Chapter 6

I move my hand slowly up her thigh until I find her soaking wet panties. "Mmmm," Catia moans. "Yes, Maverick. Don't stop." Before she can utter another sound, I grip the wet center and tear, sheering the soft fabric away and leaving her glistening pussy bare and exposed for me to devour.

Yup. Definitely won't be reading this scene to my mother. Maybe the next chapter is... tamer. Or at least something that won't make my dick hard and my stomach curdle while reading it to my sick mother and reminding me of all the pussy I'm not getting. Besides, I can't get over that his name is Maverick. I still keep picturing Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

Not the mental image I want when he's talking about devouring a pussy.

This is why men watch porn and women read. Who cares about the build-up or their names? Just show me him eating her cunt without all the chitchat back and forth. Though, I'll admit, some of these scenes turn into fodder for my late-night fantasies. Especially the ones where he ties her up and spanks her ass till she's a moaning, writhing mess for him.

I sigh, rubbing a weary hand across my forehead and setting the book down on the cafeteria table as I take a sip of coffee. It's been a long fucking night, and I'm more than a little exhausted. I pick at the stiff piece of likely two-day-old blueberry muffin and toss it in my mouth.

"A little light reading there, Doctor?" comes a soft voice from behind me, close to my ear. A voice that starred in my dream just last night before I woke to a nightmare, but instead of moaning Maverick's name, it was moaning mine.

I bolt upright, flipping the book back over like a fourteen-year-old whose mother just caught him with a Playboy. But in the process of acting like I'm fourteen again, I swallow a bit too quickly and start to choke on the arid piece of muffin I had been forcing down.

I wheeze in, desperately trying to suck in air while simultaneously coughing as my body works to expel the lump of cake from my trachea.

Katy's blue eyes go from mischievous to wide and oh shit in a nanosecond. "Crap. I'm sorry! Don't die. Hang on."

She jumps into action, coming in behind me and slamming the butt of her hand into the space between my shoulder blades, and then moving in on a full-on Heimlich maneuver. Thankfully, the muffin chucks out of my mouth and onto the table, and I can breathe again. Not thankfully, it does it in front of Katy, my resident, and the girl I generally haven't stopped thinking about since I laid eyes on her again four days ago.

I've found myself lingering at the hospital well after my shifts end just to watch her a bit longer. Just to see her, possibly catch her smile, and feel that feeling she evokes in me before I go home and face the emptiness of my house. And now this. Perfect.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Her hand meets my shoulder, and she crouches beside me, making sure I'm not turning the same shade as the blueberry I just expelled from my lungs. "I didn't mean to startle you like that. I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to make you choke. Are you okay?"

"Awesome," I manage with a harsh grunt as I take another sip of my coffee to wash it all down along with my humiliation. I scrub my hands up and down my face.

Fuck. Just… fuck.

I sigh, sitting back in my seat, utterly dejected, and growl, "What are you doing here, Katy?"

She drops into the seat across from me at the small two-person table, all smiles and rainbows, not the least bit ruffled by my salty mood. I hate that I'm glad she's here when I shouldn't be. It was a brutal night, and simply seeing her automatically makes me feel lighter and heavier all at once. She's wearing a red, knee-length, flowy sundress with a V neckline that ties in a knot behind her neck. Her chestnut hair is down, long and thick with silky waves.

Does she have to be this fucking pretty?

Like, so pretty I can hardly stand it?

I'm slowly getting used to seeing her at work in her scrubs with little to no makeup on and her hair up. But I'm definitely not used to seeing her like this. Nothing is easy when it comes to this girl. It seems unfair that it had to be her of all goddamn people I'm being taunted with. But isn't that the story of my life right now?

"I was visiting my friend," she chirps. "What's your excuse, or is this where you come to hang out and read smut?" She reaches for the book and swipes it from beneath my hand. Her lips twitch in amusement, her blue eyes glowing as she reads the title. "Surprise Baby for the Billionaire Doctor?" Her eyebrows bounce suggestively. "Bold choice." She sets it down and places her chin on her hands, smiling sweetly at me. "Is it any good?"

I run my hand through my hair and sit up, dropping my forearms on the table. "Reading is my mother's favorite hobby, and she loves dirty romance books. She was diagnosed with non-small cell carcinoma about six weeks ago and is undergoing chemo and immune therapy. Whenever she has her treatments, I try to be there with her, and she likes it when I read these books to her. Part of me thinks she does it to bust my balls because that's the sort of woman she is, but I also know they bring her a lot of happiness. But even though I'm pushing forty, as she likes to remind me, she's still my mother and I'm still her son, and much to her chagrin, I don't love reading the dirty parts to her, so sometimes I read ahead so I know where to skip and where to restart. She fell last night. That's why I'm here now."

