Page 8 of Keeping It Professional

“No way. No boyfriend.”

“How do you know?”

“Because at the end of her shift, she never looked at her phone. She got it out of her locker and stuck it straight in her bag. If she had a boyfriend, she’d have checked her texts.”

Brian cocked a brow. “You noticed all that?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What doesthatmean?”

He smirked. “It means, I came in and the game was just starting. And now, look at that.” He nodded at the TV. “That’s the end of first period. Forty-five minutes. You’ve been talking about Sophie this entire time.”

“No, I have not.”

“You fully have.” Brian waved for the bartender. “Hey, you heard, right?”

The bartender grimaced and turned away. I squinted up at the TV, the fans in the stands. The game was half over, like Brian said. Now he fixed me with an appraising look.

“I think you like her.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

“Ithink you’re drunker, and you’re obsessed.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed my drink away. “You complained just as much about Dr. Baby. Is this you confessing you had a crush?”

“You bite your tongue.”

“I don’t like Sophie. She’s annoying, is all.”

Brian’s smirk widened. “But she’s cute, right?”

I leaned my elbows on the bar and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. If that’s your type.”

“Well, what does she look like?”

I bit my tongue for real. She looked… she looked hot. But I couldn’t tell Brian that, or even imply it. He’d never quit teasing if he thought I had a crush. Which I didn’t. I was a grown-ass man. I could meet a cute girl and not lose my shit. Work with her, even. Piss her off. Watch her blush. She got mad like a cartoon, pink-cheeked, flint-eyed. A couple of puffs of steam out her ears, and she’d be… goddamn adorable, is what she’d be.

“Maybe Iamdrunk.”

“You had what, three beers?” Brian jogged my elbow. “C’mon, what’s she like?”

“Short,” I said. “Blonde. Baby-blue eyes.”

Brian whistled obnoxiously. “Baby-blue, even.”

“What? They are. They’re sort of pale blue. And I guess, yeah, she’s curvy. She’s sort of cute. But she’s my partner, and like I said, she’s the worst.”

Brian waved for the bartender and ordered a water. I got one too, though I wasn’t driving. I lived close enough I could walk home from here. It’d been a while since I’d drunk at all, and my buzz had dulled into a low-grade headache.

“You should introduce us,” said Brian.

“What, you and Sophie?”

“I mean, you don’t want her. I like cute blondes. Plus, she’s a medic. We’d have something in common.”

I scowled at Brian. My mouth tasted sour. “Leave her alone,” I said.

“Someone’s possessive.”

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