Page 15 of Lucky Dr & the Rockstar Next Door

“Missed you too. Call me after, or in the morning.” With those final words, I was left alone with my thoughts.

And my nerves.

I cracked open the bottle of bourbon I bought at the grocery store after leaving Mac’s place and dropped two ice cubes into a glass, using the brown liquid to calm my nerves.

“Okay. Better.” My limbs slowly relaxed as I chopped the potatoes and put them into a big pot of water while the chicken and mushrooms went into the oven. It was a simple meal, but it was something I did well.

I jumped when the doorbell rang, then laughed at myself. I finished the last sip in my glass and answered the door with a smile. “Mac.” My voice came out low and breathy, which felt ridiculous since I’d gone running with him in nothing but a pair of thin shorts. But seeing him in a plain white t-shirt and thigh-hugging jeans sent my libido into overdrive. “Hey. Come on in.”

His gaze raked over me, and a slow smile appeared. “Lookin’ good, Kayla.”

“Thanks.” I felt myself blush and turned away, causing Mac to laugh.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here. You actually cooked?”

“Yeah, Mac, I cooked. That’s what happens when you invite someone over for dinner.”

He blinked, surprised. “I’m shocked.”

“Our lives really are different.”

“Maybe. I brought whiskey. Jameson, aged eighteen years.”

“Fancy,” I teased. “Very different lives.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, following me into the kitchen. “But I like our differences. Need some help?”

“Nope. We have some time before dinner is ready, but there’s cheese, fruit, and booze.”

“Ice?”

“In the freezer, but you know Mac, it’s just beer we’ll be drinking, not whiskey.”

“Or bourbon,” he said, noticing the bottle I bought. “Great minds think alike. And it’s St. Patrick’s Day; it would be blasphemous to drink anything other than Irish whiskey.” He poured two generous glugs into each glass, topping them off with two ice cubes. “So, Kayla, why did you choose emergency medicine?” He handed me the glass, and I accepted it easily, ignoring the way electricity zapped my fingertips when we touched.

“Oh,” I stammered at the unexpected question. “Because it’s the most immediate impact on saving a life, and every day is different. It keeps my mind sharp, and I’m always learning something new.”

“So you’re into learning and instant gratification?”

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. “Learning, yes. I can see how you gleaned that from what I said. So, yeah, I guess I’m into instant gratification.” Even saying the words made my cheeks flush furiously. “I haven’t had enough to drink for this conversation.”

His laughter was loud and boisterous, sexy because he wasn’t trying to be. “Drink up, then.”

“Did you mean it? All that stuff you said to Edith about your job?”

He nodded. “Yes. I love my job, just like you do. But press and gossip, overzealous fans for me, are like dealing with insurance and death for you.”

“A necessary evil.”

“Exactly.” He smiled, as if pleased that someone understood him. “Last relationship?”

I sighed. “We’re getting right into it, huh?” I laughed and finished my glass. “I was seeing someone when I started medical school. He couldn’t handle it, which was fine until he started sabotaging me—stealing my books, partying all night so I couldn’t study or sleep, and sleeping with someone I thought was a friend.”

“Asshole.”

I smiled at his immediate defense. “I agree. You?”

A little over four years ago, I dated Angel Santos. It worked for a while because we were both busy—me recording all the time and her on photoshoots around the globe. We were so busy that she decided a photographer was a perfect substitute.”

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