The smile Katy had been sporting has been completely wiped off her face, and in its place is an expression I can't read. It's serious and a little sad, but there is something else there too. It's not pity—which I appreciate—and it's not even sympathy. It's in her eyes and the way she's staring at me. It makes my heart beat faster and my skin hot and tight. It's like she can see inside me, see all the demons I'm trying to hide, and isn't afraid of them.

Katy clears her throat, blinks twice, and then reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. Just like that. "Your mom sounds like a seriously cool lady."

My chest clenches. "She is."

"How advanced is her cancer?"

"Stage three."

She squeezes my hand, and even though I shouldn't, even though I know better, I twist my wrist, intertwine our fingers, and accept the comfort she's giving me because, quite frankly, I fucking need it. Some days I'm treading water, getting through, and surviving. And then some days, some nights, I'm drowning under the weight of everything, unable to shake it off as it holds me under.

Back in Minnesota, I had a wife and a best friend. Here, I'm alone with no one to unburden myself with. My mother doesn't need my mental bullshit. She has enough of her own to manage.

"Is that why you said your life isn't so great right now when I rudely asked?"

"That's part of it."

"I heard a rumor about you."

"Oh?" My heart stops dead in my chest, and my hand tenses against hers. "What was that?"

She gnaws on her lip like she's regretting bringing it up. "Maybe I shouldn't say."

"Tell me or I'll put you on scut for a week."

She laughs. "You are a bit of a jerk. That was one of the rumors, though I didn't believe it until now. Fine, I'll tell you, but you can't hold this against me either."

I squeeze her hand again. "Promise. That's our thing now." I like that I have a thing with her.

"I heard you were forced to resign from Mayo."

I wait. I watch. Nothing else. "That's it?"

She nods.

"You didn't hear why?"

A headshake.

Well, that's a relief. "Yes, I was asked to resign from Mayo."

Her eyes narrow. "You won't tell me why?"

"Not right now." Because I don't want you to look at me differently than you currently do.

"Fine. I'll let it drop. But only because your mom got hurt. Is she upstairs or in the emergency room now? Is that why you're down here?"

I swallow past the thickness in my throat, silently loving how good her hand feels against mine. Warm and soft and small and perfect. "Yes. She got up in the middle of the night, felt dizzy, fell, and hit her head. Her night watch detected the incident and called nine-one-one when she didn't respond, and when she woke up in the ambulance, she had them call me."

"Her night watch?" Her brows pinch in.

"She has two Apple Watches. One she wears during the day and charges at night and one she wears at night that charges during the day. I don't live with her, and she lives alone, so I want her to always have a way of calling for help if she needs it. Which she obviously did, so I'm glad I forced her to do it."

"Smart man thinking of that. Is she doing okay?"

My lips form a flat line. "Yes. She's awake and giving the nurses and doctors hell. She has a nasty laceration on her forehead and a minor concussion. They admitted her for observation and to rehydrate her. She kicked me out and told me to go home and get some rest, but…" I trail off.

"You couldn't go home with her here," she finishes for me as if she understands exactly.

"Yeah."

We fall into silence, just sitting here, holding hands, and looking at each other. It's the nicest thing I've had in a very long time. Only Katy isn't mine to have a moment like this with. She's not mine to look at the way I am or think about the way I do.

I pull my hand away, but as I do, something occurs to me. "You don't wear a ring."

She tilts her head, studying me in confusion. "Huh? What ring?"

"A wedding band or an engagement ring."

Her head flips the other way, and a bemused sort of laugh tickles her lips. "Why on earth would I?"

Now it's my turn to stare questioningly at her. "Aren't you married?"

She's taken aback. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Because…" I trail off again. "I thought…"

"What?" she challenges when I don't follow that up.

I rub my eyebrow, nonplussed. "I saw you with… a little girl came running up to you, and well, I guess the man who I assumed was your husband embraced you with her."

She falls back in her chair and laughs, making my lips bounce in return. "You mean Owen? He's my?—"

"Let me guess. He's your cousin," I interrupt, the hollow space around my heart clenching tightly. I'm much happier about this than I have any right to be.

"Yep. But Owen is also my best friend, and we have been since we were little kids. His daughter, Rory, is my goddaughter. They picked me up and we went out for dinner and then to a movie together."

"Oh." I look down at the table, hating how my lips are spreading into a relieved smile they shouldn't be. Brushing that aside, I meet her gaze again and ask, "Is your friend okay?"

"My friend?"

"The one who you came here today to meet."

A blush crawls up her face. "They're fine. They're not a patient here."

