Hotshot Doc
Page 49
Bailey smiles weakly as her sister skips into the kitchen. “Sorry, you probably didn’t think you’d be hanging out with a teenage girl tonight.”
“I happen to think she’s funny.”
Bailey rolls her eyes. “Well, whatever you do, don’t tell her that. Now c’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
If possible, their house has even more holiday decorations inside of it than it did the last time I was here. The Christmas tree we walk past is covered with so much tinsel it’s in danger of tipping over. There are a few gifts under the tree—not nearly as many as I had growing up. I narrow my eyes, trying to see if any of them are addressed to Bailey, but she tugs me along before I can get a good look.
“The carpet is old and stained. Ignore it. It’s from the 80s, and we only made it worse when we fostered a dog for like three weeks last year. It didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t handle raising Josie and a puppy who wasn’t housetrained. I mean, Josie barely is,” she quips with a smile.
If she thinks I’m looking at her carpet, she’s insane.
“Now this,” she says, patting the wall with a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “This here is grade-A wood paneling.”
“Fancy,” I say with a smile.
“You can’t just get this type of high-end finish in any ol’ house.”
I laugh and step toward her so I can wrap my hands around her waist and match her step for step as she continues walking backward to her room. “What about the 70s-style wallpaper in the bathroom up ahead?” I ask, nudging my chin toward it.
She pats my chest teasingly. “The pinkest, most ugly thing you’ve ever seen.”
We arrive at a door beside the bathroom and she reaches behind her to turn the handle, her eyes staring up at me while she does it. “Are you ready to see the main attraction?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
I grin and push us forward until her door opens wide and I’m standing on the threshold of Bailey’s bedroom.
The first thing I notice is the twin bed. I have to stifle a groan. Really? A twin? I haven’t had sex on a twin bed since my freshman year of college—not that we’re about to have sex. Yet.
She follows my gaze and bites her lip. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to upgrade. Also, not to further disappoint, but it’s hard as a rock.”
I nod and drop my hands as I move past her, anxious to uncover the secrets of Bailey Jennings.
In lieu of a nightstand, she’s stacked pre-med textbooks beside her bed so she can rest a glass of water and what looks to be a half-finished copy of When Breath Becomes Air—a book I read the day it released—on top.
“You’re judging,” Bailey accuses, crossing her arms by the door.
I step farther inside and turn in a slow circle. “I’m not. Really.” I glance at her with a smirk. “It’s only fair. You got to snoop around my room when I was passed out drunk. Now I should get to do the same.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too scared of what I would find in your bedside table.”
“There isn’t anything too terribly shocking. A pack of condoms.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Some ball gags.”
She chokes out a laugh, and then her eyes widen and she jerks her head out into the hallway.
“Oops.” I’m not used to having to watch what I say. “I don’t think she heard. Also, for the record, I’m kidding.”
Bailey lets me take my time looking around her room. I browse through her books (she has good taste), test out her bed (rock hard, as promised), and then stop short when I realize there’s not much else. Her walls are bare. Her bed doesn’t even have a headboard. Her box spring is sitting on the floor.
Josie shouts from the kitchen that the hot cocoa is ready and Elf is cued up on the TV.
“Not one for interior decorating?” I ask as we step back out into the hallway.
Bailey deflects. “Haven’t really had the time.”
I don’t quite buy her answer, especially when we pass Josie’s room and I see it’s stuffed to the brim. She has two bookshelves fully stocked with what looks to be the entire contents of the teen section at Barnes & Noble. Posters of One Direction and some guy named Ansel Elgort cover the wall above her bed. She has a little writing desk, and a bean bag, and a blue and white striped rug.
It confirms everything I already know about Bailey.
When we arrive in the living room, Josie has confidently claimed the middle of the couch. She has a blanket over her legs, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, and her mug of hot cocoa cooling in one hand. The remote is poised in the other, aimed for the TV.
“C’mon, you two,” she says impatiently.
“Josie, why don’t you scoot over,” Bailey suggests, waving to the left side of the couch.
Josie’s nose scrunches in protest. “What? But you know I like sitting in the middle. The cushion has a nice little indention from my butt.”
“Josie,” Bailey hisses, obviously trying to convey something to her sister, which the fourteen-year-old completely misses.
Her bottom lip juts out. “But I like being in the middle.”
So that’s that. Bailey and I are forced to sit on either side of her. I fight back a laugh as we lock eyes behind her head.
“Sorry,” Bailey mouths, shooting me a defeated half-smile.
I reach my arm along the back of the couch and brush my thumb back and forth across her shoulder.
“Quiet!” Josie insists. “The movie is starting!”
