Page 6 of Saving Love (Pulse Medical #2)

BETTE

I t was a warm Saturday morning, and when Bette stepped out of the coffee shop, cradling her oversized latte like it was the Holy Grail, her agenda for the day was blissfully blank.

Maybe she’d do a grocery run later or a load of laundry. Or maybe not. Her day was wide open, and she wasn’t in any rush to fill it.

It wasn’t often that she found herself with a free weekend.

Usually, she’d be buried under paperwork or tweaking exercise programs for patients.

But Steven had graciously insisted on taking the weekend shift.

“You deserve a break,” he’d told her, and Bette hadn’t argued.

For once, she’d decided to let someone shoulder the load.

At first, she’d expected Jamie to fill up her weekend with his usual festivities, but her cousin was off on a getaway with his new boyfriend until Monday and she was left completely alone.

Given that Bette had only been in the area for about three months, she’d spent most of that time either at the hospital or decompressing in front of bad TV, and so of course, her social circle was non-existent.

All those friends she’d had during her marriage had apparently shifted their allegiances to Reba.

But who could blame them? It wasn’t like she had ever made time for them.

She sighed and sipped her coffee, watching what had to be some early-rising tourists making their way into the coffee shop.

Otherwise, the streets were mostly quiet.

Nothing beats the local morning peace. She set off on a walk, heading to the paved footpath that snaked along the beach and wound toward Centennial Park.

Above her head, palm trees swayed in the soft breeze, and with it came that familiar tang of salt and sunscreen.

She relished in it. When she’d lived in Clairemont, she and Reba had rarely ventured to the beach.

Bette’s days were filled with work and Reba preferred spending time in her studio, surrounded by canvases, brushes, and the scent of paint…

and also banging their neighbor every chance she got.

Bette shuddered at the thought and then shrugged it off. Instead, she concentrated on her feet, on the passing joggers and dog walkers as she blanked her mind, thinking only of the warm coffee in her hands, the sun above her head, and the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore.

She rounded a bend near the shoreline and was just about to admire the glittery ocean when she almost didn’t notice a figure running right at her, that was until they were a breath away from colliding.

“Whoa!” a voice cut through the air.

A familiar voice that made Bette’s heart flip in her chest. She jerked her gaze up and blinked at none other than Dr. Emily Sharp, who had frozen-mid step right in front of her. “Shit…Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Emily looked equally as surprised. “Oh. Hi…I-I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said as if she couldn’t believe this encounter was happening either. Her green eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

“Well, I live here,” Bette replied. “Well, not here, on this beach.” She pointed back with her thumb even though she had no idea if that was even the right direction.

“Just off Eighth Avenue. I’m staying in a cottage at the back of my cousin’s house.

” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.

It could lead to a conversation about living arrangements and how she’d ended up there, and the last thing she wanted to talk to Emily Sharp about was her divorce.

Bette quickly veered the conversation. “How’s your shoulder? Managing during your run?” She glimpsed Emily’s tights, her tank top that left little to the imagination, and the slight sheen of sweat along her collarbone.

Emily rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “It’s fine. Just a little achy. But as long as I don’t swing it too much, it’s manageable.” She shifted on her feet, her eyes flicking to the ocean and back to Bette. “I’ve been doing my exercises, by the way.”

Bette smiled, a strange warmth she wasn’t sure she even liked, unfurled in her chest. “Good,” she said, “I’d hate to think all my expert advice went to waste.”

Emily chuckled, the sound was as light as the wisps of clouds above her head.

She shifted again, her eyes flicking over Bette’s shoulder.

“Do you want to grab a coffee or something,” she asked, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the coffee shop Bette had just left.

Then, almost immediately, she seemed to notice the steaming latte in Bette’s hand and winced.

“Oh wait. Never mind. You’ve already got one. Obviously. That was dumb of me.”

“It wasn’t dumb,” Bette said quickly, wondering why she hadn’t already ended the conversation ages ago and continued on with her walk. Emily Sharp was an orthopedic surgeon. She was also one of Bette’s clients. This interaction felt wrong.

