Page 10 of Dr. Baby Daddy

A small twinge of guilt stabs at my chest. It disappears as quickly as it came when I look down at the flyer still in my hand.

I should shove it beneath her door, but I can’t bring myself to do it. If I’m going to complain to her about shoving flyers in people’s mailboxes, it seems hypocritical to do the same back to her.

With a sigh, I turn and stuff the flyer into my pocket. My empty apartment greets me as I go to my door and unlock it. The sight of my kitchen and living room should be welcoming, but today it just feels lonely.

I toss my backpack onto the couch before heading into the kitchen and yanking open the fridge. The bottle of beer sitting on the middle shelf has my name written all over it after the day I’ve had.

Maybe I should do something different for once.

The flyer is burning a hole in my pocket. It’s ridiculous to think of me sitting in a jazz bar just to listen to a woman I don’t even like playing the piano.

Except, she is talented. Every time I hear her play, thoughts of picking up one of my guitars and playing again circle through my mind.

I pull out the flyer, searching for the name of the club. The Gilded Raven.

I haven’t been there before, but I know where it is. Some of the other doctors go there after work to unwind on particularly hard days. They’ve invited me with them more than once, but I’ve never had a reason to go. Sitting at home and drinking a beer on my own has always been more appealing.

Until tonight.

Tonight, I can’t seem to shake the thought of those warm brown eyes looking up at me as I give her hell.

I could go to the club, wait until she’s done her show, and then hand the flyer to her and tell her not to stick trash in my mailbox anymore.

Or I could go and just listen to her play.

Izzy sits behind a sleek black piano, her blond hair dusting the tops of her shoulder blades in the backless emerald dress she wears. The satin clings to her curves, making my cock twitch to life.

Watching her from the shadows of the bar might be a coward’s move, but I don’t want her to know that I’m here. With that friendly attitude of hers, she might think that it means more than it does.

Tonight, I just want to take a moment to revisit the version of me that loved music more than medicine.

For a long time, I thought that I was going to become a musician. At least, I did until the first time I stepped on the stage. All the talent fled my body like it couldn’t leave me fast enough.

A talent show in middle school was the first and the last time that I performed for an audience.

Izzy looks unbothered as she smiles at the crowd. Her slender fingers position over the keys as waiters carry food and drinks throughout the club. I lean forward, my folded arms resting on the edge of the table.

When she plays, the room starts to quiet, one conversation ending and then another. By the time she finishes one song and moves on to the next, there isn’t a conversation to be heard.

Izzy is even better than I thought she was.

She plays a soft melody, the notes haunting. Though most people seem to be focused on the way her hands glide across the piano, I can’t tear my gaze from her face. Dark eyelashes frame the blissful look in her eyes as she plays. She looks entirely at peace, as if nothing can or will ever bother her. She is entirely lost in that moment.

Is that what the look on her face would be if I buried myself inside her?

The thought comes out of nowhere, but it’s not an unwelcome one.

That dress hugs her body, showing off every curve. The neckline is low, showing off the tops of her round breasts. She smiles as she looks out over the crowd, the look sultry enough to have my cock standing fully at attention.

As she finishes the last song before a break, she stands, and the hemline of her dress climbs even higher. The club goes wild as she waves to them before winking at someone on the other side of the room.

I follow her line of sight to a woman behind the bar before glancing back at Izzy. She strides away, the lights making her bare legs look sun-kissed.

All I can think about are those toned thighs bracketing my head as she comes on my tongue.

It’s time to go home.

These are not the kind of thoughts I should be having about Izzy. Not when she annoys me to no end every time I’m trying to sleep.

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