Page 16

Chapter sixteen

Holt

The Monday after Thanksgiving, I’m holding Hazel in my arms as I peer into the fridge, debating what I want to have for dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

I’m not expecting anyone tonight, and Hadley is out with Madison and Aubrey.

I hope it’s not the guys wanting to hang out.

Hunter called earlier to see if I wanted to do something, but I turned him down.

I’m tired and want to relax at home alone. Just Hazel and me.

My eyes widen when I open the door to find Rebecca on the other side, a pan of what appears to be spaghetti and meatballs in her hands.

“Everything alright, Doc?”

“Yeah. I hope I’m not interrupting.” She peers around the hallway and I frown, wondering what, or who she’s checking for. “I may have gotten carried away with the amount of dinner I cooked. I was distracted. Do you want to eat with me?” She holds up the casserole dish.

I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to process what she’s said.

“You want to have dinner with me?”

I know I sound like an idiot repeating what she said, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“I do.”

“Okay.” I nod, probably a little too vigorously, and hold the door open wider and step aside so she can come in.

She follows me into the kitchen and sets the dish on the counter .

“I’ll be right back. Have to go grab the salad,” she says before all but running out of my apartment.

I lay Hazel in her playpen in the living room and turn on the mobile she loves before grabbing what we’ll need for dinner, and setting the kitchen table.

The door opens, and Rebecca appears, a large bowl of salad in her hand.

“This smells delicious, Doc,” I tell her before scooping out pasta for both of us.

“Holt, what have I told you about calling me Rebecca when we’re not at work? Or even Becca.”

Becca? My heart hammers in my chest. I’ve never heard anyone call her that. I force myself to get it together. To not react. It’s just her name. It’s no big deal. But it sure as hell feels like a big deal.

Get it together.

“Here you go, Becca.” My voice sounds gravelly when I say her name, and I hope she doesn’t notice when she takes the plate I hand her. “We can sit at the table.” I gesture to the small table in the corner where I’ve set utensils and drinks out.

“Okay.” She sits down on one of the chairs.

After Hunter and Madison’s announcement at Thanksgiving, Rebecca seemed to become withdrawn. She disappeared for a while. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I did.

I don’t know why her reaction to the news bothers me, but it does.

Part of me is worried something else is going on.

I shouldn’t be though. How she feels isn’t any of my business.

We’re patient and doctor—friends at the most. Still, over the past few days, I kept trying to come up with a reason to go over to her place and make sure she was alright, but I couldn’t think of anything that sounded plausible enough.

Besides, I’m probably overreacting. Kat used to tell me all the time I was reading too much into things she said or did. So maybe I’m doing it again with Becca, and she’s fine.

Anyway, she’s here now, and she brought dinner. That must mean something, right? Or did she really just make too much food ?

“Oh, the salad.” She hops to her feet as I take a seat, and grabs the forgotten bowl of greens. “Can’t forget our veggies.” She lets out a nervous chuckle as she sets the dish on the table and sits back down. “Dang it. I should have thought about making garlic bread.”

I pause with my fork full of spaghetti hovering over my plate. “This is fine, Becca. Pasta is more than enough carbs.”

She lets out a giggle that goes straight to my dick, and all of a sudden, it’s my favorite sound in the whole world, and I want to hear it again.

What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s my fucking doctor.

My neighbor. Even if she wasn’t those things, she’s the ‘wifeing up’ type.

The settling down kind of woman. The one you take home to meet your family over the holidays.

I used to think I was that type of man, but Kat proved to me I’m not good enough.

Nope, my focus is on my hockey career and raising my daughter now. That’s it.

“You can never have enough carbs,” she says before shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

I shake my head, going back to my dinner. “Maybe before a game, but not tonight. Not unless you want me to fall asleep twenty minutes after we eat.”

“Fair enough,” she concedes.

The rest of the meal passes mostly in silence—comfortable silence, but silence nonetheless—and I’m grateful that she appreciates the quiet as much as I do.

Hadley always wants to talk, and Wes and the guys are even worse.

Sometimes, a guy just wants to eat a meal in peace. Even Hazel is content in her playpen.

“Want to watch a movie?” I blurt out when we’re cleaning up.

Crap. Why’d I say that? She probably has other things to do. Or she’ll think it’s weird I’m inviting her to hang out. We’ve never hung out alone like this before.

“Sounds good to me. I was gonna go home and veg on the couch anyway,” she says.

“Good.” I check the clock on the oven. “Hazel needs a bottle, and then she should be down for the night. Or at least part of the night. But it might take me a little while to get her settled.”

“How about I clean up while you take care of her? ”

“Are you sure?” I set the dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink.

“Definitely. You go feed your daughter. I’ll clean up here, then pop over to my apartment to feed Peaches, and put the leftovers away.” She pauses, glancing around. “Unless you want to keep them?”

“Nah. I appreciate it though.” I quickly make Hazel’s bottle before going to get her settled for the night.

Thirty minutes later I’m creeping silently out of my bedroom, where Hazel is now sleeping.

I stutter to a halt in the entrance to the living room, my heart pounding at the sight in front of me.