Bette lifted her half-empty cup, and was fully prepared to say no, thank you… But somehow the words that tumbled out of her mouth were completely different. “This one is on its last legs already.”

Emily blinked, her lips curving into a surprised smile as if she hadn’t expected Bette to say yes. Great. Now Bette felt even more awkward. Why hadn’t she just said no? It would’ve been far simpler than this complication she had willingly walked into.

“Great,” Emily said. “Next one’s on me. It’s the least I can do after you helped me with my shoulder.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Bette replied, coolly. “It’s part of my job.”

Emily pressed her lips softly together and nodded knowingly. “I know. But you’ve been patient with me. If the roles were reversed, I’m not sure I’d be half as gracious. I’d probably have scared you off by now. And that, well…that would be a real tragedy.”

The comment caught Bette off guard, her breath hitching just slightly as she caught Emily’s eye. Wait. Was the surgeon flirting ?

Bette felt heat rise up her neck and hoped a blush wasn’t settling in her cheeks. She was prone to blushing, though it had been ages when a woman had made her feel this way. Emily Sharp was attractive. She was

“Oh,” Bette muttered, hoping she didn’t stumble over her words. “I don’t scare off that easily.” She kept a touch of dry humor in her voice to counter the surprise in her chest––though it probably didn’t work all that well.

Emily tilted her head. “Good,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m about to barrel into you mid-run.”

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time,” Bette said. But the words came out with far less conviction than she was hoping. She could practically hear the hesitation in them like she was already thinking about the next time she spotted Emily out of the sterile walls of the hospital.

Bette quickly cleared her throat. Boundaries. She was a professional. They both were, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let herself slip into anything she couldn’t control. Nope. The only next time would be in the treatment center when Bette was giving Emily a series of shoulder exercises

Emily’s lips twitched but she said nothing and for a flicker of a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them narrowing to just the stretch of path and the distant hum of the ocean.

She could ask Emily if she wanted to go for a walk, let the conversation linger, and see where it would lead.

Or she could do the right thing, the logical thing, and bid Emily goodbye.

Logic, however, seemed to go right out the window.

“Should we head to the coffee shop?” Bette asked, turning her body in its direction.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she was suffering from some sort of episode, where all her inhibitions had flown right out the door.

Maybe it was the bright sun, the fresh air, the salty tang sitting on her lips.

Or maybe it was the silence waiting for her when she got back to her cottage.

The emptiness. The loneliness made her want the company.

Emily was like a distraction, a way to clear her mind from Reba, a fresh breath of air in a room that had started to feel stale, and Bette was worried that if she said goodbye, she’d end up suffocating.

She shook off the thought, mentally chiding herself. It was just coffee. There was absolutely no need to overthink this.

“Coffee…Yes,” Emily muttered, stepping off the sidewalk. “Let’s do it. I know of a good place just on the corner––” she glanced back, her gaze landing on the coffee cup once again. “Well, I guess you know which one I’m talking about.”

If Bette didn’t know any better, she’d think Emily was nervous. But why would she be? Aren’t all orthopedic surgeons supposed to be the epitome of confidence? Never rattled by anything. Especially a physical therapist who sat far lower on the hierarchy.

She let Emily take the lead, only stepping by her side when they turned the corner. “Do you live nearby?”

Emily glanced her way and shook her head. “No. I actually have an apartment downtown. I make the commute to the hospital every day.”

“You don’t mind the drive?”

“Not really,” Emily said, shaking her head. “I find it kind of therapeutic actually. It’s a time that I’ve got completely to myself. A time to think.”

Bette considered this for a second. A time completely to herself? Did that mean that

Emily was in a relationship? It seemed likely.

She was successful and beautiful, and just because she didn’t have a ring on her finger didn’t mean she was single.

She could have a boyfriend…or a girlfriend.

Not that it mattered. Bette wasn’t in the business of wondering about other people’s love lives, especially when hers was a complete and utter train wreck.

“I get that,” Bette said. “I walk to work every day.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It is,” she added, smiling softly to herself.

