by K. C. Crowne
“Ah.” Made perfect sense.
I chatted a little more with Mum and Dad, but it must’ve been plainly obvious on my face that I was tired and ready to get home. There was more to it than that, of course, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to be telling anyone about what had happened with Hayden and me.
The day and its events had taken a toll. I wanted to get home and sleep, to try my best to put the Hayden bullshit behind me.
“You feeling alright, baby?” Mum asked, an expression of concern on her face.
“Fine. Just a little worn out. I should probably get into bed before I pass out on my feet, you know?”
“You sure that’s all it is?” Dad prodded.
That was the thing about my parents – they seemed to have a supernatural sense of how I was feeling. If I didn’t get out of there soon, they’d easily be able to pry the reality of the situation out of me.
“That’s all.” I hated to lie to them, but there was no reason they needed to know what had happened. Drama was the last thing I needed in my life. “Anyway, I need to get going.”
Mum’s eyes flashed. “Oh! Don’t forget that we’re doing brunch late tomorrow morning.”
Shit. Doing brunch at the club meant that Hayden would be there. Last thing I wanted was to be dealing with him so soon after the kiss.
“See you then.” Without another word, I waved and offered a weak smile before turning on my heels and hurrying out of there.
I kept my head down as I rushed to the elevator, taking it up to the third floor where my room was located. As I rushed down the hall, I passed a pair of guests from the wedding who were in the middle of an intense make-out session. Romance was the last thing I wanted to see, and once I was in my room with the door shut, I didn’t waste any time collapsing onto the bed.
Tears of frustration that I’d been holding back since the argument spilled from my eyes.
I was furious at Hayden.
But despite that, part of me wanted to feel his kiss on my lips one more time.
The next morning, I was feeling a hell of a lot better. As I pushed myself off the bed to make my way to the bathroom, determination filled me. Not only was I ready to put what happened last night behind me, I was ready to put Hayden behind me altogether.
I’d had a crush on him, sure. And it was a crush I’d nursed in the back of my heart ever since I was a kid. But it was stupid. I wasn’t some clueless teenager any longer. I was a woman, and that meant it was time to put kiddie stuff behind me.
The kiss had made that even clearer. Hayden had done what he’d done because he didn’t give a damn about anyone other than himself. He’d kissed me because he’d wanted to, then ended the kiss because he’d decided it was a bad idea, and his excuse had been that he’d gotten carried away with things.
He didn’t give a damn about me or how I felt, so why should I give a damn about him? I’d spent too many minutes of my life thinking about Hayden, fantasizing about the day we might give in to what I’d always hoped we both wanted.
No more.
I picked up my phone and wrote a text to my mom.
Hey! So, my roommate messaged me this morning and told me that she’s having a repairman show up to fix the internet. Someone needs to be there, and she forgot that she needs to work, so I’m going to head back to the apartment. Won’t be able to make it to brunch, sorry! Give my best to everyone!
I fired off the text then tossed my phone back onto the bed.
Chapter 6
HAYDEN
I woke up that morning thinking about the kiss.
Hell, I was thinking about the kiss and a whole lot more.
A smile formed on my lips, and my eyes closed as I let my mind go back to last night. It was easy to recall the sensation of Grace’s mouth against mine, her slender, curvy body pressed against me. I remembered the soft sigh that had escaped from her as I pressed my solid cock against her, the way she tensed then relaxed, as if giving herself over to me.
God, I’d wanted more. I’d wanted to take her right then and there, to strip her out of that bridesmaid’s dress and give it to her hard and deep under the light of the moon, the party still going on in the club. Sure, we could very well be caught, but that would only make it hotter.
I reached down below the sheets, taking hold of my prick, stiff and solid. Slowly, I began to stroke myself, moving my grip up and down my length as I fantasized about where the kiss could’ve gone. I imagined taking down the straps of the dress, revealing the bra she wore underneath, her perfect breasts begging to be released.
I visualized reaching up her dress and between her legs, teasing her inner thighs as I moved closer and closer to her pussy. Kissing her deeply, one hand on her breast and the other on her thigh as I pulled away the soaking wet strip of her panties. And then I imagined touching her lips, Grace moaning with pleasure as I entered her, bit by bit. And then —
*Beep- BEEEP, beep-BEEEP*
The obnoxiously loud alarm of my phone went off. I snapped back into the moment, taking my hand from my dick, and reaching over to turn it off. As soon as I’d pressed the button to shut off the alarm, it dawned on me what I’d been about to do.
Grace. I’d made a huge mistake last night. Well, truth be told, I’d made, like, five mistakes in a row, all of them in the process of trying to fix the other mistakes. What a fucking mess. I’d spoken to Ryan last night after it had all gone down. I hadn’t mentioned anything to him about it, of course, but he hadn’t said anything either – hopefully insinuating that Grace hadn’t said anything to him.
Assuming she hadn’t decided to ruin his wedding night by shooting him a text about the kiss, that meant Grace had kept it to herself. And that was a close fucking call. If she’d told Ryan, that would’ve likely been the end of not only my friendship with Grace, but with him too.
