I’m learning so much with Shane. I’m learning that a hospital gown can look sexy, I’m learning that a medical exam can be erotic, and I’m learning that a hospital cafeteria can be as romantic as a five-star restaurant.

It’s so simple. A couple of chocolate bars, a few bags of chips, and some shitty coffee, but somehow, Shane is pulling it off.

“Let me ask you,” I say as I take a sip of coffee. We’re sitting at a quiet table in the corner of the empty cafeteria. Along with the ophthalmoscope that’s lit in the middle of the table, Shane also borrowed a white sheet to use as a tablecloth. There’s soft dinner music playing from his iPhone, and the whole scene is way more than I expected.

I find it adorable that he went through so much trouble.

“Ask me anything,” he says as he stares into my eyes while giving me a deep seductive smile.

“How can you be so fearless on your bike?” I ask, staring at him in wonder. I still can’t get the images of him sailing through the air out of my mind. “It’s incredible how high you go. I saw one clip where you did a backflip. A backflip! On a dirt bike!”

He leans back in his chair, staring at me as his grin widens. “Did you google me?”

I swallow hard, my face freezing as I stare back at him. Totally caught. “No,” I say, shaking my head.

He’s grinning even wider now. “You googled me.”

I shake my head harder. “No, I was checking something else, and you came up.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, clearly amused. “What were you checking? Were you thinking of buying a dirt bike?”

“No,” I say, trying to think fast on my feet, but it’s hard when Shane is smiling at me like that. “For my nephew. He likes dirt bikes, and I wanted to buy him a shirt.”

Keep digging, Madison.

“Answer fast,” he says, pointing at me. “What’s your nephew’s name?”

My eyes dart around in panic as I try to think up a name for my imaginary nephew. They fall on the chocolate bars sitting between us right before I answer. “Clark.”

Shit!

“Oh, is that so?” he asks, holding up the Clark bar with a big grin on his frustratingly handsome face. “You googled me. Admit it.”

“Fine,” I say throwing my hands up in frustration. “I did.”

He leans forward. “Because you were interested?”

“No,” I lie as I shake my head. “Because I was curious. Curious to see who would be stupid enough to jump off an enormous ramp like that while sitting on a crotch rocket.”

“You googled me,” he says, sitting there looking all smug and satisfied with himself. “What else did you find? Did you find the photoshoot I did for Playgirl?”

My eyebrows shoot up like rockets. No, but I’ll be looking for that as soon as I get home.

“I’m kidding,” he says, crushing all of my hopes and dreams. “They didn’t have a big enough lens to take in my…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but my eyes drop to the Mr. Big chocolate bar, finishing the sentence for him in my mind. I’ve seen it, and he is definitely worthy of the name Mr. Big.

“I did see you with girls,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch him. “A whole lot of girls.”

“They work at the events,” he says with a disinterested shrug. “They’re there for the fans and for the pictures. Once the cameras are off, we go our separate ways.”

I hope he’s telling the truth, but I’m not so sure. He’s so hot. Those girls must be throwing themselves at him.

“How long have you been a rider?” I ask him, trying to get the conversation off of those hot bikini-clad girls.

“Since as long as I can remember,” he says. “My older brother had a mini dirt bike, and when I was about five years old, I jumped on it, and then he could never get me off. I was hooked.”

“Your parents let you ride a bike at five years old?” I ask, staring at him in horror.

“My mom tried to get me off it one day, but I just drove away from her,” he says with a laugh. “She pretty much gave up after that.”

He opens a bag of chips and offers it to me. I smile as I reach in and grab one. There’s always something satisfying about grabbing the first chip.

We talk a bit about our families as we munch on the French Onion chips, sharing the bag. I tell him about my parents back on the east coast and how I am a single child, which totally blows up my lie about having a nephew. Shane has two older brothers who are also motocross riders, although he’s the most talented one—his words.

“My parents would fight a lot,” he says as he opens the second bag of chips, “so the three of us would take our bikes and ride in the forest behind our house for hours while they were going at it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, dropping my eyes to the table. The most I ever saw my parents fight was when one stole the other’s bookmark.

He just shrugs. “They’re both good people. Just not good for each other.”

We sit in silence for a few comfortable seconds before he looks up at me. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“Pretty much,” I say with a smile. “I used to perform surgery on my stuffed animals. My mother was always so freaked out when I cut open my dolls and teddy bears. She thought I was either going to be a doctor or a serial killer.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Hopefully, you didn’t pick both.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “Come to my tiny cabin in the woods and find out.”

He leans forward, staring into my eyes. “I would love to stay with you in your cabin in the woods.”

My cheeks get hot again, so I take a deep breath to cool them off. “Do you talk this way to all of your doctors?” I ask him. I saw multiple hard landings in his YouTube videos, which tells me that he’s been in a lot of hospitals.

“Never,” he says, shaking his head with a serious look in his eyes. “You’re the only one who caught my eye.”

