Abruption

by Riley Mackenzie

  “Hello.”

  Damn, her silky voice had a way of taming my irritability. “Hey,” I said back, hoping she couldn’t hear the smile in my voice.

  “Is everything okay? How’s Finn?” Her tone was laced with genuine concern.

  “Yeah, yeah. He’s much better. Crazy—must have eaten something rancid. My poor boy no sooner stopped throwing up, had to deal with the other end. Rough two days, but turned out to be a crash course in potty training.”

  “That’s so strange, but you’re lucky no one else got it. The whole potty training thing is an awesome feat though, he must be so proud of himself! He really is such an amazing kid.”

  “Now I’ve got to schlepp all over to try and find Power Ranger boxers. He’s giving Maya a hell of a time over wearing whatever kind she picked up.”

  Jules’ soft laugh, that laugh filled the air waves before she said, “I’m not sure they make Power Ranger boxers, he might have to settle for briefs. Just hit up Amazon Prime. He’ll have them in two days.”

  “Good suggestion, thanks.” I probably should’ve known that.

  Were we really talking about my son’s underwear options? I appreciated her concern for Finn, but I’d never guess this was the same woman who crossed the line from Finn’s nurse to our last exchange when she tucked a pair of drenched panties in her purse. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it. One way to find out.

  I clipped the growing silence and said, “Talk to me, doll.”

  “What do you mean, what’s up?”

  What’s up … you tell me, your finger broken? Along with festering and stalking, I obviously started growing a vagina over the past four days. Luckily, whatever circulating testosterone I had left prevented my mouth from spewing the words. “What’s up?” I repeated.

  “Answering a question with a question? Interesting, Dr. Hunter.”

  I usually found her sarcasm cute. Right now, not so much. I cut to the chase. “You around this weekend?”

  “Um, think so, why?”

  Because I can’t get your damn laugh, your sexy body, and your bossy attitude out of my head. Because the last time we were together, I was balls deep in a sweetness I’d never known. I shifted to adjust myself. Well, that put the vagina fear to rest.

  “Because you’re off, I’m not on call, and my kids are with the in-laws. How’s some adult time sound?”

  “Wait, how do you know I’m not working this weekend?”

  “That wasn’t the question, doll. Adult time, yes or no?” Now wasn’t the time to get into my newfound friendships.

  Her response was immediate and not what I was expecting. Actually, I didn’t know what the hell to expect anymore. “I could do adult time.”

  Then why the hell is she avoiding me?

  “Great. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning, and just so you know, I expect two full days.”

  “Okay.” Okay? That was easy. “Oh, wait …” Damn, I spoke too soon. “Saturday dinner. But that’s all right, it’s at two, and we don’t have to stay long. You can meet everyone and then we can skip out before dessert. That will work.” Now she was the rambler.

  I paused to take in what she said. We? Family dinner? Everyone? She didn’t pose it as a question either. What the hell did I say to that?

  “If that’s what you want to do.”

  “Are you going to call CeCe to tell her we can’t make it for gravy because we have other plans? Because I’m sure not. We’ll make an appearance, have a quick bite, and be on our way.” Definitely not a question.

  “Yeah … sounds good.” Shit. I had nothing against schmoozing with the folks, as long as they weren’t my in-laws, but it wasn’t exactly my vision for this weekend. We’d technically only been on one date, granted it was the longest first date in history and six hours of it were shared with my kids and vomit. But for some reason that interruption didn’t taint the memory of the first two hours and definitely didn’t touch the blazing memory of the last two. Nothing was touching that memory. But the last thing I wanted this weekend was to share her again.

  “Great. You sure you don’t mind coming up here? My parents live a few blocks over. Oh, and then you’ll get to meet Casey.” Her voice had been deliberate and pensive up until she mentioned Casey, then it jumped a few octaves.

  “Your dog?”

  “Of course.” She was excited for me to meet her dog. Damn, she was adorable. “Anyway, just got in, unit’s exploded with new admissions. Gotta run.” She hung up. Just like that. Dudes were supposed to be the ones short on the phone.

