“We dated briefly,” I tell my boss. “My friend Ari grew up with him and set us up last year, but it didn’t last long.”
Dr. Kincaid’s eyes bore into Grant’s arm around my shoulder. “I’m not sure he got the hint,” he says, smiling politely as he licks his fingers.
Grant removes his arm and clears his throat. He’s barely touched his burrito. “I should go, actually. I forgot I have an appointment.”
“Hmm. It’s quite late for an appointment,” Dr. Kincaid says, tilting his head as he takes a sip of the beer I hadn’t realized he purchased. A quick glance tells me that we all have one, and I grab mine and take a few large gulps.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, a thing… thanks for dinner. Good night,” he tells me, giving me an apologetic smile and slipping out of our side of the booth before walking out of the restaurant.
Once Grant is gone, I swivel my head back to my boss and narrow my eyes. “You were rude.”
Dr. Kincaid is trying not to smile as he eats his burrito. The way he eats it should be a crime—slowly, with reverence, licking his lips and letting his eyes flutter closed with each bite.
A damncrime.
Bastard.
“Only stating the obvious, Francesca. If he was worth your time, he would’ve reached out sooner. Or he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.”
“A bossy know-it-allanda relationship guru. Hashtag blessed,” I murmur, taking another large sip of my beer.
Dr. Kincaid laughs.
Helaughs.
I’m so startled that the rim of the beer bottle remains on my lips for several seconds as I take in the sight.
First of all, it completely changes his face. His eyes go from intense to light, and he hasdimples.Two of them. Second, his teeth are straight and white, and the lines around his eyes make him look slightly older than he usually does. No wonder he doesn’t seem his age. He’s too busy being serious and curmudgeonly to actually form laugh lines.
“The devil has a sense of humor,” I joke to cover for the fact that I’m all flushed and fluttery from watching him laugh.
“Who knew,” he says, taking a sip of beer and looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You were still very mean to Grant,” I tell him, taking a large bite of my burrito. I nearly moan out loud. It’s fucking delicious.
“Yes, well, I didn’t care for him.”
“Why?” I ask with my mouth full of food. Just as I say it, a large dollop of salsa drops onto my chest. “Fuck.”
Setting the massive burrito down, I realize we forgot napkins, so I use my finger and scoop the salsa up before bringing it to my lips. As I do, I look up at Dr. Kincaid with the intention of making a joke about being a garbage person, but his eyes are suddenly dark, hooded, and glazed over as they watch me. He lazily lets his eyes wander over my skin before moving them up to mine. I stifle a gasp as they drift down to my lips briefly, because his expression is obvious.
Why?
Why didn’t he care for Grant?
I feel like I know the answer, but I’m too afraid to ask again.
My whole body is burning under his gaze for the rest of the meal, and my clit throbs as he places a hand on my lower back when we leave.
Every touch, every graze of his fingers, every flick of his green eyes on my body…
I am in deep fucking shit with him.
We decide to walk to one of his favorite ice cream shops afterward since it’s a nice, warm-ish night. It’s only a five-block walk to Humphry Slocombe, but it feels hours long under the tension threatening to strangle us. I get a cone of chocolate dipped strawberry, which is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. Dr. Kincaid gets peanut butter fudge ripple, and I giggle at the name for a minute as he scowls down at me. Even more so when he gets a tiny bit in his trimmed beard.
“Is there something you find amusing, Francesca?”
I press my lips together and reach my hand up to his face, swiping at his beard and bringing the peanut butter fudge ripple drop to my lips and sucking.
