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Brooke
My first three days of training in Houston had been busy, exactly the distraction I needed. Lucas hadn’t called or texted. Hell, he’d probably been relieved I’d left the way I had four days ago. Cleaner than dealing with my tears or having to tell me once again how sorry he was he didn’t reciprocate my feelings.
“Do you want another, miss?”
I glanced up at the hotel bartender and then at my empty glass of Scotch. “Yes, please. Is it possible to order dinner here too?”
“I’m afraid not, but they could seat you in the restaurant.”
“Or you could have dinner with me?”
My body stiffened at the sound of Keith Warner’s voice. A fellow doctor in the Doctors Without Borders training program, he was a cocky know-it-all who was more interested in telling everyone about his charity work than actually doing it. Thank goodness he wasn’t going to Haiti too. I wasn’t sure I could endure three months with the asshole.
He slid onto the stool to my right.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Come on. Could be a night you’d never forget.”
I took a sip of my freshly poured Scotch, rolling my eyes at his stupid pickup line. “I’m already trying to forget about it.”
“Maybe I could interest you in dinner instead,” a voice from my left sounded in my ear. A timbre I’d recognize anywhere.
Lucas.
I glanced over taking in the image of him wearing a suit and tie, the same as the first night we’d met. But this time my emotion in seeing his handsome face was magnified by how much I loved him.
He winked. “They don’t have In-N-Out burger here in Texas, but I hear good things about Whataburger.”
Keith scoffed. “You’re joking. There’s a quality steakhouse in the hotel. Why would she go with you to eat fast food?”
“Mm, I do love my fast food.”
“That’s crazy.” Keith sounded outraged.
I shrugged. “I’ve asked myself if I’m crazy, and we’re on the fence.”
Keith finally got the hint and took off. Signaling the bartender, Lucas ordered. “I’ll have what the lady is drinking.”
Leave it to him to stick to the script from our first night. I took a sip of my Scotch and went along with it. “You into crazy girls?”
“Not just into them, but I’m in love with one.”
Scotch suddenly went down the wrong pipe, and I started coughing. A strong hand started patting my back. He loved me?
“Careful, or Lord of the Pricks will return with an excuse to give you mouth to mouth.”
Jesus, now I was choking and laughing. Not a great combo.
He slid my water toward me.
I took a long drink and finally got control over the situation. “What did you say?” My heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
“I said careful or Lord of—”
“No, before that.”
He flashed a panty-melting grin. “I said I’m in love with a crazy girl. While I might argue she’s more mischievous than truly crazy, there was this one time while I was driving that would prove otherwise.”
