It's Definitely Not You - Abby Brooks Page 0,17
I didn’t have a future in subterfuge. “What are you doing?”
With the most innocent look I could manage, I shrugged. “What do you mean? I’m showing off my apartment to one of my favorite people before taking her to lunch.”
“You’re a terrible liar. You need to know this about yourself. You’d fail in sales, politics, and espionage.”
My gaze wandered the walls, the floor, the ceiling…studying anything that wasn’t Nan. What was the appropriate response when called out on deception? My instinct was to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness, but when stepping out of one’s comfort zone, sometimes what felt right was actually wrong. So, what was I supposed to do instead? Double down?
Thankfully, Nan put me out of my misery.
“Oh, come on Kiki. You brought me here because you want me to move out of my house and into an apartment.”
I drooped as dramatically as the ferns in front of her porch. “I just worry…”
With a smile, she crossed the room and put her hands on my shoulders. “And you don’t need to. This is a great place, though I’d be nervous about a neighbor I shared walls with and never heard.” She gave said wall a suspicious glance. “You have every right to be proud of living here, just like I have every right to be proud of living at my house.”
“But it’s in such bad shape…” Relief flooded through me, hand-in-hand with regret. Speaking my mind felt right, but having this argument with Nan, for the hundredth time, felt not-so-right.
“Which is why I have Joe.”
His name had my hackles up so fast, Nan half-laughed, half-sighed, and took my hand. “I can’t understand what you have against him.”
“He’s rude.”
“So are you.”
“Only to him.”
She conceded the point, but not the discussion. The set of her gaze told me we were in a battle to the death on the topic. “He's a sweet man who wants to open up a contracting business, but not before he proves he’s capable of the work by restoring my home. Which he’s doing for free, might I add. And he’s done a damn fine job so far.”
“For free? Nan…that doesn’t seem right…”
“Dear, sweet Kennedy.” She squished my cheeks between her hands so my lips puckered out. “What doesn’t seem right is your assessment of the man. Now, if you don’t take me to lunch soon, I’m going to call Prison Guard Emmanuel and tell him to take a minute off your timer.”
I leveled a finger her way. “That’s cruel.”
Casting a curious glance to my silent neighbor on the way out, we piled into the Honda and I took the scenic route, past the pool—which did look pretty inviting—and the workout facility—which was larger than I thought.
Nan gave me the side-eye.
I grinned. “Can’t fault me for trying.”
She shrugged. “You wouldn’t be a Monroe if you gave up without a fight.”
Chapter Nine
Kennedy
Nan fought dirty. She must have made good on her promise to call Emmanuel. That was the only explanation for the hell I’d been experiencing at work. He glared at me as I stepped out of exam room four—just like he’d been doing for the last three hours. “You’re three minutes over.” He tapped the face of his Apple Watch and arched a brow.
“And you’re mean,” I muttered under my breath as I placed my laptop on the nurse’s station and finished typing in notes on my last patient.
Doctor Ramsey Middleton arrived beside me in a cloud of confidence and cologne. “Running behind?”
“Just a little.”
Emmanuel beamed and danced in his seat like a cultist in the presence of his leader. “Good afternoon, Doctor Middleton. Having a good day?”
“The best. As usual.” Ramsey leaned in, obliterating my view of Emmanuel and giving me ample opportunity to appreciate his bone structure—which was exquisite, by the way. “Why don’t we meet for drinks after work.” His dark eyes glittered. “I’ll give you some tips on time management.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d asked me out—always under professional pretense. Between volunteering at the clinic and my general disdain for dating, I’d yet to accept.
Today wouldn’t be any different.
“I have plans with my mom.” Twin Dragons takeout and a Netflix original featuring many, many shirtless shots of men with bone structure that put even Ramsey to shame.
The power of Emmanuel’s eye roll hit me in the back. If the fact that I cared for my patients wasn’t enough gasoline to fuel his hatred of me, the fact that I consistently turned Doctor Dreamboat down sealed the deal. I wouldn’t