“How’s Delia?”
Whoa.
My head snaps in his direction. “How is who?”
He huffs out a deep laugh. “Your sister? How is she doing?”
“You know her?” I question him because I must have been unconscious when that introduction happened.
Delia has never stopped by the clinic. She’s probably gone out of her way to avoid it. My sister can’t handle blood and gore. I know that because she fainted in my arms when I ran over to her place after work one day with a streak of canine blood on my pristine white polo shirt.
Delia went down for the count. I caught her and ditched the shirt immediately.
Since then, my work and what it entails have never been part of our discussions.
“Not yet, but I’d like to know her.”
He drops that into my orbit and then sips on his coffee.
“What?”
His gaze wanders to a spot on the wall behind me. “She recently started following me on Instagram.”
An Instagram follow and an in-person meet up are two entirely different things.
I don’t want my sister to get entangled with my boss.
I sure as fuck don’t need that. Donovan’s reputation with women puts mine to shame. My sister can’t get involved with him. Regardless of how much I admire Donovan’s commitment to his job and his employees, he’s not breaking my sister’s heart on my watch.
“Did you start following her too?” It’s a simple question that sounds dirty. Why does it sound so fucking dirty?
“I did,” he confesses with a strum of his long fingers on the tabletop. “She’s fascinating.”
Delia? Delia Hawthorne and her never-ending posting of positivity quotes and memes about penguins?
I follow her too, but it’s with a fake account.
“Delia is complicated,” I warn him, hoping it’s enough to send his interest in someone else’s direction.
“Is there anything more charming than a complicated woman?” he asks with a chuckle.
A brilliant pink-haired one who is determined to change the world by becoming a doctor.
I drink from my mug because I have no fucking clue what to say to him.
“Is she involved with anyone?”
I shrug. “The last time we met up she wasn’t, but…”
“But, things change,” he states coolly. “I’m asking because I noticed her most recent post was with a man.”
I tear my phone out of my pocket and tap on the app to open Instagram.
I start typing Delia’s name into the search bar.
“What man?” I ask just as I open her profile.
It’s Callum. Callum who has sworn off social media and hates having his picture shared anywhere.
In the image, he’s standing next to our sister with only the left side of his face visible while she smiles broadly.
“Dr. Hunt to exam room three.”
Donovan gazes up at wall where the speaker for the intercom is. “Duty calls. Enjoy the rest of your coffee, Matt.”
I’ll do just that.
I’ll also enjoy that I came out of that conversation without agreeing to set my sister up with my boss.
I want Delia to be happy, but I doubt like hell that Donovan Hunt is the man who will make that happen.
“I’m going to Portugal for two months.”
Three hours after my conversation with my boss, the crisis is diverted.
I stare at my sister. “Why?”
“To visit a friend,” she explains.
“A guy?” I question, not sure if I’m feeling so inquisitive because I want her to flee to another continent to keep my boss at bay.
“No.” She adjusts the collar of the red coat she’s wearing. “It’s Zelle. I met her years ago, remember? She moved to Portugal a few months ago. She’s lonely, and I have a break in my studies, so I’m leaving tonight to see her.”
I’ll miss her, and she’ll miss a monumental event in our family.
“The baby is due soon, Delia,” I point out. “Rome and Bianca are going to be disappointed that you won’t be around to meet their little guy.”
She tilts her head to the side. “I talked to them about this. We’re going to video chat a lot, and I’ll bring back a load of gifts for him and the twins.”
I glance down the sidewalk at all the people moving through their day.
I was on my way home from work when Delia texted me asking me to meet her outside her apartment building.
She rests a hand in the center of my chest. “Are you okay, Matt?”
I place mine over hers. “I’m going to miss you.”
A smile slides over her mouth. “Something tells me you’re going to do just fine without me here.”
I narrow my eyes. “What tells you that?”
“I saw you yesterday.” She steps closer to lower her voice. “You couldn’t take your eyes off the most beautiful woman with pink hair.”
I suck in a breath. “Where did you see that?”
“Outside your building.” Her eyes mist over. “I was on my way to tell you about Portugal, but I couldn’t interrupt. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that before.”