“I do,” she said slowly. She couldn’t, and what’s more, wouldn’t deny that, even if the time she’d spent with Jonah had felt better than she’d ever expected. He’d never promised her anything other than short-term, and she’d never expected more. But she did want it with someone, eventually. “You were clear from the beginning that whatever happened between us would be strictly casual. I would never ask you for anything other than that.”
Jonah looked at her, his blue eyes full of honesty and all the things that had always given her comfort.
“And I would never stand in the way of you finding what you need, Nat. But this”—he paused to gesture between them—“right now, this feels good. I don’t want it to mess with our friendship. I would never risk that—”
“But it’s not,” Natalie interrupted. “I mean, yes, we had sex, and that’s more than friendly.” She paused to roll her eyes at the understatement. “But we also worked together to help Annabelle. We took coffee breaks at work and watched Die Hard last weekend. Aside from the really great sex, everything else felt totally normal. Just like it always does.”
He nodded. “It did.”
“So, you want to keep doing…this.” She repeated the gesture he’d just made, swinging her finger in a circle to encompass them both. “Like friends with benefits, emphasis on staying friends?”
“Yeah,” Jonah said. “Do you?”
Natalie paused. She’d meant what she’d said about their friendship still feeling exactly as it had before they’d slept together. If anything, she and Jonah had gotten closer since she’d moved in, and nothing about their sexual encounters had been awkward. If they’d slid into things seamlessly, there was no reason to believe they couldn’t slide out in the exact same manner once she moved back to her own place in a few weeks. Yes, she still wondered about those emotions he kept so carefully hidden—after last night, she was certain she hadn’t been imagining them. But she couldn’t deny that she felt better with Jonah than she had in…well, maybe ever.
He might not be a long-haul guy, but what could a few weeks hurt? Especially if they were going to feel like this?
“Well, I guess that depends,” Natalie said, running a finger over the back of his hand. “Does friends with benefits involve breakfast in bed?”
Jonah smiled, and God, she felt it all over. “I think that could be arranged. What do you want?” He flipped his hand over, lacing his fingers between hers, and oh, yeah. If this was how friends with benefits worked, she was definitely on board.
She threw back the bed sheets and grinned. “Why don’t you come back to bed and I’ll show you?”
JONAH EYEBALLED the shopping cart in front of him, unable to help his laughter. He and Natalie had only been in the superstore for ten minutes, and yet the thing was more than half-full with everything from fuzzy socks to travel snacks, not to mention the two big red and green gift bags and glittery tissue paper to hold it all.
“Oh!” Natalie exclaimed, reaching up for a value pack of coloring books. “Annabelle will love these. She’s going to need a lot of things to keep her busy in the car.”
“The drive will take nine hours, not nine days,” Jonah teased. “Plus, you’ve already got four books, two movies, more snacks than she and Rachel can eat in a week—”
Natalie slid one hand to her hip, although her great, big smile kind of took the sting out of the move. “Do you have any idea how stir-crazy an eight-year-old can get? Anyway, they’re going to be in Tampa for a while, and living in an efficiency—even a nice one—is a far cry from home. Trust me, a few extra goodies won’t hurt.”
A pang spread out beneath the center of Jonah’s sweater at the reminder that Natalie knew what she was talking about, firsthand. “Well, in that case,” he said, reaching for a giant bottle of bubbles and dropping it into the cart, then adding a plastic princess tiara from the next shelf for good measure. “Let’s spoil the hell out of her.”
Natalie’s smile settled in as she murmured her agreement, pushing the cart farther down the aisle. Now that she’d spent the morning catching up on some seriously overdue sleep and the afternoon catching up on all the details of the clinical trial, the shadows beneath her eyes had nearly disappeared. Of course, she’d insisted on cooking an early dinner for both of them before they’d headed out to grab bon voyage/Christmas presents for Annabelle and Rachel, who were headed to Tampa bright and early tomorrow morning. But Natalie had let him help—okay, at least, she’d let him put the salad together—and do the dishes, just as she hadn’t argued when he’d offered to upload Annabelle’s latest scans and complete medical history to the database in Tampa so she could use the time to talk to Hoover and Kazinski. As small as they were, those things were also more than Natalie had probably ever allowed him to do for her, and definitely more than she’d ever asked for help with, outright.