“I usually never do this with patients,” I say, looking down at my coffee.

“I know,” he says. “You keep telling me that. But here you are.”

I take a deep breath and exhale long and hard. “Here I am.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dating a patient,” he says as I take a sip of coffee. “Unless you’re a veterinarian.”

I laugh so hard that I almost spit coffee in his face, but I manage to choke it back down.

“Besides,” he says. “It’s only ten minutes.” He glances up at the clock on the wall and sighs. “Do you have to get back to work now?”

He looks disappointed until I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I say. “I finished my shift an hour ago. I don’t mind staying for a bit longer.”

We talk for almost an hour about all kinds of things, from politics to trips we’ve taken to our jobs. The time is flying by, and my cheeks are hurting from laughing so hard. This is definitely going down as one of my best first dates, if not the best.

Shane opens the Clark bar and breaks it in half, offering me the larger piece.

“It’s all yours,” I say, smiling at him.

“Wow,” he says, grinning back at me. “You definitely know the fastest way to a man’s heart.”

“I do,” I say with a nod. “A vertical in-line incision along the left section of the sternum.”

He laughs. I love making him laugh.

The clock ticks past midnight, but neither of us seems to notice. Our coffee is long gone, and the only thing left of our international cuisine is the wrappers, but neither of us seems to care.

We’re both leaning across the table toward each other as we talk, and I keep getting lost in his bright green eyes. I haven’t met a man like him in a while. He’s smart and funny. Adventurous and full of life. He has a sexy confidence to him that I find irresistible, and I can’t get enough.

When I notice that my tits are practically in the middle of the table—I’m leaning forward that much—it dawns on me: I like him.

A lot.

“How come you left New York to move here?” he asks after I finish telling him about back home.

I shift in my seat uncomfortably as I’m about to spit out my usual bullshit response of wanting to live by the Pacific Ocean and experience life on the west coast. I couldn’t give less shits about the Pacific Ocean. That’s not why I’m here.

I don’t want to lie to him, so I take a deep breath and tell him the truth.

“There’s a reason why I don’t like to get personal with patients,” I say as my chest tenses up. Only my family and friends from back home know the true story. I haven’t told anyone in my new life the truth yet.

Shane leans back, watching me curiously.

“I was working in a hospital back in New York and got close with a patient’s son,” I explain. The thought of it still makes me sick. “His name was Gavin.”

I take a deep breath, trying to quench my nerves. Shane is a sweetheart and gives me all the time I need.

“It was early in my career, and I was young and inexperienced. I was a good doctor, but I was inexperienced in dealing with the patients and family. I made some mistakes.”

Four years later, and it still hurts to talk about. I tell him how I got close with the family and got really close with my patient’s son Gavin. We started dating and fell in love. I thought he was the man I was going to marry until a few weeks later, and his father had another heart attack.

That one was fatal.

I was there for Gavin and his family, helping as they went through the grieving process. I even went to the funeral and helped his mother cook for the people who came to the house afterward. I had shed tears with them and laughed with them as we sat around the family’s kitchen table late at night with a bottle of wine as they shared their favorite dad stories.

I did everything I could to help. So, it was completely devastating when I got the court summons.

“They sued me for negligence,” I say, feeling embarrassed as the words cross my lips. “All I did was try to help them, and they blamed everything on me.”

Shane slides his hand over mine and gently squeezes it as he listens. My eyes burn as I try to fight back tears, but they come no matter how hard I fight.

It feels nice and comforting to have his hand on mine, but I can’t fall into the same trap. I can’t make the same mistakes, so I pull it away and tuck it safely under the table.

“What happened then?” he asks softly.

“I got a lawyer,” I say with a sigh. “And we got the case thrown out. There were no grounds to sue; I did everything by the book. They were just trying to make a quick buck.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Those people are beyond scum.”

“You’re wrong,” I say, locking eyes on him. “It was my fault. I got too close. I brought my personal life into the hospital walls, and I paid for it.”

He looks sad as he watches me.

“I vowed never to cross the doctor/patient line again,” I continue, “and I moved to Seattle for a fresh start. My best friend who was my roommate in college was living here, so I came.” I look down at my empty coffee cup and pick at the Styrofoam. “And that’s why I moved to Seattle.”

Wow. I’ve never told anyone that, let alone a man, let alone a patient, let alone on a first date.

“That was probably more like third date material,” I say, feeling self-conscious for unloading all of my emotional baggage on the poor guy.

He just shakes his head. “I’m glad you told me,” he says. “I just wish you didn’t feel that way because I’m having a great time.”

“Me too,” I say, looking up into his eyes. Would it be inappropriate to leap over the table and kiss him right now?

“And I would like to do it again.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe at a restaurant next time?” he adds, smiling.

“That would be nice,” I say, smiling back. “But will we be able to find a restaurant that only serves chocolate bars and shitty coffee?”

He laughs. “I hope not.”

