Which brought her to his mouth. Full lips stretched around straight white teeth in a smile that was almost as incredible as Graham’s.
Almost.
“I was just thinking I needed to get my teeth cleaned.” Mia reached for the phone she’d abandoned in her chair. “That’s Foster, spelled F-O-S-T-E-R?”
“Actually it’s spelled N-O-A-H.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “You of all people know I’m madly in love with my husband.” She continued to pull up Google on her phone. “I also happen to need a new dentist.”
Claire toggled back to Matt’s profile and read more about him. He did seem pretty great, but she’d thought that about the real estate agent at first, too.
“You gonna message him?” Mia asked, eyes still on her phone.
“I don’t know.”
Mia’s hands dropped to her lap and she stared at Claire. “What? Why not?”
An image of Graham’s face popped into Claire’s mind.
There was a moment on Saturday night when she’d caught him looking at her with something like tenderness. It had been there but was gone in an instant when he’d looked away, almost as if he couldn’t take it. It wasn’t until the next morning she’d thought back to it, and the intensity in his eyes, but she’d thought about it often since.
It probably wasn’t the best idea to dwell on it given her commitment not to fall for him beyond that of friends with benefits.
“You’re right,” she said. “I should give him a chance, huh?”
Her friend gave her a strange look. “Wasn’t that the whole point of signing up?”
“Yeah, of course.” Just as Claire tapped the icon to start a conversation with Matt, a banner appeared on the screen to inform her their food had been delivered.
She jumped up and dropped her phone on the couch. “Food’s here.”
Later that evening, when she got into bed beside Graham, Claire realized she’d never sent a message to the dentist.
She could roll onto her side and send something quickly, but Graham’s large hand closed around her hip, and thoughts of anything but him floated right out of her mind.
She didn’t message Matt the dentist the next day, either.
Work was nonstop, and she was an hour and a half late getting home. She’d sneaked in a text to Graham that he should eat dinner without her, but had time for little else. Luckily a drug rep had left deli sandwiches in the break room and she swiped one on her way out. It was for Graham’s benefit, really, because there was no telling what state of hangry she’d have been in by the time she got home otherwise.
She’d also received an email from the hospital’s credentialing office that everything was complete and she could officially transition to her role as nurse practitioner. A second email from Dr. Singh followed, asking when Claire could meet to discuss an official start date. Other than giving Ruthie a quick heads-up that her nurse shift days were numbered, she hadn’t had time to deal with it.
When she got to the condo she went straight to her room to change, wanting to fall right into bed. Graham’s bed, that was…because she’d never gone back to sleeping in her room and had no intention of doing so.
She refused to think about what would happen next week when Reagan returned. She was dreading the impact that would have on her and Graham’s…whatever it was.
Clad in yoga pants and a T-shirt, she padded to Graham’s room and stopped short.
He sat on the side of the bed, shirtless, his shoulders hunched forward with one hand braced on his knee and the other in his thick hair.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, unable to ignore how sexy he was in partial undress despite his obvious distress.
Graham straightened and looked up, shuttering his expression. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
She frowned and walked around to stand in front of him. She leaned her hips against the dresser and crossed her arms. “No, you’re not.”
He shook his head, the lines in his forehead smoothing. “You had a ridiculously long day. You must be exhausted. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Graham Scott, if you don’t tell me right this second—”
“Fine.” He gripped the back of his neck. He paused, and finally his shoulders fell. “I just talked to my dad. My mom had a relapse. She fell and has been too weak to get out of bed for three days.”
Her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” She took two steps forward and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, sliding her thumbs back and forth across his warm skin. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”