But ever since she’d broken down and cried in his arms the other night—ever since she’d moved in with him, really—Jonah had started to see her differently. She was still the same sweetly fierce, endlessly kind woman he’d always known. Nothing short of a complete personality transplant would change that. Only now, he saw why she cared so much for other people, the deep-seated reasoning behind her bright-side, everything’s-fine disposition. He saw how ingrained it was, how she’d set aside her own needs and comfort and even her health in order to take care of other people.
And just for a little while, he wanted to take care of her in return.
Jonah’s phone buzzed in the back pocket of his jeans, quickly depositing him back to the reality of the games and puzzles aisle.
“Work?” Natalie asked, a tiny furrow of worry appearing between her brows as he reached for the thing.
“Shouldn’t be. I’m not on call.” He slid his phone into his palm, his confusion turning to a cold trickle of unease. “It’s my father.”
Natalie’s eyes went round. “It is?”
Holy shit. “Yeah, I, ah. Called him the other day and left him a message, but…”
“Go.” She nudged his shoulder, pointing toward the empty customer-service alcove by the front of the store. “Find a quiet spot and take the call. Go.”
Jonah nodded, pressing the icon to answer the call before it could go to voicemail. Something had to be gravely wrong. His father would never reach out to him otherwise. On the rare occasion that they did touch base, Jonah always, always made the call.
“Hello?”
“Oh.” A thread of surprise colored his father’s voice. “You picked up the phone.”
Jonah made his way to the front of the store, his heart beating faster in concern. “Yeah. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
Okay, that couldn’t be right. “You’re not hurt or sick or anything?”
“NO.” Silence extended over the line. “I’m calling you back.”
“Oh.”
There was no masking the shock in his response, so Jonah didn’t even try. It was on the tip of his tongue to remind his old man that he’d said he didn’t have to return the call, but he bit the words in half just shy of launch.
He was glad his father had called back.
“So.” His father cleared his throat. “How have you been?”
Not knowing what else to do, Jonah followed the script of the conversation. “Good. You?”
“Good.”
This was the point where Jonah usually had mercy on the old man and started to wrap things up. But it struck him suddenly that, while his father never actively participated in their conversations by asking questions or being particularly chatty, he never moved to end things, either.
Could Natalie have been right? Was it possible that he wanted to talk to Jonah—or at least listen—only he didn’t know how?
“I’ve been working a lot,” Jonah offered. “I just helped a friend of mine, another doctor, with a pretty big case she was working on.”
His father paused, but only for a breath. “Oh, yeah?”
/> His voice lifted, just slightly at the end of the question, but it was enough. Hell, it was more interest than Jonah had heard from him in years, maybe even decades. Or maybe it was the first time Jonah had thought to dig deeper, to nudge a little and read between the lines.
To look for the bright side.
IN THAT MOMENT, Jonah knew he could do one of two things. He could default to his defenses and guide the conversation to an end, keeping the carefully cultivated arm’s length between him and his father intact. Or, he could keep talking, even though it was a risk.
Fuck it. The bright side looked pretty good from here.
“Yep,” Jonah said. “We got a little girl placed in a clinical trial. Looks like it’s going to be a happy ending.”
Settling into one of the plastic chairs in the deserted customer service area, Jonah launched into the story. His father mostly listened, but he never tried to steer the conversation to a close, and by the end, he was peppering his mmm-hmms and oh, reallys with a handful of short but genuine questions.
“Well, that does sound like a happy ending,” his father finally said when Jonah had relayed the whole thing. “I hope it helps Annabelle into remission.”
