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“No, I made cowboy casserole. It just has tater tots on it,” I correct, setting the dish down on another potholder. Then I go to the fridge to pull out the salad I made earlier, a couple of kinds of dressing, and a tub of sour cream, which is a necessity when you’re having cowboy casserole.
“What’s this?” he asks, and I look to where he’s standing at the island and see him leafing through the folder for the class that I left there.
“That trauma class I wanted to take, the one I didn’t get into.” He nods, knowing what class I’m talking about, since I told him when I found out I didn’t get accepted. “A student dropped out, so I have a spot if I want it,” I finish, watching him take a swig from his beer and his eyes come back to me.
“You don’t seem excited,” he observes, and I turn to grab two plates from the cupboard.
“I don’t know how I feel about it yet,” I say, avoiding looking at him.
“Why’s that?” he pushes, and I wonder how to tell him, or what to tell him exactly.
“There’s a doctor at work, and he kinda makes me uncomfortable. He’s the one who recommended me for the open spot in the class,” I confess, placing scoops of the casserole on each plate along with some salad.
“Look at me,” he growls, and even though I don’t really want to look at him, because the energy in the room has shifted and he sounds angry, I still turn my head to meet his gaze. “How’s he make you uncomfortable?”
“I just don’t like the way he makes me feel. And one of the nurses I work with says she’s heard rumors about him and that there are other nurses who have lost their jobs while he’s kept his,” I admit quietly, and his jaw clenches.
“You never mentioned this before.”
“I know.” I watch his knuckles turn white around the beer in his hand. “I didn’t want you to worry.” I take a step toward him, watching him pull in a deep breath, and I rest my hands against his chest. “I’m probably just overthinking this, and who knows if the rumors are even true?”
“Who is he?” he asks, and my stomach twists.
“I’m probably overthinking this and worried about nothing,” I try again, and he dips his face closer to mine.
“Who is he?” he repeats, ignoring me.
“Harlen—”
“Who the fuck is he, Harmony?”
“His name is Hofstadter, but you can’t do anything to him. The only thing he’s done is ask me out. That’s it. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong.”
“He asked you out?” he clarifies, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper, and my eyes slide closed. Shit. “He asked you out?” he repeats once more, and my eyes open, meeting his.
“I… yes, but I told him no, obviously.”
“So you turned him down, and in return, he got you into a class that was full and has already started,” he surmises, and I feel my stomach drop. “Fuck,” he clips, and his eyes go over my head.
I slide my arms around his waist and rest my ear over his T-shirt covered chest, listening to his heart as it pounds heavily against his rib cage.
“Please calm down,” I whisper, and his arms slide around me, one going around my waist, the other around my shoulders, holding me tightly against his frame.
“You tell me if he does anything. I don’t give a fuck if it’s him offering you a fucking tissue after you sneeze, or a piece of gum. You tell me about it,” he orders, and I nod my head. “Take the class.”
“What?” I tip my head back to look up at him, and his face dips to meet my gaze.
“He might have given a recommendation, but you would have gotten in on your own eventually. He can’t hold that shit over your head, and if he tries, I’ll deal with him personally.”
“Harlen,” I sigh, dropping my eyes from his, and his arms give me a squeeze.
“He know you got a man?” he asks, and my body locks. “He doesn’t know,” he mutters, and I bite my lip.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell him,” I admit quietly, keeping my eyes off his.
“Right.”
“I was going to,” I defend quietly, not wanting him to think I wouldn’t tell him that I have a boyfriend.
“I believe you, baby.”
“Promise?” I question, tipping my head back to look at him, and the moment our eyes lock, his search mine.
“Promise.” He dips his head, brushing his lips across mine.
“Good.” I wrap my fingers around the side of his neck then lift up on my tiptoes to touch my mouth to his, and his arms tighten around me.
“You need me to help with anything?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I got it covered.”
