Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“See you then.”
I hang up and flop back on the bed in despair. Not only am I mortified over how completely fucked up my mother was at the bar last night, but now I have the humiliation of ghosting my one and only patient this morning.
This is not who I am.
I hurry into the bathroom to take a quick shower and blow dry my hair enough so it’s not sopping wet in the braid I plait it in. I haven’t had the chance to do laundry, so there are no clean scrubs in this house. Instead, I pull on some leggings and a Denver Flurry T-shirt, feed the cat, and then rush out the door.
It’s only been forty-five minutes since I called Xander when I pull into his driveway. Just like it did yesterday, his house takes my breath away. This place is unreal. A true mountain mansion with views that hit me right in the chest, it’s exactly what I would build if I won the lottery.
Or were a hockey megastar.
When I hop out of my truck and grab my computer bag, Xander’s already standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his black sweats, his T-shirt hugging every bulging muscle on his torso as if it’s painted on, and damn.
Down girl.
“Xander, I’m—”
“No apologies,” he insists and steps back when I get to the door so I can walk inside. “It’s really fine. Do you need some coffee? Breakfast?”
My stomach growls, and he grins.
“Come on, I have some premade breakfast burritos that my sister dropped off.”
“Ava randomly made you breakfast burritos?”
I follow behind him, watching his ass in those sweats.
I’m going to hell.
“No, Harper brought them over. She makes the best ones, and she knows that I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to share your food with me, Xander.”
“Are you always a pain in the ass?”
My mouth drops and my eyes go wide as I stare at the man currently bustling around the kitchen, popping a burrito into an air fryer.
“I’m trying to not be a pain in the ass,” I say when I’ve recovered.
“Well, it’s not working. It’s just breakfast. Coffee?”
“I don’t drink it.”
Now his jaw drops. “Are you an alien?”
I’d forgotten how funny Xander is. I can’t help but laugh as I take a seat at the island.
“I can’t do caffeine. It makes my anxiety . . . well. I just can’t do it.”
He’s quiet as he watches me, the only sound coming from the air fryer. It already smells good, and my stomach rumbles again, making his lips tip up in the sexiest smile ever.
Xander plates my breakfast, and I chuckle as I stare down at it.
“I’ll never eat all of this.”
“Good, I can have half.” He takes his share and bites in, watching me as he chews, and I do the same.
Oh God, that’s good.
“I’d like to hire Harper to make these for me for the rest of time,” I say with a mouthful.
“I’ll share,” he says with a shrug. “I’m glad you got some sleep. You must be tired, pulling two jobs.”
I clear my throat and then take another bite because I don’t know what the hell to say to that. Then, I pull his hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket and set it on the countertop.
Xander lifts an eyebrow.
“For the breakfast.”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s yours.”
“No, that’s yours. Seriously, it makes me uncomfortable, Xander. I don’t want your money.”
“We bought drinks.”
I blow out a breath. “Now who’s being a pain in the ass?”
He licks his lips, but also doesn’t put the money in his pocket. Why do I think this is going to end up being a fight?
“How often do you work at the bar?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
It’s so much better if I don’t talk about it.
His face sobers and then he nods. “Got it. Well, if you change your mind, you can talk to me.”
He frowns as if he didn’t mean to say that, but I appreciate the sentiment because I don’t think that anyone has ever offered to be a sounding board for me before.
“I’ll let you know,” I reply softly. We finish eating in silence, and when the dishes are cleared away, I realize that I forgot my water bottle at home.
Because of course I did.
“Can I use a glass for some water?”
“Forgot your emotional support water bottle?”
I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, I did.”
“You can use anything you want. I have some up here.”
He reaches up above the fridge and comes down with a water bottle similar to my own, fills it with ice and water, and passes it to me. His hand brushes mine when I take it from him, and a shiver skitters along my skin.
“Thanks. I feel bad. I haven’t been terribly professional today. I’ll be better tomorrow.”