Page 12 of My Pucked Up Enemy

“He shouldn’t have said we needed yoga.”

“God forbid yoga would offend your masculinity.”

“Are you always this charming with your patients?”

“Only the ones who walk in with their guard up and a chip on their shoulder.”

I lean back, arms crossed. “You know, most people ease into emotional ambushes. Maybe start with a compliment or a snack.”

“I'm not most people. And I don’t hand out cookies for good behavior.”

“Tragic.”

We stare at each other for a moment. She’s not blinking. She’s not fidgeting. She’s just… waiting. I’ve never hated silence more.

Then her expression shifts, just a little.

Then she leans back, just slightly, her pen tapping once on the pad before she sets it down.

“You know,” she says lightly, “I’ve had guys walk in here and try to out-stare me, out-snark me, even outlast me in complete silence. No one’s succeeded yet. But you’re definitely top five.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That a compliment?”

“Call it an observation with potential,” she says. “You’ve got stamina, I’ll give you that.”

I smirk. "Careful, Doc. Complimenting my stamina might get you sued for flirting."

She chuckles, unimpressed. "Is everything an innuendo with you, or just the things you’re scared to talk about seriously?"

"Mostly the serious stuff," I admit. "But you walked right into that one."

She shakes her head like she’s trying not to smile. “Duly noted. I’ll adjust my phrasing next time.”

“Don’t. It’s fun watching you try to out-snark me while pretending you’re above it.”

She bites her lip. “Trust me, I don’t need to try. You’re just used to people backing off when you push.”

“And you’re not?”

“Not even close."

Her tone’s lighter now, but her eyes are still sharp like she’s giving me a rope and watching to see if I’ll hang myself with it—or maybe use it to climb out.

“Just so we’re clear,” she adds, “you don’t have to spill your life story in one go. But you do have to stop pretending that sarcasm is a suitable replacement for substance.”

“I was hoping I could just coast on charm.”

A small smile forms. “Charm’s debatable.”

I huff a dry laugh. “So’s your bedside manner.”

Suddenly the breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes. The mood hasn’t shifted entirely, but the tension is not strangling anymore. And somehow, I already know, this is going to get under my skin.

She cracks a smile. A real one.

“Well, at least your sarcasm is consistent. That’s something I can work with.”

I grin faintly. "Consistent. Like black coffee and bad decisions."

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