Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,45
speaks before I can even open my mouth. “What brought you all the way here? I’ve always wondered.”
I shake my head. “No. More about you first.”
He gives me a handful of blinks before his face splits into a smile. “Why?”
“Because I’m giving you a hell of a look into my life right now. Sick in the hospital, dispensing personal info like candy. I’ve got nothing from you, other than you have a sister and you used to live with a guy from Hawaii.”
When he pauses, he takes the time to purse his lips. Then there’s a soft smile. “Ask me anything.”
“Do you have any other siblings?”
He shakes his head. “Just me and my twin sister.”
I nearly choke. “You’re a twin?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Just processing the fact that you’re almost a clone. Christ, you’re a steel trap for information. What’s she like?”
“Sweet. Kind. Outgoing. Easy to get along with. Pretty much the exact opposite of me.”
“That’s not true. You can be sweet and kind, but only when someone is deathly ill and on their way to the hospital.”
He grins, then purses his lips once more.
“Tell me more about her,” I say.
“Her name’s Natalie. She’s fiercely loyal and protective of me.”
His face perks up slightly at the mention of her. I picture a lively, curly-haired blond little girl refusing to leave the side of kid Tate.
“Then she would hate me for all the crap I give you at work,” I say.
“She’d like you a lot. I have no doubt.” He shuffles his feet. “What else do you want to know?”
“Relationship status?” I can’t help my curiosity. It’s something I’ve wondered the entire time I’ve known him, but I’ve never felt comfortable enough to ask.
“Single.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?” He squints at me.
“A bit. You’re so damn handsome. I would think women flock to you like flies to honey.” Normally, I’d be too embarrassed to say such a thing, but my morphine courage helps.
Pink creeps up his neck and his cheeks just as his mouth quirks into a smile. “I think the pain meds are messing with your head.”
“Way to dodge the subject.”
He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. His lips resume their straight line the moment his hand falls to his lap. “I think you know why I’m unattached.” His eyes bore into mine.
I shrug. “You’re too broody, too intense. Ladies dig it to a point, but I’d bet anything you intimidate them with your constant scowling and staring and jaw clenching. Remember before I fell off the ladder, when you walked up to me?”
He nods.
“Every single woman in our vicinity was gawking at you like you were something to eat. A couple guys, too, actually. You didn’t notice. Too busy death staring at me. If you just eased up on the steely facade, they would approach you.”
I expect him to chuckle, to roll his eyes at my assessment. I think it’s pretty accurate, but I’d love to hear the real reason a hottie like Tate doesn’t seem to be interested in any woman around him. Yet he doesn’t speak, not right away. All he does is swallow and stare.
“Maybe I don’t want them to,” he says.
There’s a flutter in my stomach. It surges up my chest and to my throat, making it impossible to talk. He sets his hand over mine and gives it a soft squeeze.
Just then a nurse pops in to up my morphine dose before wheeling me to the operating room. With each blink, I grow more and more groggy. The feel of Tate’s hand on mine is the last thing I remember before slipping into the darkness.
twelve
A woman dressed in scrubs with a cap over her hair is shoving thick socks onto my feet when I wake. I’m guessing she’s a nurse. She’s speaking, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s hard with a cloudy head and ringing ears. After a minute, I finally understand a handful of the words she speaks. Laparoscopic. Post-op. Successful. You did great.
Ten seconds after that, I begin to process full sentences.
“You had a hot appendix, honey. It probably would have burst had you waited any longer to come to the hospital,” she says.
Coming out of general anesthesia is surprisingly exhausting. I try to say “okay,” but I can’t open my mouth. I can barely tilt my head. I feel like I’ve been shaken awake from a coma. Every blink is a battle. I just want to wake the hell up and go home.
I’m wheeled back to my