Page 22 of Offside Attraction

But she’d kept it.

That fact kept ringing through his head. She hadn’t known at the bar that he had any connection to Rocky Ridge, but she hadn’t thrown it out. He tucked that bit of information away.

A pang of guilt hit his stomach as he fed the next batch of old patient records through the shredder. He hadn't explicitly told Rhonda that he had an “in” with Dr. Mallory, but he also hadn't been honest about the fact that he was the last person in that hospital who could ask a favour from him. Jordan was a damn good nurse and that fact hadn’t protected him from what happened the previous February.

Jordan turned when movement caught his eye and froze. Rhonda was there across the room, standing at the intake desk in front of the entry. She looked polished and professional, like she’d just stepped off the set of some corporate commercial. Her blazer hugged her shoulders, and her curly hair was . . . tamed. He had to admit, he liked it better splayed around her face on his leather seat.

Jordan caught himself staring and dropped his eyes. What was he doing? He’d wanted to see her again, but now that she was here?—

“Here we go,” Gertie murmured.

Jordan looked up and frowned.When had she arrived?He turned just in time for Rhonda’s eyes to meet his. The corner of her mouth twitched as she smoothed her blazer, her heels clicking on the linoleum as she strode toward the nurse’s station. The closer she got, the harder it was to ignore the pull low in his stomach.

Rhonda stopped in front of the counter, her hands lightly folded in front of her, the faintest flush on her cheeks.

“Where can I direct you?” Gertie asked, her voice gruff. It was disturbing and impressive how she could transform from a kind-hearted granny into a hardened prison guard in a matter of seconds.

Jordan had worked at Rocky Ridge long enough to know what Gertie’s greetings meant. “Hello, sweetheart,” meant she knew the person approaching was having a shit day. “How can I help you?” meant that person had already bothered her or one of the other nurses on shift, and “Where can I direct you?” was as good as a middle finger.

Rhonda hadn’t done anything wrong, but Gertie had taken one look at her outfit and made the assumption—correctly—that Rhonda was one of the many professionals trying to get an appointment with the hospital administration. It wasn’t only Dr. Mallory that made things difficult. Rocky Ridge was as steeped in tradition as The Original Six.

“I’m right where I need to be,” Rhonda answered. “I think.” Her eyes flicked to him, and she looked suddenly unsure.

Jordan stepped forward. “Yep. Thanks for meeting me.” He swiped his ID card to clock out. “You want to grab a coffee?”

Rhonda hesitated, looking briefly over her shoulder as if debating her options. “Sure.”

Jordan would’ve given his left nut to know what was going through her head right then, and that was saying something. His left nut was his unspoken favourite.

“Where’s your report?” Gertie eyed him.

“Already handed off to Marie.” Jordan put a hand on her shoulder. “See you Sunday.”

Gertie shrugged him off. “We’re short-staffed with you at half-time.”

He winked. “You can just tell me you miss me.” He motioned for Rhonda to follow him down the hallway toward the hospital’s attached coffee shop.

“How was work?”

“Good.” His heart hammered against his ribs. What was it about her that made him feel like he’d just finished a round of suicides? He’d never felt like this around a woman before, especially not one he’d already slept with. His prowess in the bedroom had always been a source of pride. Confidence. It gave a strange sort of power when a woman looked at him and knew from experience what he was capable of.

With Rhonda, it was the exact opposite. She’d tasted the forbidden fruit and had decided she didn’t want it anymore. That lit a fuse that was slowly incinerating, edging closer and closer to a blast he wouldn’t be able to contain.

Women weren’t able to quit him that easily. And as much as he wanted to pull her into the storage closet they’d be passing in less than four seconds and remind her what she was missing, he kept to the script he’d pre-planned after receiving her text.You don’t want her either.

Jordan matched his stride with Rhonda’s as they moved down the fluorescent-lit hallway, passing the rows of curtained-off exam bays. Antiseptic seemed to be ground into the grout between the tiles, the scent was so overpowering, and the low mechanical beeps and shuffling footsteps barely registered.

They passed two other nurses, and both of them gave Jordan a raised eyebrow. He was going to hear all about this on Sunday. He was the minority in this hospital, and working in a sea of women meant that his love life was always under scrutiny. He didn’t date his co-workers. But he hadn’t seen a problem with dating a few of their sisters.

Jordan guided Rhonda down a side hall to the coffee shop. It was a small, unassuming place, wedged into the corner just past the gift shop, but for him, it was a kind of refuge. Every morning, he stopped by here, talking with the same staff who knew his order by heart.

He’d hoped it would be dead at that time in the afternoon, but the place buzzed with activity—doctors grabbing a caffeine fix, patient families picking up snacks since it wasn’t quite late enough to justify a full dinner. Rhonda took it all in as he motioned for her to join him at the counter.

Oscar, the barista, caught sight of them and flashed a grin. “Hey, Jordan. Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, then turned to Rhonda. “What are you having?”

She scanned the chalkboard menu. “I’ll take a caramel macchiato, please.” Jordan swiped his card, and Rhonda frowned. “You don’t need to?—”

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