Page 27 of Doctor's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

Damn.

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” Tom says calmly. “You’re the best dancer here.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Tom. Thank you.” I giggle softly, though my heart’s not really in it. I just want to turn and see Nate. I attempt to turn and leave, but Tom places his hand on my forearm. It’s nothing hard, a light brush of his hand, but it still shocks me into staying.

“A-are you doing anything this evening?” he stutters. “After your class with the kids. Any plans?”

I don’t know how to answer. Any other day, I’d probably go straight home to help A-Ma with some of the household chores. In truth, I just want to see if I can spend a little more time with Nate. A hundred other different possibilities flood through my brain, all of which—unfortunately for Tom—do not involve getting drinks with him.

“Look, Tom, I—”

“We never just chill out, you know? Thought it’d be cool if we could hang.”

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m just super busy right now.”

And I don’t want to.

“Oh, come on. I’d love to pick your brain about barre technique.”

I bite my tongue. I don’t want to say anything that might offend him. For what it’s worth, Tom really is a good kid. He’s just not the kind of person I’d go out of my way to get to know. We only see each other in dance class. Things are friendly between us, but I’m not exactly interested in becoming besties.

“I have to get going, Tom. Maybe some other time.”

Tom’s grip on my arm tightens slightly. “Wait a second, I just—”

The next thing I know, Nate’s standing between us. He’s batted Tom’s hand away with a surprising amount of speed and force. All I can see is the hard line of Nate’s back, so I’m unable to make out his expression. I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s annoyed, though. He carries his stress in the muscles of his back and neck, his shoulders tense and stiff.

“You heard the lady,” he says curtly. “She has to get going.”

“Yeah?” Tom challenges, puffing out his chest a bit. It’s not very intimidating.

It’s like watching a puppy square up with a wolf.

“She has an appointment with me,” Nate explains calmly.

“I do?” I whisper. He nudges me in the arm and I finally get the point. “Oh, yeah. I do.”

Tom frowns. “Are your legs hurting you again? I can carry you to the rehabilitation wing if you—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Nate cuts him off. He slides an arm behind me and holds onto my waist. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Nate doesn’t give Tom time to argue. He snatches up my dance bag and guides me toward the studio exit, ushering me out of sight. I do my best not to listen to the whispers of fellow dancers as we pass by, though I can’t stop the heat from rising to my cheeks.

Once we’re out in the empty hallway, I shoot Nate a grin. “Thank you,” I say.

“For what?”

“Swooping in like a superhero. You should consider talking to Marvel about getting your own movie.”

Nate chuckles. “What would my superhero name even be?”

I nibble on my lower lip, giving it some thought. After a moment, I shrug. “No clue. We’d have to figure out your origin story first. Batman’s scared of bats; Spiderman was bitten by a spider.”

Nate looks at me, amused. “I had no idea you were such a nerd.”

I roll my eyes. “You were the one who introduced me to comics, remember?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” I tease. “We’d sneak into your brother’s bedroom and raid his comic collection—” I stop talking the second I feel Nate tense, his face blanking completely. “I’m sorry,” I rush over my words. “I didn’t mean—”

He shakes his head. Forces a smile. “It’s fine, Eve. Don’t worry.”

The remainder of our walk is silent and uncomfortable. I want to apologize for bringing Jacob up, but I’m worried I’ll only make things worse. I suppose the subject matter of dead older brothers isn’t the sexiest thing I could have mentioned.

Nate takes me to the exam room even though I don’t have an appointment. Before I can protest, he picks me up and places me down on the edge of the table.

A little giggle escapes me. “I can see the appeal now.”

He looks up at me, eyes soft and tender. “Of what?”

“Why all the girls want themselves a big, strong man. I can see it now.”

Nate bends down and picks up my right leg by the ankle, looking things over. “You think I’m big and strong?”

I nod and smile. “Most definitely.”

“Was that not your type before?”

“I never thought about it before.”

“Too focused on dance?”

I nod.

Nate helps me rotate my ankle. It feels good to stretch the muscles of my shin, the burn uncomfortable, but not too much for me to handle. Nate does the same thing with my other leg, checking for flexibility and range.

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