Page 36 of Dr. Fellow

After knocking, I notice a squirrel stealing seeds from the bird feeder in front of the bay window. As I’m shooing it away, Morgan opens the door wearing nothing but a triumphant expression on her face and a gray T-shirt that stops at her mid-thigh.

“You know the squirrels are eating your bird food?”

“Yes?” She looks at me like I’m crazy for asking the question. “I feed them because they’re cute, and they bring me happiness.”

Of course she does.

Her eyes narrow on me but glimmer with amusement, like she can’t decide whether she’s pissed or excited to see me on her front porch. “So who spilled the beans? Was it Claire? She always says that I can’t keep a secret, but she’s just as bad.”

I step inside before she has a chance to close the door on me.

“Actually, it was Beau,” I admit, holding up the bottle of wine in my hand as a peace offering. “Don’t kill him—he’s tired and easily manipulated.”

I told Beau that I needed Morgan’s address to return her credit card because she dropped it in the ER this morning. That obviously never happened, but because trauma service is busting his balls, he didn’t even question it—the man is a living, breathing zombie at the moment.

“God, he’s such a dumbass.” She takes the bottle from me and closes the door. “A big, loveable, dumbass.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” I reply, sweeping my eyes over her body as she heads for the kitchen.

She must have recently gotten out of the shower because there’s a dark spot on the back of her shirt. The hem rides up to just below her ass, exposing her toned thighs as she reaches for two wine glasses. I can’t say with certainty, but it doesn’t look like she’s wearing anything other than the thin cotton.

“Ugh,” she sighs, returning to her feet. “It’s much more fun to banter with you, though.”

I chuckle, watching her uncork the wine bottle. “Don’t worry—we have all night. There’s still plenty of time for you to work your magic.”

Morgan smirks as she pours the wine, her playful green eyes flicking up to meet mine. “All night, huh?”

She hands me a glass and we both pause, silently acknowledging the mutual jolt of sensation. She pulls away quickly and walks across the kitchen toward the open-concept living room.

“Well, come on then.” She flops down on the white leather couch which takes up the majority of the room. “Don’t just stand there like a stiff tree. You’re the one who wanted to intrude on my evening of bliss, so get your ass over here. It’s time to watch the greatest reality show in the history of television.”

I bite back a snide comment because watching a trashy show is the last reason I came over here—it was just an excuse.

Morgan grabs the remote, tucking her feet under her as she starts searching for the show. The oversized T-shirt slips slightly to reveal more of her legs, and the casual intimacy of her posture makes the space between us feel even more charged.

I sit beside her and try to distract myself from the way my blood is rushing to my groin by taking in her space for the first time. There’s art hanging on the walls, books filling the built-in shelves, and fresh hydrangeas sitting on the glass coffee table in front of us. It’s surprisingly homey and doesn’t feel like a rental at all, but a place that she curated to her own tastes.

My focus snags on several gold picture frames placed on the white-washed mantle beneath the TV. One in particular catches my eye—Morgan’s slightly tanned cheek is smashed against a guy who looks to be around her age, maybe slightly younger. She has the biggest grin on her face, and you can feel the love radiating through the photo.

“Who’s that?” I ask, nodding in the direction of the frame. I don’t want to appear jealous, but I can hear my tone change as the words come out.

“Calm down, killer. It’s my younger brother Jake. That was the day he graduated college.”

I release the breath that I didn’t know I was holding, and look back at the photo. Now that I can think straight, the resemblance between them actually is striking—they share the same dark-green eyes, olive skin, and wide smile.

“What does he do now?”

An exasperated laugh escapes her lips, and I’m sure if I were to look over at her, she would be staring at the image with pride.

“Other than date every blonde in the state of Alabama? Baseball. He works for a college team as an assistant coach. He never made it big, but he has so much passion for the game that he decided to make a career out of it. I’ve always admired the way he never let his struggles as a pitcher diminish his love for the sport. Not many people have that kind of resilience.”

I glance over at Morgan, realizing now that the logo on her massive T-shirt belongs to a college.

Her gaze follows mine and an answering grin forms on her lips. “Yeah, it’s from his team. Makes me feel close to him even if we don’t get to see each other much. We’re five years apart, so growing up we were sometimes on different wavelengths, but I’ve always been his biggest supporter.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that softens the edges of her usually tough demeanor. This woman who acts so unbothered and uninterested in love, clearly cherishes her personal relationships deeply.

“And the others?” I gesture to the frames sitting beside the one of her brother.

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