  Fuck it.

  She wants to see me again, good enough for now.

  Even if I had to share.

  I tossed the phone on my desk and leaned back, threading my fingers through my hair. It was getting long, but who had time for a haircut, I sure didn’t. I pulled on the strands and it brought me right back to the morning I was between her legs. Fuck if she didn’t taste delicious and what I wouldn’t give to be back there.

  “Hunter!” Hard on crushed by the sound of my buddy shouting and rapping against my closed door. I could tell this was a personal visit and not a “get your lazy ass up to scrub” stop in. He’d been on my team for several years now, a sick surgical PA and good friend. Married, with his second kid on the way, we often met up for a quick drink or glance at the game before heading home. It was nice to hang with a dude who got the spit-up/diaper routine, even if he perpetually nagged me about branching out. Think he felt bad for me—he had a warm bed to go home to with a wife he loved. That ship had sailed for me. Or so I thought. Now I had this woman who barreled into my life screwing with my compass.

  “Yeah.”

  Barging in, Bryce parked his ass across from me and kicked his filthy clogs up on my desk. “What’s up with the chick?” he asked, balling up his cap before throwing it at me. Hospital gossip sucked.

  “You suddenly a girl, Bryce?”

  “Dude, come on, give me something?”

  More than lager and soccer, we had California in common, too. We commiserated over shitty East Coast weather all the time. But last time I checked, we didn’t have heart to hearts. And I certainly wasn’t the kind of man to kiss and tell. What happened between me and a woman willing to bare it all for me stayed where it belonged. Between her, me, and my sheets. Or any other surface, wet or dry, for that matter.

  “You want to hear we kissed, I felt her up, we screwed, go get tickets for Dr. Phil, asshole.”

  He busted out laughing. “That good, huh?”

  All right, maybe I was still a little tense. I kept telling myself I was annoyed she hadn’t called, but that was a lie. I was angry I let someone in again. So damn easily. I wished it was just fucking. Because anything else was more. And more wasn’t supposed to be in the cards. It wasn’t only about me anymore. And I let her get to know my kids. How’d I let it get this far?

  “You have no fucking idea,” was my sharp response.

  He swallowed back his laugh, stood up, and leaned into my desk. “Shit. You screwed?” He knew my story, most of the gory details. Some shit was better left unsaid, but he got me. He knew I wouldn’t let my guard down for anyone.

  “Hope not.” With that I got up, backhanded his stomach as I walked toward the OR for my next case. “Let’s go.”

  Falling in stride behind me, he said, “Colons … take your mind off of good pussy any day of the week.”

  “You talk to your woman with that mouth?”

  “Hell yeah, like you don’t, smartass.”

  I shook my head while he continued to laugh at his own stupid joke. He wasn’t wrong. I definitely had a dirty mouth in the bedroom, or anywhere clothes were optional, for that matter. As long as she was just as into it. Then I spent the whole damn colon resection wondering if Jules was the type of woman to get off on the things I wanted to say or if I’d even get the chance to find out.

  After a pit stop at Pete’s—a recommendation from cinnamon roll gals—for java and a couple of breakfast sandwiches, I t
urned down her block and realized why she forgot to text an apartment number with her address. No high rise buildings on this block, only rows of well-kept brownstones with various aged facades. Unlike the Upper East Side, this was a neighborhood. The kind you would see flower beds hanging off windowsills in the spring. It was personal. Quaint. If the Bronx and quaint weren’t somehow an oxymoron. There was even a grass park on one side of the street. Well, there would be grass once the piles of dirty snow melted.

  Pulling up, I saw her immediately. She was standing behind a hip-high wrought iron fence with an overweight yellow Lab leashed and lounging at her feet as she chatted with her neighbor on the adjoining front stoop.

  Luckily, I found an open spot a few houses past hers and parked. Another enigma of New York living—parallel parking. So dumb, if you asked me.

