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“About a seven.”
“Boxer.”
“I’m fine, Doc. Really. I’ve wiped out on my bike before. Been in plenty of fights. Pain I can deal with, okay?”
“Is that how you got your nickname?”
The question was out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it.
“No, that’s not how I got my nickname.” He smiled in amusement. “And it’s not a nickname, it’s a road name.”
Darn my curious nature.
“Oh. Road name. Right.” I sighed. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” he assured me.
Nodding, I headed for the door. “Have a good rest of your day.”
“Is your shift over?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Perfect.” He grinned and held up two low-fat yogurt cups that rested on his food tray. “Which one do you want?”
“Neither. You enjoy them.”
“Come on, Doc. It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s not even a date. It’s yogurt.”
I wasn’t hungry, but he was irresistible. I understood why the nurses liked Boxer. There was an ease to him, like he didn’t take himself too seriously. I was being pulled toward him by some giant invisible magnet. Against my better judgement, I sat in the chair next to his bedside.
He ripped open both yogurt cups, put the spoons in them, and then handed me one.
Our fingers brushed when I took the plastic cup from him. I attempted to ignore the pulse of electricity that shot through my arm.
It felt like a hit of dopamine fit for a junkie. It went straight to my head, making me feel light and airy.
“Thanks.”
Did my voice sound breathy?I hoped he didn’t notice.
“You’re not from here,” Boxer said. “Texas, I mean.”
I shook my head. “Watch Hill, Rhode Island.”
“Amanda said you moved here recently.”
“That Amanda.” I shook my head. “What did you do? Offer her yogurt and ply her with questions?”
“Nah. I only save the yogurt for cute doctors.” He winked. “Besides, she’s the one who offered that piece of information freely. Where’d you move from? Watch Hill?”
I paused, unsure of how I felt about Amanda discussing anything about my personal life with Boxer. But then I figured, what was the harm? It wasn’t like he’d asked anything truly intimate.
“I was in Durham—at Duke University Hospital.”
“Duke’s fucking prestigious, Doc. You must be at the top of your field. And you can’t be more than…thirty, I’m guessing.”
“It’s not polite to guess a woman’s age,” I joked, trying to keep the conversation light when it was venturing into a topic I didn’t want to discuss.
