Page 134 of The Ampersand Effect

“Yeah, because you try to make out with me every time,” Grier chided, swiping a brief, upside-down kiss across Tobin’s lips before settling on the stool at the head of her portable adjustment table.

“Okay, first of all, there is notry, Cinderella. Idomake out with you every time. Give a woman some credit.” Tobin smiled in that annoyingly cocky way that Grier adored—even more from this angle, splayed out on her treatment table, relaxed, and completely at her mercy.

“And second of all,” Tobin continued, “my first adjustment included one of the best make out sessions of my life—whichyouinitiated. I thought it was part of the treatment!” Her grin grew impossibly wider, and Grier absolutely needed to both hear her finish her argument and kiss her until she shut up.

She leaned forward over Tobin’s face, aligning their eyes so Tobin had to look her in the face while she tried to make her point. “You seriously can’t blame me if I’ve been conditioned to expect such…dedicatedattentions now that I’m an established patient!”

Grier hummed contemplatively, a quippy retort on the tip of her tongue—until she felt Tobin’s fingers lace over the back of her head and gently hinge her down until their lips met.

Minutes later, Grier was sitting on the floor between Tobin’s shins, her legs draped on either side of Grier from her perch on the couch.

“So,” Tobin said, digging the pads of her thumbs into Grier’s trapezius muscles and running slow, broad strokes up her neck and back down again, “why don’t you tell me why you’re so riled up tonight?”

She really needed an adjustment.

“That obvious, huh?” Grier’s head fell forward, her eyes fluttering closed as she reveled in the assertive chirapsia of Tobin’s hands. She hadn’t exactly been hiding her frustrations, but shehadbeen trying to live in the moment, pushing aside her lunch conversation with Haleigh so that she could be present with Tobin when she’d shown up for an unplanned visit that Grier already knew would be too short.

She moaned softly as Tobin’s thumbs worked deeper.Fuck, she was tense.

Tobin had texted her throughout the day, but Grier hadn’t had the time—or the mental capacity—to respond with more than cursory responses. She figured Tobin had sensed something was off and used her “need for an adjustment” as an excuse to sneak over during her shift and coax Grier into talking.

“Your lack of texting was the first clue,” Tobin said, her tone casual but perceptive. “Easily explained—until I heard your voice when you called after work. I practically had to beg you to let me come over instead of going for a swim. That was all the evidence I needed.”

She leaned forward, leveling her lips to Grier’s ears. A pleasant shiver rippled through Grier’s body, Tobin’s hands never stopped moving, kneading deep into her neck, releasing some of the strain and grounding her in the present.

“It was obvious then,” her voice lilted with a tease, “because I’m irresistible.”

“Glad to hear your confidence is intact,” Grier snorted, unwilling to move while Tobin continued to work her magic.

“Talk to me, Grier,” Tobin said firmly, and waited for an answer while her thumbs kept stroking deep, relentless circles into Grier’s shoulders.

Grier inhaled deeply, replaying her lunch with Haleigh in hyperspeed, sorting details and emotions into coherent words to offer Tobin. Coherency was a challenge—Tobin’s fingers making mush of her muscles—andthank fuck—her overly analytical brain.

Haleigh confirmed that Vanders had, indeed, conspired against her. Grier had been irked before—offended at the idea of being singled out for someone’s petty retribution. But for that retribution to also affect her team—an entire department—”irked” wasn’t nearly strong enough.

She was seething. And territorial.

Over lunch, Haleigh had explained how Vanders had been operating for weeks—weeks!—to undermine the Integrative Health department. He’d been slipping tidbits of misinformation into casual conversations, telling colleagues that Grier had told him how overwhelmed the department had become. That she was starting to worry patient care was being compromised. That she wished things would slow down.

Haleigh had even overheard him telling another surgeon that one of his patients had complained about waiting too long for their adjustment—and that Grier had kept them waiting even longer so she could “chat on the phone.”

Grier knew exactly what case he was referencing, and the memory only added to her ire.

Three weeks ago, she’d been paged to one of the ORs for a red-headed sixteen-year-old boy who was struggling to respond to anesthesia. It wasn’t an uncommon complication in patients with erythristic traits, and the anesthesiologist on call—progressive and curious—had been reading about the benefits of acupuncture in surgical sedation. With the surgeon, the patient, and the boy’s parents all on board, Grier was brought in.

But when she returned to her office after the successful procedure, she’d found a slew of messages about Ally’s dizziness returning. She had called down to Alix to have them triage until she could get there, after she treated a patient—Dr. Vanders’s patient in question.

According to Haleigh, Vanders had been stealthy—believable. She admitted that she felt terrible for not confirming any of it with Grier, but confessed that Vanders was a skilled con artist. She hadn’t suspected she was being duped.

Grier relayed this to Tobin, feeling her muscles tense despite Tobin’s persistence.

“What are you going to do about it?” Tobin’s voice was cautious. “This feels… delicate.” Her fingers shifted to Grier’s scalp, digging the pads into the thin muscles and tugging gently on her hair.

Grier tried to hum in thought but it escaped her throat as more of moan.

Thatwasthe question, wasn’t it? What was she going to do?

She didn’t really have proof of the subterfuge, and it would likely turn into a he-said-she-said scenario if she decided to bring it to Dr. Miles’s attention, or to HR.