  Her back remained to the street so she didn’t see me. The infamous Casey cocked his snout but made no move. Not a bark, not a growl, nothing. Some guard dog, more like a slobbery lump of fur. Jules still hadn’t budged, so I took advantage of the view. I had difficulty making it past her painted on black running pants that covered her mile long legs and sweet ass. And for some god-forsaken reason, she had no coat on in this freezing ass weather, only an oversized off the shoulder gray sweatshirt that exposed a black lace strap that made my dick twitch. Her hair was up in one of her messy ponytail things again. My chest thumped. This woman was going to give me a coronary without even trying.

  She was so completely engrossed in conversation she missed her neighbor shift his gaze above her shoulder. I was close enough to hear him say, “Think you have some company, sweetheart.” If he hadn’t looked like he just celebrated triple digits, I might have been put off by his use of endearment. Like I was one to talk? I used to be that guy.

  Mid-sentence, literally, she spun on her furry shoe. “Jesus, Guy. You trying to give me a heart attack?” I smirked at her choice of words, at least she knew what I felt like mere moments ago walking up and seeing her dressed in this. I scanned her from head to toe again. Oblivious to my gawking, she glanced at her watch. “It’s ten to eight.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s early.” Knew that too.

  She missed the memo that I was a surgeon and had two kids. Sleeping in didn’t exist. I’d probably clocked my 5k and showered before she even opened her eyes this morning.

  “Full day starts with breakfast, doll.”

  “I’m not even … ah ... ugh.” She swung her free arm, the one that wasn’t holding Casey’s leash, up and down her body, causing her sweatshirt to expose a sliver of skin I remembered oh so well. Embarrassment was a real possibility if we spent much more time out on the curb. Especially because I could think of nothing but exploring that sliver and everything all around it. And preferably with my mouth. Dude, settle down.

  “Problem?” I asked, amused by her reaction.

  “Guy!”

  “Don’t remember early morning being an issue last time.”

  Her cheeks lit up, and she let out a little puff of air before rounding back to Mr. Rodgers, who definitely didn’t miss my insinuation. His denture-filled grin was wide. She was flustered. It was just so easy.

  “Sal, this is Guy. Guy. Sal,” she introduced, waving back and forth.

  Sal did another chin lift, acknowledging my place on the curb. “Gotta let him in, sweetheart.”

  “Right,” she mumbled and jerked back to open the squeaky iron gate. “Let me take that.” She relieved me of the cardboard coffee tray I was holding, and I latched the gate behind

  me. Casey finally got territorial, sniffed my feet, and rolled onto his back outstretching all four limbs. Wait, what was up with his eye?

  I stored that for later and reached up to shake the gentleman’s trembling hand. “Pleasure, Sal.”

  “I’ll leave you two kids to it. Good day.” He winked at Jules, adjusted his footing, and shuffled slowly up the rest of the flight. Parkinson’s. That sucked. Occupational hazard, always examining and diagnosing.

  “I could have been a murderer,” I said, squatting to appease the infamous Casey before he ulcerated his wagging tail against the concrete. Jules wasn’t overly concerned that her one-eyed protector’s weapon of choice was a wet tongue; she was too busy reeling over the time.

  I followed her through the dug out entranceway underneath the front stoop. As sick as her spacious apartment was with ten-foot ceilings and exposed brick walls, I wasn’t a fan. The slate patio beyond the sliding glass doors at the end of her kitchen couldn’t even sway me, and that said something. She was a single woman, a hundred and nothing, living alone on the ground floor in New York City with the most pathetic guard dog ever. Private backyard oasis or not, something primal and protective took hold and not a fan was an understatement.

  She set the coffee tray down on the aged butcher block island and snapped, “I haven’t even showered.”

  Note to self, JuJu was not a morning person.

  I smirked, memories of her naked body clear as day, and said, “Used to that.”

  She blushed again. It had to be said, she was sexy in her skinny jeans and adorable in her bright scrubs, but she was fucking hot in whatever this pajama/loungewear get up was. The rosy cheeks only added to it. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and whispered embarrassingly, “Suppose you are, huh?”

