Page 56 of Crash

“Don’t worry; I had my assistant stock some emergency provisions in case you get lost between the kitchen and your bedroom.” He started walking, expecting me to follow. “Living room first.”

He swept his hand out to a sofa that looked like it was crafted from clouds. “State-of-the-art entertainment system, every streaming service known to mankind, and …” He grabbed a remote, pointing to a distinctive green button. “One-click access to those god-awful romance movies you love so much.”

“Says the guy who exclusively watches people getting dismembered in horror films.”

“Those are educational. Some of us actually need to know where the arteries are.”

“Pretty sureThe Texas Chain Saw Massacreisn’t included in med school curriculum.”

“Shows what you know.” He pressed the remote into my hand. “And before you start with the guilt spiral, I changed the purchase passcode to your birthday. Figured you couldn’t forget that one.”

My stomach did a perilous little twirl. He’d gone out of his way to change his passwords, just because he remembered how much I loved movies?

“Kitchen next,” he announced, leading me into a space that belonged in a magazine. “Had my assistant stock your favorites.”

Assistant?

He opened the fanciest refrigerator freezer I had ever seen. The thing was so organized; it looked like it belonged in an appliance commercial with glorious colors of fruits and vegetables on the left, lean proteins, eggs, yogurts on the right. And then some of my favorite foods. Including dark chocolate squares—the kind from that Michigan Avenue chocolate shop—on the lower shelves, the ones that much shorter me would have no difficulty reaching.

Guilt etched across my insides.

“Blake …”

“If you’re about to launch into youryou shouldn’t have done thisspeech, remember our deal.” He opened a cabinet, revealing more of my favorites. “No more sorrys.”

“I just don’t want to be in your way. You work such demanding hours and?—”

“Exactly. We’ll be like two ships passing in the night.” He leaned against the counter, his height making the massive kitchen seem somehow smaller. “Just making sure you have everything you need.”

He pointed to a paper held to the fridge by a magnet shaped like a scalpel. “Numbers for the personal assistant and chef.”

“I didn’t know doctors got personal assistants.”

“She’s not from the hospital. I hired her directly. She handles the errands I’m too busy for.”

“Like preparing for unexpected houseguests?”

“Like making sure said houseguest doesn’t starve to death because she forgets to eat when she’s working.” He pushed off the counter.

I followed him down the hallway to a guest bedroom that made five-star hotels look like highway motels. A king-size bed dominated the space, draped in a gloriously fluffy comforter in shades of silver and cream that practically begged to be touched, while a crystal chandelier cast soft shadows across plushcarpeting that sank beneath my feet. The air itself smelled of lavender and fresh linens, making the space feel both luxurious and somehow intimate.

“I have a few rules.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Rules?” Totally fair, but totally unexpected. “Like what?”

“Your ex-boyfriend, or any current or future boyfriend, is not welcome here.”

Okaaaaay …

“Why?”

“Because I’ll be tempted to shove his face into my fireplace.”

Trying to act like his flash of jealousy wasn’t super welcomed in my lower belly, I carried on with a joke. “And hospital boards tend to frown upon that?”

“I don’t want to ruin my perfectly good fireplace. Plus, I need to be able to think clearly; this is my safe space, and I’ll be working after hours on your case here, so if you’re going to meet a man, meet him outside these walls.”

I smirked. “Don’t worry. My only boyfriend right now requires AA batteries.”