Page 12 of Dr. Fellow

As he reads the screen, his expression morphs from confusion to realization, and then, annoyingly, to amusement. His hearty laugh echoes through the empty triage area, leaving me standing there feeling like an idiot because I don’t understand the joke.

“Code boobies. Damn, that’s a good one,” Beau manages between breaths. He turns to Claire. “You know anything about this, pretty girl?”

Her icy blue eyes twinkle with delight. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

I tune him out as he replies with some deviant comment about what he plans to do to her tonight as payback.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Morgan trying her hardest to stealthily sneak up behind Beau with something clutched in her hand. Since I know for a fact that nurses don’t carry pagers, I can only assume that she swiped Beau’s and is now attempting to return it while he’s distracted. Under normal circumstances, she might go unnoticed and succeed. But I’m here, and whether I like it or not, I notice everything about her.

I notice the way her small dimples kiss the edge of her full lips when she smiles or laughs. I notice the way I make her nervous, how her breath quickens and her skin flushes around her ears when I’m close. But most of all, I notice the way she responds to me—and no matter how hard I try, I can’t help but respond back.

Lunging forward, I snag her arm before she can reach Beau’s back pocket. “Whatcha got there?”

Her eyes shine mischievously as they meet mine, then drop to my hand tightly wrapped around her forearm, as if she feels what’s happening between us just as much as I do. It’s almost like a current of energy is flowing from her skin to mine, sparking to life pieces of me I thought were long dead. It happened the night of the New Year’s Eve party. It happened two weeks ago when she made me lift her up to hang the damn decorations in the ER. It’s happening now, and I want to hate it . . . but I don’t.

“I was just returning something,” she replies with a sly smile.

Releasing her arm, I hold my hand out for the pager in a bullshit attempt at maintaining some semblance of distance between us. Her gaze sharpens in challenge as she places it in my palm, purposely brushing her fingers against mine, almost like she’s baiting me with her touch because she knows that I can’t resist her.

Beau grabs his pager and spins to face Morgan. “I can’t even be mad. That was fucking hilarious.”

She winks at me before turning to bump her knuckles against his massive ones. “You like the message? Some of my best work.”

“Hell yeah, I did. What’s wrong, Morg?” he asks, frowning down at her with amusement. “Your titties feeling a little lonely today? No Valentine to show them some love?”

My eyes inadvertently drop to her chest.

While it’s not the first thing I noticed about her, she really does have a nice rack. They’re perky and plump—the kind of tits that most women pay thousands of dollars for. The kind of tits that I have the sudden desire to sink my teeth into.

“I have plenty of Valentines,” she jokes, rolling her emerald green eyes. “Just none that are worthy of my time at the moment. Why would I want to see someone again after a pump and dump? It truly baffles me.”

“Pump and dump?” I hear myself ask.

Morgan turns her attention to me, her brow cocks like she can’t believe that I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Yeah, you know, when a guy gives you a few mediocre pumps before he blows his load, and then confidently asks if you came.”

I grit my teeth, digesting her words.

That was the last thing I was expecting to come out of her mouth, and it sends a surprising prickle of irritation down my spine. Not because she’s hooking up with men, but because she isn’t being satisfied by them. Because they’re using her for instant gratification and not reciprocating. I know I’ve only slept with one woman in my miserable life, but even I know that sex is a two-way street.

“Yeah, Walker-boo-boo, how could you not know what a pump and dump is?” Beau taunts, clearly intent on getting under my skin today.

I scoff, shooting him a nasty glare. “I’m going to pump and dump in your nasty-ass protein shakes if you keep calling me that.”

“What about me, Walker-boo-boo?” Morgan chimes. Her tone is playful, but her expression is defiant. “What are you going to do if I call you that?”

I hear Beau and Claire snicker, but my eyes stay locked on Morgan as a reel of depraved fantasies plays through my mind in answer to her question. She makes me want to tap in to parts of myself that I didn’t even know existed until recently.I want to tease her. I want to test her. I want to tie her up and torment her for making me feel this way.

But I don’t say any of that. I simply bend low and whisper in her ear, “Oh little devil, you don’t want to know what I’d like to do to you.”

Chapter 5

Morgan

Ithink if I had to choose a single alcoholic beverage to enjoy for the rest of my life it would be a margarita—something about them just speaks to my soul. It could be because nine times out of ten, I’m enjoying one with a massive bowl of chips and queso. It could be because of the numerous country songs devoted to the frozen concoction. Or, it could just be because they’re freaking delicious. Whatever it is, I’m the happiest version of myself when I’m sipping a marg . . . until my friends start talking about Parker Winters.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to call off the wedding?” I ask, my tongue already loose from the extra tequila they put in my beverage at Señor Cuervos. “I mean really, I wouldn’t judge you. I’d kick him to the curb for leaving the cap off the toothpaste.”

Cassidy glares at me from across the table, and continues to complain to Claire about the frustrations of living with a man. I tune them out, taking a long sip as I peer down at my cleavage.

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