Page 8 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“I was on the phone with Christian, and he had me on speaker.”

I grunted. “It did go well.”

“Well enough for you to see her again?”

I dragged my thumb along the edge of my phone.

Frankie in that plum dress flashed through my mind. Gold hoops brushing her neck. Tight coils framing her face. A smile bright enough to command every eye in the restaurant when she walked inside.

She had turned heads. Mine hadn’t turned away.

“Possibly.”

“Possibly,” Xander repeated. “You had your hand on her back all night.”

“You were not there.”

“Christian was.”

“That snitch.”

“He’s a married man now. He calls it communicating.”

I smiled despite myself.

Frankie had made it clear she wanted to see me again. There had been no games hiding beneath her answers. No coy smile meant to leave me guessing. She’d looked directly into my eyes and told me she had already decided to give me access beyond that night. I liked that about her. Hell, I liked a lot about her. Then she said the one thing I hadn’t been able to dismiss.

Don’t introduce me to something you can’t sustain, Elijah.

I glanced at the clock mounted above my office door—nearly one in the afternoon. I’d arrived at the hospital before six that morning, and if recovery didn’t have any concerns about Lorraine, I might leave by eight tonight.

Or an emergency could come through the doors at seven fifty-nine and keep me there until sunrise. Nothing about my life belonged completely to me.

“Elijah?”

“I’m here.”

“You got quiet.”

“I was thinking.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know if I should start something with her.”

Xander didn’t respond immediately.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“No. I know you like her. I know she likes you. Everything after that is something you’ve made up in your head.”

I swiveled back toward my desk. “My schedule hasn’t changed.”

“Neither has your hard head.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I stared at the stack of patient files awaiting my attention. Three postoperative visits. Two surgical consultations. A meeting with the hospital board. Thursday evening at the clinic. Friday’s dinner wedged between rounds and whatever emergency hadn’t announced itself yet.