One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,2
pull my gaze from the spectacle because first of all, he’s two feet from me, and secondly, this is the first time I’ve been this close to him, and I need to take in the view.
His demeanor is more intimidating at this proximity for sure. He almost vibrates agitation. I wonder if the faint lines around his eyes mean he’s older than me? Makes sense, if he’s a doctor. I’m twenty-seven, so he’s maybe pushing thirty-five, which makes him all the hotter because I’ve always had a thing for older men.
However, based on his body language, I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up that this is some sort of adorable hospital cafeteria meet cute. He wears the expression of a shark who smells blood.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. What would Kate do in this situation? Maybe bait the shark?
“Hello there.” My stupid voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old boy. I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, hi.”
A grunt vibrates from the doc’s chest as he brings his sandwich to his mouth and takes an aggressive bite before finally lifting his attention to me.
His gaze connects with mine, and his smoldering deep greenish-brown eyes overwhelm me. Framed by long, dark lashes, they seem at odds with his creamy skin and sandy brown hair. His square jawline is peppered with light brown whiskers, and his lips are full but not big. Just…perfect—even if they’re stuck in a surly scowl.
Breathe normally. Just take in a slow breath and let it out at half speed.
Frankly, his whole presence overpowers me. It’s like sitting front row at an action movie and not being able to take in the entire cinematic glory because it all hits you too fast.
The hot doctor stares at me as he chews his food, and it’s…really weird. I avert my gaze to my pie and yank up the fork only to drag the prongs through the whipped topping. I need something to focus on besides watching him chew.
“How’s your day going?” I try again, my nerves skittering sideways.
His eyes have moved from me to my pie.
He takes another bite and grunts again.
Is he mute? Or is he just so polite that he refuses to talk with food in his mouth?
I lick the whipped cream off my fork and prop my elbows on the table with a bit more determination this time. “My name is Lynsey…what’s yours?”
I plaster on a super-fake smile as he tilts his head and takes another bite, eyeing me as though I’ve just murdered his entire village. My gaze casually drops to his hands.
No ring.
What the hell is going on with this guy? He’s single. He’s a doctor. He’s hot. What’s he got to be so sour about?
“You’re a doctor here, right?” I try to fill the silence. My eyes flick to the name badge hanging on a clip from the breast pocket of his scrub top. It reads “Dr. Richardson” with a whole battery of letters after his name. I don’t have a clue what any of them mean, but they’re probably important.
He continues to stare at me the same as always, though it’s more uncomfortable now because he’s so damn close.
Definitely not foreplay.
I shift in my seat. After months of sitting on these chairs, the plastic has become uncomfortably hard only this very second. I may be chafing.
Can a hard glare from a hot guy cause chafing?
What is this guy’s deal? I’m a nice person, not that he’d know. He’s never even given me a chance to show it. The way he’s looking at me reminds me of all the boyfriends my sister would sneak into our house when she was supposed to be babysitting me. They looked at my presence as though I was ruining their whole damn day.
A wave of warmth floods my body. It’s as though I’m in an interrogation room being questioned with a hot light above me that’s making me sweat. Except no one’s asking me questions.
Why is he still not talking? This is weird! And rude. Yes. Very, very rude. And hell, I was sitting here first. If a person decides to invade another person’s space, the least said person can do is speak.
My patience snaps, and my tone is a lot less friendly. “I just thought since you decided to sit at my table without asking, you’d be polite enough to introduce yourself.”
“Your table?” he grunts. His baritone voice sends a shiver through my body as he finally breaks his silence.