I threw the sheets off my body and heaved my feet onto the floor. It was around ten-thirty, giving me half an hour before the group brunch we’d all planned for the groomsmen, bridesmaids, and immediate family of the bride and groom. And that meant Grace would be down there.
I was going to have to face her, let her know that I was sorry as hell for what I’d done. Most importantly, I’d have to let her know how badly I felt without making things even worse like I’d done with my apologies last night.
No small thing.
I waltzed my naked ass into the bathroom and took a quick, cold shower. After drying off, I threw on some jeans, a gray, V-neck shirt, and Adidas sneakers. After that, I grabbed my wallet and phone and headed out of my room, ready to dish out an apology before dishing myself some eggs benedict.
To my own surprise, I was a bit nervous – an emotion I never experienced when it came to women. For some reason though, imagining being down there with Grace, her looking me in the eyes in the cold light of morning as I told her how badly I felt for what I’d done, made my stomach tighten, my blood run a bit cold.
But it needed to be done. Being nervous was one thing. Running from responsibility, that was something else.
I stepped out of the elevator on the main floor, the rustic-style lobby was awash with sunlight, a few dozen people here and there checking in, the staff bringing bags up to their rooms. I weaved through the crowd, making my way to the restaurant. The dining room was packed, and a quick inquiry to the hostess let me know that the group was in a private party room. She led me there and opened the doors and…
There was no Grace. I scanned the group of a couple dozen or so people, all of them familiar faces, but not one of them was Grace. More than that, all the seats were occupied – all except for mine, of course. A few of the guests waved to me, I waved back, a confused expression on my face.
Where was she?
I pushed the question out of my mind as I stepped into the room. The place was set up buffet style, a few tables in the back packed with stainless steel food containers, where some of the guests were piling their plates high. Knowing I needed to stop standing there gawking like
an idiot, I hurried around the main table, grabbed a plate, and put a few scoops of scrambled eggs onto it before pouring some coffee and sitting down next to Ryan and Grace’s parents. My appetite was all but gone, and all I could think about was the one person who wasn’t there.
I chatted with her parents a bit, trying to poke around the edges of the question of where Grace had gone to. But they were more interested in talking about the honeymoon in a few weeks, the one Ryan and Carly would be taking after the school year ended.
Soon the discussion fell to other subjects. Sure, I could’ve asked where Grace had gone to. But after the disaster of the conversation I’d had with her last night, I feared slipping and accidentally spilling the beans about what had happened.
As the rest of the group chatted, I slid my phone out of my pocket. There was nothing from Grace, of course. But part of me wanted to message her, to ask her where she’d gone.
I thought better of it. Anything said to her would make things worse between us. I’d have to give it some time, let her calm down. Most importantly, I’d have to forget about what had happened between us.
Though even as I considered the idea and decided on it, I knew it’d be impossible.
How the fuck could I forget a woman like her?
Jacob Silver, the sixty-something man seated in my office, wasn’t happy.
He had every reason to be pissed off – he’d come remarkably close to dying.
A man like Mr. Silver, the wealthy former head of a New York investment firm, now enjoying his retirement in gorgeous Colorado, was used to having things done the way he expected. So, trying to explain to him that his brand-new pacemaker was on the verge of giving up the ghost had gotten him good and mad.
He was a new patient of mine, which meant I’d had to do some digging into his medical history. Lucky for him, I’d found some answers.
“I want you to answer me one question,” he began, “How the hell does a brand-new pacemaker give out so soon? I just had this thing installed two years ago!” He thudded on his chest with his fist for emphasis, and I quickly leaned forward and held up my palm.
“Alright, first things first – let’s not knock that thing around in there.”
His eyes flashed, and I could sense that he was the type of man whose first instinct when someone told him what to do was to get confrontational. But his expression calmed as he seemed to remember that he was speaking with a doctor who was trying to save his life.
“Yeah, right,” he said, dropping back in his chair and letting his arms drape over the rests. “Don’t thump the pacemaker. Got it. But you must understand how pissed I am about this shit! The doctor told me that this thing would last ten years before they had to take a look at it!”
“In most cases, yeah – that’d be the truth. But your pacemaker, Mr. Silver, is a special situation.”
“And why’s that?”
I leaned forward in my seat and opened the printout of his medical history I’d prepared before he’d arrived.
“Because the pacemaker model you had installed has been off the market for three years. Turns out that it has a little bit of an issue delivering paroxysm of pacing spikes at over 2000 BPM, which is provoking the ventricular fibrillation that you’re dealing with.”
He gave me a blank stare.
“I didn’t understand a single word that you just said, kid. I’m in finance – you want to know about high current income mutual funds or disintermediation, then I’m your man. But when it comes to this cardiac shit, all I know is the heart makes blood and that’s it.”
“The heart pumps blood,” I said with a smile. “Marrow makes it.”
He grinned. “Alright, then I’m even more clueless about this than I thought. Point is, break it down for me.”
“In basic terms, it means that instead of your pacemaker helping your heart pump, it’s making it quiver and vibrate, which is caused by disorganized electrical activity. The disorganized electrical activity is being caused by your shitty pacemaker.”
