How indeed.
“I’d bone her.”
“Get out.” I stood, stomped over to the door, and jerked it open.
“Huh?” He blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘Get out’?”
“Get the hell out of my office,” I said coldly. “And don’t come back.”
I towered over him.
Speaking of calf muscles, mine were just twitching to get a good kick in. As it was, my hands were shaking with the intense need to knock the guy’s teeth in.
“Are you serious?” Justin rolled his eyes. “I’m a paying patient!”
“Not anymore you’re not. If you don’t leave now, I’ll be forced to call security.”
“Jackass.” He shoved past me and then Austin, slamming the door behind him.
Austin whistled. “Good bedside manner? I think I may uncheck that box.”
“He was being disrespectful,” I said in a huff.
Austin’s eyes widened and then she burst out laughing. “Oh wow, he was being disrespectful? Interesting, so the only person who can say anything disrespectful about me is you? But if anyone else does it, you’re ready to kick his ass?”
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “No.” Hell. “Austin . . .” I licked my lips. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Fine.” She walked over to where Justin had been sitting and plopped into the chair. “Then let’s get on with the exam.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I didn’t get any notes other than your going through the patient’s forms with him—what else do you do during a consult for a calf implant, Doc?” She crossed her legs, and I could see a generous amount of thigh the way she was sitting.
Yup. I was in hell.
And it was scorching hot.
“Fine.” I feigned indifference when really, my left hand was shaking so badly, I had to shove it into my pocket. “Typically, I’ll show them pictures of different implants, and then we’d discuss . . . size.”
“Big,” she blurted. “I want huge.”
It hurt to breathe. Why did everything have to be a sexual innuendo with her?
“How big?” My voice was strained.
She tilted her head to the side, then pointed at my legs. “Well, how big are yours?”
“Mine are real.”
“Yeah, but how big?”
I was going to burn in hell, because the only thing I really wanted to do was take off my damn pants and say something stupid like, You tell me. Then she’d point at my cock and I’d say, Wrong leg, and then we’d screw against the nearest wall.
Yeah, there went that whole malpractice-suit business resurfacing.
Only when Austin was in the room with me.
The fact that I didn’t have a nurse with me was a mistake.
Right along with the door being closed.
“Why don’t I just show you pictures?” I cleared my throat.
“Aw, Thatch, you afraid to flash me a bit of leg?” She winked and moved in her chair, causing her dress to ride up higher—damn it, I could almost see ass cheek.
“I, uh.” My eyes begged me to look down, so I fought like hell to keep them focused on her eyes. “It’s just a leg.”
“Right, so you shouldn’t have any problem showing me yours.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I snapped, then tugged up my pant leg. “This is from squats, running, actual exercise. He had leaner muscles, most likely from long-distance running or cycling.”
“Hmm.” She touched my calf with her finger, trailing it down to my ankle. “So where does the implant go in?”
“Go in,” I repeated.
She nodded, still not removing her hand.
“At the . . . Achilles.” I blew out a curse, then braced both of my hands on her thighs, slowly running them down past her knees until I grabbed each calf with a hand and squeezed. “I’d put it in here.” I gripped harder. “And sew you up here.” I squeezed again. “You’d recover in a few painful weeks—the end. Though I’d kill any doctor who’d dare mess with your legs.”
“They are kind of lanky.”
I don’t know how it happened, but one minute I was gripping her legs in my hands, the next, my hands were inching back up her thigh, my fingers eagerly dipping into her luscious skin until her dress was up past her waist. Her half-lidded eyes told me all I needed to know as I hooked her legs around my waist and lifted her into the air. “I’ve always loved your legs.”
She gulped, her lips parted.
I leaned in.
My pulse hammered between my ears in anticipation of her taste. The exam room’s phone rang.
I sighed, then slowly slid her back down to the floor. My body cried out.
I answered on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”
“Your father’s in the hospital . . . ,” Mia said in a low whisper. “Again.”
“Hell.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be right there.”
I hung up, ready to punch the wall. “I gotta go.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
“Thatch—”
“You’re not my girlfriend anymore. I don’t have to tell you shit. Go write your silly little blog so whatever this is”—my voice cracked as I waved a hand between us—“can finally be over.”
She sucked in a breath. “I swear, it’s like one minute you’re the guy I fell for, and the next, I don’t even recognize you.”
“Maybe because the guy you fell for just wanted to get laid, ever thought of that?”
She gasped and slapped me across the cheek, then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter Twenty
AUSTIN
“He’s turned me into a stalker,” I whispered into the phone while I slumped down behind the wheel of my car and waited.
“Why are you whispering?” Avery said on the other end of the phone. “And who are you stalking?”
“Because stalkers whisper, and I’m stalking Thatch.”
“Okay, that’s it, intervention time, you can’t keep just hoping he’ll come back, sweetheart. Ugh, I knew it was a bad idea for you to hang out with him for your final project—you’re going to get attached, then get hopeful, and then, boom, I’m going to find you buried under a pile of MoonPies.”
“What a good way to go, though, you know?”
“No, Austin!” she yelled. “Not a good way, not even a normal way! You need to get over him, and you can’t get over him if you’re still pining for him. This is my fault. I told you to dress sexier in hopes that he’d snap out of it, but when we walked in on their conversation . . .”
Pain sliced through my chest. “Yeah, I don’t think that conversation bears repeating, it was rough.”
In fact, he’d been nothing but hot and cold to me since our little heart-to-heart at my house a few nights ago. It was like a switch was constantly being flipped.
And he hated me.
Then didn’t hate me.
Almost kissed me? Maybe?
Damn it!
“He doesn’t get to hate me!” I yelled into the phone, my eyes searching for Thatch’s car. “I’m the woman scorned! How dare he take that away from me! It’s like ever since I promised I wasn’t going to get even, he’s been . . . mean and distant, hot, cold—like the other night he kissed me on the forehead, and today he picked me up and nearly had his way with me!”
Avery gasped. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because I was too busy stalking. Sorry.”
“Why are you stalking again?”
“Well, after he picked me up and nearly pulled my dress off—”
Avery gave a little cheer.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t celebrate just yet,” I said, then continued. “So he was leaning in, I met him halfway, he got a phone call and suddenly he shut down, like completely shut down.”
“So you followed him out of the office??
?
“Right.”
“And then tailed him with your red car?”
“I didn’t say it was the smartest plan, Avery!” I snapped.
“Sorry!” She yelled right back. “Okay, so where are you?”
“The hospital,” I said lamely. What was I doing with my life? I couldn’t even take a hint, could I? He was helping me because he felt bad, he rejected me, and I still couldn’t leave it alone—I had to go and trail him with my freaking car!
I was “that girl” again.
I hated that girl.