Page 25 of One Last Rodeo
“Are you sure about the dessert tonight, Doctor Alba?” he asks her with hope in his eyes.
“No. Thanks.”
“Aw, come on,” he presses. “I get off in thirty minutes. Dessert’s just enough time for us to grab a drink after.”
Her discomfort is instant, and I can feel it like it’s something palpable. “No.”
“I’m great conversation. I promise.”
“She said no thanks, dude. Fuck off. Damn. She's not interested.” The words barrel out of me.
Catalina looks at me, surprise flashing across her face. She doesn't look irritated by my outburst. She looks relieved.
“Whoa, no problem, cowboy. It was just a question,” the guy mutters, hands raised as he backs away with the checks.
When he’s finally gone, I arch a brow at her.
“What?” I demand. “You’re not going to tell me I was a total dick to him? That I should have been nicer even though he was being pushy and not accepting your no?”
She bites the corner of her lip, fighting a smile she won’t give me. God, I want her to. I’ve seen her smile exactly once—last night in Austin when I made her laugh—and she was so fucking pretty it nearly knocked me flat on my back.
When she reins it in, the glare returns. “No. That guy was annoying. He deserved your stupid little pissing competition.”
“He wanted to fuck you,” I say plainly.
“I know. I can’t imagine why.”
That makes me sit back. “You can’t imagine why? Are we doing this again?”
She shrugs and it’s the first crack in her armor. The first slip of insecurity she’s let me see.
I lean forward. “Come have a drink with me.”
I’m prepared for her to shut me down, to humble me, to teach me that I don’t get to ignore her professional guidance in public,then spend time with her in private. I’m bracing for it. I'm shooting my shot anyway.Again.
This time, she shocks the shit out of me by saying, “Fine, but you’re buying.”
Then she grabs her purse and turns on her heel.
I’m on my feet in a second, following her out of the restaurant, watching every confident swing of her wide hips as she heads toward the exit. And tonight—thank the rodeo clown gods—she’s not wearing black. She’s in jeans that hug her thick ass perfectly.
It’s an ass that shouldn't be hidden behind scrubs or black. An ass that should be on display. In my hotel bedroom. In my hands. Beneath me. And something in me, something stupid and reckless and way too hopeful, thinks I might have a chance at making that happen tonight.
Chapter 8 – Catalina
The bar I pick is only a few doors down from the hotel our team is sleeping in tonight. It’s a cute little place in Denver strung with warm twinkle lights overhead, the kind that soften edges and make everyone look a little happier.
There’s an outdoor seating area, and I head straight for it without thinking. Fresh air, quiet, distance from the noise inside and privacy. I need all of it after the loud sounds at the rodeo.
I'm used to clinical silence, hushed voices, and the beep of machines that tell me my patients are still alive. Not cowboys and crowds shouting while animals grunt and try to kill my athletes.
I'm sure Jensen's exhausted after his ride and the hours he spent at the hospital with Heath, but tonight, I need a drink more thananything. And even though being around him still hurts, I don’t have the energy to fight with him anymore.
Usually, when I go back to my hotel room after dinner, I binge a show on Netflix or stare at the ceiling performing imaginary surgeries with just my hands and the air. Sometimes I call my mom and listen to her talk the entire time in Spanish about whatever new hobby she's into while I do my ten-step skincare routine with her on speakerphone.
And even though any other night I would’ve told him no—just like I swore I would after our disaster of a dinner in Austin—I’m here. Giving him a second chance I can’t justify.
Maybe because I know that under my exterior, there is a heart beating, one I’m painfully aware exists even if everyone else pretends that it doesn’t. And that heart gets lonely sometimes. More so on the road surrounded by people in new cities.
