“And I’m on mid-shift,” she goes on.
Another nod. “I know.”
Her mouth tilts on one side as I feel her hand sliding over the front of my slacks to give my straining cock a squeeze. Her hands feel just as hot as the rest of her. “How much sleep do you need?”
Before I kiss her, I think to myself that I might be in real trouble.
* * *
Expectedly, I don’t get very much sleep, but even with the workload that I’m facing for the day, I can’t find it in me to be at all put out by it.
I left Mackenzie in my bed this morning, and something about knowing she was sleeping naked and tangled in my sheets as I drove to work had been satisfying in a way I never could have anticipated. Jesus, I even left her a spare key so she could lock up. Everything about it feels like the kind of complications I had told her we needed to avoid.
So why am I sitting at my desk, hiding my smile behind my hand?
I check my watch and note that I need to meet my consult in less than thirty minutes, willing myself to get a handle on my own feelings before then. I reach across my desk for the patient’s chart so I can have a last-minute review, barely getting my fingers underneath it before I feel my phone start to vibrate on the other side of my desk.
It’s embarrassing, how quickly I snatch it up, even more embarrassing how a flicker of disappointment passes through me when I notice it isn’t Mackenzie calling. I really need to get a grip.
Who is calling, however, is effectively sobering.
“Hello, Mother.”
I hear her click her tongue. “Don’t you ‘Mother’ me. Why haven’t you called?”
“I’ve been busy,” I say evenly, my earlier giddiness dissipating. “You know how things are here.”
“Apparently,” she says in that tone that I know means I’m about to get scolded. “They’re even so busy that you couldn’t find time to tell your mother you’re mated?”
Shit.
Mary Anne Taylor is a lot of things, but most of all, the woman is resourceful. I should have known better than to think I could keep this from her until it blew over.
“Listen. About that—”
“And I had to hear it from Regina, of all people. That horrible woman from my crochet club. Apparently, she heard it from her daughter Jessica.”
That name vaguely rings a bell, although I can’t pin down from where.
“Look, it isn’t what you think.”
“How can it not be what I think? How could you get mated without telling us? You didn’t even tell us you were dating anyone. Your poor mother didn’t get to meet her daughter-in-law before you went and—”
“I’m not actually mated,” I sigh.
“—could be the mother of my future grandchildren, and I’ve never even—Wait. What?”
“I’m not mated,” I repeat more firmly.
“Then why is the entire hospital apparently buzzing about you and some woman you’ve been secretly seeing?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “It’s complicated.”
“You think you got all those brains from your father?” She snorts. “Try me.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Language.”
“It’s the board,” I say defeatedly. “They found out.”
She immediately discerns my meaning. “Oh no. How? You’ve been so careful.”
“An ‘anonymous tip,’ apparently. It’s utter bullshit.”
“Language,” she stresses. “Were you reprimanded?”
“Well . . .”
“My goodness,” she huffs. “After all that work you’ve done. And the Albuquerque job is on the line! Is that going to be affected now that you—”
“I didn’t get any formal sort of reprimand,” I tell her. “I didn’t get anything more than a slap on the wrist, really.” I hesitate a moment, knowing that I’m about to open a can of worms. “It was all thanks to Mackenzie.”
“Mackenzie?”
“The, ah, mate you heard about.”
“But you said you weren’t actually mated.”
“I’m not.”
“But there’s a woman named Mackenzie.”
“There is.”
“And you’re not mated?”
“No.”
“But people think you are.”
“Correct.”
My mother is quiet for a moment, and I feel a little like a boy again, waiting for her to yell at me for breaking her favorite vase.