Page 42 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

“You fish?” I’m genuinely surprised. I can’t picture him sitting on a dock with a rod and reel, this stern, serious man who seems married to his job.

His expression shifts, and I brace myself for him to shut down the way he usually does when things get personal. But then his lips lift into a small smile. I nearly fall over. Luckily, I’m already lying down. He very rarely smiles, so when he does, I feel ridiculously giddy, like a teenager with a crush.

“Yes. Well, I was.” He lifts an eyebrow as his gaze drops to my arm for the first time, assessing the IV, the bruising.

“You don’t have your glasses on again,” I point out. Without them, his eyes are even more intense.

“You don’t trust me without them?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

I do, but— “I like you with glasses.” The words are out before I can stop them.

He takes another step closer to the bed, closer to me. “I can examine you perfectly without them, Hannah.”

My chest tightens. I’m struggling to breathe as we borderline flirt. Is this flirting? I’ve never had to think about it before. Guys come to me. They know me. Well, they know the version they’ve seen online—the perfect celebrity who never ends up in the ER twice in one week.

“How long were you supposed to be off for?” I ask, desperate to keep him talking, to keep him this relaxed and open.

“Two days.”

Silence stretches between us, awkward now instead of charged.

“So where do you fish?” I ask, scrambling to recover the moment.

He sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m not asking you anything difficult.”

“But it’s personal.” He says it like that’s supposed to end the conversation.

“So?” I challenge, holding his gaze, because I’m tired of pretending there’s nothing between us.

He stares at me for a long minute, then gives in. “Down at my friend Emmett’s cabin on Clearwater Lake.”

His eyes widen briefly, like he’s surprised at himself for sharing, before he drops his chin, avoiding my gaze as if he said something he shouldn’t have.

The moment breaks, and he straightens. “I should be finding out how you actually ended up here. I haven’t heard the full story yet. Did the raccoon come back?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. When I’m in this stupid mess because of one. “No. This time, it was—” I gesture vaguely. “The medication last night and this morning on an empty stomach. All I’ve had in the past twenty-four hours is a small sandwich on set at lunch yesterday.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head, and there’s actual concern in his voice now. “You can’t catch a break, can you?”

My phone buzzes loudly on the side table, and my heart clenches when I see the name. Dain. I grab it, my hands shaking slightly.

“I need to take this,” I say apologetically.

He nods and steps back to give me space, but he doesn’t leave. Moving to check my IV line, he adjusts something, but I know he can hear every word.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Dain asks. “We’re having a crisis meeting about the show, and you’re not here. We’re talking about replacing you, Hannah.”

Ice floods my veins. “I’m in the hospital, Dain. I told you—”

“I don’t care if you’re dying. You need to be here. I’ve got the network breathing down my neck, and you’re MIA.”

“I’m not—” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he cuts me off. “If you’re not back on set tomorrow at call-time, I’m replacing you. We’ve already got someone standing by who can step in. No ifs, ands, or buts. Do you understand?”