Page 10 of Saving Love (Pulse Medical #2)
“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather lie down on a bed of needles than participate in this team event,” Bette muttered, hoping it would cut right through the ice.
Emily snorted, and it was as if a rain cloud had suddenly flown in, sweeping away all the tension, all the disgruntlement Bette had felt over the last few days.
“I’d rather listen to Miss Earl in bed three tell me about her cat, Mister Kingston, missing the litter box for three hours straight,” Emily replied, smirking.
Bette, who had treated Miss Earl for a knee replacement this morning, knew all about Mr. Kensington. Her mouth twitched into a smile.
“Everyone ready!” Mark bellowed, slapping his hands together. “You’re going to get ten seconds to get into position and then I’m going to count you down.”
“I guess we’ve got no choice now,” Bette replied, flicking her attention from Mark back to Emily. She wasn’t going to admit it, but she was hating this event a little less, which honestly scared her somewhat.
“I guess not,” Emily said, stepping closer. Close enough that Bette’s instinct told her to back away. She was feeling things. Unknown things. A ridiculous flutter in her stomach, like a butterfly trying to escape a cage.
But this was a competition, she couldn’t back away. Bette had no choice but to follow the rules. And so, she did what she had to do. Bette squared her shoulders and pressed her back against Emily’s, feeling the stiff tension radiating off the surgeon like a livewire.
“Whatever you do, don’t strain your shoulder,” Bette instructed. She’d rather lose if it meant Emily completed the stupid exercise without any pain.
“I won’t,” Emily replied, shifting her feet into position. “As long as we move at the same time. You ready?”
Bette nodded, well aware that Emily couldn’t see her. But she could feel her. In fact, Bette could feel every ripple of the surgeon’s back muscles, the heat baking off her body, the slight change in Emily’s stance as if she too were aware of Bette’s every movement.
It was somewhat disconcerting.
“One…two…” Mark began the countdown. “Three!”
Bette and Emily both bent their knees, lowering inch by inch. Or at least, that was the plan. The second they moved, it became painfully clear that neither of them had the same idea of pacing. Bette dropped too quickly, while Emily hesitated, and they came dangerously close to toppling over.
“Wait!” Bette’s voice pitched slightly as she fought for balance.
Emily braced, but the shift in weight sent them tilting too far back. Way too far.
“Stop leaning like you’re trying to dive off a cliff,” Bette said, adjusting her stance. “Push your weight against mine. Like a counterbalance.”
“How about you push your weight against me , and we see if my plan works better,” Emily said, yet she did exactly as Bette instructed.
They tried again, this time moving more in sync, their backs pressed firmly together, a strange sort of tether anchoring them as they lowered inch by inch. At one point, their movements evened out, muscles adjusting, shifting, compensating.
Bette didn’t dare look at anyone else, didn’t assess the competition, she was too busy concentrating on the feel of Emily’s back against hers, the soft hum of concentration that seemed to sizzle between them. At one point, Bette even felt Emily’s breath hitch as they passed the point of no return.
They kept going, lowering their bodies further to the ground until Bette’s thighs were burning as hot as the sun.
Until their backs slid a little too far, gravity taking over, and all of a sudden both Bette and Emily landed hard on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, a little dazed but technically successful.
Mark’s voice echoed through the room. “And we have our winners. Physical therapist, Bette Bridge, and orthopedic surgeon, Emily Sharp. Congratulations.”
Bette, who had never enjoyed being in the limelight, felt a blush touch her cheeks when a round of applause erupted through the room. She stole a glance in Emily’s direction and was surprised
It seemed they had that in common.
“I bet you the prize is a water bottle with the hospital’s emblem on it,” Bette muttered softly, leaning toward Emily so that no one else heard the little comment.
“Or a stress ball,” Emily chuckled softly.
“I’ll take it if it means I can throw it at Mark and shut this thing down.”
Emily laughed again, but a little too loudly this time, enough to draw the attention of the three teams standing close by. They all glanced their way, brows furrowed, which frankly, only made things worse, and before Bette knew it, she was laughing too.
“Everyone ready for the next part?” Mark said, his gaze flicking briefly their way before seemingly deciding it was too much effort to get them to quiet down.
Bette gave Emily a sideways glance and for a second there, all she could think about was the way the surgeon had winked at her the other day.
A wink that seemed far more significant than it had back then, as if actually meant something, as if this whole awkwardness between them, was because of that wink—because it hinted at the possibility of something more.
But no. There was no chance of anything happening between them. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. Not only would it be completely unprofessional, but Bette was still licking her wounds. Deep cuts made by Reba’s infidelity that needed forever to heal.
“Let’s get started!” Mark announced to the room.
The next three activities were a blur of awkwardness and reluctant groans from several people.
The second game was blindfolded drawing, where a member of each team had to draw an object while blindfolded, with their partner giving them directions.
It quickly became apparent that neither Bette nor Emily had any drawing sense and lost the game miserably.
Then came the cup stack challenge, which Bette was sure she’d played in college, but back then it had been a drinking game and considerably more fun.
They’d faced off against Dr. Shaw and Human resources manager, Mackenzie Felix, and had narrowly won the final round.
The last game, which, in Bette’s opinion, they should’ve won fair and square, was a simple relay race across the width of the conference room.
But near the end, Emily had tripped, and Bette had grabbed her waist––only for them both to collapse on the ground in a heap of tangled limbs.
They probably could’ve still won if Bette hadn’t become increasingly aware of Emily’s body under her hands.
The way her fingers had fanned out over Emily’s ribs, how the soft fabric of her blouse was thin enough for the heat to seep through.
There was a flicker of a moment where Bette could concentrate on nothing but Emily’s body beneath her fingertips.
And then Mark had announced the winner—which wasn’t the two of them.
At least the team-building event was drawing to a close.
“Congratulations, Doctor Shaw and Mackenzie Felix for winning today’s team-building event,” Mark proclaimed, pointing to a basket in the corner of the room Bette hadn’t even noticed until now.
“It includes a selection of gourmet snacks, a bottle of Napa Valley’s second-best Cabernet Sauvignon, and special edition glass water bottles with Oakridge’s symbol printed on it. ”
“Told you,” Bette whispered under her breath, stepping closer to Emily, close enough that her breath had brushed a piece of Emily’s auburn hair. “Always a water bottle.”
Emily turned to look at her and winked. A wink that this time around sent a shiver straight through Bette.