The irony is that Josie herself talks through the whole movie, pointing out her favorite characters and explaining to me why certain jokes are funny then looking over to see if I’m laughing too.
I chuckle because there’s nothing else to do. This night is nothing like I thought it would be.
I catch Bailey glancing over at me every now and then. There’s tension between us, and during slower parts of the movie, I can’t help reliving moments from the party, specifically every second we spent in that bathroom together. I fidget in my seat and lean forward to take off my coat.
Then I stand to get water and Bailey shoots to her feet to join me, explaining to Josie that she needs to show me where the cups are.
“Okay! I’ll pause it.”
Bailey laughs. “Oh good.”
Their kitchen is right off the living room, small and just as dated as the rest of the house. Bailey walks over to a cabinet and reaches up for a cup and I come up behind her, hands on her hips, turning her slowly toward me.
Her eyes widen in shock then her gaze darts toward the living room. “What are you doing?” she whispers.
In response, I tip my head down and kiss her slowly. My mouth claims hers and my hands curve around her ass, tugging her toward me until our hips meet. Fuck. I need her.
Our kiss turns hotter as I try to convey every ounce of torment I feel, but then Josie’s voice carries into the kitchen and we leap apart.
“Hey!” she shouts. “Could you bring me some water too, please?”
Bailey whirls around to the cabinet and grabs another glass. “Yes! Got it!”
Obviously, I don’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. My focus is on Bailey. Every little move she makes, every time she smiles or laughs. I’m hypnotized, worked up, and slightly annoyed Josie’s bedtime isn’t 8:00 PM.
I suspected the snow was piling up outside, but I’d put it out of my mind. Once the movie is over and the mugs of hot cocoa are sucked dry, I face the fact that I probably can’t drive home. The three of us stand at the door, staring out at the driveway. A thick layer of snow covers my car.
“You shouldn’t drive,” Bailey says, tapping on the glass. “Look at how icy the walkway is.”
“Yeah, I bet the roads are just as bad. You’ll just have to stay here.” Josie nods before turning to look over at us. “But, wait, where will he sleep?”
Chapter 27
BAILEY
“The couch!” I shout, a little too forcefully. “He’ll take the couch, of course.”
Matt smiles at how flustered I am, but I refuse to meet his eyes. This entire charade has gone on long enough. The last few hours have been absolutely unbearable. Oh yes, please, let’s all sit and watch a movie together while visions of Matt in that bathroom dance in my head. What a wise idea!
“I happen to think she’s funny.”
Bailey rolls her eyes. “Well, whatever you do, don’t tell her that. Now c’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
If possible, their house has even more holiday decorations inside of it than it did the last time I was here. The Christmas tree we walk past is covered with so much tinsel it’s in danger of tipping over. There are a few gifts under the tree—not nearly as many as I had growing up. I narrow my eyes, trying to see if any of them are addressed to Bailey, but she tugs me along before I can get a good look.
“The carpet is old and stained. Ignore it. It’s from the 80s, and we only made it worse when we fostered a dog for like three weeks last year. It didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t handle raising Josie and a puppy who wasn’t housetrained. I mean, Josie barely is,” she quips with a smile.
If she thinks I’m looking at her carpet, she’s insane.
“Now this,” she says, patting the wall with a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “This here is grade-A wood paneling.”
“Fancy,” I say with a smile.
“You can’t just get this type of high-end finish in any ol’ house.”
I laugh and step toward her so I can wrap my hands around her waist and match her step for step as she continues walking backward to her room. “What about the 70s-style wallpaper in the bathroom up ahead?” I ask, nudging my chin toward it.
She pats my chest teasingly. “The pinkest, most ugly thing you’ve ever seen.”
We arrive at a door beside the bathroom and she reaches behind her to turn the handle, her eyes staring up at me while she does it. “Are you ready to see the main attraction?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
I grin and push us forward until her door opens wide and I’m standing on the threshold of Bailey’s bedroom.
The first thing I notice is the twin bed. I have to stifle a groan. Really? A twin? I haven’t had sex on a twin bed since my freshman year of college—not that we’re about to have sex. Yet.
She follows my gaze and bites her lip. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to upgrade. Also, not to further disappoint, but it’s hard as a rock.”
I nod and drop my hands as I move past her, anxious to uncover the secrets of Bailey Jennings.
In lieu of a nightstand, she’s stacked pre-med textbooks beside her bed so she can rest a glass of water and what looks to be a half-finished copy of When Breath Becomes Air—a book I read the day it released—on top.
“You’re judging,” Bailey accuses, crossing her arms by the door.
