Page 13 of Ten Day Affair

I should go home to shower and veg, but I need soul cleansing more. After a ten-hour shift, I need a human who doesn’t wear scrubs or use the word STAT.

Arden’s loft is the anti-hospital. Colorful throw pillows everywhere, plants spilling from macramé hangers, and the scent of palo santo hanging in the air as a benediction.

I stare up at the ceiling. “Okay, I did something.”

Arden pokes her head around the kitchen wall, wine bottle in one hand, glasses in the other. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve hospital protocol or actual fire.”

“No. It's much more interesting than that. I know it's hard to believe."

She pads into the living room like I just said I joined a cult. “Do not bury the lede. What happened?”

“Sex. I slept with my new neighbor.”

That gets her. She plops on the sofa like it’s breaking news. “Wait, you have a sex-able neighbor?”

I blow out a breath andsit up. “You remember the house next door? The one that sold back in February with the professional cleaners and no sign of life otherwise?”

She nods slowly. “The beach mansion owned by a ghost, yes.”

“Well, the owner is not a ghost. He’s very real and he's very hot. Oh, and he’s on the board at my hospital.”

Her jaw drops. “Stop it. Are you supposed to sleep with board members? Did you know?”

“I did.” I shrug. “Saw him in the OR gallery earlier that day. Knew exactly who he was. Knew it was a terrible idea when he accidentally wandered onto my deck instead of his. But I couldn't stop myself.”

She raises both eyebrows. “So you still did it anyway?”

"I'd had a shower, a glass of wine, and I was especially horny for some reason." I shrug my shoulders.

"Sounds like the perfect recipe for a good night. What happens now?"

“He lives in New York. He’s not part of my actual life. One night seemed safe. I mean, when manna falls from the sky, you don’t ask questions. You eat.”

She chokes on a laugh and sets the wine down before she spills it. “You had sex with your mysterious neighbor, on your patio, and you’re comparing it to a story in the bible?”

“Just saying all the signs were telling me to go for it, so I did.”

“Details,” she demands.

“Besides the fact that he’s rich, important, and totallyoff-limits? He’s really good in bed. Or at least, on a lounge chair. Honestly, I don’t know much more.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“I briefly saw him today. He was at the hospital again. I spotted him across the lobby and almost dropped my stethoscope. But he was gone before I could blink.”

Arden slams her glass down. “Holy shitballs. I need to know how this went from an accidental wandering to lounge-chair sex.”

The story spills out. I tell her about seeing him in the gallery, watching him watch us. How he climbed up from the beach like a living fantasy. The way it all escalated fast, hot, and completely out of nowhere.

"I don't know what came over me," I admit, still stunned by my recklessness.

Arden tilts her head, studying me like I’ve grown a second head. "Yeah, this doesn’t sound like you. But I gotta say? I like unhinged, patio-sex Sam."

I groan. "Do not give her a name."

"Too late. She’s thriving."

I bury my face in my hands. "I'll probably never see him again. Right? The man lives in New York. And he can't use the 'oops, I stumbled onto the wrong patio' line again. Plus, he said this purchase was an investment for a flip or something. That means he's selling."