Page 58 of Dr. Intern

He’s wearing a backward navy baseball cap, dark jeans, and a white long-sleeve T-shirt that is a tad too tight. The stubble on his face has transformed into a short beard, making him appear much older, even though we’re only a year apart in age.

I want to tell him that he looks hotter than ever—that I want him to throw his arms around my waist and have his way with me. But because I suck at communication, all I say is, “You stink big boy.”

Beau tilts his head to his shoulder, inhaling deeply. “Whew, yeah,” he admits, shooting me a sheepish grin that makes my heart melt. “That’ll happen when you go two days without a shower.”

“Do they not teach you basic hygiene in doctor school?”

Beau doesn’t smell that bad. It just adds to the rugged look that he has going on, like he was out doing manly things. The thought makes my blood stir.

“Oh, they do,” he says, taking a step backward, “but I was having too much fun to be bothered.”

I pucker my lips. “Well, could you bother to take a shower? We already have one animal in this condo, I don’t think we need another one.”

He shrugs. “You know what they say . . . you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.”

“Go.” I point toward the stairs, trying my hardest to muster a scowl despite everything inside me wanting to smile.

“Yes ma’am,” he drawls, backtracking slowly and never once dropping his gaze from mine, as if he’s daring me to follow him. When he reaches the base of the stairs, he pauses with a smug grin on his lips. “Happy to leave the door open again.”

Without thinking, I pick up an ornament from the floor and chuck it at him as he races up the stairs, unable to control his laughter.

Fifteen minutes later, Beau comes down wearing a pair of dark gray joggers, running shoes, and a fitted black T-shirt. His thick, wavy hair is combed but still looks disheveled, like he towel-dried it in a rush.

“Something smells amazing,” Beau comments, narrowly avoiding Frosty who has claimed a spot on the floor in front of the stairs. The kitten somehow got hold of a stray ornament and is amusing himself by batting it around with his tiny paws.

I made my mom’s oatmeal raisin cookies, and they’ve been cooling on the counter. They’re practically the only thing I know how to make, and I figured they would be the perfect reward for my decorating frenzy.

“Going somewhere?” I ask, trying to hide my disappointment at seeing Beau fully dressed. I was kind of hoping he would stick around but it looks like he’s going to the gym.

It’s totally fine, Claire. He has no obligation to hangout with you.

“What?” His brow furrows as he plops onto the couch. “No?Why?”

I adjust my body, pulling my legs up to my chest as I turn to face him. “Tennis shoes inside kind of signify that you plan on leaving.”

“I’ve barely seen you in over a week. You think I want to leave already?”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” I admit, working to control the emotions in my chest. It’s embarrassing how attached I am to him.

“I wore tennis shoes because I figured you needed help with decorating, seeing as the top half of the tree is completely bare.”

My heart swells, but I paste a glare on my face. “Why would you need shoes for that? I did it in bare feet.”

“And you almost fell,” he reminds me, unbothered by my sass. “We’re going to use a ladder, and on ladders you wear shoes.”

“Okay, bossy Beau.”

“I like big boy Beau better.”

“I’m sure you do.”

His tone turns serious. “Let’s get a few things straight, Claire,” he sighs. “I’m not going anywhere. When I’m not at the hospital, the only place I want to be is here, with you.”

“But—” I try to make a joke since his words are making my pulse race, but he interrupts.

“Let me finish.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Fuck, you really are the worst at emotions.”

“Am not!” I protest.

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