Page 26 of Boyfriend of the Hour
Then I exhaled with morning breath that would probably put out the sun. Or set it on fire.
Jesus.
I snuck a stick of gum from my purse, then flipped back around with the bright smile that every man on the planetbesidesthis oneresponded to. “Dr. Hunt—oh. Hello. Um, how are you?”
Hunt frowned, his gaze still taking in my presence from top to bottom like I was an elephant in a tutu. It was an understandable reaction, considering yesterday I’d basically told him where to shove it.
“I’m fine,” he said slowly. “What are you doing here?”
Was it that obvious I didn’t belong in this plush lobby?
Yes, I decided. Yes, it was. Well, I’d go with it.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
He didn’t respond.
“Okay, it is,” I admitted with what I hoped was a mischievous wink. “Um, I’m walking home after a very long night. What are you up to? Getting into some trouble?”
Another slow blink. Another joke that fell completely flat. That seemed to be my specialty with this dude.
“I go to the gym in the mornings, and I just had brunch with some colleagues,” Nathan replied as his gaze dragged down my body with an unexpected heat and landed on my shoes.
“Oh, was it good?” I asked.
“The gym or the brunch?”
I shrugged. “Both, I suppose.” It was like the guy had never heard of small talk.
Hunt sighed with a heaviness that didn’t seem completely appropriate for Sunday brunch. “Both were adequate, I suppose. I don’t particularly care for the eggs at Bergdorf’s—do you wear those shoes a lot? They have terrible sole support.”
Huh. The good doctor changed subjects even faster than I did.
I glanced down at my checkerboard Vans slip-ons. Maybe not the most glamorous things, and a far cry from Hunt’s brightly colored Hokas. My brother had the same pair. They were calledSpeed Goats, and my sisters and I made barnyard sounds every time he went for a jog.
They were also expensive, which is probably why this asshole, yet again, thought it was appropriate to judge my life choices.
“What do you think would suit my next walk of shame?” I snarked. “Merrells? Maybe some hiking boots?”
Hunt just shook his head, unperturbed by my sarcasm. “I don’t think hiking boots would be necessary in the city. Maybe Danskos. A lot of nurses wear them. It’s really important to have proper arch support if you’re on your feet for hours at a time. Otherwise, you might end up with plantar fasciitis, Achilles tendinitis, not to mention flat feet, which can later lead to?—”
“You know what, thanks,” I interrupted. “I’ll take a look.”
If I hadn’t already known he thought I was an idiot, this right here would have told me. Poor, stupid, wannabe stripper girl embarrasses a full-on doctor out of his mind, so he needs to point out that she dresses like a hobo too.
Except he said you were perfect, a little voice reminded me.
Perfect. Had he really said that in his office, or had I just imagined it?
Maybe he was going to say something about it now. Maybe he was going to mention his outburst, the fact that he had actually turned down a whole lot of money, because apparently, I wastoo perfectto touch.
I waited, watching, trying to find any clue in that stoic face of the turmoil I was currently feeling.
But there was nothing.
Nada.
Like it hadn’t even happened.
