Page 26 of Keeping It Professional

“Hold on a minute.” I turned back to Miles.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Girls’ night, right?”

“I’ll see you at work, then. I’ll bring you some gum.”

“Gum?”

“For your coffee breath.” I smirked, and Miles groaned. Kate helped Jen out the door. I was about to go after them when a weight hit my back, an unsteady partier turned loose from the bar. He tried to grab me for balance and shoved me instead, and I went staggering straight into Miles.

“Steady. I’ve got you.” He caught me in his arms. The crowd surged around us, the drunk and his friends, and Miles spun around, shielding me with his back. I’d seen him do the same in the field with the patients, putting himself between them and danger. It was instinct, I knew, and years of training, but my pulse still picked up as he moved to protect me. His arms around me felt strong and warm. His chest was broad and solid as steel. When I looked up, our eyes met, and my breath caught in my chest. His gaze was all fire, red from the beer sign. He smiled, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

“You okay? Did he hit you? You look kind of dazed.”

I felt kind of dazed, breathless, head spinning. Miles smelled good, like soap and some woodsy cologne. Not like coffee at all, or coffee breath. Maybe Iwasdrunk, but no. No, I wasn’t. I was sober and dizzy and safe in his arms, and when I looked up at him, all I wanted was?—

“Sophie?”

His voice had gone rough, a sandpaper rasp. And had he moved closer, or was it just me? Was that the heat of his body, or was I burning up?

I rose up without thinking, on the tips of my toes. Miles closed his eyes, and I tilted my head. Then I kissed him, or he kissed me. Or we kissed each other. Our lips brushed. Miles sighed. I felt his hand in my hair. Fire surged through my body and the moment stretched out, my hand on his bicep, his hip bumping mine. Mint on his breath, and a faint hint of beer. Then somebody shouted and Miles pulled away. Someone bumped into him, and our heads bumped. We both fell back laughing.

“I should get going,” I said.

“Yeah… yeah, go on. I’ll see you at work.”

I felt like I ought to say something else, likethis doesn’t have to be anything, orthat wasn’t weird, right?But no words came, and someone scored on TV. The whole bar erupted, half cheering, half boos. Brian yelled out for Miles and he craned to see.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“I’d better, uh…”

“Yeah.”

We broke apart, and I headed outside, and the cold hit me like a slap in the face. At the Brewery, I ordered myself a tequila, and then another, and the evening went hazy. One minute we were dancing, me and Kate cheek to cheek, screaming over the music —I kissed Miles! You what?— then I blinked and the scene had changed. A different bar. I switched to water, then back to tequila, and next thing I knew, I was at home, in bed, shrinking away from the pale morning sun. I dug under the pillow andmoaned with relief, then the night flooded back and I bolted upright.

I hadn’t.

I couldn’t have.

Had I… kissed Miles?

I tried to remember — had that been a dream? But details kept rushing back, vivid and real, the scrape of Miles’s stubble. His palm on my cheek. How he sighed when our lips met, almost relief. Like every moment between us had led up to this.

“Oh, God,” I whispered. How drunk had I been? But the answer was “not drunk.” That had come later. I didn’t even have that excuse. What had I done? What would Monday morning look like at work? I tried to remember who had kissed whom, if I’d leaned in first, or if it had been Miles. That mad surge of chemistry, had he felt it too? Or had I been riding high on my first month milestone, half-buzzed, elated, and I’d lost my mind?

I tried to recall how we’d left it, but that part was blurry. It’d been kind of awkward, like in a tight space, when you bump into someone coming the other way. Then the bar had got noisy and I’d run out.

“Sophie?” Mom knocked on my door. “Pancakes are ready whenever you are. And I got blueberries, and real maple syrup.”

My stomach did a backflip, half nerves, half tequila. I closed my eyes till it settled. “Coming,” I croaked.

“You’d better not be hungover. I’ve got a busy day planned.”

I hauled myself out of bed and braced myself for the booze sweats, but once my head cleared, I felt okay. The real painwould come when I showed up for work, if it was awkward. If I’d made it weird. The best job I’d ever had, God. Had I blown it?

CHAPTER 10

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