“Wait, this pacemaker’s a piece of shit? And you’re telling me that it was recalled?”
“It was considered one of the best on the market – at one point. I did a little digging into your medical history and found that you had this installed in…” I flipped one of the pieces of paper, “…the Ukraine?”
“It’s, ah, kind of a long story.”
“I love long stories,” I said with a smirk. “They help me get to the bottom of medical issues.”
“Well, I was in the Ukraine with a few clients, kind of, ah, showing them the sights. And one of those, ah, activities was a little hard on my heart, if you get what I’m saying.”
“Say no more.”
As distasteful as I found the backstory, it helped me put together what was going on.
“So, you were having some fun with a local girl, your heart gave out, and you wanted to have a quick surgery done in order to not draw attention to the activities that put you in the hospital.”
“That’s the long and short of it. But these docs were supposed to be the best in Kiev. How the hell did they not know this pacemaker sucked?”
“It can take time for information about recalls to travel the globe. And sometimes doctors are out of the loop.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Well, what’s the next step?”
“Next step is we swap that bad boy out for a newer one. Pacemaker surgery isn’t that intensive, as far as cardiac surgery goes. So, we’ll schedule you to come in for a physical this week, and hopefully a month from now you’ll be feeling right as rain.”
“Will you be the one performing the procedure?” he asked as he rose. “I’ve heard that you’re supposed to be the best heart doc in the state.”
“I’ll see to it personally that you get taken care of,” I said. “You’re in good hands.”
I extended my palm, and he took it, giving me a solid shake.
“Can’t thank you enough.”
I gestured to the door. “Let me walk you out.”
We stepped out of my office, entering the large hallway that led to the front reception area. The clinic where I worked was one of the newest additions to Pitt Medical, a private medical company based out of Denver that was quickly becoming one of the largest care providers in the country.
Dr. Duncan Pitt, the CEO, spared no expense when it came to making his clinics the best there were. The interiors were dominated with mellow wood colors and glass walls, giving the clinic a modern, sleek look. Anything I needed to provide the best care for my patients, I received.
We reached the front reception area. As soon as we crossed the threshold Jenny, the early-twenties woman we’d recently hired to handle the front-facing receptionist job, smiled at me broadly. She was pretty enough, with curly, chocolate-colored hair and big, green eyes. But she was way too young for me. University felt like a million years ago, and the idea of dating someone who was still in her undergrad was all kinds of scandalous. Not to mention interoffice relationships were a no-no.
“Hey, Dr. Frost,” she said with a big grin, one corner of her mouth curled just enough to let me know the smile was a flirty one.
“Hey, Jenny. Mr. Silver here needs a follow-up appointment as soon as you can squeeze him in.” I turned to Mr. Silver, taking care not to let my eyes linger on Jenny’s for too long – not wanting to even risk sending the wrong message.
“Will do, boss,” she said with a wink I caught out of the corner of my eye.
Mr. Silver thanked me one last time before I left to head back to my office. The moment I stepped over the threshold however, my phone rang.
“Dr. Frost,” I said, taking a seat on the edge of my desk.
“Hey!”
It was Jenny. I sighed, having a good feeling this was going to do with more than just work.
“What’s going on, Jenny?” I asked.
“Um, OK, so you have a spot the day after tomorrow, so that’s what I scheduled Mr. Silver for.”
&
nbsp; “That’s great. And thanks for keeping me posted. But I should point out that this handy-dandy scheduling software that comes standard with all Pitt computers will have all that information available to me as soon as you put it in.”
“Um, I know. I just wanted to make you aware that I was on top of you. I mean, you were on top of it. Sorry – got a little wacky there with my pronouns.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head at her obvious and clumsy attempts at flirting. If it were an every now and then sort of thing, I could see about letting that slide. But it had been happening every damn day since she’d started at the front desk.
“Now, Jenny,” I said. “We’ve been over how it’s not appropriate to talk to members of the staff like that, right?”
“Like what?” she asked, total feigned innocence to her voice. “Oh! I forgot to mention – me and some other people from school are going to Flannigan’s later tonight for the beer-and-a-shot special. I was thinking that if you weren’t busy …”
The idea of me, a nearly-forty-year-old man going out for drinks on a Monday night with some college kids was enough to make me laugh.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve got a quiz for my Sociology class that I have to study for.”
“Huh? Oh, I get it. That’s funny. You’re so funny, Dr. Frost – that’s why you need to come out and hang out with the girls. They would totally love you.”
I had to do something, this was getting ridiculous. As she spoke, I slipped my cell phone out of my doctor’s coat pocket and fired off a text that read, We need to talk.
“Sorry, Jenn, but the only girls I’ll be hanging out with anytime soon are my nieces. But thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, fine. But I’m going to keep asking until you come out with me!”
I sighed, shaking my head.
“I don’t doubt that.”
Before either of us could say another word, a firm knock sounded at my office door. The three raps in quick succession, bang, bang, bang, let me know right away who it was.