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“I’m just trying to ensure you leave a five-star Yelp review of our services here.”
A deep, rolling laugh passes his lips as I wheel him through the parking lot and over to a large black Chevy Silverado that’s absolutely beautiful. The truck is spotless and gleams in the sunlight. A red and yellow decal in the shape of a fireman’s helmet with a pair of axes crossed behind it is affixed to the back window, but other than that, it has no other stickers or decorations of any kind. When I stop the wheelchair, Hunter stands up and stretches out his back, a small grimace of pain flitting across his lips.
“Well, here we are,” he says.
“Here we are.”
Hunter bounces his keys in the palm of his hand but seems reluctant to leave. I don’t want him to go either because once he climbs into his truck, I have no idea when or if I’ll ever see him again. I know I shouldn’t want to. There are ten thousand reasons I should just let this go. But my heart isn’t listening. Knowing this might be the last time I’m ever in Hunter’s presence fills my heart with a sharp pain that burns like acid.
Hunter is large, and he looms over me. More than a foot taller and with his brawny, hulking body, it only heightens my sense of being a fragile little girl next to him. It’s surprisingly a feeling I like. The thought of him being able to pick me up, his large form enveloping me thoroughly, makes my heart beat harder and makes the fire between my thighs burn hotter.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he says.
“Hey, just doing my job,” I reply with a smile.
Hunter looks down at me, and I can feel the heat of his dark eyes on my skin. A quiver runs through my intimate parts and my panties are soaked through. With his smoldering gaze on me, I feel like I’m in a trance. And before I can break free of it, Hunter steps forward and pushes me against the side of his truck before he leans down and kisses me. I’m so stunned for a moment that I can’t move, but then the warmth flowing through my pussy spreads through the rest of my body. My lips part, allowing him to slide his tongue into my mouth.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lean into Hunter’s kiss, savoring the velvety feel of his tongue swirling around mine. He swallows the low groan that passes my lips, and I feel weightless. My heart thunders against the inside of my chest, and my head swims. I savor the feeling of his tongue and the light hint of mint on his breath as I lose myself in his kiss.
Slowly and reluctantly, we pull back and I find myself looking up into his dark eyes, my core pulsating as hard as my heart. All at once, reality comes crashing down on me again, and I realize what I’ve just done. I’ve never kissed a patient before. Never thought about kissing a patient before. I don’t even know how many ethical codes, let alone hospital policies, I’ve broken just now. If anybody saw what I just did…
My eyes wide and my lips trembling, I shake my head. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
Panic surging through my veins, before Hunter can respond, I turn and sprint back to the hospital, abandoning the chair just inside the front doors. Curious looks and murmurs from patients and staff alike chase me down the corridor. They nip at my heels all the way into one of the staff restrooms where I bang into one of the stalls, drop onto one of the toilet seats, and lean the back of my head against the cool tile behind me.
Though mortified, a smile crosses my lips, and I quickly cover my mouth with my hands. I close my eyes and revel in the lingering sensations of Hunter’s lips on mine. Biting my bottom lip, I let myself experience it all over again, feeling his body pressed to mine, his tongue in my mouth, and his large, rough hands on my body. I shudder and can’t keep the smile off my face, shaky though it might be. Electric tingles run up and down my body and my panties are soaked through completely as I recall everything I can about that kiss. The most amazing kiss of my life.
As the memory washes over me, it brings with it a profound sadness knowing that will probably be the only time I experience that with Hunter. As sad as it makes me, though, I can’t deny that having been able to enjoy a kiss with him, if only once, makes my heart flutter with joy. It’s something I never thought I’d get to enjoy.
“One thing off my bucket list,” I say quietly to myself as I laugh softly.
7
HUNTER
I’ve been home from the hospital for two days now, and I’m going out of my fucking mind. I’m climbing the walls. I’ve cleaned my entire place—twice. I’ve rearranged my pantry and spice cabinet—twice. And I’m giving serious thought to repainting my entire house.
If I don’t get medically cleared to return to duty soon—and they’re telling me it’s going to be a few days yet—I’m afraid of what other home improvement project I’m going to find to keep me occupied. Or I might just fucking explode. Which way I go is seriously a goddamn toss-up at this point.
Making it all even worse is that ever since coming home from the hospital, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Harlow. Can’t stop thinking about that kiss. She turned and sprinted away so quickly, I didn’t have time to get her number from her. Of course, the fact that she turned and sprinted away that fast makes me wonder if I crossed a line with her. In the moment, it felt right. The passion coursing through me felt reciprocated. It seemed to me that she wanted it as much as I did. That she enjoyed it as much as I did. But the fact that she ran away from me without another word has left me trying to figure out what the fuck happened.
With nothing else to keep me occupied, I’ve spent the last few days obsessing about that kiss. About Harlow. And trying to understand what happened. We spent my time in the hospital flirting and being playful with one another. I thought she would have welcomed a kiss. Had I misread the signs? Had I somehow misinterpreted her flirting? I don’t think I did. I’m usually pretty perceptive and like to think I read people really well. But the fact that she pulled away from me and then bailed is making me question everything.
I’m not the kind of guy who second-guesses himself. In my line of work, there is no room for doubt, and second-guessing myself could lead to my death or the deaths of my men. It’s why I make the best decisions I can, execute my plans, and don’t look back. It’s why the fact that I’ve been sitting here, second-guessing everything about the kiss is driving me absolutely fucking bananas. I don’t think I’ve ever misread a situation as badly as I seem to have misread this one, and it’s left me absolutely confounded.
I stop pacing and look out my front window, watching a couple of cars pass by as my mind spins with a thousand thoughts. Maybe if I were back at work, I wouldn’t be obsessing about this as badly as I am. But part of me thinks I might anyway. What I realize as I stand at the window is that it’s not necessarily the kiss and Harlow’s reaction to it, or what it all means that’s bothering me so much. It’s not precisely what I’m fixated on.
It’s her.
I think what’s gotten under my skin so much is the fact that I thought Harlow and I had connected on a deeper level. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. Not only is she half my age, she’s my son’s ex-girlfriend. For those reasons and so many more, Harlow White should be the furthest thing from my mind. But over my time in the hospital, spending as much time together talking and getting to know each other like we did, we really clicked.
There’s just something about her that’s gotten under my skin, and I can’t quite shake her. I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t connect with people very easily. I never have. Things with Harlow just seem so natural and flow so easily that I can’t get her out of my head. The nagging feeling of having Harlow running around my head is like a splinter just beneath my skin that just won’t stop stabbing me. And it’s because I don’t have answers. I don’t know why she ran off on me like that. It’s those questions and not understanding what happened that’s bothering me so fucking relentlessly.
I know I should find some way to let this go. Find some way to put her out of my mind. Find some way to accept that she ran off as an answer to all the questions in my head. I know I should stay away from her. But I can’t. I want—no, I need—to hear her say the words.
“Fuck it,” I say.
* * *
