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Work was nonstop, and she was an hour and a half late getting home. She’d sneaked in a text to Graham that he should eat dinner without her, but had time for little else. Luckily a drug rep had left deli sandwiches in the break room and she swiped one on her way out. It was for Graham’s benefit, really, because there was no telling what state of hangry she’d have been in by the time she got home otherwise.
She’d also received an email from the hospital’s credentialing office that everything was complete and she could officially transition to her role as nurse practitioner. A second email from Dr. Singh followed, asking when Claire could meet to discuss an official start date. Other than giving Ruthie a quick heads-up that her nurse shift days were numbered, she hadn’t had time to deal with it.
When she got to the condo she went straight to her room to change, wanting to fall right into bed. Graham’s bed, that was...because she’d never gone back to sleeping in her room and had no intention of doing so.
She refused to think about what would happen next week when Reagan returned. She was dreading the impact that would have on her and Graham’s...whatever it was.
Clad in yoga pants and a T-shirt, she padded to Graham’s room and stopped short.
He sat on the side of the bed, shirtless, his shoulders hunched forward with one hand braced on his knee and the other in his thick hair.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, unable to ignore how sexy he was in partial undress despite his obvious distress.
Graham straightened and looked up, shuttering his expression. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
She frowned and walked around to stand in front of him. She leaned her hips against the dresser and crossed her arms. “No, you’re not.”
He shook his head, the lines in his forehead smoothing. “You had a ridiculously long day. You must be exhausted. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Graham Scott, if you don’t tell me right this second—”
“Fine.” He gripped the back of his neck. He paused, and finally his shoulders fell. “I just talked to my dad. My mom had a relapse. She fell and has been too weak to get out of bed for three days.”
Her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” She took two steps forward and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, sliding her thumbs back and forth across his warm skin. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
He leaned into her, resting his forehead against her rib cage. She slid one hand to his hair and he sighed heavily. “It’s not the first time this has happened, but my dad hates to leave her to go to work when it does. When it looks like it’ll be longer than a few days before she recovers, I usually try to go down there to help. But I can’t fucking drive and it’s expensive to fly.”
The words left her mouth before she realized it. “I could drive you.”
He lifted his head, dark eyes meeting hers. “What?”
“I mean, I can’t take a ton of time off work, but I’m not on the schedule this weekend. We could go down Friday and stay until Sunday. I could probably switch shifts with someone on Monday if you wanted to stay a little longer.”
Graham just stared at her, his lips parted slightly. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. You’re my friend and you’re worried about your family. They’re important to you and you’re important to me. I’d be happy to help, if you’ll let me.”
His expression altered a little, snagging on that last part with something like hesitation. “I’ve only taken someone where I grew up once, and it didn’t go very well.” He shook his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I didn’t... That is, it’s not very...” He seemed to struggle to find the right words.
“You know I don’t care about where you lived, right?” Was that what he was worried about?
He shrugged, appearing strangely vulnerable.
“Graham, I want to go because you’re my friend and because I want to be there for you, not because I give two shits about how much money your parents have. That means less than nothing to me.” She cocked her head. “Is that what you mean by it didn’t go so well? What kind of woman were you dating, Graham? Because she sounds like an asshole. You deserve better than that.”
He just looked at her, searching her face. His hands had found their way to her waist and his fingers tightened their grip as his brow furrowed.
She moved her hands from his head to his shoulders. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I...” He blinked, as if trying to make sense of something. “I never thought I’d find something more attractive about you than your smart mouth. But that might be the nicest, most genuine thing you’ve ever said to me, and I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right now. I’m not really sure what to do with that.”
Claire’s heart thumped beneath her ribs. Her legs wobbled a little and she leaned into him, lowering her forehead to his. “I think you do.”
18
That was an invitation to kiss her if Graham had ever heard one.
With a tilt of his chin, their lips met in a kiss that was slow, deep, and searching.
