Page 41 of The Wingman

A wave of disappointment zings through my veins, but I’m not a guy to give up easily. No, I fight for what I want, go after it with single-minded focus, and right now, I want to make sure Jules is properly nourished and rested after her long shift.

Rider: The cat who loves me.

Jules: She just doesn’t know you. Once she does, she’ll see you’re loveable.

My heart misses one beat, and then two. Did Jules just call me loveable? I scratch my head, and choke out a laugh. Yeah, maybe I do have a concussion.

Rider: Okay, how about I take care of Peaches for you, and cook at your place.

Three dots appear for the longest time and then her response finally comes in, much shorter than I would have thought, considering the length of time I waited. Perhaps she deleted what she was going to say.

Jules: Are you serious?

I shake my head. This woman is not used to people taking care of her, which makes me want to do it all the more.

Rider: Do you keep a spare key under a planter or anything?

Jules: I don’t. But I have one here at work. It’s close to my place. If you want to come by, but I don’t want to put you out.

At the thought of seeing her sooner rather than later, I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

Rider: But I love putting out for you.

Jules: We’re still talking about my key, right?

Rider: Of course. What floor are you on?

Jules: I’m in Emerg today. Just come in through the main doors and ask Sally in admissions to call for me. I’ll come right out.

Rider: Be there in a few.

Jules: Okay, have to run. I’m being paged.

I’m about to set my phone down when another text comes in.

Jules: Rider…

Rider: Yeah.

Jules: Thanks.

I smile at that. Fuck, she’s so sweet and always so grateful when I do anything for her. I stand, drop my phone onto my nightstand, and with renewed energy, I head to the master suite for a quick shower and change of clothes. Once I’m clean, I shave—wanting to look nice for her— dress in my favorite jeans and navy t-shirt, and head straight to the hospital.

Outside the even sun sits low on the horizon, and I climb into my Jeep and drive to the hospital. With quick strides, I hurry inside and check in with admission. Sally glances up at me, and her eyes bug out of her head.

“Aren’t you—”

“Yeah, I’m Rider Lewis.”

She waves her hands, her cheeks flushing as she stands. “I’m such a fan.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“You played great last night. Wait…” Her demeanor quickly changes, her professionalism back in place as her concerned gaze moves over me. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Actually, I’m here to see Jules…” Holy fuck, how do I not know her last name. We’re friends. Friends with benefits. But, friends just the same, which means I should know more than her first fucking name. What a douche. I really should have found that out, and in an effort to cover my mistake, I lift my hand about five feet from the floor and says, “Little Jules, who’s hair is always in a ponytail.”

She stares at me for a second and I get it, she’s putting two and two together. “Jules Murray?”

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