Page 52 of Stranger to Love

As I swallowed, I noticed her posture stiffen, and I tried not to laugh as I apologised. “Sorry, but this tastes amazing.”

She just hummed in acknowledgment and cracked her neck as she pressed some buttons on the coffee machine. I was surprised she was not scolding me for swearing in her presence, but maybe it was a loophole because I technically wasn't talking to her.

As I continued to eat and she filled the mugs with coffee that smelled incredible right then, I couldn’t help but watch her. Fuck, those trousers fitted her like a glove. I didn’t know what sort of exercise this woman did, but she looked like she could toss me over her shoulder like I weighed nothing. I kind of wanted to refuse to get out of her car again just so she would.

She turned, and I quickly looked down at the last of my bagel like a caught teenager drooling over their teacher. She slid the mug over to me. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine, thanks.” It was ‘fine’; I would have preferred milk and sugar, but I felt like the bitter taste of a black coffee might make me a little more on guard that morning, if that was fucking possible around her.

She moved to sit back at her laptop, and I finished the bagel, sipping the piping hot coffee as I did. This was so fucking weird. I felt like I should try and make small talk, but that would probably make things weirder, so I didn't say anything.

I pulled out my phone with a twinge of guilt as I read my Mum’s message:

Mum: Your Dad got some work today, love, he has to leave soon so we will do pancakes tomorrow?

Fuck. I couldn’t believe I had basically ditched my parents and my birthday tradition. It wasn't exactly my fault, but I still felt like a dick. I quickly replied:

Alex: Sorry, I was hoping to be home on time. Tomorrow sounds perfect!

Mum instantly hearted my message, and I put my phone back in my pocket.

After finishing the last of my bagel, I tentatively prodded the side of my head. It was tender, still a little swollen, but was definitely healing, and thank fuck I didn’t feel dizzy anymore.

Dr. Carter stood and moved beside me. “Can I check your head?” she asked softly.

"Go for it." I groaned as I pulled my own hand away.

Her fingers were delicate as they parted my hair to examine the cut. I had to grip my coffee mug to not shiver. Fuck, everything she did was commanding in a way, like every movement of a strand of hair she did on purpose. Clearly she did, because I didn't think the woman had any possibility of losing control.

She hummed in approval. “Healing nicely. How do you feel?”

She stood back and leaned on the kitchen island to look at me, and I caught her gaze as I smiled. “Not like death, so that's a bonus.”

She smirked. “No headache?”

I assessed myself, and yeah, there was a tinge of a headache but nothing like the day before. I shrugged. “A little bit, but not dizzy, so I’ll take it.”

She nodded. “You shouldn't be alone, ideally until tomorrow morning. A concussion is not something to take lightly, Alex.”

I shrugged. “I won't be alone; I’ll go home and then I’ll spend the night with Mia.”

I sipped my coffee as I deliberately averted her gaze.

She leaned closer to me, and it took everything I had not to look at her. She said directly, her voice dropping to a low, non-negotiable register, “You are not working tonight."

For fuck’s sake. I really didn’t want to have this argument with her. She wasn't my mother, or anyone else in my life who could just tell me what to do. Okay, fine. Maybe I let her tell me to do a lot of things, but who fucking wouldn’t—look at the woman!

I took a sip of my coffee, sat a little straighter, and finally looked at her. Fuck me, she was a bit close. “I need the money, I can't just skip my shift; they'll drown tonight without me.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “The last thing you need is to be in a bar with blaring music and strobe lights. You are not going to work.”

I rolled my eyes. “You literally can't stop me.”

She didn't flinch at my challenge. Instead, a dangerous, slow smile spread across her face, the kind that promised pain but made my stomach clench with anticipation. It was different to the smile I had seen the day before, but fucking hell, she looked like she was about to tie me to the kitchen island. Meh, I’d probably let her.

“You’re cute,” she said simply as she pushed herself off the counter and walked back to her laptop.

The blush that ran up my neck caught me completely off guard. I didn’t fucking blush. That wasn’t a ‘your face is cute’; no, that was a ‘you’re cute that you think that’. Fuck, she was probably right.