Page 21 of One Last Rodeo

He steps away, and I close my eyes again. Not because I’m tired, but because I can feel her still standing there looking at me. Catalina’s presence is a thing that can't be measured in matter. It's a weighted blanket. A heat. Something that fills the room even when she’s silent.

I'm a big guy, but being around her can be intimidating. Maybe it's because I know she's mad that I undermined her. Maybe it's because I know she doesn't like me, and there's a part of me that hates being disliked by anyone.

“Interested in saying‘I told you so’?” I crack one eye open and catch her gaze. Her brown eyes are looking down at me, face completely void of emotion. It's not critical or angry. It's just... empty. Like she’s trying to work something out in her head.

“I’m not interested in saying anything to you, Jensen.”

That pisses me off more than if she’d yelled. At least yelling comes with emotion. But she’s just standing there, arms crossed, her face a perfectly empty canvas. She's unreadable.

Her lips are slicked with a soft pink gloss today—barely there, but enough that I notice. Enough that it pisses me off that I keep noticing all the little changes she makes to her appearance each time I see her. Her dark curls are loose, perfectly framing those sharp cheekbones and eyes that somehow look even prettier under the fluorescent lights. Her lashes lower lazily, almost bored, and I notice the faint hint of freckles dusting across the surface of her brown skin.

I meet her gaze, and the second I do, I’m transported. Back to that moment I woke up from surgery—groggy, disoriented, scared in a way I’d never admit because that week was the week I realized maybe I wasn't quite ready to die. That I hadn't got my shit together, affairs in order. I hadn’t accomplished all the dreams I had.

Hers was the first face I saw. Calm. Focused. Watching over me like she was relieved to see I made it out alive.Like she cared.

For a while, I convinced myself I’d imagined her—just some anesthesia fever dream. Then the paperwork confirmed it.Doctor Catalina Alba, MD, FACS. The one who cut into my body. The one who put me back together. The one whose face I’ll probably see the next time I’m close to dying at the rate that I'm going.

We gaze at each other in comfortable silence for what feels like minutes until Heath returns to my side. He looks at both of us and says nothing.

“Here.” He lays a cold bag of ice on my shoulder. “Let’s tape this down to get the swelling under control. Then we can reassess and see if we need to send you for an updated MRI.”

“He needs an MRI. I want an MRI on that,” Catalina says, arms tightening just a fraction around her chest. It's the only thing that tells me, though she's mad, she still cares about me. I think she'll always care about her patients, even when she says she doesn't. Even when they don’t listen to her good advice.

I nod immediately. “Let’s get it. If she says I need one, she knows best. I trust her.”

Her gaze lifts to mine. Something flickers across her face—brief and gone before I can name it. Surprise, maybe. Or maybe she's just glad I'm finally listening. Either way, she doesn't say,I told you so.Doesn't gloat. Doesn't look pleased that she was right.She just gives a small nod and turns away, leaving the training room without another word.

Heath tapes me up while I sit there thinking about the look on her face. Then I push myself off the table and head to the hospital for the scan, praying like hell it isn't anything serious.

Chapter 7 – Jensen

“I’m going to ride this high for the rest of my life,” Joel jokes from across the table later that night, looking smug as hell.?

“It’s only because Jensen got injured,” Micah fires back at his twin brother. “Don’t get too comfortable. He’ll be back.”

Raf sits beside me—my human brick wall—those big hands shoveling food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in a week. He's not saying anything which is normal for him during team events, but I know he's listening. He’s always listening.

It’s not a Series-sanctioned dinner, so most of the crew aren’t here with us, but I couldn't give a shit about most of the crew. I care that Catalina joined us. And that's the only person that I’m aware of right now in a room full of many.

She’s across the table, right next to Joel, which means she’s directly in my line of sight whether I want her to be or not. And she’s not wearing her usual black. She’s wearingred.

Not the clinical white coat. Not all black scrubs. Deep. Rich. Bold.Red.

It’s like she woke up this morning and said, ‘Let me torture Jensen’s sanity today by looking extra pretty, completely off-limits, and confusing as hell.’

The color makes her skin glow. Rich toffee under the dim hotel restaurant lights. A warm cup of coffee. Shiny, soft, and so smooth. She hasn’t looked my way once. I can’t stop looking at her.

Worse? Our server hasn’t been able to stop himself from looking at her.

He comes back to the table, combed-back hair gelled to hell, smiling way too hard in her direction for the fifth time in an hour.

“Can I get you something else to drink, Doctor Alba?”

My jaw locks.

How the fuck does he already know that she’s a doctor?

Why does he think he can speak to her like that?