Page 2 of Chosen Beta

I smile back as I move toward the staff room.

The door has been wedged open like usual.

Our doctors really don’t like to waste any time.

I step inside and head straight to the microwave.

I’m standing there, waiting for my coffee to reheat when I feel someone behind me.

Being around Alphas didn’t seem so difficult before these last few weeks.

I’ve met countless men who fall into that category, and while their presence is always noticeably different, I can’t say it’s ever really affected me.

Until I met Ezra Clarke.

His energy seems to fill up the whole room, like it’s determined to steal my dignity and my breath all at the same time.

I concentrate on my breathing, and steel myself for the inevitable shock of lust that’s already making my skin tingle in anticipation as I get ready to give the handsome doctor a simple greeting.

“Lana …” he murmurs.

The microwave beeps, and I ignore it to turn and smile at him.

“Hi, Ezra. I’m just grabbing a caffeine fix,” I admit, as my gaze moves from his light hazel eyes to the three-days worth of stubble he’s currently sporting on his jawline.

He rubs at his chin as if he’s just noticing it.

He’s exactly the kind of guy to ignore personal preferences when other things are way more important. The dedication he’s shown these last few weeks has been incredible.

It shouldn’t feel so strange to be this attracted to the guy.

He’s handsome and he saves lives for a living.

Who wouldn’t be interested?

Of course, I always manage to say or do something cringe in front of him, and he never seems to know what to say to me. I’m probably making him feel awkward, too, always staring at him like he’s a particularly juicy piece of meat I’d like to get my teeth into.

I turn back to the microwave because he’s not saying anything.

I need to stick to my plan to grab my warmed coffee and get back to my desk.

He clears his throat. “I was hoping to speak to you.”

Okay, that’s new.

Maybe this is where he tells me I’ve been drooling over him like a moron, and he feels like he’s being sexually objectified in the workplace.

I take my coffee out of the microwave, and I look back at him before I respond.

“Well, I have a few minutes while I drink my coffee, so would you rather talk here, or somewhere more private?” I’m proud of myself for sounding professional, even if my last suggestion is hanging on the air, making me imagine all kinds of sexy scenarios.

“Here is fine,” he admits, with a wry smile. “I have to get back to patient check-ups in a few.”

“Of course.” I take a tentative sip of my coffee. It’s hot, but it’s not too hot, and I manage not to dribble or drip, so I’m doing good so far. I give him an encouraging smile. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now,” he starts.

God, that sounds ominous.

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