I step farther inside and turn in a slow circle. “I’m not. Really.” I glance at her with a smirk. “It’s only fair. You got to snoop around my room when I was passed out drunk. Now I should get to do the same.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too scared of what I would find in your bedside table.”
“There isn’t anything too terribly shocking. A pack of condoms.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Some ball gags.”
She chokes out a laugh, and then her eyes widen and she jerks her head out into the hallway.
“Oops.” I’m not used to having to watch what I say. “I don’t think she heard. Also, for the record, I’m kidding.”
Bailey lets me take my time looking around her room. I browse through her books (she has good taste), test out her bed (rock hard, as promised), and then stop short when I realize there’s not much else. Her walls are bare. Her bed doesn’t even have a headboard. Her box spring is sitting on the floor.
Josie shouts from the kitchen that the hot cocoa is ready and Elf is cued up on the TV.
“Not one for interior decorating?” I ask as we step back out into the hallway.
Bailey deflects. “Haven’t really had the time.”
I don’t quite buy her answer, especially when we pass Josie’s room and I see it’s stuffed to the brim. She has two bookshelves fully stocked with what looks to be the entire contents of the teen section at Barnes & Noble. Posters of One Direction and some guy named Ansel Elgort cover the wall above her bed. She has a little writing desk, and a bean bag, and a blue and white striped rug.
It confirms everything I already know about Bailey.
When we arrive in the living room, Josie has confidently claimed the middle of the couch. She has a blanket over her legs, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, and her mug of hot cocoa cooling in one hand. The remote is poised in the other, aimed for the TV.
“C’mon, you two,” she says impatiently.
“Josie, why don’t you scoot over,” Bailey suggests, waving to the left side of the couch.
Josie’s nose scrunches in protest. “What? But you know I like sitting in the middle. The cushion has a nice little indention from my butt.”
“Josie,” Bailey hisses, obviously trying to convey something to her sister, which the fourteen-year-old completely misses.
Her bottom lip juts out. “But I like being in the middle.”
So that’s that. Bailey and I are forced to sit on either side of her. I fight back a laugh as we lock eyes behind her head.
“Sorry,” Bailey mouths, shooting me a defeated half-smile.
I reach my arm along the back of the couch and brush my thumb back and forth across her shoulder.
“Quiet!” Josie insists. “The movie is starting!”
The irony is that Josie herself talks through the whole movie, pointing out her favorite characters and explaining to me why certain jokes are funny then looking over to see if I’m laughing too.
I chuckle because there’s nothing else to do. This night is nothing like I thought it would be.
I catch Bailey glancing over at me every now and then. There’s tension between us, and during slower parts of the movie, I can’t help reliving moments from the party, specifically every second we spent in that bathroom together. I fidget in my seat and lean forward to take off my coat.
Then I stand to get water and Bailey shoots to her feet to join me, explaining to Josie that she needs to show me where the cups are.
“Okay! I’ll pause it.”
Bailey laughs. “Oh good.”
Their kitchen is right off the living room, small and just as dated as the rest of the house. Bailey walks over to a cabinet and reaches up for a cup and I come up behind her, hands on her hips, turning her slowly toward me.
Her eyes widen in shock then her gaze darts toward the living room. “What are you doing?” she whispers.
In response, I tip my head down and kiss her slowly. My mouth claims hers and my hands curve around her ass, tugging her toward me until our hips meet. Fuck. I need her.
Our kiss turns hotter as I try to convey every ounce of torment I feel, but then Josie’s voice carries into the kitchen and we leap apart.
“Hey!” she shouts. “Could you bring me some water too, please?”
Bailey whirls around to the cabinet and grabs another glass. “Yes! Got it!”
Obviously, I don’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. My focus is on Bailey. Every little move she makes, every time she smiles or laughs. I’m hypnotized, worked up, and slightly annoyed Josie’s bedtime isn’t 8:00 PM.
I suspected the snow was piling up outside, but I’d put it out of my mind. Once the movie is over and the mugs of hot cocoa are sucked dry, I face the fact that I probably can’t drive home. The three of us stand at the door, staring out at the driveway. A thick layer of snow covers my car.
“You shouldn’t drive,” Bailey says, tapping on the glass. “Look at how icy the walkway is.”
“Yeah, I bet the roads are just as bad. You’ll just have to stay here.” Josie nods before turning to look over at us. “But, wait, where will he sleep?”
Chapter 27
BAILEY
“The couch!” I shout, a little too forcefully. “He’ll take the couch, of course.”
Matt smiles at how flustered I am, but I refuse to meet his eyes. This entire charade has gone on long enough. The last few hours have been absolutely unbearable. Oh yes, please, let’s all sit and watch a movie together while visions of Matt in that bathroom dance in my head. What a wise idea!
