Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
This is why I don’t pursue relationships. Because I am married to the hospital, having a full-time affair with the clinic, and my family is my sidepiece. Every minute of every day, I’ve wanted to track Harper down, get her number, take her on a date and then back to my place.
And I don’t want that for just one night.
I’m considering starting a … a something with this woman, yet the rest of my life is the same as it’s always been. It’s not fair to her.
Yet I can’t imagine not at least trying.
If she’s willing, that is. And I’m going to do my fucking best to persuade her.
After being at the clinic all day, I just finished a twelve-hour shift at the ER. I should go home and crash for the next ten hours. I get thirty-six hours off, and then it’s back in the clinic the next day.
However, I refuse to leave until I know if Harper’s in the building.
It’s four in the morning when I take the stairs up to the NICU floor. I’m still in scrubs and my white coat, and I need a shower.
I’ve looked better.
But I don’t fucking care.
It’s quiet, and the lights are low as I walk into the neonatal unit. There’s no one at the nurses' station, and when I skim the area, I see Harper sitting in a rocking chair, feeding a baby.
She’s in blue scrubs today, her hair in that messy bun, and she’s smiling at the newborn as she whispers something to them that I can’t hear.
Christ.
She’s fucking beautiful.
She glances up as I walk toward her, but she doesn’t pause in her rocking, and her face is calm as I approach.
“This is Jamison,” she says, looking down at the infant. He’s tiny. Maybe three pounds. “He had a rough day. His mom couldn’t come in for his night feeding, so I’m doing it. It always makes me sad when one of the parents can’t make it for the feedings, but she’s a single parent with two other kids at home, so she’s exhausted and overwhelmed.”
She shrugs a shoulder and presses those plump lips together.
I squat in front of them. Monitors and machines make noises here and there, but for the most part, it’s quiet in here tonight. I know about Jamison and his mom.
She’s my patient.
But I can’t tell Harper that, so I stay quiet.
“Bryce is home,” I tell her softly.
“I know.” She smiles, and it lights up the whole fucking room. “He bounced right back. He was the best-case scenario, and I’m so glad he’s home and doing well. I really like Dani. And Birdie is hilarious. I got to meet her on their last day here.”
I nod, watching her.
“How long have you worked here, Harper?”
Her smile slowly fades away, and I want to say something to bring it back.
But I don’t.
“The day Bryce was born was my first day here. He was my first patient.” She takes the bottle out of Jamison’s mouth and guides him onto her shoulder to lightly pat his back. “I’m the new charge nurse.”
My eyebrows lift. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Traveling nurse gig over?”
She rolls her lips inward, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I think so. It was time to come home. My family needed me.”
I frown, and without thinking, I reply, “I thought you said you didn’t have—”
“Not biological,” she says, but there’s no heat there. “My best friend and her siblings. They’re like siblings to me. Ava needed me. And maybe I needed to come home for me, too.”
Fuck yes, you did, sweetheart.
With the feeding finished, Harper stands and puts Jamison in his isolette. She checks the monitors and makes sure he’s settled and happy, then turns back to me.
“You look tired, Blake.”
I huff out a chuckle.
“Thanks?”
Her lips tip up into a smile. “Bad night in the ER?”
“Just a regular night.” I push my hand through my hair. “Listen, I’d like to—”
She stops me by putting her hand on my arm.
“I’m going to pass.” She bites her lip and shuffles on her feet. “If I were ready for literally anything with anyone, I’d be giving you my number right now and would probably get a smidge clingy and you’d be like, whoa. Calm down, Harper.”
Unlikely.
“But you’re not.”
Her smile is sad, and I want to ask her why.
“I’m just not. I have this new job, some family stuff, life stuff.” She shrugs almost helplessly, and I want to pull her into me. I want to wrap my arms around her, bury my nose in her hair, and just hold her.
Instead, I put my hand out.
“May I please have your phone?”
She frowns but unlocks it and passes it to me, and I tap my number into it.
“There. You have my number. If you ever want to grab a meal, a coffee, go for a hike”—I lean into her so I can whisper in her ear—“or scream my name while my face is buried in that perfect pussy, you just call me.”