Page 30 of Undeniably Enemies

“Fabulous.” She turns back to me. “I’ll find you later for couch shopping.”

Sorel goes straight for her nurse and leaves me here with… no patients that need my immediate attention. It’s unheard of. It’s catastrophic. Because that means I now have to do my other job. Teaching.

I’ve successfully avoided Wren since the kitchen on Tuesday. Any interactions have been minimal and completely professional. No antagonistic comments. No sneering in my direction. Definitely no tasting my coffee or her lip gloss.

But two things have troubled me.

One, my dick twitches every freaking time I see her.

And two, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

With her here, I’m constantly on alert. Where is she and what’s she doing, and if I turn this corner, am I going to be forced to see her? My dick jumps like an excited puppy, desperate for her to pet it every time that happens. It’s ridiculous. It’s as though I’ve got no control, and control is the name of my goddamn game. At night when I leave here, I wonder if I’m going to randomly run into her or if she’s going to text me again. And when she does, despite saying I won’t engage, I always do.

One more hit. One more text. It’s as addicting as she is.

She’d called me scary hot, and when we’re alone together, I can feel an undercurrent buzzing between us. It was easier when I thought her hatred for me made her physically indifferent. But knowing she’s attracted to me…

Clearing that away, I go in search of my residents to see how they’re doing and make sure they haven’t killed any of my patients.

At least that’s the excuse I’m giving myself as I walk through the emergency department headed toward one intern in particular to whom I assigned a particular medical student. The intern who is soft and sweet and kind and not the least bit harsh. One who will teach and be enthusiastic and not treat her med student like a bottom feeder the way the rest do.

I’m just checking on them.

Because it’s my job to do so as her boss and her brother’s best friend while ensuring that her Thursday starts better thanher Monday did. And to prove to myself that this woman does not control my mind or my dick.

I’ve hardly noticed that the pink shirt under her scrubs matches the natural color in her cheeks and lips or how her hair is in a ponytail today instead of a bun—thank God—and I certainly don’t give a shit if it still showcases the delicate features of her neck and face.

Turning the corner, I come to an abrupt halt. Wren is talking to Daffodil with a beaming smile on her face. Beaming smiles have no place in the ER, but she’s wearing one all the same. Maybe I should have given her a different resident. I told Owen I wasn’t playing favorites or doing special favors. Next week I should mix this up. It’s only fair that way.

When a laugh flees her lips and I decide I can’t stand it a second longer, I head down the hall. Hearing me approach, her gaze slides right. And that smile instantly falls.

That beautiful bubble she was just encased in pops before my eyes. I’m her villain, and I should revel in how she hates me so much. It keeps me safe even when my thoughts about her aren’t always so. Yet today, for some inexplicable reason, it draws a frown to my lips. A frown she misreads as her expression turns hard, and she readies herself for battle.

Good. Fighting I can handle. It’s welcome, almost.

Anything else with her is not.

“I came to check on your patients,” I say to Daffodil while ignoring Wren because she’s a medical student, and I don’t like the way my skin prickles at the back of my neck whenever our eyes meet. “I saw you had a rule-out MI and a sutures case. Do you need to present anything?”

Daffodil gives me a slightly befuddled look, and I can’t blame her for it. I’m her attending, and typically, as an intern, she presents to a senior resident, and they’ll present to me. I rarely go directly to interns unless I need them to run basics like labs, discharges, H&Ps, and sutures.

A blush creeps up her neck and stains her cheeks. “Uh, sure. Yes. Um.” She shifts and tucks her hair behind her ear. Her phone chirps an annoying tune on her hip, and she glances down at the message. “Oh, Dr. Marshall is stat paging us over to triage.” She turns to Wren, but I quickly shake my head.

No fucking way am I letting Miss Fritz run to answer his page.

“Miss Fritz can stay here and present to me. I’m positive you can handle whatever Dr. Marshall needs on your own, Daffodil.”

“Of course, Dr. Kincaid.” Daffodil scurries off, and Wren turns to me, looking like she just swallowed a bug.

“You know you’re not being fair to her.”

That takes me by surprise. I may be a bit of an asshole and definitely stern, but I’m always impartial and willing with my staff. Daffodil prefers fast-tracks, and she’s good at them, but I’m not doing her any favors or helping her grow as a doctor if I only place her there.

“How’s that?” I question, checking my phone so I appear bored and indifferent, and it forces my gaze away from her.

“You saunter over here looking like that…” She waves a hand up and down me, and I jump all over that.

“Looking like what?”

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