Page 109 of Wife Number One

I raised a hand on autopilot to tuck the stray strands behind her ear.

She flinched away.

I blinked. Realizing what I’d been about to do.

Fuck.

The expression in her eyes instantly changed to one of fear, and horror rocketed through me. Scaring her had been the absolute last thing I wanted.

I drew my hands back, putting them up, fingers open, palms facing her, as nonthreatening as possible. “Please don’t go. I came in here to cry too, and it would be nice to not be the only one.”

She stopped. Blinked. But at least she didn’t seem so scared anymore. She’d also stopped crying. “Really?”

I gave her a half-smile, just relieved the fear had disappeared from her expression. “Okay, no. But I swear, I’m harmless.” I picked up my doctor’s badge. “I’m a doctor. Dr. Grayson. See? But you don’t have to call me that. Most people just call me Gray. Or you can call me Fred, if you want.”

She blinked. “Um…I think Dr. Grayson is fine.”

I let out an overexaggerated sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. Because Fred gets shortened to Red, and then to…” I gave a fake shudder. “Ed.” I screwed up my face at her. “I cannot pull off Ed.”

A muscle near her mouth twitched, and something inside me celebrated like I’d just made a touchdown from the twenty-yard line.

If she thought I was even remotely funny, then my entire day was made.

I wanted this woman to like me. I could already tell she wasn’t the type to care about money or the doctorate I’d worked my ass off for.

Which only left me with funny. And sweet.

Or whatever the hell else she wanted me to be. But I was betting on funny and sweet for right now at least.

“Maybe you should just stick to Dr. Grayson,” she admitted.

I dropped my mouth open in mock outrage. “You mean you don’t think I can pull off Ed either? This is very upsetting.” I picked a glove from the box mounted on the wall and breathed into it like I was hyperventilating.

Then winked at her and blew one long, deep breath into it, inflating the glove into a balloon and tying it where it would normally snap around your wrist. “That’s your daughter out there, right?” I jerked my head back toward triage.

Her mouth pulled into a straight line. “Yes.”

“With your husband?”

She shook her head quickly. “Oh, no. He’s just a friend.”

Interesting. There was no wedding ring on her finger, but that guy out there had protected her like she was his.

I’d always respected marriage vows. I’d never once hit on a woman wearing a ring. Never had any desire to try to tempt one away from their partner like some of my college roommates had made a sport out of doing. It had been a whole thing. Picking up lonely wives in bars whose husbands ignored them. Young college guys and lonely wives went together like peanut butter and jelly.

Just not for me.

But this woman, hell. Maybe I would have been tempted. But all the better if she was single.

I hid a smile and picked up a Sharpie from the container of pens and markers on the exam room table, scribbling some little marks over my makeshift balloon.

Then I flipped it upside down and presented it to her. “It’s an elephant,” I explained. “See? The thumb is the trunk…”

She cocked her head to one side, studying my creation, clearly trying to decipher my squiggles and lines.

Clearly, I wasn’t as clever as I thought.

“I promise, I’m a much better doctor than I am an artist.” I pushed it toward her again. “Maybe your daughter will like it though.”

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