My elbows hit the table and lean against it so I'm closer to her. "You're keeping a secret again."

"Fuck," she hisses, covering her face and laughing into her hands. "I am not."

"You're a horrendous liar, Katy, but your face tells me everything."

"You're not the boss of me right now. I don't have to answer you. You didn't answer me."

I chuckle and reach over to pry her hands from her face. "Are you having a secret affair with a staff member here? It's not our hospital, and as you said, I'm not the boss of you right now, so you can tell me."

"No." She laughs harder, playfully shoving my hands away. "I'm celibate at the moment."

That pulls me up short. "Celibate? Why ever for?"

"You only get one answer. Pick your poison."

"Hmm." I tap my bottom lip, taking her in. "That's a tough one."

She rolls her eyes, playing with the long ends of her hair.

"Okay. Shit. This is hard." I sit upright. "I'll go with door number one since I'm your boss and I shouldn't be asking about your sex life." Despite how much I'm dying to know every detail. All the things that turn her on. What her hard limits are.

"Or lack thereof," she quips.

I pan a hand in her direction. "Or lack thereof." Which again, makes me happier than I have any fucking right to be. "Why are you in this hospital on a Sunday morning?"

"I sorta lied. I mean, kind of. I'm not here to see a friend per se, even though I am friendly with the person."

I raise an eyebrow, and she puffs out a breath, making her long bangs fly about her face.

"Sorry. I'm giddy and nervous so I'm rambling again. My endocrinologist came in on a Sunday to see me since he knows how hellish my schedule is. He's good friends with Owen, so he does me a solid when I need to see him."

"Endocrinologist?"

Her full, pink lips curl up into a soft smile. "We're learning all sorts of personal things about each other today, aren't we? Though I'm better at sharing than you are. I'm a type 1 diabetic, and I had some things I wanted to discuss with him, as well as renew my prescriptions for my insulin pens."

"You don't wear a pump?"

She makes a dismayed noise in the back of her throat and her hands fly out around her. "What is it with the men in my life being all about pumps?" She freezes, her eyes going round and her lips parting in an oh shit expression. "Not that you're a man in my life. I mean, you're a man and you're in my life, but it's different with us." She exhales a heavy breath and then laughs in a self-deprecating way. "You know what I meant."

"I do. So, no pump?"

"No pump."

I hold my hand up. "Got it. It's none of my business, and it sounds like you're on top of your care."

"I am."

"I didn't know you were a diabetic. When I knew you before, I mean."

"I didn't go around telling people. I'm not ashamed of it, and it's not a secret. But when you have something like that, a chronic condition, people can sometimes treat you differently, and I didn't want anyone going easy on me simply because I have to manage my blood sugars and take insulin. Besides, back then, I didn't have a continuous glucose monitor stuck to the back of my arm the way I do now." She twists her arm, revealing a small, round disc covered in a white protective barrier affixed to the back of her upper arm. "See. Much harder to hide this now."

"I get it. But I'm also glad I know. And no, I won't go easy on you simply because you're a diabetic."

She gives me a soft smile, and we fall into that silent staring thing again until I force myself to look away.

I clear my throat. "I should go up and check on my mom."

Katy stands. "I should get going too. I have a twenty-four-hour shift starting tomorrow morning."

Pushing away from the table, I stand, cleaning up the mess of blueberry muffin and tucking the book under my arm. Shit. I didn't realize she was doing that shift with me. "I do too, actually."

Her eyes linger on me, and I can tell she wants to say something else, but is, for once, holding back.

"What is it?" I question.

"You can tell me, you know. Not because I'm curious, though I am, but because I'm a good listener if you need someone to do that for you and I'd never say anything."

Once again, Katy has managed to knock the breath from my lungs. But Katy isn't my friend. She's a fantasy, a dangerous temptation, and I'm her boss. More than that, despite my wanting to trust her, I don't trust fucking anyone right now.

"Thank you," I say with a half-smile. "I'll keep that in mind. I'll see you tomorrow, Katy."

She comes over and stands before me, reaching up and touching what are likely purple bruises beneath my eyes. "You should get some rest, Doctor. Perhaps take your mother's advice."

I pull my face away from her touch, forcing her hand to drop to her side. Her touch is making me want what I can't have and shouldn't crave. "I will in a bit."

She smiles. "Okay."

I smile back. "Okay."

"I hope your mom feels better and gets discharged soon."

"Thank you. Me too."

She's still smiling, and so am I.

"Bye, Katy."

"Bye, Bennett." She walks off, leaving me to stare after her for a moment before I drag myself away and haul my exhausted ass upstairs.

I do need sleep. Especially if I'm going to survive my twenty-four-hour shift with her.