“Me, too. She’s a pretty great kid,” Jonah said.
The topic lulled to a gentle halt, and he knew this was where the conversation would really end. They’d already shared more words tonight than they had in the last decade combined. Of course, it couldn’t last. Love, familial or otherwise, never did.
Out of the corner of one eye, Jonah caught sight of Natalie, and his heart tripped faster against his breastbone. The neatly bagged items in the cart beside her said that she’d finished shopping, yet she stood far enough away to give him the space to finish his conversation without the pressure of hurrying, or even letting him know she was waiting. Although she was looking down at her phone, Jonah could still see her face, and when she gave up a big, unabashed smile at whatever she’d just read, he didn’t think. Just spoke.
“So, I’ve got a little time off for the holidays. Just a couple of days,” he added. “Maybe I could drive down for Christmas. We could spend the holiday together. If you want.”
After a startled pause, his father said, “I…yes. That would be nice.”
“Okay.” Jonah’s hard exhale made him realize he’d been holding his breath. They agreed on a few logistics, then hung up with the promise of seeing each other soon. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he walked over to the spot where Natalie stood waiting.
“Hey.” She looked up at the sound of his footsteps on the linoleum. “Is everything okay?”
Jonah slipped his arms around her, pulling her in for a quick kiss and loving the taste of surprise on her lips.
“Actually, everything is great.”
20
Natalie made her way into the staff lounge in the ED with three dozen donuts in her hands and a whole lot of dirty thoughts in her head. To be fair, the dirty thoughts were the product of a group effort. After all, she might’ve participated (enthusiastically) in the quickie that had made her run late this morning, but Jonah had inspired it. In fact, he’d inspired lots of things over the last thirty-six hours. Hot things. Wicked things. Multiple things.
Friends with benefits was better than chocolate and martinis and sleeping until noon combined.
“Good morning!” Natalie sing-songed, grinning hello at both Tess and Charlie as the door to the lounge bumped shut behind her. “I brought breakfast.”
“Holy shit, you and Sheridan totally had sex,” Tess said.
Natalie’s grip went thermonuclear over the pastry boxes, her gaze whipping around the—whew—otherwise empty lounge. “Oh, my God, are you psychic now? Or does it, like, show, or something?” Dropping the donuts to the table in the center of the lounge, she reached up to skim both hands over her face.
Tess laughed, not unkindly, and got up from the couch. “Neither. I was bluffing. You, my friend, are an easy mark. So honest.”
“That, and the donuts and pure happiness on your face were kind of a dead giveaway,” Charlie said, tucking a strand of red-gold hair behind one ear and following Tess over to the table to help take the lids off the pastry boxes.
Tess nodded. “Sooooo. How was it? I mean”—she raised a hand—“I have to work with the guy, so I don’t want all the gory details. Just like, on a scale of one to ten.”
Natalie flushed, feeling equally torn between not wanting to kiss and tell and wanting to laugh her fool head off. “Okay, you have to remember that I have nothing to compare it to.”
“But…?” Charlie prompted, leaning in.
Natalie bit her lip. “Would a thousand seem like an overstatement?”
“No,” both women said in unison, and Tess let go of a wry smile. “Guess he lives up to his nickname.”
Charlie reached for a cake donut and laughed. “A thousand seems about right for a great experience. Especially if you two were that into each other.”
“We really are,” Natalie admitted.
Tess’s chin lifted, her hand freezing to a halt over a double-glazed cruller. “Are? As in, present tense? I thought the deal was for him to take your virginity. You can kind of only do that once.”
“Oh.” Shit. Shit! Why hadn’t anyone warned her that great sex would turn her brain into tapioca? “Um, well, he did. But we’re sort of…still sleeping together.”
