Page 8 of Tempting

Oh. Joking Nixon is fun, but bossy Nixon just dropped his voice into a no-nonsense gravelly octave that may have sent a shiver down my spine.

“It starts at seven,” I answer quietly before firming up my voice. “Honestly, Nixon. I don’t need you to go. I don’t want to lie to everyone about having a boyfriend.” A flush of embarrassment blooms in my cheeks, and something tightens in my chest because I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with one of those either.

Nix drops his hand from mine and takes a step back. “We don’t have to lie to anyone but Dr. Dick. If anyone else asks, we’re two friends going to the same gala. So why not go together? Besides, I already donate to my mom’s autism charity. If she’s raising money for the hospital’s department, it’s a good cause.”

“Nixon—” I try to stop him, but my words die on my tongue with his devious smile.

“See you next Saturday at six forty-five, Mac. Now go inside so I can go to bed.”

“What?” I ask, utterly confused, but Nixon ignores the confusion and looks from me to the door.

“Go inside and lock the door so I can go to bed, Mackenzie,” he tells me in that same gravelly voice, and I’m pretty sure he’s serious.

“You’re not my babysitter, Nixon,” I warn him even as I take a step inside and leave my hand on the door.

“Nope. But I am your fake boyfriend, Mac. Now shut the damn door and lock it.” His baby-blue eyes crinkle in the corners as one side of his lips tip up in a sexy, nearly predatory grin, and I suddenly wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

Guess we’re going to find out.

KENZIE

I might not be able to find the words to explain how I feel, but you can bet your sweet ass I’ll find a song that can.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Time always seems to move at two speeds, warp or slower than a snail, and the following week is no exception. My hours are insane. The cases run the gamut of textbook births to a fifty-six-year-old woman wanting to be a surrogate for her daughter, and everything in between. And I fucking love it. I’m here for it all and I’m grateful every day that I get to do this job and get paid to do what I love.

But some days... some days, when the exhaustion is running high and the sleep is at a minimum, I still question my sanity. Today is definitely leaning toward one of those days.

I drop my face into my hands and take a few deep breaths before my momentary silence is interrupted by the scraping of a cafeteria chair against the old linoleum floor like nails on a chalkboard, forcing me to look up too soon.

“Hey...” my friend Bellamy groans, much less peppy than her usually cheerful self as she sits down across from me, a chocolate chip cookie in hand that she breaks in half before handing me a piece. Her dark hair is falling out of the space buns sitting on top of her head, and her formerly light-blue nurse’s scrubs look a little worse for wear as she kicks her crocs up on the chair across from her. “What are you still doing here? I thought you got off an hour ago?”

“Last patient was a rough delivery.” I don’t tell her how rough because nobody needs to hear that. “How about you? You look like you need a shower and about seventy-two hours of sleep,” I muse as I pop a piece of cookie in my mouth. Pretty sure this is the first thing I’ve eaten in hours. Nothing like a stale cookie and burned coffee for breakfast at eleven a.m. after skipping dinner the previous night.

Bellamy slid easily into our friend group once her oldest brother married Everly, but truthfully, she’d already been on the fringes without us knowing it. She’s one of the few women who adores my cousin Caitlin. Maddox’s little sister can be a bit much, but she and Bellamy have been best friends and roommates for years. She’s also one of the few people I knew here at the hospital when I started working at my aunt Wren’s ob-gyn practice and delivering babies here.

“Listen, I’ve been on for eighteen hours straight because the flu is hitting early, and four nurses called out. And that was after working three twelves already this week.” She looks down at her shirt, then sniffs a spot and cringes. “I need to do laundry. I need a shower. And I need to eat something that wasn’t made in this cafeteria. Not necessarily in that order. But for now, I’ll settle for a shower and my bed. How about you?”

I shake my head slowly. “I’ve got to stop by Everly’s shop before I can go to bed. I promised Wren I’d go to the gala the hospital is throwing this weekend and represent the practice. She’s out of town visiting her son’s college for his game this weekend.”

“Here.” Bellamy’s face falls, and she places the rest of the cookie on a napkin next to my coffee. “Sounds like you might need this more than I do.”

“Guess that means I won’t be seeing you at the event?” I ask, jealous and not at all looking forward to Saturday night or the complications I’m already envisioning.

“Nope. I’m working another twelve that night. But it’s been the buzz of the hospital all week. Do you have a date for it? I think my brothers and Everly and Grace are going.”

My cheeks heat.

Great. That’s just what I need.

The twins to already be at the event when I show up with their little brother.

They always call all their brothers their little brothers, even if Nixon is nearly a foot taller and only a year younger than them. I think it was their way of torturing him, especially since he was physically bigger than both girls before he even hit puberty.

“What’s up with that look?” Bellamy’s eyes narrow as she points at my cheeks. “Do you have an actual date? Like a guy date?”

I tip my head to the side and roll my lips together, unsure how to answer.

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