Patient’s in preop, Sean. Rolling in five.
Shit. It’s the morning rush, and the line for coffee stretches around the corner of the shop. A single beleaguered barista bustles behind the bar while another takes orders in a brusque, businesslike tone. Maybe it’s time to cut my latte habit and invest in an office Keurig. I look at the cath lab schedule on my phone: my first patient is a complicated case and will probably take at least an hour. My male colleagues could get away with strolling upstairs late with a cup of coffee, but I learned quickly that the staff and patient families tended to be less forgiving of me. Blowing out my frustration, I step out of line…and right into a firm chest.
“Sean?” a voice says.
It’s familiar, deep, with a perfect, musical tone, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s the same one that’s been echoing in my skull for the last two nights. Except now it’s here, in the exact coffee shop where I’d last imagined it. Where I’d last imaginedhim.
I sputter. Blink. Bite down hard on my cheek. The pain is like a lance—sharp, bright,real. I am, to my relief, most assuredly awake.
“Owww,” I say, raising my hand to my face.
Julian looks down at me. He looks confused but pleased and not at all like the smug creature who leers at me in my dreams.
“Sorry about that,” he says, holding an arm out to keep me from toppling over. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Without my heels, Julian is a full head taller than me, and I have to tilt my chin up to properly meet his eyes. Even dressed simply in a maroon sweater and jeans, he’s stunning, and the simple fact of his beauty is irritating. Even more irritating is the steaming cup of coffee in his hand. My uncaffeinated goblin brain stews with envy.
“What are you doing here?” I say.
“Had some business in the area,” he says vaguely. Before I can ask more questions, he grins. “I see I’ve caught you in your natural habitat.”
I grimace. In my OR bonnet, yellow lead-lined radiation goggles, and too-big hospital-issue scrubs, I know that I’m a far cry from the glamorous woman who’d caught his eye at the wedding.
“Yeah, well, only briefly,” I grumble. “My first patient’s almost on the table and this line is too long. Nice seeing you, but I’ve got to run.”
A hand closes over my upper arm before I can make my escape, and I glance down at it, affronted. I thaw some when I look up to meet Julian’s face; his expression is tender.
“Wait,” he says. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Either black or loaded with milk foam and flavored syrup, no in between,” I answer automatically.
Julian drops my arm, then holds out his cup.
“This is a caramel latte,” he says. “Take it.”
My jaw drops, and I look from his earnest face down to the proffered coffee.
“No, no, I couldn’t do that,” I say, shaking my head. “I should have gotten here earlier, I—”
“I haven’t drunk from it, and I can always get back in line and grab another,” he says. “You, however, should be adequately caffeinated before you go up there and save lives.”
“Don’t go invoking any emergencies for me today,” I grumble, my hand already closing over the cup. It smells divine. “But thank you. I appreciate it.”
Julian doesn’t let go. Our fingers overlap, the knobs of his joints sliding against my skin, and the touch sends a curious, bracing sensation through me, like I’m being pinched awake by a cold breeze.
“And in exchange,” he says, “I’m going to insist on getting your number this time. No running away.”
I snort. In my front shirt pocket, my phone chimes; probably another text from Pamela telling me to get a move on.
“You’re so persistent,” I say, but both of us recognize that it’s not a rejection, and I watch the corners of his eyes crease with victory. Out of the light of the setting sun, they are a normal, human brown.
Julian’s stare smolders as I type my number into his phone.
“Great,” he says, saving my contact. “Try not to be a stranger.”
“Yep,” I say, already scurrying away.
“I mean it!”