Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
As Noah answers, Connor and I maintain eye contact.
My stomach flips.
“I-Is that a good idea?”
Connor’s mouth twitches, like he nearly wants to smile at my response, then he turns back to Noah. “I think it’s a great idea. I was having a hard time finding a temporary place near the hospital anyway.”
Noah grins. “Good. It’ll make me feel better too. I don’t like the idea of Natalie living on her own while I’m gone.”
I scowl at him, worried Connor will think of me as a child if Noah treats me like one in front of him.
“Noah, I’m twenty-eight. I’d be just fine living on my own.”
“I realize that, but still, it makes me feel better knowing Connor will be in the house with you.”
Just the idea of Connor staying in the townhouse makes me feel heated, like I’m standing too close to an open flame.
“Technically, I won’t be in the house much unless I’m using the kitchen or watching TV. I stay in the guest house out back,” I say, speaking to the ground. “A small garden separates it from the main house.”
Connor’s voice edges toward amusement when he replies, “I know.”
Of course. Duh. He’s been to the townhouse before—plenty of times, and I’m sure Noah has filled him in on our arrangement. I’ve lived with my brother for the last few years, ever since the start of my residency. It’s a setup we both like. I couldn’t afford to live on my own, so Noah invited me to live with him, and his guest house, while small, affords me plenty of privacy. With our erratic, busy hours, we prefer the proximity. Otherwise, we might not ever get to spend much time together. Sure, there’s been the occasional awkward moment when I walk into the kitchen in the morning and stumble upon Noah cooking breakfast for a woman barely dressed in one of his shirts—in which case, I immediately run screaming from the house—but Noah’s usually pretty good about using discretion.
Dr. Patel comes over to our group then, apologizing as he steals Noah away for a moment, wanting to introduce him to a colleague. I panic as Connor and I are left in total silence, hovering near the edge of the room.
He could leave.
I could leave.
One of us could speak, but we don’t.
It grows more awkward by the second. I fidget on my heels, glance down to my toes, then peer up at him from beneath my lashes. I try to read his features. At times like this, he reminds me of a rock. Hard and unyielding. What would it be like to trace my finger along his sharp jaw? Why does it matter? I’d never work up the courage to actually do it. Still…what would his lips feel like if I pressed up onto my toes and fit my mouth against his? Could I make him smile? A full-blown knock-your-socks-off grin? As I stare, his attention is elsewhere, focused out across the room. His brows are furrowed. Like always, I’m not sure he even realizes I’m still here standing beside him. I hate how invisible he makes me feel.
Then suddenly he speaks, and I nearly jump.
“I’m not trying to intrude on your privacy.” His voice is low and intimate, and it makes my toes curl. He turns toward me, blocking me from the rest of the room, and I resist the urge to take a step back. It’s like my body can’t help but think of him as a predator. The more distance between us the better. “As Noah said, I’m having renovations done on my townhouse, and he offered me a place to stay while they’re underway. I won’t intrude—”
“No, of course it’s not an intrusion,” I say, cutting him off. Now that there’s a chance of him moving in, of being so close to him day in and day out, I want it desperately. “As I said, I live in the guest house. You’ll have the main house to yourself most of the time. I use the kitchen, and sometimes I watch TV in the living room, but it’ll be fine. Of course. Not an intrusion at all.”
Did I already say that?
He nods then I hear his beeper vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out to read the shorthand message, and I’m reminded that he’s on call tonight. It’s why he was late to the banquet.
“I need to head back to the hospital.”
“Duty calls,” I say, lamely.
He glances down at me, pinning me in place. “Right. I’ll see you.” His gaze flits to my plaque. “And congratulations.”
My mouth opens, undoubtedly preparing to expel some awkward response I’ll curse myself for later tonight when I’m alone and replaying this exchange, but then he turns and walks away, slicing through the crowd with his tall frame. Women watch him go, mesmerized by the sight of him. It’s like we all realize—on a molecular level—how rare it is to be in the presence of a man like him.