnati would be put off by a black eye?”

His brows shoot up. “Black eye?” His tone is feigned innocence. “What? I thought we were just discussing my new lady friend and now suddenly you’re threatening bodily harm. This just isn’t like you, Matthew.”

He never calls me Matthew. He thinks he’s onto something. It’ll be awkward to have to explain to my parents that I accidentally murdered their favorite son.

“I’m warning you,” I say menacingly. “Drop it.”

“Drop what, exactly? You’ll have to be specific since I’m clearly confused.”

I let go of his shoulder and round my desk, starting to straighten up my shit so I can get the hell out of here. “You’re doing this because you want to rile me up. You want to punish me for making you sit at that bar. Well, it’s done. You did it. Now leave her out of it.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, actually that’s not it at all. I met a beautiful woman tonight and she gave me her number. I told you about it and instead of being happy for me, you went apeshit. Kind of interesting, don’t you think? Would you care if I dated Patricia?”

I level him with a Don’t fuck with me glare.

“You’re right.” He nods. “She’s too good for me. What about Kendra?”

“Drop it, Coop.”

“No, I need to know—do you not want me dating any of your employees or do you not want me dating Bailey?”

“You’re being an asshole. Drop it.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Fine. Lesson learned: anything having to do with Bailey, I’ll keep to myself.”

I don’t let Cooper’s little game get to me. He’s my younger brother. He was put on this earth to torment me. He thinks he’s really got a good thing going, but honestly, it’s not much. Date Bailey. I don’t care.

He texts me the next day with a screenshot of their conversation.

Then he sent a stupid-ass selfie of him standing outside with his hood pulled up and his teeth chattering. She replied a few hours later.

Cooper seemed to think that was promising.

Aw she feels sorry for me. ;) was his exact text to me.

My response: Apparently not considering how long it took her to reply to you. Odd since she doesn’t work on Tuesdays. What was her excuse?

I didn’t reply, opting instead to get back to work, but he texted again.

My short replies must have been pissing him off because then he replied: In fact, I really feel like Bailey and I will hit it off. I’m going to ask her out on a date when I get back from Cincinnati.

I didn’t reply.

The following morning, I have my second surgery scheduled with Bailey. It’s up on the board for 8:00 AM, but when I arrive at six, she’s already there, leaning against the wall outside my office with a thermos of coffee in one hand and a Tupperware container in the other. I glance back and forth past my door, wondering if she’s confused.

“Are you waiting for me?” I ask once I’m in earshot.

She jerks forward and nods, her demeanor shifting from relaxed to professional just like that. “Yes. Hi. Good morning.”

Her cheeks are flushed, nearly the same shade as her lips. Her jacket is still zipped up to her neck. I wonder where she parked to get that cold on her way into the hospital. Then the thought dissipates as the distinct aroma of baked goods distracts me. My mouth waters like I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs as I come to stand in front of her.

My key is in hand, ready to be used.

She doesn’t move. Her eyes scan up across my suit jacket, over my chest and neck, and then higher until her light brown eyes meet mine. She has to tip her head back quite a bit to meet my eyes, and maybe I was inspecting her as much as she was inspecting me because she asks, “Are you waiting for something?” and I swear her voice is a little breathy.

I resist the urge to smirk. “You’re blocking my door. I can’t unlock it.”

Her high cheekbones are doused with even more color and then she shifts quickly to get out of my way. “Oh god, sorry. Clearly, I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“What’s in there?” I ask, motioning to the Tupperware. “It smells good.”

“This? Oh, well…” She holds it up, pauses, and then looks back at me as she shrugs. “It’s a bribe.”

I finish unlocking the door then stand back and arch a brow in her direction. “A bribe?”

She chews on the corner of her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Yes. Banana bread. Patricia said it was your favorite, so I made some for you on my day off.”

Huh.

Interesting.

She should have been texting with Cooper, but instead, she was baking for me.

“Are you trying to make up for Monday?” I ask, no hint of humor in my tone.

I open my door and step inside, leaving it ajar so she can follow me in if she wants to. She does.

“Yes. Exactly.” She looks down at the container as if considering something and then glances back up, her gaze meeting mine. “I’m sorry for being late. There’s really no excuse, but you should know I’ve never been late before and I don’t intend on being late ever again. I figure an apology isn’t good enough, though, so my plan is to ply you with sweets.”

Then, for emphasis, she cracks the lid.

Damn, that smells good. Inside-of-a-bakery good. Grandma’s-kitchen good.

My stomach growls.

It occurs to me how different this exchange is from my previous encounters with surgical assistants. When Kirt stepped into my office, his knees shook. He avoided eye contact and hovered near the door as if to ensure a quick getaway. By contrast, Bailey seems confident—so confident, in fact, that she’s looking around the space, perusing it leisurely. She smiles at something and I follow her gaze to the toy basketball sitting by my couch. I forgot to put it back in my desk the other night.

I start to rummage through a few files for no other reason than to have an excuse to look away from her. She’s not in her scrubs yet. Her jeans are cute. Her puffer jacket is pink. Her hair is golden blonde, angelic.

Cooper was right: she’s not my usual type.

The fact that I have to remind myself of that annoys me.

“The bribe is unnecessary,” I declare suddenly, wanting to make things perfectly clear to her. Her brows furrow and I continue, “For you to work for me, for us to be a good team, I don’t need to like you. You don’t have to bake for me. Just show up on time and do a good job. How about that?”

“But I want you to like me,” she says, sounding baffled at the idea that she has to explain herself.

I shrug like it’s not a big deal. “If it helps, I don’t really like anyone who works here save for Patricia, and I think that’s actually just mutual respect.”

“So for you, it’s better to respect someone than to like them?”

I look up to see her head tilted to the side. She’s studying me with furrowed brows. This wisp of a girl is putting me under a microscope in my own office and I don’t like it.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The edge of her mouth softens and then tilts up into an alluring smile. “So, there’s no hope for us? As friends?”

She’s teasing me and right here, in this moment, there’s a hopeful feeling blooming in my chest. My cold dead heart might not be completely out of commission after all.

Then, I do the only logical thing: I shove that feeling aside.

“No. There’s no hope.”

Not as friends, and not as anything more, though I feel stupid even having to clarify that to myself. I would never even consider Bailey attractive if Cooper hadn’t shifted her into the category for me. These errant thoughts are his fault.

She nods, and I’m surprised to see she doesn’t look upset. In fact, she looks relieved. She snaps the lid back on the Tupperware. “Then I’ll just take this bread to the break room. No point in it going to waste. See you in surgery!”

Then she saunters out.

She leaves my office and takes my damn banana bread with her.