Our date comes to an abrupt end when the janitor walks in and turns on all of the bright lights. My eyes burn as the harsh fluorescent lights sear into my brain, knocking me out of my romantic daze.

“Cafeteria is closed,” he says, holding a mop to his chest.

“We’re aware of that,” Shane says. “We’re on a date.”

“You take a pretty girl like her on a date in a hospital cafeteria?” the janitor asks, jerking his head back in shock. “What’s the matter with you? Was the homeless shelter closed?”

I smile as I turn to the old man. “He’s not very romantic,” I say playfully. “He made me look at his you-know-what the first time I met him.”

The janitor smacks his forehead and shakes his head. “You kids today… you don’t know how to be romantic. It’s all Fuckbook this and Swipe my Tits that.”

“Swipe my tits?” I whisper, turning to Shane as I try to stifle my laugh.

“Fuckbook?” he whispers back with an eyebrow raised.

“In my day…”

“Here we go,” Shane whispers low enough that the janitor can’t hear.

“…we took our ladies on a proper date,” he says. “We took them out for dinner and bought them popcorn at the drive-in, then we got handjobs. Not like today.” He walks away, mumbling to himself as we try not to laugh.

Shane looks at me and smiles. “Next date, drive-in and a handjob.”

“With him?” I ask, pointing to the old janitor as he dumps his mop into the bucket. “You two would make a cute couple.”

He narrows his eyes on me playfully. “He’s not really my type.”

“That’s too bad,” I say with a giggle. “What’s your type? Beard and mustache?”

He shakes his head. “You’re my type.”

And you’re mine now.

I don’t know what to say with him staring at me like that, so I go for the old classic. “What time is it?” I ask, looking around. He takes my wrist in his hand and gently turns it to see my watch.

“Two-thirty.”

“Shut up!” I say, yanking my wrist back to see if he’s lying. The time just flew by. “That was a lot more than ten minutes.”

“I hope you had fun,” he says.

“I did. But I’m still a doctor first, and my patient needs rest. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Will you tuck me in?”

How can I say no to that smile?

“I’ll walk you to your room. That’s about it.”

He smiles. “I’ll take it.”

We both reluctantly stand up and head back to the elevators. “Wait a second,” he says, pulling me toward the vending machines.

I watch as he slides in some quarters and hits a few buttons. “What’s that for?” I ask, eying him suspiciously as a pack of mint gum falls down.

He grins as he picks it up. “Just in case,” he says as he pops one into his mouth.

“Just in case your boyfriend the janitor comes up to see you?” I ask, grinning back at him.

“Want one?” he asks, ignoring me as he holds out the pack.

This is a test. If I take one he’ll be expecting a kiss, but I also can’t risk kissing him with horrible coffee breath if I forget my self-control in the hallway.

“Fine,” I say, taking the pack. “But don’t get any dirty ideas.”

He raises his eyebrows as he turns back to the vending machine. “You’re the one with the dirty ideas.”

“Another chocolate bar?” I ask as he puts some more money in. “You’re still hungry?” He hits some buttons and a Skor bar tumbles down.

He smiles as he grabs it and shows it to me. “Just so when the nurses ask if I scored, I can say yes.”

I’m shaking my head and giggling as we walk into the elevator. This time, I don’t lean against the far wall. This time I’m right next to him, inhaling his intoxicating scent up close.

He looks down at me and smiles, and a flood of warmth glows through me. I can’t believe I have a crush on a patient. This is not good. I should have learned my lesson the first time.

But those green eyes. That smile. Fuuuuccck. How can I resist?

My heart is racing as we walk down the hall, and it feels like it’s about to explode when we arrive at his room.

I haven’t been on a date in over a year, and I’m not sure what to do.

“I’d invite you in,” he says with a dangerously sexy smile as he leans on the door frame, “but my doctor is a bit of a hardass. She would freak out if we got caught.”

“She sounds like a very responsible person with a good head on her shoulders,” I answer back. “She also sounds stunningly beautiful.”

“Oh, she’s all of those things,” he says, leaning in close. “And more.”

His warm minty breath tickles my lips and makes my mouth water. It would be so easy to just lean up on my toes and press my lips to his.

And I want to. God, do I want to.

But I pull away instead.

He never loses his smile as I step back from him. “Goodnight, Dr. Mendes,” he says in a voice that sounds like pure sex.

“Goodnight, Mr. Winters,” I say as I retreat down the hall. “Thanks for the date.”

He’s leaning on the doorframe as he watches me walk away, looking sexy as sin in a hospital gown and slippers. If he was in jeans and a t-shirt, I’d be a goner right now.

“Anytime,” he whispers.

I swallow hard when I arrive at the elevators and push the button. Dr. Mendes. Mr. Winters. I have to remember that part.

But this guy is good at making me forget. He’s good at making me want to toss my rulebook in the garbage.

I step into the elevator with my head swirling, wondering what else he’s good at.