Dr. ER (St. Luke's Docuseries #2) Page 10

  “Good God,” Harlow muttered, drawing my attention. She was pulling a tissue from her purse and dabbing her eyes.

  I nodded and she scoffed. “They’re the real deal,” I confirmed.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t believe you.”

  I smiled. “No one ever does until they see it for themselves.”

  I tuned back in to the room around me as everyone else was raising their glass. Harlow and I jumped to do the same, clinking our glasses together.

  “To love!” everyone shouted at once. Harlow’s eyes widened like she’d just been cursed, and I laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Low.” A tiny crease formed between her eyebrows at my use of her nickname. “I don’t think a cheers is the same as a contract in blood.”

  Harlow was quiet as they served dinner, listening to the rest of the people at our table chitchat. I watched carefully as she picked through everything on her plate, one item at a time in an effort to pass more time innocuously.

  Her timing couldn’t have been worse, though, as she placed the last morsel between her plump lips. The soft, welcoming beat of Sara Bareilles “I Choose You” filled the room, and couples trickled in to fill the dance floor. At the same time, Linda and my dad made it to our table to say hello.

  “Scotty,” Linda said as I stood up out of my chair and pulled her into a soft hug.

  “You look gorgeous as always, Linda.”

  My dad scoffed and pulled her from my arms and into his own. “Tanner!” she squealed adorably.

  “He’s trying to steal you,” my dad teased, and Linda blushed.

  I shrugged. “I know a good woman when I see one.”

  “Must be from all the practice,” Harlow said—unsuccessfully—under her breath.

  Linda’s eyes widened, but both my mom and dad laughed outright.

  Harlow flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Shepard—”

  “No, no, dear,” my dad comforted, pulling her to her feet and giving her a once-over from top to toe. “All you’ve done is prove my son right.”

  She blushed an even deeper hue of red as my father gave her a nudge into my arms.

  “Come on, son. Join us out there for a dance with your good one,” Tanner Shepard said with a wink.

  Harlow was visibly uncomfortable, and I clung to it. Normally, an insinuation of a serious relationship on my father’s part would have made my teeth ache in discomfort, but somehow, knowing Harlow wasn’t clinging to hope at every syllable made me feel completely at ease.

  “Yeah, doll,” I said, pulling Harlow’s front flush to my own. She glared. “Let’s dance.”

  Skimming slowly down her arms from top to bottom, I linked my hands with hers and pulled them up to settle on my shoulders. A deep crevice of a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows, like a canyon carved by an angry river, but with so many bystanders nearby, she didn’t fight me physically or verbally.

  Once her hands were settled, I moved mine back down the sides of her dress, smiling as an unconcealed tremor ran through her at the sensation of my touch, and clamped them tightly to her hips.

  Just about boiling over, she opened her mouth to speak, but I was too quick, spinning her rapidly around and around as we traveled to the center of the floor.

  Her fingers dug in on instinct, hoping to keep herself steady, and I smiled as I slowed us to a stop and changed direction into a gentle sway, pulling our bodies even closer together. She pushed against my shoulders to fight it, but as the song faded to a close and Etta James “At Last” built in its place, her body melted.

  It wasn’t me—at least, the dislike on her face didn’t suggest it was—but the song. Something about it made you give in. I could feel it in my body too, instinctively pushing closer to hers on its own accord.

  Soft, warm, and willing, Harlow’s body was everything her mind refused to be around me.

  She leaned in even closer as I spun us, softly this time. Light flickered as it filtered through the other couples on the floor, and my hands tightened on her hips like a reflex.

  She feels good. Christ, maybe too good.

  We moved in perfect time with one another, and her eyes held mine like she could read all of my secrets—my past and present, my hopes and dreams…even things I didn’t know about myself.

  So lost in it all as the song came to a close, I jolted as she separated our bodies, almost violently, as the last note struck. As if it was Cinderella’s clock on the last chime of midnight, she left the dance floor at a near jog.

  Not once looking back, Harlow was careful to leave nothing behind for me to hold on to—not even a shoe.

  God, he feels so good, I thought to myself as I nestled even deeper into Scott’s arms while we danced. It’d been a long time since I’d actually let my defenses down and enjoyed the simple touch of a man.

  Sure, I’d willingly gone on a date with Barron, and even let him engage in the world’s most traumatic oral foreplay, but I’d done that under the pretense of wanting no-strings-attached sex.

  But, this, dancing with Scott, actually savoring his skin against my skin, wasn’t the same type of scenario. This was different. This felt like…something more.

  His grip tightened as his fingers rubbed soft circles against my skin through the thin material of my dress. I shivered. And, surprisingly, found myself fighting the urge to moan out loud.

  I wanted to stay wrapped up in this moment forever.

  And as I looked across the dance floor to find Tanner and Linda wrapped up in one another’s arms as they slowly swayed to the music, I found myself wondering what it would be like to be in a loving and committed relationship like theirs. Not the kind of relationship I’d had with my ex, but one where there was a solid foundation of trust, mutual respect, and admiration. The kind of relationship that stood the test of time, both people willingly and happily sacrificing silly personal wants for another.