Her cottage wasn’t just ideally located for a blissful fifteen-minute walk to work, but it was also cozy and sweet and had everything she needed.

It was nothing compared to the house she and Reba shared, but it was more than enough for this chapter of her life.

She wondered what Emily would think about it but then caught herself. If she’d find it too small, too lonely. It wasn’t modern. On the contrary––

Bette caught herself. Why did she even care?

“How long have you been living in this neighborhood?” Emily asked, slowing down the pace to a very relaxed stroll.

“Not long,” Bette replied. Once again, they were moving close to dangerous territory and the only way Bette knew how to protect herself from imposing questions was to deflect. “I started at Oakridge two months ago.”

“That was just after my?—”

“Your accident,” Bette interrupted. “It makes sense why we never worked together before. Honestly, I’m actually glad to have you back. Doctor Meissner can be quite old school. He sticks to rehab guidelines from the eighties. Doesn’t even consider how much progress has been made over the years.”

“First you have to fix my shoulder.” Emily pointed out. At least she was smiling. A complete one-eighty to the woman who had grumped her way through their first session only to bolt at the first sign of discomfort.

“ You have to fix your shoulder,” Bette replied, nearly nudging the surgeon with her shoulder. Thankfully, she held back. How mortifying would that have been? “I’m just there to guide you along.”

Emily chuckled. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy,” Bette urged. “All you have to do is be patient and stick to the rehab.”

“I’m a surgeon,” Emily said. “We like to get things done now. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

“I’ve noticed,” Betty laughed, her voice far lighter than it had been in days.

Or maybe she was just imagining it. “But don’t worry, I deal with impatient people for a living.

People in pain are usually always frustrated and desperate to see progress.

They’re kind of my specialty. You’re a walk in the park compared to some of my regulars. ”

“Is that so?” Emily gasped. “Well, now I feel challenged to live up to the competition.”

“I won’t recommend it,” Bette replied, keeping a straight face, enjoying this far too much for her own good. “I usually make the worst patients do laps around the therapy center for punishment.”

They reached the coffee shop. It was busier than earlier, with patrons filing both in and out, getting their morning fix. Bette was just about to ask Emily what her usual coffee order was when Emily’s pager suddenly went off.

Emily froze, her gaze dropping briefly as if it took her a moment to register the sound.

Then, as if a light bulb went off in that pretty head of hers, she reached for the waistband of her leggings, fumbling slightly before unclipping the pager from its hidden spot––Bette hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“Looks like I’m needed,” she said, holding it up.

“Emergency?”

“I guess so,” Emily said, nodding more to herself than Bette. “Not sure how much help I can be without being able to set foot in the OR. But you know, duty calls.” She started to step back, then added, “I’ll see you Monday for our next session.”

“Yup,” Bette replied, nodding. Though a strange, unexpected, and completely unnecessary pang of disappointment settled in as Emily turned to leave.

Bette didn’t want to see her go. She didn’t want the conversation to end.

Hell, she was even looking forward to sitting at one of the round tables out on the street, sipping another coffee while Emily told her more about herself.

Which, in itself, was completely and utterly ridiculous.

But so too was the way she had said goodbye. What forty-five-year-old said yup and didn’t follow it up with something else, something more clever?

She needed to fix this.

Just before Emily turned the corner, Bette stepped forward and called after her. “Doctor Sharp!” She waited for Emily to stop and glance back over her shoulder before she added, “Please don’t tell Doctor Meissner I think he needs to get with the times. I’d rather not end up on his bad side.”

Emily’s lips curved into a grin. “Of course not. It’ll be our little secret.” She winked before kicking into a jog, leaving Bette standing there, completely perplexed that the surgeon had just winked at her.

A wink.

What was she supposed to do with that? Analyze it? Laugh it off? Pretend it didn’t happen? Bette’s brain stalled between all three, leaving her no choice but to shake it off.

She walked back into the coffee shop and ordered her second coffee for the day, hoping the caffeine might somehow untangle the mess in her head.