Page 40 of Sweet Heart

“Slowly,” she taunts before letting out a soft chuckle.

***

I grimace when my alarm goes off. For a moment, I am disoriented. Then I see the blonde hair tucked away under my chin. Mary. We stayed up all night talking until the conversation faded and she snuggled into me as if she had done so for years. My heart leaps, and suddenly waking up is the best feeling in the world.

Mary tenses in my arms before her eyes flutter open. They instantly find mine, wide with wonder. Her cheek is still pressed warmly against my shoulder, and neither of us looks away. Not until she blinks slowly and the rhythmic blare of my phone becomes too obnoxious to ignore.

When I reach for it, she presses herself upward and away from my chest. The absence of her already leaves me aching. I let out an irritated huff and turn off the alarm as if it personally offended me.

“What time is it?” she murmurs, running her hand over her face.

I can’t help but smile as I see the little creases on her cheek left by the way she melted into me. She fell asleep somewhere around two, and I couldn’t find it in me to wake her up.

“Four thirty.”

“Ugh, why so early?”

“My rounds start at seven.” I chuckle softly when she frowns.

“That’s two and a half hours from now. The hospital is only a ten-minute car ride from here.” She yawns and curls her fingers into the fabric of my blouse.

“Yes, but I have to review charts. I have to be in at six.”

“Still gives us another hour,” she murmurs, and this time she pouts with it.

I run my thumb over her bottom lip, and her eyes flutter. Heat shoots straight through me to my core at the sight, and I let out a soft gasp. Mary lifts her half-lidded eyes, and her lips part slightly. Dios mío, she is so gorgeous.

“I have to freshen up,” I protest weakly.

It’s the truth, though. I need to shower and put on a new set of clothes. It’s Monday. There will be dozens of charts to go through. I have a case to prepare for one of my meetings. There are a dozen reasons why I should leave right now. But the way her nose scrunches slightly and her eyebrows knit together in protest undermines all of them.

“Can’t you stay just a little longer?”

She looks up at me with those big, gleaming eyes, and I feel all my resolve snap like twigs. Perhaps Mary can smell it, or maybe it’s readable on my face, because she licks those damn lips again, and I’m gone. Just—over.

“Fuck it,” I mutter as I cave in. “I have a clean blouse at the office.”

I slide my fingers behind her neck, resting them at her nape, and softly guide her toward me. Right before my eyes flutter shut, I see her grin victoriously, and my stomach flips. This woman will be the death of you.

***

I pull the collar of my coat closer as I walk through the side door of the hospital, making a beeline for the locker room. Carmen will be working the same shift. If she realizes I am thirty minutes later than I usually arrive and, on top of that, sees me in yesterday’s clothes… I walk a little faster.

The locker room is already buzzing with voices when I step in. Mostly nurses who ignore me. This is their domain. I wouldn’t even be in here if I didn’t need to grab that blouse. It would be so much easier if I were on call today. But I only get to make my rounds and then have to sit through three meetings back-to-back. Days like this make me question my ambition to become chair. I just want to make a difference, to build a system that works for us instead of against us.

I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost knock over a nurse while I come around the corner. She yelps and stumbles back. My hand shoots out to steady her, and I grind my molars at my stupidity.

“My apologies,” I say, blinking. “Nurse Wilder.”

Her eyes narrow, and she drags her gaze over my body. Too late, I realize my coat has fallen open. I lift my chin and take a deep breath.

“Have a go—”

“Long night, Doctor Durand?” She makes a point of staring at my blouse before slowly dragging her gaze back up to mine. Everything in me freezes. She knows. She saw Mary, and now she knows. I mimic her by dragging my gaze over her slowly, slightly tilting my head sideways, and then boring my gaze into hers.

“Must I remind you of professional boundaries, Nurse Wilder?”

My voice is low and steady. The years of training to control my nerves in the OR are finally paying off. A few people nearby go silent for a beat and then pretend they aren’t listening in. I know better. Wilder seems unimpressed, though. She snarls and exhales through her nose.