Page 25 of Dr. Fellow

Chapter 11

Morgan

Ican’t decide what’s happening here. Men are simple, pea-brained creatures who only want one thing. But each time Walker gets remotely close to acting on that one thing, he pulls back. He’s not actively pursuing me, but he also doesn’t want me to leave—his mixed signals are driving me up the wall.

“Stay the night?” I ask, genuinely curious about his intentions. “You know I have a 5:00 a.m. wake-up call, right?”

Walker’s face almost looks pained as he watches me from the kitchen, his hands clenching the edge of the counter. “No, Morgan, you’re going to call in.”

I feel my blood start to boil. “Says who?”

I’m not sure what planet he thinks we’re living on, but it can’t be this one. He doesn’t get to tell me what I’m going to do. There isn’t a man in the world who has that pleasure, no matter how thoughtful or vulnerable they are.

Walker pushes himself off the counter and stalks toward me. “It’s fucking dangerous out there,” he says, stopping a foot away and staring me down with his unreadable, dark eyes. “You shouldn’t be driving.”

Technically, he does have a point. It would be dangerous to try to go into the hospital tomorrow, and after the shift I had, I was planning to call in and tell them that I need a personal day. But that doesn’t mean he has to know that. I don’t want him to think that I’m just going to roll over and follow his commands. It’s not in my nature.

I square my body with his and cross my arms. “Then I’ll walk.”

Walker looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, frustration and concern etched deeply on his face. “Walk? On an icy street at six in the morning? You might be irritating, but I know you’re not reckless.”

I study him closely, unwilling to back down but also aware of the worry lacing his tone. “Look, I appreciate what you’re getting at, but I can take care of myself. I’ve been handling things on my own for a long time.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he counters, scrubbing his hand over his face and letting out a long breath. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m not sure why it matters to you . . .” I mutter to myself, though he clearly hears it because his eyes darken.

He lets loose an incredulous laugh. “I don’t fucking know why either. Maybe because I enjoy being around you, even though you drive me nuts. Maybe because you need someone tonight, even if you won’t admit it. And maybe I need someone too—a friend.”

“Friend,” I say the word out loud, trying to get its bitter taste out of my mouth. Suddenly everything makes sense—that’s why he hasn’t made a move. I’m being friend-zoned.

Walker winces almost imperceptibly, like he hates his delineation almost as much as I hate hearing it.

“I like you . . . when you’re not being annoying as hell.”

I snort. “Wow, such high praise.”

“You’ll get my praise when you earn it,” he shoots back, his voice lowering an octave.

I’m not sure if he meant the statement to be sexy as fuck, but something in my low belly flutters to life. I ignore the sensation and refocus on what he really thinks of me.

“Sure I will, friend,” I taunt, purposely emphasizing the last word. “So what’s the plan then? Braid each other’s hair? Talk about boys? Cuddle in that big bed of yours?”

I recognize that I sound like a raging bitch right now, but that’s because I feel like a raging bitch.

He wants me to stay, but he doesn’t want to hookup and only has one bed. He says that we’re friends, but he looks like he’s going to devour me if he steps even a foot closer. He’s gentle and respectful, but there’s a carnal beast beneath the surface that I sometimes see a flicker of, and I just don’t understand why he’s fighting it by calling us friends.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You take the master.”

I can feel my face twisting in incredulity. “I’m like half your size. I’ll take the couch.”

His eyes travel down the length of my body in a way that’s both disarming and electrifying. “Do you ever do what you’re told?”

“Very rarely,” I admit, enjoying the way his gaze snags on my lips. “But that’s part of the fun.”

“For you, maybe. All it does is piss me off.”

“Exactly,” I tease. “I’ll take the bed. Not because you’re telling me to, but because I want to hear you admit that I was right tomorrow morning when you wake up with a sore neck from sleeping somewhere that’s too small for your big-ass body.”

---