Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” I say with an awkward laugh. “I’m usually more careful about what I drink and eat. If the fruit is cooked, I’m good. It’s the raw stuff I have to stay away from.”
He nods, pushes off the doorframe with his shoulder, and steps inside. “I’m Shane Evans.”
“I’d tell you my name, but I’m sure you already know it, thanks to the pile of paperwork I’ve probably caused you.”
He chuckles, and if I wasn’t immune to the opposite sex, the soft laugh, mixed with his warm smile, would affect me in a way that I haven’t been affected in a long time. Not since my husband died.
“It’s all good. I was just finishing up and wanted to come by and check on you.”
“Do you check on all the patients you bring in?” I ask curiously.
The way his cheeks tinge a light shade of pink tells me my answer.
Shit, he’s totally going to ask for my number.
“I appreciate you checking on me, but—”
“Oh my God! Thank God you’re okay!” Natalia storms into the room like the hurricane she is, the door closing behind her. “I was so scared.”
She throws her arms around me, and while she hugs me, my eyes meet Shane’s. They’re golden brown, reminding me of a warm brownie—delicious, but if eaten in large quantities, bad for your health. His arms are corded with muscle, and his shirt stretches across his chest in a way that’s natural yet shows off the fact that he works out and keeps in shape.
I notice there’s not a single tattoo in sight, and I briefly wonder if he has any ink. That thought has me averting my gaze because I shouldn’t be thinking about him in any way, let alone considering what’s underneath his clothes.
When Natalia pulls back, she notices Shane standing there, and even though she’s not facing me, I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “And who are you?”
“I’m Shane,” he says. “I was the paramedic working on Kinsley.”
“Ohh,” she coos. “So, you’re responsible for saving my cousin’s life.”
She saunters over to him, and I roll my eyes. I love my cousin, but she’s such a flirt.
“She wasn’t anywhere near her deathbed,” Shane says with a chuckle, “but, yes, I helped alleviate her symptoms.”
“Are you single?” she asks, getting straight to the point.
For some reason, even though Shane isn’t mine, nor do I want him to be, the thought of her going out with him causes an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time to stir within me—jealousy.
“Natalia, leave him alone,” I chide, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.
“I am,” Shane says, answering her question.
“Do you think my cousin is pretty?” she asks, making me gasp.
“Natalia!” I hiss, now wishing she were flirting with him instead of doing what I think she’s doing.
“I do.” Shane chuckles, his eyes, now filled with a mixture of mirth and lust, locking with mine.
“You should ask her out then.” Natalia shrugs, then looks at me. “And you should say yes because you owe him for saving your life.”
“Okay, Miss Matchmaker.” I glare. “I’m betting my family is out in the waiting room.”
“They are,” she says. “I insisted on coming back since I felt responsible. It was my drink you consumed by mistake.”
“It’s not your fault. Things happen. Now, stop harassing that poor paramedic and go let my family know I’m okay.”
“Fine.” She sighs.
I think she’s going to let it go, until she stops right next to Shane and says, “She works at Exposed Ink, in case you want to reach out,” before making her dramatic exit.
“Ugh, sorry about her,” I say once she’s gone, dropping my face into my hands since I can feel the warmth that’s crept up my neck and cheeks. With my semi-translucent skin, I’m positive my flesh is bright red.
“It’s all good,” Shane says, laughter in his voice. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I nod into my hands and then glance up, finding him smiling softly at me.
I open my mouth—to say what, I’m not sure—but before any words can come out, the door opens, and my entire family piles in.
“They couldn’t wait,” Natalia says with a huff. “I tried to tell them you were busy, but …”
She shrugs, and I glare. Then, I focus on my mom, who rushes to my side, ready to dote on me with her motherly love, and my dad follows, worry etched in his features.
My thoughts go back to the last time they showed up at the hospital, causing my insides to clench at the memory of having to tell them that Brandon and our baby were gone. They held me in their arms and told me everything would be okay even though we all knew it never would be.
Now, here they are again, visiting me in the hospital …
“I’m sorry,” I tell them, hating to worry them. “I should’ve remembered my EpiPen.”