Page 13 of Aftershock
But since I can’t stop him for a long conversation on my first day when I have to make a good impression, I’ll settle for getting a quick look at him.
“Hey, Lil.” Hope’s hand covers mine. “You okay?”
It’s only when she asks that I notice my foot tapping against the linoleum floor in time with my quick pulse.
Bam, bam, bam, bam.
“Yeah, definitely. I’m fine.” I give her what I hope passes for a reassuring smile as I pull my hand away. “I was daydreaming, that’s all. I’ll fill these out now.”
“Or I could do it for you.”
Taking her up on the offer is tempting. The pull toward Alaric grows stronger, more demanding by the second.
Before I say yes, though, I sneak a glance at Reba, the HR rep. Her green eyes stay glued to her screen, her red hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, a sharp contrast to her white blouse.
If she heard Hope, she doesn’t seem to mind.
Okay, then. “I guess I could use some fresh air.”
Hope gives me a knowing wink. “Meet you in the cafeteria in fifteen?”
Heat sears my cheeks as I nod and get up. “Sounds good.”
“Want me to hold on to your bag?”
Though it’d be easier to move through the hospital in my cafeteria uniform—a simple pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt—and nothing else, I shake my head.
The desire to take a piece of Alaric—other than just looking at him, of course—is intense.
He must have a change of clothes in his locker. Shirts, pants…
Boxers.
I can’t exactly carry any of it in plain sight. Slipping them into my messenger bag, that’s doable. I have to make room, though, and since my bag is stuffed with the red aprons Reba gave us…
“Here, take these.” I hand them over to Hope, then pat the neat twist at my nape nervously. “Do I look okay?”
“Better than okay.” She wags her eyebrows. “You’re a hottie. Go…” Her eyes skate to Reba, who’s still reading something on the screen of her computer. “Get some fresh air. See you soon.”
“Thanks.” A relieved sigh slips past my lips. “See you.”
Once I’m out in the hall, it’s like my legs have a mind of their own. My sneakers make no sound as I head toward the trauma bay.
With each turn I take through the huge hospital, I remind myself I might not get to see Alaric today after all.
He might have the day off. He could be in surgery. He might even be sitting at a wounded child’s bedside in the ICU, the way he once sat with me.
But what if I get lucky and catch a glimpse of him? Just a quick glance before I slip into the locker room closest to trauma, head to the locker number my PI gave me, pick the lock, and grab whatever I can get my hands on?
It’ll be amazing.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach the farther I go into the hospital.
A few more feet and here I am.
TRAUMA CENTER—AUTHORIZED PERSONNELONLY
The sign by the swinging doors stops my thoughts, my feet, my heart.
