Page 9 of Tempting

“Mackenzie... is he a hot guy date?” Her smile grows slowly as she waits, but once she decides she’s waited long enough, she snatches her cookie back. “No chocolate for you, if you’re getting laid and keeping it secret.”

I open my mouth to correct her but laugh instead when she pops a piece in her mouth and points again, this time with the cookie. “Chocolate is reserved for those of us that need the extra help with endorphins... like me. I don’t remember the last time I got laid by something that doesn’t require batteries.”

I take my time and swallow the remnants of my crappy coffee in my paper cup before looking at my friend. “First, you need to get a vibrator with a charging cord. Take it from someone who knows. Total game changer.” Bellamy opens her mouth to interrupt, but I put my finger up. “Nope. Still my turn.”

Her smile grows to almost cartoon-like proportions, like she thinks she’s about to get all the juicy gossip.

Poor thing obviously doesn’t know me as well as she must think she does if she’s expecting me to have dirty details to share.

Hell... I’d settle for remembering what dirty details actually feel like.

And on that note, I point my finger right at Bellamy. “Now, second, I’m right there with you, sister. I do have a date. But it’s a pity date.” And with that thought, I toss the rest of the cookie into my mouth and wish it was at least a Sweet Temptations cookie and not a dried-out, three-day-old one from the cafeteria. Chocolate really does release endorphins, but all this one does is make me wish I had a cup of milk to wash down the dry crumbs.

Bellamy waits a minute, then raises her hand.

“Oh my God, what?” I laugh and gently smack her hand down.

“Explain pity date,” she demands.

I look around at the crowded cafeteria. There aren’t any workers near us, just a few people chatting two tables away. “Dr. Dick sort of cornered me the other night when I left West End. Nixon and I were walking home, and he assumed Nix was my boyfriend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly touch her hairline. “Why would he assume that?”

I shake my head and look around again, frustrated to even be having this conversation. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I want anyone else to hear this. “I don’t know. I tripped. Nixon caught me, and Dr. Dick apparently saw it. He made an assumption, and instead of correcting him, Nixon played into it,” I whisper-hiss the last few words, still wondering why I agreed to this crazy plan. But Bellamy doesn’t seem surprised. “Why don’t you look shocked?”

She reaches up and yanks her rubber band off her hair, then runs her fingers through it before re-doing her messy bun.

Definitely a nervous habit, if I’ve ever seen one.

“Listen. I lived with Nixon for a few months before Caitlin and I moved in with her brother and the guys. Nix is a good guy with a protective streak a mile wide. It’s just who he is. And I can only imagine the vibes he was catching off Dr. Dick. That asshole gives me the heebie-jeebies on a good day. And I haven’t seen him have too many good days since I started working here.”

“What’s his deal?” I ask, honestly curious. I was lucky. After I finished my residency in DC, I came back to Kroydon Hills and stepped right into my aunt’s ob-gyn practice. She welcomed me with open arms, and the last thing I want to do is sound like I’m complaining to her, so I’ve kept my thoughts on Dr. Dick to myself.

“He’s just another handsy doctor. We’ve got a few of them, to be honest. Most of us just ignore him. He’s the head of the department. He’s triple board-certified and can perform surgeries less than ten doctors in this country are qualified to perform. Who do you think the hospital values more? Him or us?” she asks, already resigned to her answer.

That’s what I thought, but it doesn’t make it right.

“I get it. I’m not his biggest fan either, and Nixon could tell. So he said he was my boyfriend, then lied and said he’s taking me to the gala.” I drop my face back into my hands, knowing I’m going to have to tell his sisters this too. “Anyway. It’s this weekend, and Everly said she has a dress for me. I’m stopping there on my way home to pick it up.”

“Nixon Sinclair is sex on a stick, Kenz. Maybe he could help you with those rechargeable needs.” She grins as we both stand from the table and gather our trash in our hands. “I bet he could go all night long.”

“Whatever...” I shake my head and toss my trash in the bin. “It’s not like I’m going to be finding that out.”

Later that day, I look at my reflection in the three mirrors angled toward me as I stand on the dais in Everly’s flagship store. She and Lindy opened Everly Wilder Designs a few years ago. It was originally just couture wedding gowns designed by Everly and managed by Lindy. Since then, they’ve brought a few employees on, including the addition of Caitlin as a junior designer. She focuses on bespoke tuxedos, bridal party dresses, evening gowns, and cocktail dresses. She has her hands in them all.

All three women look at me with varying shades of amusement when I finish explaining my fake-a-date predicament for Saturday while Caitlin pins the hem of the beautiful pink silk dress that’s currently hitting me somewhere between ankle and mid-calf. “Stop fidgeting, Kenz, or I’m going to stick you with a pin. And I will not be happy if you bleed on the silk.”

“You heard her, little sister. No blood on the silk.” Lindy laughs. “That was handmade by dozens of nuns in some far-off land.”

The glare I throw at my sarcastic sister-in-law through three freaking mirrors is vicious. “I’m glad you’re all enjoying my discomfort.” Caitlin pinches me, and I kick her with the beautiful silver heels they had me slip on with the dress. “Ouch. What the hell, Cait?”

“Stop. Fucking. Fidgeting. Mackenzie,” she growls around the pin being held between her teeth.

“I’m glad Nixon was there, and I’m glad he’s taking you this weekend,” Everly admits as she studies the lines of the dress on my body. “He’ll scare this Dr. Dick off, and maybe him being your date will get a hot doc to look your way. You know how men are.”

My beautiful blonde bombshell best friend never needed help getting a guy to notice her a single day in her entire life. And okay, so maybe I’m a little jealous.

“No, Everly. Apparently, I don’t know how men are, since I rarely have their attention to begin with. How about you enlighten me?” And maybe my words are a little harsher than I intended. But seriously... if I knew how men were... are... ugh.

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