Page 58 of The Fake Mate

I knock lightly at his office door, hearing his quiet answer onlya second after. I turn the knob to crack the door and peek around it, finding Noah bent over his desk and glaring at his laptop.

“Hey,” I greet tentatively. “You busy?”

His expression changes when he looks up at me, his frown turning up to more of a neutral shape and the wrinkle at his brow softening.

“Hey. I’m not busy.”

I grin, nodding toward the screen that seems to be currently offending him as I step inside of his office and close the door behind me. “Could have fooled me.”

“Documenting some procedure notes. I let myself get behind.”

I make a face. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. I’ll be working late, but I should be able to get caught up tonight, at least.”

“There goes our romantic dinner,” I tease.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Did you want to get dinner?”

Oh, Jesus. I forgot who I’m talking to. I make a mental note not to make any more dumb jokes that insinuate there’s something romantic between us.

“No, no. Sorry, I was just being funny.”

“Oh.”

Now he looks mildly disappointed. What the hell?

Things feel awkward all of a sudden, and I can’t wrestle down why. Or rather, I can, I’m just not sure if I should address the fact that he was inside me less than twenty-four hours ago or if we should just keep that sort of talk behind closed doors. I suppose it depends on whether or not I want to do it again. More importantly... if he does.

Jesus, I feel flushed just thinking about this. What happened to not letting things get complicated?

“So our little hallway incident apparently sparked some new gossip.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his desk. “Sorry about that.”

“No, that’s what we want, right?”

“Right. Of course.”

I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other, telling myself that I should probably leave it alone but still feeling a little addled by all the questions I’ve rustled up in my head. I clear my throat as I go for casual, turning to make it seem as if I’m very interested in Noah’s diploma hanging on the wall.

“Are you okay?”

I hear his chair creak as he most likely turns it in my direction. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug nonchalantly. “You just seemed like something was bothering you earlier.”

“Ah. Well.” I hear him blow out a rush of air. “Had a run-in with Dennis.”

“The bitter bitch again?”

I catch Noah’s same barely-there grin when I turn my head just enough to look at him from the corner of my eye. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s apparently decided to be less overt with his distaste for me. Evidently, now he’s comfortable making dick remarks in front of mutual patients.”

I turn to face him, my mouth falling open. “He didn’t.”

---