“Okay, stop right there.” Tess exchanged a glance with Charlie that lasted for roughly a nanosecond, yet frighteningly, both women began to move with purpose. Charlie guided Natalie over to the couch as Tess grabbed two Boston cream donuts and put them on a paper plate, then marched out of the lounge. She returned less than a minute later, and Charlie dispensed the three cups of coffee she’d poured in Tess’s short absence.
“Not wine, but desperate times,” she said, looking at Tess. “Are we set?”
Tess nodded, and in that moment, Natalie had never been so grateful for the two women sitting on either side of her. “Don has been bribed with donuts, and the interns have been threatened with scut. The residents have the floor, and Mallory’s out there doing a consult, just in case. So unless a bus literally crashes into the ambulance bay or a massive epidemic of some long-dead disease breaks out in the next couple of minutes…”
“You know that only happens on TV, right?” Charlie asked, and Tess arched a brow.
“I once had to remove a toilet plunger from the ass of a man who was trying to home-remedy his severe constipation. You’d be fucking shocked at what happens in real life around here.”
“On that highly pleasant note…” Charlie looked at Natalie, who had no choice but to laugh. “Please, for the love of God, change the subject, Natalie.”
“Okay.” Cradling her cup of coffee between her palms, Natalie gave up a concise and basically non-explicit version of the events of the past week and a half. She included her brief meltdown of frustration over Annabelle’s treatment, as well as the support Jonah had given her to try and find a resolution, and their decision to keep sleeping together casually, for now.
“So, that’s everything,” Natalie said, sitting back against the couch cushions.
“God, no wonder you’ve got that smile on your face,” Charlie mused. “You’re having Chapter Thirteen sex with the Orgasm Whisperer.”
“And you two are into each other,” Tess added, popping the last bite of her cruller into her mouth. “I always knew someone would come along to make an honest man out of him.”
A nervous laugh popped out of Natalie. “Okay, so Jonah and I might’ve done the Chapter Thirteen thing,” she said, giving the memory of it an internal happy-sigh before continuing. “But we’re not serious. We agreed it would be just sex.”
“Lots of it,” Tess pointed out.
“Well, yes.” Natalie couldn’t deny that. But come on, she had lost time to make up for.
“And you’re living together,” Charlie said.
Natalie’s gut squeezed. “That’
s still temporary.”
Tess hmmmed. “And there’s the whole you-cried, he-held-you, you-worked-together-to-treat-a-kid’s-cancer thing,” she added, but Natalie shook her head.
“Okay, but we’re best friends. We’d have done that for each other regardless.”
“Would you, though?” Tess asked, matter-of-fact. “I mean, I know you guys have always had each other’s backs. Ride or die, and all that jazz. But can you really say that things between you and Jonah are exactly the same as they used to be, only now you’re having sex on top of it?”
Natalie opened her mouth to say of course things were the same…but then an image of Jonah, his eyes loaded with emotion and his hands on her, wild and intense, spread out in her mind’s eye. But that was just the sex, she reminded herself. It was what they’d agreed on. Yes, she card for Jonah, and yes again, she knew he cared for her. But they always had. This wasn’t any different.
It couldn’t be.
Before she could say so, though, the door to the lounge opened, and Connor ambled in. “Hey, ladies. Oooh, donuts!” he said, rubbing his hands together with glee.
“I should’ve known Don would only do his job for so long,” Tess muttered, while both Natalie and Charlie clamped their lips shut.
Connor stopped, mid-step. “Whoa, girl talk.” At Tess’s arched brow, he tacked on, “What? I can smell the estrogen from here, and Dr. Kendrick has, like, zero poker face. I take it you three need privacy.”
He edged toward the door—which was kind of comical, considering that he was roughly the size of a small nation—but Natalie shook her head.
“No, it’s okay.” It didn’t seem fair to shut the guy out of the lounge. It was the only place for the nurses to take a break, and anyway, she and Jonah had agreed to keep things completely casual, and that meant treating the fact that they were sleeping together like no big deal.
Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Page 20