One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,15
kept coming back. As I said earlier today, I didn’t know it was against any rules. I thought it was like a normal waiting room.”
He sighs heavily and gazes back at me. “I suppose it’s not against any rules.”
My upper lip curls. “So, you just decided to confront me today for what…your own twisted amusement?”
He ignores my question. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”
“In regard to what?”
“In regard to what you want your psychology specialty to be. Do you have any idea what it’s like to work with sick children? You do realize that’s what a psychologist does, right? Works with sick children? It’s far different from your spoiled little nieces.”
His voice is hard, but his eyes betray him with a hint of emotion that confounds me. “First of all, my nieces are not spoiled. You know nothing about them. And second, I did fieldwork for my degree. So yes, I have a fair idea. And I know it won’t be easy, but it will be rewarding to help them. Children are superior to adults in so many ways. They have a greater aptitude for learning. They’re more open-minded, less cynical—”
“—more needy, tons of work, hard to handle,” he finishes my sentence flatly as though he’s talking about the weather. “They aren’t worth it.”
“Aren’t worth what?” I snap, hating his tone.
“They aren’t worth the risk.”
My face twists up in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He scoffs and looks out the window, that square jaw of his outlined by the streetlights. “I’ll take adult patients over pediatric patients any day.”
“And deprive young, eager minds of your dazzling, sparkling, jovial personality?” I ask with an obnoxious bounce to my tone.
He cuts me a warning look, and his eyes linger on my lips when he replies, “Who says the word jovial when it isn’t in reference to Santa Claus?”
“A grad student with non-seasonal vocabulary skills,” I snap. “And someone who experiences emotions outside of dickholeitis.”
“I’d rather be a dick than na?ve. That’s why I think people who want to have children should be subject to a psych evaluation. Stat.” His eyes light with a hint of humor. “Another reason for you to have a psych eval. Do you see the common denominator today?”
I jut out my chin. “Do you see how big your dick has gotten?”
Josh’s face instantly lightens. “What?”
My cheeks heat. “I mean…”
He tries and fails to hold back his laughter. “Have you been looking at my dick?”
“I’m not looking at your dick!” And, of course, my gaze goes right to his crotch, but I yank my attention to the front of the vehicle before he catches me.
“It seems like you’re looking at my dick,” he mumbles cockily.
“Would you get over yourself?” I cross my arms and focus on the window. “Good God, you are the worst! You could actually be hot if anyone could see past your horrible arrogance.”
Silence envelops the car, so I steal a glance at him. His full attention is now on me.
His brows lift when our eyes meet. “Did you say I’m hot?”
My lips thin. “I said you could be hot.”
He shakes his head smugly. “First, you notice my dick, and now you’re noticing my hotness. This is a strange way of flirting. Some might even call it creepy.”
“You want to talk about creepy flirting?” I cross my arms over my sprinkle tits, trying to ignore the fact that he’s totally checking me out. I stupidly, idiotically, moronically like it even though I’ve clearly decided to hate him for all eternity. “You’re the one who’s been watching me for weeks in the cafeteria. Sounds a lot like stalking.”
“Stalking?” He scoffs.
“Maybe I should’ve been the one to call security when you approached me today.” I lean into his space with a renewed defense that I can’t believe I didn’t come up with before. “I could’ve told them I had a creepy old man staring at me like a piece of meat from across the cafeteria for weeks, and I was concerned about my safety.”
His eyes narrow with wicked promise. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. It’s patronizing.”
He ignores my reply. “You’re a very testy person, you know that?”
“I’m only testy to people who are testy to me.”
“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see testy from me, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that! And oh, my God, are you kidding? You were testy to me at the cafeteria, and then again at the bar tonight. We’re perfect strangers, and you’ve been a moody, rude, controlling