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I headed for the office to deposit my things when I got a text from Jules.
Jules: Look at this article and picture.
I scrolled down and read:
Nevada state troopers nab Skip Larson, on the run for over twenty years after being accused of swindling tens of thousands of dollars from multiple widows across the country.
There he was, in all his orangey-ness, handcuffed and being placed in a patrol car. Oh, sweet justice. I was so happy, I wanted to squeal. I couldn’t wait to tell Tristan. It was a good thing Skippy liked orange. He was going to be wearing a lot of it in the foreseeable future.
Me: This is amazing! Thank you for all your help. How’s your dad doing today?
Jules: He’s hanging in there.
Me: I’ll stop by the ICU after my shift is over. Again, I can’t thank you enough. PS: You’re the coolest spy around.
She sent back a laughing emoji.
But she didn’t deny it this time.
I walked out of the office to find a grinning Lucy. “What’s up?”
“He’s back,” she sang. “Room one.”
I didn’t know whether this news excited or exasperated me. Tristan was going to have the whole town talking before we even went on a date. “What’s he in for now?”
“I think that’s obvious.” Lucy flitted off.
With every nurse watching me, I headed over to room one to see what he was faking this time. I swung the door open to find him once again sitting on the exam table, shirtless, his long legs in dress pants dangling off the edge. A smoldering smile played on his ridiculously gorgeous face. The stubble on his chiseled cheeks and jawline had me feeling weak in the knees. I quickly shut the door.
“What are you doing here?” I half complained, half ogled his sculpted chest and abs. Oh, mama.
“I forgot to get my stitches taken out.”
I wasn’t buying that line. “What? I hope your skin hasn’t started growing over them. It’s going to be painful to remove them. The scarring might be worse now.”
“Totally worth it,” he crooned.
“Why didn’t you tell me over the weekend? I could have taken them out at your place.”
He reached out his hand to me. “Because I need every excuse I can come up with to see you.”
I eyed his hand, torn about taking it. “I’m at work.”
He motioned with his finger for me to step closer, tempting me. “The door is closed.”
“You’re going to get me fired.”
“I know that’s not what you’re afraid of.”
He was right. I had made out plenty in hospitals. But never with a patient. Never with him. There was a difference, though, because he was different. He was my first and truest love. He’d also broken my heart, yet he still owned it. Giving him my hand meant I was throwing the door wide open for him to wreck me again. Not to mention opening it to the wrath his parents were just waiting to unleash.
Sensing my hesitancy, Tristan jumped off the exam table and came to me. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. “Calista,” he spoke my name like he treasured it above all else.
I settled against his bare chest and wrapped my arms around him. My fingers pressed against his muscular back. The skin-to-skin contact ignited a flurry of emotions, but the overriding feeling was that I was right where I belonged.
Tristan’s fingers danced down my back. “I’ve missed this.”
“Me too,” I murmured against his chest, wishing to drown in his intoxicating scent.