  I think I want an amazing relationship like that…

  Oh my God, had I really just thought that?

  I’d made a promise to myself a long time ago that I’d never get into another long-term relationship. I’d attempted that once in my life, and I’d found out that I was better off on my own, doing my own thing, and only relying on myself. My last—and final—long-term relationship taught me one thing: Never trust anyone too much. For myself, for my happiness, I had to stay strong in that mind-set…right?

  Christ, until now, I’d been absolutely certain singledom was what I wanted.

  Until now.

  God, what was happening to me?

  My chest grew tight with the initial sensations of panic. This moment on this dance floor was now officially emotional overload, and I wasn’t equipped enough to understand all of these foreign things I was feeling.

  I have to get the fuck out of here.

  I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I knew I didn’t like the direction of my brain’s thoughts. I needed to get somewhere safe—preferably, not inside of Scott’s arms—and find a moment of peace from this fucked-up emotional roller coaster I’d managed to hop on.

  As the last notes of the too romantic song filtered into the room, the urge to push up onto my toes, meld my breasts to Scott’s chest, and touch my lips to the perfect pink of his became consuming.

  Instantly, I released my hold on his shoulders and put some much-needed distance between us. Before I could second-guess myself, and without any warning or words to explain my sudden mood change, I turned away from Scott and moved off the dance floor as quickly as my stilettos would let me.

  I had no idea where I was headed or what excuses I’d give my father, but every cell in my body was telling me to just get the fuck out of that party as soon as physically possible.

  I grabbed my purse and jacket from our table and walked over toward my dad—who was currently charming the pants off of Nicole—to say my goodbyes. I made a mental note that since it was Saturday night, a simple excuse of meeting friends for drinks wasn’t too risky a
n explanation for my sudden departure.

  Bill’s smile was warm as I approached, but the ends of his mouth turned down slightly once he noted the purse and jacket in my hands.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to meet some friends for drinks,” I lied and hugged him tight. “Be careful getting home, Daddy,” I said and kissed his cheek.

  Luckily, Nicole squeezed his shoulder, pulling his gaze from mine to hers and completely distracting him from questioning me further.

  “You too, sweetheart,” he said with an easy smile.

  I smiled at Nicole. “Thank you so much for tonight. I had an amazing time.”

  “Thanks for coming.” She pulled me into a quick embrace. “And call me if you ever need some juicy gossip about my son,” she whispered teasingly into my ear. I could literally hear the smile in her voice.

  Man, I loved a mother who doubled as a ballbuster.

  I laughed. “An inside source?”

  She nodded and winked. “I’m hoping one day he’ll learn that he shouldn’t waste his time with women who are only after one thing.”

  I quirked a brow in confusion.

  Sex? Surely, they’re after sex.

  “Money,” she answered helpfully.

  Oh. Money.

  “Ah,” I responded with an understanding nod. “The illustrious gold diggers.”

  “Exactly,” she said with a grin. “My son deserves better than gold diggers.”

  I wanted to say that gold diggers or not, your son appeared pretty fucking happy surrounded by all of the beautiful women he tends to keep in his company, but I bit my tongue and breathed past the stinging pain in my chest. Holy fuck, what was that? There was no way I was jealous of Scott’s revolving door of dates…right?

  Good Lord, this party had morphed into some kind of alternate universe where relationships sounded like a good idea and I actually liked Scott Shepard. Had Linda and Tanner put drugs in the punch or something? Cripes. I needed to leave before I started thinking about marriage or kids or something else that was equally terrifying.

  “He’ll learn one day,” Nicole added. “I’m just hoping it’s sooner rather than later that he finds a nice, pretty girl like you and settles down.”

  My eyes popped wide open in shock. Nice, pretty girl like me? Settling down? Did she think I was good enough?

  Oh Jesus, Harlow! Not the fucking point.

  Yeah, I need to leave. Now. Before I have to resort to self-inflicted violence.

  “I’m sure Scott will find his perfect girl, Mrs. Shepard,” I reassured while mentally adding, but it definitely isn’t me.

  “Well, I better head out.” I quickly changed the subject toward my exit. Because, yeah, this anniversary party was a mindfuck, and I was better off anywhere but here. “Have a good night, you two. I’ll call you tomorrow, Daddy,” I said, and I didn’t give them time to say anything else as I shuffled through the partygoers and headed for the door.

  The instant the cool air of the New York City night hit my face, I breathed a sigh of relief. I glanced down at my phone to check the time. Ten p.m. glowed into the darkness, and I decided even though I didn’t necessarily have a plan, I’d rather walk the city than take the subway or a call a cab.

  Hopefully, the walk will do me good. Lord knows, my brain needs some time to think about all the bullshit she’s been putting me through tonight.

  But the reprieve lasted not even ten minutes before my phone chimed in my purse with a text message from Scott. I hated that there was a part of me that felt excited about it.

  Sexy AF Doc: Where are you headed off to?

