The Fake Mate(51)

“I’m just worried about you,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t want you catching feelings for some guy who’s going to jet off to Albuquerque in a few weeks and leave you high and dry.”

I shake my head, making an indignant sound. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Famous last words,” he mutters.

I roll my eyes, grateful when Parker becomes focused on his phone seconds later since it gives me a moment alone with my thoughts. I can see why my friend would be concerned, given that supposedly Noah and I being together is supposed to be some grand, destined thing—but outside of a spectacular night of sex, there’s absolutely nothing that has changed about our original arrangement. Kiss or no kiss. Reading too much into this is just going to give me an unnecessary headache. Best just to pack it away.

I pop the last bite of my flatbread in my mouth, staring at a blank spot on the cafeteria wall as an indeterminable number of seconds tick by. I reach to rub my neck as that same tightness sets off again, a prickling following after that I ignore as my mind wanders.

But why did he kiss me?



* * *





?I haven’t heard from Noah since the hallway incident earlier, and honestly, I’ve been a little hesitant to text him again. I’m blaming all of the muddled thoughts I’ve been wading through since viewing his actions from earlier in a different light. Still, I know I can’t avoid him forever, and I probably should clarify that we’re okay.

The hall where his office is located is decidedly empty this late in the afternoon, and part of me worries that I might have missed him. He would have at least let me know he was leaving, surely. Then again, why would he? Despite my assurances that nothing about our relationship—or rather, our fake relationship—would change after one night . . . For some reason little things like this are a bit blurry to me.

My skin feels a little clammy, like I’m about to break out in a sweat, and I chide myself quietly for being so worked up about something so small. Surely it’s fine that I’m coming to see him. There’s nothing weird about that.

I knock lightly at his office door, hearing his quiet answer only a second after. I turn the knob to crack the door and peek around it, finding Noah bent over his desk and glaring at his laptop.

“Hey,” I greet tentatively. “You busy?”

His expression changes when he looks up at me, his frown turning up to more of a neutral shape and the wrinkle at his brow softening.

“Hey. I’m not busy.”

I grin, nodding toward the screen that seems to be currently offending him as I step inside of his office and close the door behind me. “Could have fooled me.”

“Documenting some procedure notes. I let myself get behind.”

I make a face. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. I’ll be working late, but I should be able to get caught up tonight, at least.”

“There goes our romantic dinner,” I tease.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Did you want to get dinner?”

Oh, Jesus. I forgot who I’m talking to. I make a mental note not to make any more dumb jokes that insinuate there’s something romantic between us.

“No, no. Sorry, I was just being funny.”

“Oh.”

Now he looks mildly disappointed. What the hell?

Things feel awkward all of a sudden, and I can’t wrestle down why. Or rather, I can, I’m just not sure if I should address the fact that he was inside me less than twenty-four hours ago or if we should just keep that sort of talk behind closed doors. I suppose it depends on whether or not I want to do it again. More importantly . . . if he does.

Jesus, I feel flushed just thinking about this. What happened to not letting things get complicated?

“So our little hallway incident apparently sparked some new gossip.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his desk. “Sorry about that.”

“No, that’s what we want, right?”

“Right. Of course.”

I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other, telling myself that I should probably leave it alone but still feeling a little addled by all the questions I’ve rustled up in my head. I clear my throat as I go for casual, turning to make it seem as if I’m very interested in Noah’s diploma hanging on the wall.

“Are you okay?”

I hear his chair creak as he most likely turns it in my direction. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug nonchalantly. “You just seemed like something was bothering you earlier.”

“Ah. Well.” I hear him blow out a rush of air. “Had a run-in with Dennis.”

“The bitter bitch again?”

I catch Noah’s same barely-there grin when I turn my head just enough to look at him from the corner of my eye. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s apparently decided to be less overt with his distaste for me. Evidently, now he’s comfortable making dick remarks in front of mutual patients.”

I turn to face him, my mouth falling open. “He didn’t.”

“I doubt the patient picked up on what was going on, but I sure as hell did.”

“Do you want me to kick his ass?”

Noah makes a face. “What?”