Page 221 of The Doctors Will See You Now

But did that mean that we were in a relationship?

I had no clue.

Pretty sure the ball’s in your court, sister, my subconscious taunted me. Scott was pulling for a full-blown relationship weeks ago.

Did I want him to be my boyfriend?

I waited for my body’s normal volatile reaction to the word, but nothing came. Not the urge to run or sweaty hands or a violently pounding heartbeat. Nothing.

“A glass of wine?” he offered, completely unaware of my mental come to Jesus moment. “Champagne?”

I scrunched my nose at both options. Between the two glasses of champagne I’d had with hors d’oeuvres and the additional glass of wine during dinner, I was done boozing. “How about something less alcoholic?” I asked and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter.

He chuckled and opened his fridge to rummage through its contents. I, of course, took that time to check out his tight and toned ass. Hot damn, he has a nice ass. Firm and round with just the right symmetry.

“Stop staring at my ass,” he said, his eyes still fixated on the inside of his fridge.

What’s he got, eyes in the back of his head?

“I’m not staring at your ass,” I denied without bothering to actually stop.

I wanted to grip it with both hands. Maybe even spank it. Hell, taking a big, hearty bite out of it sounded nice.

“Liar,” he accused with a grin over his shoulder. I fought the urge to giggle.

“It’s not my fault. You’re the one who’s flaunting the goods.”

While he pulled out the drink options and set them on his counter, he shook his ass rhythmically and started singing “Hips Don’t Lie” like he was Shakira himself. I couldn’t hold back my laughter after that. Flipping imaginary hair from shoulder to shoulder, he swayed and posed and fucking flaunted like he was one of the lead dancers in the music video.

Good Lord, not only was Scott sexy as fuck, he was endearingly charming and had a sense of humor like no one else. It felt like he was the only man I saw anymore.

Because you’re in love with him.

At that very moment, my heart attempted its best impression of an Olympic gymnast inside of my chest. Its pounding rhythm felt two seconds away from vaulting directly out of my body and onto the floor.

Holy hell. I was in love with Scott?

The anniversary party cheers. It had to be. No curse, my asshole.

“What’ll it be?” he asked and gestured toward the counter full of drinks. When his eyes met mine, he tilted his head to the side in concern. “Are you okay?”

No! I’m not fucking okay! I’m not supposed to fall in love, goddammit! Hell, I’m even okay with the boyfriend part! But, love? LOVE? Jesus Christ, what is happening?

“Uh-huh,” I said through the dryness in my throat, ironically parched for the first time since he’d offered me a drink. The concern on his face never waned.

“Are you sure?” he asked and moved toward me to put a gentle hand to my cheek. “You don’t look okay. Do you feel sick?”

Of course, I’m not okay! You put some kind of voodoo spell on me, and now I’m in fucking love with you!

I cleared my throat with a little ahem and shook my head in response. “I’m just a little tired. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you still thirsty for something a little less alcoholic?” he questioned with a soft smile.

Drinks! Yes, let’s talk about drinks. Drinks are neutral. Drinks are refreshing. Drinks don’t give me panic attacks because I’m in love with them.

I nodded. “What are my options?”

“Well,” he started and dramatically gestured toward the drink options on the counter like he was selling vacuums and food dehydrators on the Home Shopping Network. “We have a fabulous selection of orange juice, whole milk, water, iced tea, or Coca-Cola.”