  Okay, yeah. I might have nicknamed him in my phone during a moment of weakness while thinking about how perfect his ass is.

  I quickly typed out a response while thinking, God, he is a nosy bastard.

  Me: None of your business.

  Not even a minute later, he sent another message.

  Sexy AF Doc: You should take a right at the next block. There’s a perfect bar called The Library.

  Seriously? Who named a bar The Library? It sounded like a sad place where men or women went to cheat on their spouses…Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Hold up. Did he say take a right at the next block?

  How did he know where I was?

  I stopped in my tracks and stared down at my phone for a brief second, before slowly turning around to find Scott standing a mere fifty feet behind me, grinning like a cocky son of a bitch. I responded to his message while shooting mental spears at him across the short expanse.

  Me: Are you stalking me?

  He smirked. I watched as he looked down at his phone and typed out another response.

  Sexy AF Doc: Just following you a little to make sure you’re okay. You left pretty abruptly back there.

  He was right. I’d left the party like a total lunatic. No explanation, nothing. Just up and walked away from him on the dance floor. But I kind of felt like he was being a bit of a lunatic, too, by following me.

  He’s a lunatic. I’m a lunatic. Maybe we are the perfect match?

  Clearly, my brain needed to shut up.

  Me: Just following? And that’s somehow better than stalking?

  Sexy AF Doc: It’s less creepy.

  Me: It feels CREEPIER. Like I should get a restraining order kind of creepy.

  Sexy AF Doc: No restraining order needed. Just come have a drink with me, Harlow.

  Have a drink with Scott Shepard?

  This is probably a bad idea, Harlow, I thought to myself.

  But that lasted all of two seconds before my fingers typed out another response.

  Me: Are you buying?

  He took a few steps forward until we were nearly standing side by side, and his eyes only briefly left mine as he typed out a quick response.

  Sexy AF Doc: Yes.

  Me: Fine. But I’m choosing.

  Sexy AF Doc: Perfect.

  I read his message and glanced up to meet his rich gaze—right there. He looks even better up close. Seriously, if his eyes were candy, they’d be that delicious, specially made chocolate you could only get from exotic locations like Paris or Brussels.

  “Sexy as fuck Doc?” he questioned with a smirk.

  I rolled my eyes. “Tame your ego, cocky. I never save contacts in my phone as their actual names,” I explained on a lie. He was literally the only person I’d ever nicknamed in my phone.

  “Yeah,” he added, and his smirk got bigger. “But you didn’t nickname me Ugly Doc, now did you?”

  “I’m about to change it to Creepy Doc.”

  “You think I’m sexy,” he declared. “Harlow Paige thinks I’m sexy as fuck.”

  “How do women stand you?”

  He winked. “Most women find me charming.”

  “I guess I’m in the minority, then.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire, Harlow…

  He chuckled. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “And you’re full of yourself.”

  “Nah,” he refuted. “I’m just aware of the effect I have on women.”

  “Are you going to buy me a drink, or are we just going to stand around and talk about how amazing you think you are?”

  Scott’s chocolate eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Goddamn, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just me.” I shrugged. I honestly didn’t know any other way to be. I knew I could come across as opinionated—or bitchy—to some people, but it was just my nature to say how I felt and not beat around the bush with niceties. Hell, I often envied the people who could sugarcoat things to prevent hurting someone’s feelings.

  “I think I like you, Harlow,” he said with a smirk.

  Obviously, no matter how badly I wished I could deny it, Scott Shepard was starting to grow on me too. I liked his cocky smiles and witty banter. And don’t even get me started on his muscular body or goddamn eyes. Jesus Christ, I could spend hours swimming through those chocolate orbs.

  But instead of letting him k
now the real effect he had on me, I quickly redirected the subject. “Well, if you want to stay in my good graces, you should recall that you offered to buy me a drink…”

  He grinned. “You’re in luck. Remembering things is yet another talent of mine.”

  I didn’t know how I’d gotten here, holding the door open to a bar I almost never told anyone about for fear that its secret special something would get out—and instantly turn popular—while Harlow scooted inside ahead of me. It was like my body was acting on its own, without permission from my brain.

  But as I’d watched her say quick goodbyes to everyone but me and scoot out of the party after leaving me aroused and emotionally twisted on the dance floor, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from following her.

  And I still was.

  We made our way through the crowd in The Library, an ironically named establishment with loud, pounding bass and a heavy beat. With Harlow leading the way, we ended up at the bar, where she ordered two shots of tequila.

  The bartender set them both on the bartop, and I pulled money out of my pocket to pay as she slammed the first one back and then picked up the second.

  “Uh…” I laughed and leaned in to speak closely enough that she’d be able to hear. “Isn’t one of those for me?”

  “No,” she said, just before she tipped the second glass back and swallowed the liquid whole with ease. My eyes dilated as they zoomed in on her throat and lost all real focus. The glass knocked as she slammed it back to the bar surface, and my eyes jumped back to hers. “Order your own.”

  “I thought you didn’t drink much hard liquor,” I said, watching her eyes turn almost immediately hazy with the fresh buzz.