Page 29 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
“Why does she think we’re fucking?” I blurted. Her comment had been itching under my skin since she’d said it. “Did you say something to her?”
He finally turned to face me. “No! I only told one person in my family that we… that we kissed, and she wouldn’t have told anyone else.”
“Kissed,” I said with an unamused huff of laughter.
Jesus, what an anemic word for what had actually happened.
“Yes. Kissed.” Pink heat bloomed on his cheeks as he lifted his chin. “Twice.”
I glanced at him again, if only to drink in his adorable flush. “You counted.”
“Kind of hard not to notice when a guy’s kissing you,” he muttered, looking away again.
I watched him closely. “You’d never kissed a guy before, I take it?”
“I told you I was straight,” he reminded me. This time, he glanced at me, and I caught his eyes.
“Tommy, why did your sister think we were sleeping together if you’re so straight?”
His cheeks were painfully crimson now. I wanted to reach over and feel the heat on my fingertips and lips.
“I don’t know.” Tommy turned back to the window again. “My family doesn’t know anything happened between us. They know you were there, and they know I acted…” He gave a little snort. “Let’s just say I acted very much not myself. They’ve come up with their own explanations for that, and us hooking up was an easy one since our situation was similar to how my uncles met, like I told you.”
“And I was wearing your shirt,” I suggested.
He nodded and looked away again. “And you were wearing my shirt.”
I glanced at him, taking in the flush still painting his cheeks, the way his lips were slightly parted. The urge to pull over and kiss him senseless hit me like a freight train.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Tommy caught the word. “What?”
“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. It was the realization that sitting here, talking like this, pretending we could be friends or colleagues or whatever the hell this was, felt like the cruelest kind of torture. “Just… maybe we should focus on tomorrow. On work.”
The temperature in the cab seemed to drop ten degrees.
The rest of the drive passed in charged silence. Every time Tommy shifted in his seat, I caught a whiff of his scent—a hint of expensive deodorant over masculine sweat—that made my palms itch. When he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, the movement drew my attention to the line of his throat, the way his shirt pulled slightly across his chest.
I forced myself to focus on the road.
“Foster—” Tommy started as we pulled into SERA’s parking lot.
“Long day,” I cut him off, throwing the truck into park with more force than necessary. “And an early start tomorrow.”
I was out of the truck and grabbing Chickie and my gear before he could respond. The walk to Cabin 8 was too short. Tommy followed slightly behind, and whatever he’d been about to say in the truck remained unspoken.
The cabin felt even smaller than I remembered. With both of us inside, plus Chickie sniffing around excitedly, the space was suffocating. I reached for the duffle on my bed and immediately regretted the choice when Tommy moved to his own bed directly across from mine.
Three feet away. Maybe four if I was being generous.
“Look,” Tommy said quietly, sitting down on the edge of his own bed. “I know this is awkward. But we’re going to be working together for eight weeks. Maybe we could just?—”
“Keep it professional,” I finished, turning away to find my shower stuff and something to sleep in. “Yep. Agreed.”
The tension in his silence made me glance back. He was sitting with his shoulders slightly slumped, and for a moment,he looked lost. Disappointed. It reminded me of the expression he’d worn in Hawaii when he’d pulled away from our kiss on the beach.
My chest tightened with that unwelcome urge to comfort him again. To tell him I didn’t mean to be an ass, that I was just trying to protect myself from wanting something I couldn’t have.
