Page 9 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

GIANNA

T he sterile hum of the hospital felt louder than usual, the fluorescent lights above Gianna’s head buzzing in a way that grated on her nerves.

She was standing in the break room, her hands gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white while she stared wide-eyed at the text she’d just sent Holly.

What the hell had she been thinking?

What could possibly have possessed her to send that?

Gianna’s heart pounded in her chest as she reread the text, wishing more than anything she could take it back, that she could somehow reach into the digital void and yank it out of existence before Holly had a chance to read it.

Unfortunately, the message already showed that Holly had read it, which meant she was probably spending every ounce of brain power dissecting every word, pulling the message apart, and wondering why Gianna would send something so…personal. So revealing.

And you’re very distracting.

UGH!

But it was true. Holly was distracting. Every smile. Every laugh. Everything about her. But that didn’t mean that Gianna had to tell her that, it didn’t mean that Gianna had to lose her sense of self-preservation.

If only she could just ignore those feelings.

If only she could just bury the way she felt about Holly like she’d buried everything else that didn’t fit the neat little box of her life.

All those past relationships she didn’t care about had already been forgotten like they were last Sunday’s dinner.

But her feelings for Holly weren’t that simple.

In fact, they were hopelessly complicated, a constant tug-of-war between wanting to kiss Holly senseless and trying to keep cool, to act like a good friend.

Gianna rubbed two fingers against her right temple. A headache was simmering and if she stared any longer at the message she couldn’t take back, her head would probably explode.

Which was why she had to do damage control.

Gianna could suggest they meet. Maybe they could talk about everything.

Maybe she’d even confess to Holly that she’d been way too happy about Holly’s text last night, the one about her dismal date with Brian.

Frankly, the whole reason she hadn’t replied was because she’d been so scared that her happiness would slip through in the message and give everything away that she’d convinced herself to ignore it.

Or maybe they could talk about nothing. It didn’t matter.

She just needed to see Holly, to tell her—even though it was a lie—that the text message meant nothing.

And maybe Gianna also just needed to get over this whole cold shoulder thing before she lost the person she cared about.

Holly was her friend after all. It wasn’t worth risking that.

Her fingers quickly tapped out a response.

Meet me at Central Beach at five. Usual spot.

Holly replied before Gianna could even take a deep breath in.

See you then.

A wave of relief washed over Gianna so intense it almost knocked her off her feet. She’d braced herself for Holly to decide that she didn’t want to see her, maybe even think that Gianna had crossed some invisible line with that rather inappropriate message, but now she could at least breathe again.

Gianna clicked off her phone’s screen and was just about to cross the room to the freshly brewed coffee pot when a voice cracked through the air behind her. “Rossi, are you busy?”

Gianna spun around, heart leaping into her throat, only to see Dr. Miller, the general surgeon, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at her with those bushy black brows furrowed on his face.

“Got a consult in the ER,” he said. “I know you’re only working a half day, but I need your help.

” His voice was as flat as ever, offering no room for argument.

Not that Gianna would argue. Working provided the perfect distraction. Besides, there was still plenty of time till five.

Gianna pulled into a parking spot along Central Beach at quarter to six.

A good forty-five minutes later than she’d planned.

Surgery had run late and even though she’d tried to message Holly earlier, she’d gotten lost in the flurry of post-op checks and hadn’t had the chance to send it until the last minute.

Sorry, I’m running late, but I’m on my way.

It hadn’t been the most reassuring message and frankly, she wouldn’t be all that offended if Holly had decided to pack it up and head home. Forty-five minutes wasn’t just a little bit late; it was pretty damn rude.

But the moment Gianna stepped onto the sand, she caught sight of Holly.

The anesthesiologist was sitting a few feet away, knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them as if she was trying to hold herself together against the wind.

Her blonde hair was swirling around her face, smacking across her back, and for a second Gianna forgot to breathe.

It was like the world around her was shifting, narrowing to that single moment, to Holly, waiting for her.

