Page 60 of Bad Blood

“You never know what’s right under your nose.” She yanks free from his grasp and slams her shoulder into the door, glaring at him as she enters the oncology floor. “Sign the papers and get them back to my lawyer.”

Kline’s gaze drops to the floor. “Stop adding stupid shit, and we’d be done.”

All eyes turn in our direction.

Margo heads toward the elevators. The entire floor watches her. Everyone is holding their breath. Keyboards go silent. Conversations end. It’s as if someone has pushed pause, and everything moves in slow motion, and I’m watching the moment like we’re swimming through honey.

Along with the beeping of the monitors, the only sound is her heels clicking against the linoleum. She jams her finger into the elevator call button and readjusts her Louis Vuitton purse. She slips onto the elevator, crossing her arms over her chest.

And the muted conversations return.

Great. The nurses are going to eat this up.

If I never see her again, it will be too soon.

The door to the main floor closes, leaving Kline and me in the back hall.

“What in the hell was that?” I throw my hands in the air.

“She’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

He scratches the gray-speckled scruff on his chin as he glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

I huff out a laugh. “Me? You’re kidding, right?”

He shakes his head; his salt-and-pepper hair needs a cut.

“Doesn’t she have anything better to do with her time?”

“Yep, his name is Chris.”

“The news anchor?” I forgot Kline mentioned he was dating Margo. Maybe that’s why Jenks thinks he should have special access to everything that has to do with this hospital.

“One and the same.”

The asshole covering the lawsuit against the hospital. Against Kline. Against me.

“Is it going to be a problem?”

He averts his gaze, kicking at the floor. “Probably.”

“Why’s she still hounding you?”

“She’s bored.” He cocks his head to the side as he leans against the wall, and I spot the grayish hue under his eyes. He yawns and rubs a hand through the scruff on his chin.

“And that’s your fault because?”

A low buzz crackles in the intercom before Lauren’s voice comes on. “Dr. Fields, you’re needed in room four-oh-one. Dr. Fields, four-oh-one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Why do you let her treat you like that?”

“It’s easier.” He pulls his shoulder to his ear, removes his glasses, and cleans the lenses with the corner of his untucked dress shirt.

“Easier than what?”

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