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“Dr. Brady, is thisyouremployee? Did you witness what just happened here?”
“Oh, I saw it,” I said softly.
June, still holding the plastic cup in front of her, looked stricken with fear. The idea that she was afraid ofmemade me want to go on a Godzilla-style rampage. I didn’t ever want to see that look on her face again. I’d saved her life two days ago, for God’s sake.A little credit here, Cupcake?
“This is unacceptable,” Larsey continued, clearly convinced that my ire was directed at June and not at him. “I’ve never been so—”
“Mr. Larsey,” I clipped.
The man had some sense, after all, because his soft jowls quivered as he snapped his dentures together. I saw the slow awareness creep over his features—the dawning realization that my scowl was directed at him. His pose shifted and he angled away from me.
“Ms. Matthews represents my practice. She is an extension of myself, and I believe you called her a bitch. Do you feel that I, too, am a bitch, Mr. Larsey?”
He said nothing, quivering.
“I will be transferring your care immediately,” I said, and moved through the lobby, dismissing him. “Remove yourself from this surgical center or I will do it for you.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Larsey said at last. With one more glare at June, he limped out of the foyer.
The two patients in padded waiting chairs gawked. June crunched the empty cup to her breasts with her green eyes wide like jade stones. I pulled my keys from my pocket and gestured toward the hallway, my gaze on June. “Come with me, Matthews.”
Katherine and Maxine swiveled their astonished expressions from me to June, and I could tell they wanted to protect her from whatever wrath they expected me to rain down on her head. But June obeyed immediately. She set the cup down on the counter and walked briskly around the front desk. You could have knocked me over with a boba tea straw—she’d actually done what I’d asked.
As she emerged from the cover of the desk, I had to make a concerted effort not to stumble into the door. She looked downright edible. She was wearing a puffy, babydoll-style dress with pastel, rainbow-hued colors splashed over the fabric like an abstract watercolor painting. The sleeves curved just off her shoulders and puffed out like two cotton candy swirls. The skirt flared out from her generous bust and ended mid-thigh. She put her hands in two pockets and chewed the inside of her lip as she approached me.
I wasn’t going to make more of a scene in front of patients and other staff, so I opened the door to our back rooms and gestured mutely for her to walk through. She did, her back pencil-straight and her soft, auburn curls trembling slightly. She didn’t even wait for me to lead. She went right for my office, and then I opened the door with my key.
She paused at the threshold, her wide eyes bouncing between mine like she could read her future in my gaze. With my arm holding the door for her, I bobbed my head in the direction of my office again. June breezed past me, smelling like cherry blossom lotion, and then plunked herself down on one of the chairs across from my desk.
I shut the door, leaned against my desk, and gave her a once-over. “Are you okay?”
She looked up from her lap like I’d asked for directions to Mars. “What?”
“Are you,” I repeated slowly, folding my arms, “okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”
“No,” she said, her brows contracted in confusion. “You… aren’t you mad?”
“Why would I be mad with you?” I asked softly.
June mimicked the splashing of the boba tea thing. “That. I did that.” She did it again, tossing an invisible cup of boba tea at me. “All over a patient.”
“He was threatening you,” I said, pushing off from the desk and unfolding my arms. “You beat me to it. And,” I admitted with a guilty stretch of my mouth, “probably saved me from battery charges.”
She gaped up at me.
“Cupcake,” I said, and leaned down, resting my hands on the arms of her chair so my face was angled down a hair’s breadth from hers. “The benefit of winning over the bad guy is being on his good side. I will pulverize anyone who talks to you like that again.”
“Holy sheep,” she whispered.
“Now,” I said, straightening again and holding out a hand. “The real reason I asked you back here was to ask you out for dinner. Are you free?”
She took my hand, standing, and her slack-jawed amazement turned glittery. “For real?”
“June.” My eyes hooded to half-mast with derision. “I hate repeating myself.” I tugged her to me, sliding a hand around the small of her back and holding back the urge to take a huge bite out of her. Shelookedlike a cupcake. A sherbet cupcake that smelled like flowers. “Send me a list of the places you like.”
Uncertainty suddenly clouded her features. She chewed on her lip so hard, I half expect to see blood. “Yeah, okay.”
“What?” I asked.
