Page 57 of Gloves Off

“Sunshine.”

“Oh.” Warmth washes through me. That’s something my mom would call me or Jordan.

“You can’t get close to them,” Volkov says quietly.

A ping of disappointment hits me right in the heart. “I know.”

“I don’t want them to be disappointed when it ends.”

“I get it.” So why do I feel bummed out? I just met these people, it doesn’t matter.

Another beat of silence. “I’ll take your car tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s not good for me.”

He makes a derisive noise. “Save the shopping spree for the weekend so I can get it over with.”

And like that, my temper snaps. “I’m not going shopping, youdick. I’m working at the hospital.”

His stunned expression is the most satisfaction I’ve experienced inyears. “The hospital? You have a job with the team.”

My instinct is to keep details of my life secret and safe from him, but he should probably know for the citizenship interview we might have to do.

“I’m an attending in the orthopedics department, doing research on athlete injury recovery.”

His dark eyes search mine, a frown creasing between his eyebrows.

“That’s why Ward hired me,” I add. “I’m a specialist.”

And I’m not fucking incompetent,I think with a clench of anger.

“How many hours a week are you there?”

“I don’t count. If I’m not at the arena, I’m at the hospital, and if I’m not there, I’m at soc—” I cut myself off. I’ve already said too much. He doesn’t need to know about the soccer team. He’d probably make a crack about how I’m indoctrinating them to the Church of Shoes and Shopping.

He’s studying me, and I don’t like it. “So, not shopping.”

“Sometimes I’m shopping.”

He’s still studying me with that unhappy expression. “I’ll pick the car up and return it before your shift is over.”

“No, Volkov, it’s fine.” I let out a light laugh and his gaze slides to my mouth before he looks away, fast. “I’ll do it. You don’t have to do my errands.”

“I’m taking your car in, Doctor. Don’t argue.”

“Okay.” What? “My shift is seven to seven tomorrow.”

He nods once, folding his arms. A beat passes. “What was that the other night?”

Oh god. Nerves fire through me.

If I lie, he’ll think I’m shamelessly trying to get into bed with him.I liked him the whole time,I was forced to tell people about us. What if he thinks I really did? I’d die of mortification.

He’ll think the truth is weird, but he already hates me.

“I sleepwalk.”

A stretch of silence before his eyebrow slides up. “You sleepwalk.”

---