Gianna quickly crossed the sand, not wanting to be any later than she already was, but maneuvering across the sand with her surgical clogs wasn’t exactly an easy task, or graceful. And even if she had been barefoot, the sand seemed to have a personal vendetta against her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Gianna said when she finally reached her. “Surgery ran over.” Her voice was a little more strained than she wanted it to be.

Holly looked up, a half-smile curling on her lips. It wasn’t quite the cheerful greeting Gianna was hoping for, but given how she’d left things at the cafeteria this morning, she wasn’t exactly expecting anything else.

“Don’t worry about it,” Holly said and patted the sand beside her. “Sit. You look like you need a break.”

“I do,” Gianna said, lowering until she was sitting right beside Holly, with just enough space between them to fit a coffee cup. “Didn’t exactly expect to be working today. At least not more than just doing rounds. But then again?—”

“No rest for the wicked—I mean surgeons,” Holly finished with a smirk. “You could be on your deathbed, and they’d still find a way to drag you into the OR.”

“Honestly, sometimes I think I only get called when they know I’m about to leave,” Gianna said, glancing at Holly out of the corner of her eye.

She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a loose linen top that fluttered lightly over her slender body.

With her golden hair and those blue eyes, she looked like the ocean at dusk.

Gianna found it almost impossible to look away.

But she did, otherwise she’d start imagining herself slipping an arm around Holly, pulling her closer, tilting her head toward her before pressing her lips against hers?—

She cut the thought off and blew out a breath. “It’s like a game they play,” Gianna went on,” to see how late they can keep me there. Maybe they’re secretly hoping I never leave.”

Holly nodded her eyes on the waves rolling onto the shore. The sun was still hanging high, but the sky had that sharp, crisp quality that made everything feel just a bit more alive.

“You’re basically comparing Oakridge to a Las Vegas Casino.”

“Fakes skies so you won’t know what time it is.”

“Pretty brilliant strategy,” Holly said, shaking her head.

She dropped her arms to her side and folded her legs.

Her knee brushed against Gianna’s and for a split second, Gianna thought Holly might leave it there, let the touch linger.

But then she straightened her legs, pulling away.

“Do you remember being a resident and thinking you could go for days without a break?”

Gianna nodded, still very aware of the hotspot on her leg. “We were idiots back then.”

“Yeah,” Holly said, laughing lightly, a sound that made Gianna’s chest tighten in a way she didn’t expect. In a way, she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Now we know what it feels like to hit a wall.”

“It’s a good wall though, keeps us in check.”

Holly’s lips parted slightly as if she was going to say something more, but she fell quiet. They both did, just watching the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean, the people, and the faint hum of cars driving somewhere out of sight.

Then, without really thinking, Gianna reached for a shell in the sand between them.

It was a small, spiral-shaped conch, with hints of coral pink streaking across it.

But it seemed Holly had the same idea as well.

Their fingers brushed against each other’s—light, barely a touch—but it was enough to send a ripple through Gianna, to make her heart race.

Holly’s eyes flicked to hers for a second, but she didn’t say anything, just picked up the shell and held it between them before she handed it over to Gianna. “It’s yours. I know how much you love collecting shells.”

“Thanks,” Gianna muttered, feeling her face go red.

At least her skin was tanned enough to mask most of it.

But still, she felt like she was on fire.

Gripping the shell tightly in her hand, Gianna shifted on the sand trying to make herself comfortable, but it felt like everything she did just drew more attention to the fact that her heart was beating way too fast. She glanced at Holly, who was now watching the ocean, biting at the bottom of her lip.

The reason Gianna had invited Holly to the beach was becoming increasingly unclear.

It wasn’t like she was about to confess how she felt about the woman—hell no.

That would be a disaster. A catastrophe she wasn’t prepared for.

Gianna Rossi was just not prepared to make things messy.

To ruin a perfectly great friendship. Not now.

Not yet. Or ever. Which was why it was probably best she just ignored the message she’d sent to Holly earlier.

If Holly wasn’t going to bring it up, then neither would she.