Page 97 of Protecting What's Mine

She pulled out her phone and dialed before she could remind herself that she wasn’t going to see him tonight. Just because she was inviting him out didn’t mean she had to spend the night with him. Inconsistency was the key to a good fling. It kept the expectations low.

“Dreamy.” Linc’s voice was like honey.

“Doing anything important, Hotshot?” she asked.

“Nothing that can’t be finished later.”

“Feel like meeting me for a celebratory drink at Remo’s?”

“Absolutely. Give me ten. What are we celebrating?”

She bit her lip, then grinned. “Friday.”

He chuckled softly. “I’ll meet you there.”

She felt a warm rush of something good flood through her. “Can’t wait.”

DUNNIGAN ANDASSOCIATEShad commandeered half of Remo’s otherwise empty bar. It was still early. But her crew made up for the lack of numbers with noise level. When Mack walked in the door, they cheered.

“Come get your on-the-house round, Dr. Mack,” Sophie called from behind the bar.

“What is all this?” Mack asked, gimping up to the bar and sliding onto the stool they’d saved for her. She pointed to a new IPA on draft.

“You saved a life today,” Tuesday said, clapping her hands. She had a tall, skinny glass of what Mack assumed was some sort of low-carb alcohol in front of her.

“You’re a hero!” Freida said, hefting up her frozen margarita.

“To Dr. O’Neil, lifesaver,” Russell said, holding up his red wine.

Sophie slid Mack’s beer to her. Reluctantly, she raised it. “To Friday afternoons.”

“Cheers!”

“We looked it up after you left,” Tuesday bubbled.

“I’d never even heard of it,” Freida added.

“Peoplediefrom this. Especially when they don’t present with the rash. How did you know?” Tuesday squeaked.

“I remembered it from a medical journal article. Cases are on the rise. Global warming. More ticks. Sometimes there’s no rash.”

Freida thumped her on the back. “This was almost better than firefighter physical day.”

Tuesday gasped. “OMG. I just realized. You’re like that grumpy, mean doctor on that old show. He walked with a limp, too!”

Mack guessed it was at least her second low-carb alcoholic beverage. “Unlike House, I’m not addicted to Vicodin. Just to make that clear.”

Tuesday thought that was hilarious and nearly fell off her stool.

“Congratulations, doc,” Sophie said, sliding her a food menu. “Better get some bar food in Tuesday before she goes for round three.”

They ordered quesadillas and French fries. Because why not?

While Tuesday and Freida hurried off to attack the jukebox, Russell slid over to the stool next to her.

“I would have missed it,” he admitted. “If that boy had walked into my exam room instead of yours, he might not have made it through the weekend.”

Mack pushed the thought aside. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. They were doctors. It was what they were trained for.