One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,69
secure around me. What more does she fucking want?
“What the hell happened in Baltimore?” she asks, her eyes fierce as she comes around the table toward me—barefoot, pregnant, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
My shoulders tense at her sudden change in subject. “Nothing,” I grumble and turn on my heel to march into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Her feet pad on the wooden floor behind me. “It didn’t sound like nothing.”
I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and press it to the water dispenser on the fridge. “It doesn’t concern you, Lynsey. It’s in the past.”
“Josh,” she pleads, grabbing my arm to pull my attention to her. “Your mother looked at me like I was some sort of divine angel that brought her son back from the dead. What the hell happened in Baltimore that would make her act like that? What were you even doing in Baltimore?”
“Nothing,” I retort and pull away from her touch, backing up against the kitchen counter. “It was just work, okay? I was working.”
Her head jerks in surprise. “I didn’t know you ever worked anywhere other than here in Boulder. How long were you in Baltimore?”
“A while.” I close my eyes and take a long drink of my water before adding, “I went to John Hopkins for med school and ended up staying out there.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning up at me. “Were you an ER doctor out there too?”
I sigh heavily, really fucking irritated with the continued questions. “No.”
“What were you?” she asks, pinning me with an expectant look. “Josh, what were you doing in Baltimore?”
I swallow the knot in my throat as I prepare to drop the bomb on her. “I was a pediatric oncologist.”
Her mouth opens, and her eyes blink rapidly. “Wait…what?”
I move to lean against the counter. “After I graduated med school I received an internship at the John Hopkins children’s clinic. I did my residency there, along with my fellowship, and was an attending before I came back to Boulder a couple of years ago.”
“You treated children?” she asks, her face twisted.
“Yes.” I sigh heavily.
She shakes her head in disbelief. “But you hate kids.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to get into all of this, Jones.”
“Well, too freaking bad.” She marches to stand right in front of me. Her brown eyes are full of fire when she asks, “How could you specialize in pediatrics when you made it clear to me that you don’t like children?”
“I wasn’t always like this,” I growl, and then flinch because I said too much.
“Is your experience in Baltimore why you said all that stuff to me about kids the night we met? About how people are crazy to want children?” she asks, licking her lips and pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you afraid you could have a child with cancer?”
“No,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
She holds her ground, refusing to let this go. “Then what is it, Josh? Have you lost a child of your own or something?”
“No,” I snap, doing everything I can to keep my temper in check.
“Did you see too much heartache and now you’ve repressed any positive feelings you might ever have toward children?”
“Would you stop?” I grip my glass so hard it might break. I set it down on the counter and turn to pin her with a glower. “Don’t psychoanalyze me right now, Jones. I’m not one of your damn patients.”
“Well, you’re clearly dealing with something major,” she exclaims, and props her hands on her hips. “Something that I should be clued in on, considering we’re having a baby together.”
“I’m not dealing with anything.” I move past her to make my way out of the kitchen. “Except maybe sexual frustration like I’ve never experienced before.”
“Oh, and I suppose that’s my fault?” She follows me toward the hallway.
I stop and turn on my heel to face her. She’s right behind me and seems surprised by my about-face. I bend so I’m eye level when I say, “Considering I was this close to fucking your brains out less than fifteen minutes ago and I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re not wearing any panties under that dress…yes, Jones. I’m blaming you for these blue balls.”
She huffs an indignant noise, her eyes doing a cursory sweep of my body before she juts her chin. “Well, I wasn’t the one who kissed you first.”