Becca is sitting on one end of the couch peering down at her phone, her legs tucked up under her, and the blanket my sister keeps on the back of the couch draped over her lap.

She looks as if she belongs.

I take a deep breath, pushing that thought away. She’s a friend. Nothing more. She can’t ever be more.

“What should we watch?” I ask, stepping fully into the room and taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

I grab the remote and pull up one of the streaming services.

I’m scrolling through the Movies section when she leans over and puts a hand on my arm to stop me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that she’s touching me.

It’s completely innocent, but I like it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She’s my physical therapist.

I’ve sworn off relationships.

It’s getting harder and harder to remember those things the more time I spend with her.

“Wait, they have all the Bond movies on here.”

I sit up straighter. “You like James Bond too?”

Her face lights up. “My dad and I used to watch them together when I came home from college. It was kind of our thing since my brother didn’t care for them.”

I store away the nugget of information that she has a brother, hoping maybe she’ll share more with me.

“Do you have a favorite?” I gesture toward the television. “They have all of them on here. ”

“ You Only Live Twice is one of my favorites. I haven’t seen it in a while.”

In answer, I scroll over to it and click Play. “It’s one of my favorites too,” I murmur as the opening scene starts.

As the movie plays, it’s as if we’re magnets drawn to each other because we get closer and closer. I can’t be certain who moves first, but by the time Bond starts fighting Blofeld, the baddie, we’re so close that Becca’s thigh pushes against mine as she tenses during the fight scene.

I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

I know I shouldn’t.

But I do.

I’m a weak man.

Nothing wrong with enjoying her leg against mine. Nothing else is happening between us. It’s innocent.

She stiffens next to me, gripping my arm.

“You alright?” I whisper.

She about jumps out of her seat at my question before shooting me a glare, her hand on her chest.

The laugh that was threatening to fall dies on my lips when I realize how close we are. The television gives off a tiny bit of light, enough that I can make out her eyes, pupils blown wide.

I can’t stop staring at her.

My gaze wanders to her mouth.

I wonder what her lips taste like.

If they’re as soft as they look.

What would it be like to kiss her? Hear her moan? Sink my hands into her hair and wrap the silky strands around my fingers?

Taste her skin?

Why the fuck am I having these thoughts?

As if she can read my mind, she swallows, and then her tongue peeks out, swiping over her bottom lip, and I can’t help tracking the movement before forcing myself to focus on something else.

“Becca?” I whisper, unsure of what I’m really asking.

Permission to kiss her ?

She leans closer, staring at me so hard I wonder if she can see through me. I stroke a finger over her chin and down her neck, feeling her pulse racing. She’s as affected as I am.

“Holt.” Her voice comes out hoarse. “We shouldn’t.”

I close my eyes, counting to five slowly, and try to force myself to move away from her. To put space between us.

“But I want to.”

My eyes pop open at her words, so soft I wonder if I imagined them. But from her heated stare, I know I didn’t. I shouldn’t act on these thoughts. As much as I want to, I really shouldn’t, but one kiss won’t hurt, right? One kiss to get it out of our systems.

“Me too.”

I barely get the words out before her lips are crashing against mine.

I lose all ability to think rationally with one taste of her.

I groan and her tongue slips into my mouth.

I wrap my arms around her and drag her onto my lap.

Gripping her hip with one hand, and sinking my fingers into her scalp with the other, I move her into a better position so I can kiss her deeper.

She whimpers, holding onto my shoulders.

Her noises go straight to my cock, which was already hardening when she kissed me, but is now steel with her in my lap.

She rocks against me, and my eyes roll into the back of my head when I feel her warmth through her leggings.

Eventually I pull back, breaking our kiss, and she lets out a little whine.

Breathing heavily, I lean forward resting my forehead against hers.

“Sweetheart, I. . .”

She nods against me. “Same. Same.”

I pull back so I can see her better in the dim light. “We shouldn’t. You’re . . . and I’m . . .”

“I know. We work together. You’re still my patient. We really shouldn’t do this.” She leans over and gives me a chaste kiss. “But I want to. I can’t be the only one who feels it.”

Before I can respond, Hazel lets out a cry.

“Fuck,” I hiss as Becca slides off my lap .

She pauses the movie, and I get to my feet and make my way to my room, hoping I’ll be able to get Hazel settled quickly so I can kiss Becca again.

But lady luck isn’t on my side tonight because it takes a while for Hazel to calm down and fall back to sleep. When I walk back into the living room, my stomach sinks at the sight of my sister sitting on the couch next to Becca.

Becca glances up at me, giving me an apologetic look.

Hadley grins when she sees me. “Everything ok, Holt?”

“Yes,” I growl.

“Rebecca was telling me how you two had dinner, and were watching a movie.” She bounces her eyebrows.

“I should go,” Becca says, getting to her feet. “It’s late, and I have a full schedule tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I say, following her to the front door. “I’m sorry,” I whisper when we’re alone.

“No need to apologize, your daughter needed you. Plus, it’s better this way.” Her eyes meet mine before she fixes them on the ground.

“Becca.” I take a step closer to her.

“It’s fine, Holt. I promise. Maybe this was a sign that we should pretend nothing happened,” she whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she steps around me and leaves.