“Did I do something to upset you?”
“No,” she says. “It’s nothing you did.”
Her arms fall to her side and she leans back letting the counter take her weight. She looks frayed, and I’ve got an uneasy feeling that I’m the reason for it.
It should make me back off.
Instead, I step forward until I’m next to her, angled and using the counter for support.
“You’ve barely looked at me since we left the General Store.”
She drops her chin to her shoulder, so I notch my finger beneath it and guide her eyes back to mine.
“You haven’t fussed or put me in my place once.”
I can’t stand the distance in her eyes as she stares back at me.
“So, if it wasn’t me, who upset you?”
“Oh, that . . .” Her laugh is soft and doesn’t convince me at all. “It’s self-inflicted—a classic case of a girl overthinking literally everything.”
“Aspen.” I drag a hand through my hair. “Say the word and I’m gone.”
“No.”
The answer flies out of her so fast it catches both of us off guard.
Her eyes widen slightly, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Mine narrow.
“It’s not you,” she says again, quieter this time. Her fingers drum the edge of the countertop, like she needs something to do with them. “Emmett . . . I promise you’re not the problem.”
Then what the hell is?
She blows out a shaky breath and finally looks at me. “I’m just . . .” Her mouth twists. “I’m dealing with a guy at work who doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not interested in him.”
Something dark and ugly unfurls in my chest.
For fuck’s sake, toddlers understand the wordnobetter than some men. Any dick who can’t grasp a simple concept like enthusiastic consent doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as any woman, let alone this one.
“The scrub-clad-scrote’”
Aspen blinks.
Then—despite everything—she laughs. “Excuse me?” she asks.
“It’s the doctor that follows you around the hospital like a lost puppy.” I try to keep my voice level, but my blood is boiling.
She cocks her head to the side. “Jere—Dr. Smith?”
“Never noticed his name, just looked like the type.”
My morals grind together. At least now I know exactly who it is that I want to throat punch.
“He’s bothering you.”
I don’t need her confirmation, but I wait for it all the same.