  “Like the slippers.”

  Her flame flashed crimson. “They’re UGGs. Totally legit to wear outside.”

  “Hate to break it to you, they’re slippers, doll.” Call a spade a spade.

  “Well, most people are still in slippers at eight AM on a Saturday!”

  Most people. That almost made me chuckle. Jules seemed to be the farthest thing from most women, or so I hoped. Ready to find out, I met her at the counter and pulled her hips toward me. I cupped her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered up to meet mine. She held her breath, and I lightly kissed her lips. We could play this game all day, because we were good at it. But I was more concerned with the other game she played with me all week. I decided there was no time like the present to discuss that.

  “No more games?” I whispered against her lips.

  “Games?”

  “Yeah, I don’t do games, Jules.”

  “I’m not playing games, Dr. Hunter.”

  I backed up until I was leaning on the opposite counter, crossed my legs, and folded my arms against my chest. “Then explain to me why I haven’t heard from you all week. I get it was our first date and it turned into a really shitty night, but I thought we ended on a high note.” Jules’ eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip. Yeah, she thinks it ended on a high note too. “I text, I call a few times, and not once did you think to pick up the phone or text back. I’m the first to admit that I’m rusty in the dating department, actually if you want to know the truth, I haven’t dated since my wife died. I’ve hooked up, not going to lie, but I haven’t dated someone with the intention of getting to know them. You’re the exception. So I’m asking, what’s with the games?”

  “I needed a minute.” Her voice was low and trailed off. So much so, I thought I misheard. Then she broke eye contact and scurried away, opening cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware.

  “A minute, as in four days?” We apparently had a different definition of a minute, so I needed clarification. Suddenly, the anger I thought I was over began to resurface. “Look, Jules, I’m sorry I don’t have the luxury of tiptoeing around your feelings here, so I’m going to come straight out and tell you that your minute doesn’t work for me. And it sure as hell doesn’t work for my family. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, but I have kids, kids that already know you. Kids that already like you. This was not news when we hooked up. So if you aren’t into it, into me, or you decided all of a sudden you have an issue with my baggage, I need to know and we’ll end it now.”

  Before they get too attached. Liar. Before I get too attached.

  Damn, she was making me soft.

  She
froze mid-plate grab and pivoted back around with her eyes squinted together at a peculiar angle. This expression was a new one and not one of my favorites if I had to compare. “Baggage?” She dragged out the word and cocked her head more to one side. Shit. “You think I consider Maxine and Finn baggage?” The tide changed, and I sensed she wasn’t exactly feeling me right at this moment. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all week? Seriously … seriously?” The second seriously hit an octave I’d yet to hear from her and probably could do without hearing again, so I opted to use my northern brain and keep my mouth shut. “How could you even think that? Not for one point one second. Do you hear me?”

  Nope, still not answering. That was a trick question.

  “Have I ever given you any inclination that I had an issue with Finn or Max, ever? No. Never!” She answered for me, loudly, and she was pissed. “I adore your children, and I’m just as attached to them as they are to me. That’s why we needed a minute. Everything was moving so fast. You don’t even know anything about me and you opened your home to ... to me. You called me a natural, for God’s sake. You have no idea. So I didn’t know what to do with that, and you needed time to think about all that. I’m not sure either of us were ready for what we already let happen, never mind more. That’s why I didn’t call.”

  Oh, we needed a minute. What were we, French now? I was tempted to call her on it, especially on the half of what she said that made no sense, but the look in her eyes stopped me. There was a vulnerability there, a softness, so I let her have that play. For now.

  “Tell me, are you sure now?” I asked with a bite. She turned her back to me and unwrapped and plated the breakfast sandwiches.

  Don’t think so, doll. You got your answer, my turn.

  I walked up behind her, pressing my front to her back, pinning her in. She involuntarily shuddered, sucking in a bit of air when I kissed the spot where her neck met her collarbone. “Are you sure, Jules?” This time I asked against her skin.