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“Could you do anything about it?” he asked. “I mean, you did everything you could, right?”
“Of course, I did everything I could, but it didn’t matter. I lost him anyway.”
The bartender set my fresh cocktail in front of me.
“Thank you.”
“So, you went out with Amanda tonight, looking for a little bit of a distraction?” Boxer asked, pulling my attention back to him.
“Something like that.”
“I can distract you.”
I raised my brows. “Oh, can you?”
He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell the scent of his skin and feel the warmth emanating from him. “Yeah, Doc. I can distract the fuck out of you.”
My pulse pounded in my ears and desire coasted along my nerve endings to settle deep in my belly. Temptation coiled through me, and I turned my face up to his, silently begging for him to kiss me.
“Linden?” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“How are you at playing jacks?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Jacks,” he repeated. “Johnny, can we have a bag of jacks?”
The bartender grabbed a small brown leather pouch and set it down in front of Boxer. “Anything else?”
“Keep the drinks coming.”
* * *
I was going to kill Amanda. I was going to kill her slowly, and I was going to make it hurt.
This was all her fault.
She’d used her child as an excuse to ditch me and now I was drinking, laughing, and spending time with a biker.
I wanted Boxer to kiss me.
I hoped for it.
But Boxer hadn’t obliged. In fact, he was being obtuse—and for a man who’d charmed the entire nursing staff, I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.
Why didn’t he want to kiss me?
Why didn’t he brush my hair away from my shoulder?
Why didn’t his eyes linger on my lips?
“You’re up, Doc,” he said, reaching for his glass of club soda.
“What number are we on?” I scooped up the pile of jacks into my hand and grabbed the ball with the other.
“Sevensies.”
