Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,10

mind, but he doesn’t comment. “Alright. If anything else comes up, just let me know. Let’s check that heartbeat, and then you’ll be good to go. You don’t need to change into a gown. Just lay back and lift up your shirt.”

Lying back, I raise my rose-colored shirt past my belly button, then Dr. Bennett squirts some more pink goop onto my lower stomach and presses the doppler wand against me.

The same overwhelming awe encompasses the room as the baby's heartbeat flutters in the space for a minute or so. My mouth tilts up in the corner as I soak up the moment, wishing I could share it with Anthony and Sway, but they can’t fly to Sunnyville for every appointment. It’s simply not logical, so I’ll be left giving them updates over the phone. They’ll probably come down for the gender reveal, and they’ll definitely be here for the birth. But other than that, they have their lives in New Hampshire. And I have my life here.

“Does that ever lose its awesomeness, Dr. Bennett?” I ask, still feeling the high from experiencing the baby's heartbeat.

“Call me Ben. And honestly? No, it never loses its…awesomeness.” He delivers my completely idiotic term with a wink before adding, “Everything has to line up perfectly for a healthy baby to be born. Every chromosome. Every hormone. All of it. If this job has taught me anything, it’s that every single baby is an absolute miracle, and I love being able to experience it over and over again.”

“It must be draining, though. Don’t you get calls in the middle of the night for deliveries and things like that?”

He shrugs off my concern. “I’ve never been much of a sleeper anyway.”

“I like how you say that. As if the hospital calling you at odd hours in the middle of the night is doing you a favor.”

“My job is my life. And honestly? The nights can be a bit lonely, and I’m a sucker for a distraction. Besides, babies are one of the best distractions I can ask for.”

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I tease, “One of the best distractions?”

His laughter does weird things to my insides, but I refuse to acknowledge them as he hedges, “There are others….”

“Like what?”

I don’t know what kind of game we’re playing right now. I have no freaking clue. But I don’t want to stop. And I don’t want the little bubble I’ve found myself in to pop either.

He smirks, and his gaze heats until I’m practically a puddle in front of him as the air crackles around us like an electric current searching for a place to strike.

I blame the hormones. And the profile picture of him without his shirt on. And the fact that I know what his fingers feel like inside of me. Even if it was in the most clinical way possible, it still doesn’t stop me from squirming at the memory, making the stupid paper beneath my ass crinkle in protest.

The sound is enough to pop the damn bubble I’d found us in, causing the electric current to disappear as the door shakes with another knock. Both of us snap in its direction. Handle twisting, it opens, and Tracey’s head pops through the crack.

“Hey. We have Ms. Woods in room two, who has been having contractions consistently for a few hours. She wanted you to check her before she headed to the hospital.”

“I’ll be right there,” Dr. Bennett answers stiffly.

The door closes with a soft click, blanketing us in silence before he breaks it. “Duty calls. I’ll see you next month.”

“Yup. Thanks, Dr. Bennett. I’ll see you then.”

“Call me Ben,” he orders for a second time with a playful, albeit crooked smile.

“Thanks…Ben.”

“Much better.” He leaves to check on Ms. Woods while I replay our conversation and come to a very real conclusion.

Marcy, you need to get laid.

4

Marcy

My hair is still damp from the shower and hangs limply around my shoulders as the fog on the mirror slowly starts to dissipate. Running my fingers through it one more time, I head to my nightstand and check the time on the clock. Two in the morning. I should be sleeping, but I can’t get my brain to turn off. Face scrunching in annoyance, I stare at my computer, where I know I have three separate photo shoots that need to be edited, but I’m not in the mood. Instead, I slip beneath my comforter and grab my phone before opening the stupid B&B app to stare