Page 60 of Dr. Single Dad

“What?” I ask.

“Good evening to you too,” he says, barging past me. “I think you meant to say,thank you, Jacob, for coming to check on my daughter after you’ve spent the entire day at the hospital. You’re the best big brother ever.”

I groan and close the door.

“She’s in…” I call after him as he enters my bedroom.

I watch from the doorway as he and Eira work together to move Guinevere, remove her clothing, check her temperature and discuss fluid intake and medications.

“She’s bouncing back nicely,” he says. “Just got to ride it out.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” I say.

“You need to move,” he says as he passes me. “Takes too long to get here. There’s a house just gone on the market opposite me. I’ll send you the details.”

I don’t have the energy to argue with him. “Okay.” Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea having a pediatrician I share a gene pool with living directly opposite me. “I’ll take a look.”

He shoots me a glare that says,did I hear you right?

Everything’s changed.

“I really appreciate you coming over to check on her. Do you want some pie?” I ask.

“Pie?” he asks, incredulous. “What kind of pie.”

“Chicken and mushroom,” Eira says. “There’s plenty.”

And of course, Jacob stays for pie, because that’s the kind of cockblocker he is.

TWENTY-THREE

Eira

I can’t make out what they’re saying, but Jacob seems in no mood to leave anytime soon. It’s giving me breathing room. Anytime Dax is near me, I lose all sense of judgement. I know that kissing him is a bad idea. Him touching me is a bad idea. Letting him near me is averybad idea.

But whenever he’s around, I just can’t help it.

I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but all my self-control abandons me as soon as I’m alone with Dax.

In fairness, I’ve never had a boss who’s single and sexy as hell. I’ve never been tested to this extent as a result. But if every single one of my friends were asked to vote, none of them would say I’d risk my job for a roll in the hay.

So what’s different about Dax?

Everything, my body sings.

It’s not logical. It’s chemical.

I’ve been pacing the length of my bedroom since I excused myself from dinner with Jacob and Dax. I step over the still-disorganized books and trinkets, hoping my thoughts will slot neatly into place if I just keep moving.

Maybe we need to get it over with. Sleep together once, and maybe that will be that. If it’s just once, then maybe he won’t fire me. Especially if I’m super professional and the next morning act like nothing happened.

That’s the answer—scratch the itch.

Then be done.

Someone must have opened the kitchen door, because I can hear both of them now. I stop by my bedroom door. Waiting. Listening.

For what? I don’t know.

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