Page 25

HALLIE

I kick my feet up on the table in the staff room and bite into my chicken salad sandwich.

Only a few more hours left. Then I need to seriously get to grips with racing this McLaren on the set track Pete sent over. There are a ton of corners, and she handles nothing like my Shelby.

But I keep replaying yesterday with Conan in my head.

The way he talks about himself makes me kinda sad. There’s so much behind that tough exterior.

Maybe I should just ask him out. I want to learn more about him.

He makes me feel safe.

And when he looks at me, he actually sees me.

No one—not even my dad or Lily—has ever done that. Not even my mother. Who I haven’t heard from in years, by the way.

Occasionally an odd text, one on my birthday. She’s got her own new life in Ohio with Terry. Honestly, I’m fine without her. It’s always been just me and Dad.

Even when he died, I didn’t want to reach out.

Conan hasn’t texted to say the car’s ready, so I’m good for tomorrow night. Though I probably should double-check.

Because that McLaren could win me that twenty grand.

And deep down, I want to talk to him. He’s becoming part of my routine—the guessing game of how he’ll pop up.

A text? At work? My Pilates class?

I half expect him to knock on the door.

The door opens. I’m shocked to see Finn walk in with two cups of coffee. He never comes in here. He isn’t social. At all.

He’s either in his office or the OR.

He strides over and hands me a cup.

“Er, thank you.”

“Wasn’t me.” He looks around the empty room, relaxing.

“Let me guess—Conan?”

“Yeah,” he huffs.

“He’s at my workplace far too much, Hallie.”

“I can’t stop him.”

“Oh, I know. Once he sets his sights on something, you’re screwed.”

“We’re just friends, Dr. Quinn. He’ll get bored soon enough.”

Finn frowns and sips his coffee.

“Read the note on the cup. Don’t bet on that. Anyway, see you in OR in…” He checks his fancy watch. “Twenty-four minutes. Should only be an hour or so. Pacemaker. Then you can go home.”

I fight the urge to read the note while Finn’s here.

“Okay. Tell Conan I said thanks!”

“Nope. Not getting involved.”

He waves behind him as he walks out.

When the door clicks shut, I turn the cup and see his scribbled handwriting.

Does this count as chasing, trouble?

I giggle at his words and press dial. I want to hear his voice. It’s been a whole day without it.

He picks up on the first ring.

“I take it you got the caffeine?” His husky voice sends shivers through me.

His accent does things to me it really shouldn’t.

“I did. Thank you.”

“Hmm, mmm. You seem to thank me a lot, trouble.”

I bite my lip.

“Because you do nice things.”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Fuck. Is it getting hot in here?

“Yeah. I do.”

“Good.”

My knee starts bouncing. I’m not sure if I’m excited or nervous.

“Oh, by the way. Getting coffee delivered to my work by my boss is technically still chasing.”

His deep chuckle makes me clench my thighs.

“Ah. Okay. Looks like I’ll keep delivering things to you then.”

“Conan!”

“What? Are you smiling?” he asks.

Like an idiot—to the point my cheeks hurt.

“Yes, Conan. I am.”

“Then I shall continue my quest.”

There’s a pause.

“Hallie… Are you free tonight?”

I suck in a breath.

“I—I have plans tonight. Sorry. Another night?”

“Tomorrow?”

My stomach drops.

“Okay. Not tomorrow night either. The one after. Wait, I’m working. Shit.”

He laughs, easing my tension.

“Want to just sync our calendars up?”

“Pfft. You think I’m organized enough to have a calendar? I just go with the flow and hope for the best.”

I can thank ADHD for that. Late to appointments, missing them completely. A hot mess. But most of the time, I wing it.

“Yeah. Me neither. Just text me an evening you’re free, and I’ll make sure I am too.”

I pout. He’s so damn cute.

“Okay, beastie. I can do that. I gotta go into surgery now. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Surgery?” There is panic in his voice.

“I’m assisting your brother. Don’t panic.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. My bad. You got me there.”

I giggle. He’s funny without even trying.

“Break a leg.”

“I’ll really try not to break the patient’s leg, seeing as we work on hearts.”

“Ha. Have a good day, darlin’.”

“You too.”

I cut the call, butterflies swirling in my stomach as I look at his handwriting again.

What happens when the chase is over, though?