Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)
Chapter 3

I might not be able to replace the words to explain how I feel, but you can bet your sweet ass I’ll replace a song that can.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Time always seems to move at two speeds, warp or slower than a snail, and the following week is no exception. My hours are insane. The cases run the gamut of textbook births to a fifty-six-year-old woman wanting to be a surrogate for her daughter, and everything in between. And I fucking love it. I’m here for it all and I’m grateful every day that I get to do this job and get paid to do what I love.

But some days . . . some days, when the exhaustion is running high and the sleep is at a minimum, I still question my sanity. Today is definitely leaning toward one of those days.

I drop my face into my hands and take a few deep breaths before my momentary silence is interrupted by the scraping of a cafeteria chair against the old linoleum floor like nails on a chalkboard, forcing me to look up too soon.

“Hey . . .” my friend Bellamy groans, much less peppy than her usually cheerful self as she sits down across from me, a chocolate chip cookie in hand that she breaks in half before handing me a piece. Her dark hair is falling out of the space buns sitting on top of her head, and her formerly light-blue nurse’s scrubs look a little worse for wear as she kicks her crocs up on the chair across from her. “What are you still doing here? I thought you got off an hour ago?”

“Last patient was a rough delivery.” I don’t tell her how rough because nobody needs to hear that. “How about you? You look like you need a shower and about seventy-two hours of sleep,” I muse as I pop a piece of cookie in my mouth. Pretty sure this is the first thing I’ve eaten in hours. Nothing like a stale cookie and burned coffee for breakfast at eleven a.m. after skipping dinner the previous night.

Bellamy slid easily into our friend group once her oldest brother married Everly, but truthfully, she’d already been on the fringes without us knowing it. She’s one of the few women who adores my cousin Caitlin. Maddox’s little sister can be a bit much, but she and Bellamy have been best friends and roommates for years. She’s also one of the few people I knew here at the hospital when I started working at my aunt Wren’s ob-gyn practice and delivering babies here.

“Listen, I’ve been on for eighteen hours straight because the flu is hitting early, and four nurses called out. And that was after working three twelves already this week.” She looks down at her shirt, then sniffs a spot and cringes. “I need to do laundry. I need a shower. And I need to eat something that wasn’t made in this cafeteria. Not necessarily in that order. But for now, I’ll settle for a shower and my bed. How about you?”

I shake my head slowly. “I’ve got to stop by Everly’s shop before I can go to bed. I promised Wren I’d go to the gala the hospital is throwing this weekend and represent the practice. She’s out of town visiting her son’s college for his game this weekend.”

“Here.” Bellamy’s face falls, and she places the rest of the cookie on a napkin next to my coffee. “Sounds like you might need this more than I do.”

“Guess that means I won’t be seeing you at the event?” I ask, jealous and not at all looking forward to Saturday night or the complications I’m already envisioning.

“Nope. I’m working another twelve that night. But it’s been the buzz of the hospital all week. Do you have a date for it? I think my brothers and Everly and Grace are going.”

My cheeks heat.

Great. That’s just what I need.

The twins to already be at the event when I show up with their little brother.

They always call all their brothers their little brothers, even if Nixon is nearly a foot taller and only a year younger than them. I think it was their way of torturing him, especially since he was physically bigger than both girls before he even hit puberty.

“What’s up with that look?” Bellamy’s eyes narrow as she points at my cheeks. “Do you have an actual date? Like a guy date?”

I tip my head to the side and roll my lips together, unsure how to answer.

“Mackenzie . . . is he a hot guy date?” Her smile grows slowly as she waits, but once she decides she’s waited long enough, she snatches her cookie back. “No chocolate for you, if you’re getting laid and keeping it secret.”

I open my mouth to correct her but laugh instead when she pops a piece in her mouth and points again, this time with the cookie. “Chocolate is reserved for those of us that need the extra help with endorphins . . . like me. I don’t remember the last time I got laid by something that doesn’t require batteries.”

I take my time and swallow the remnants of my crappy coffee in my paper cup before looking at my friend. “First, you need to get a vibrator with a charging cord. Take it from someone who knows. Total game changer.” Bellamy opens her mouth to interrupt, but I put my finger up. “Nope. Still my turn.”

Her smile grows to almost cartoon-like proportions, like she thinks she’s about to get all the juicy gossip.

Poor thing obviously doesn’t know me as well as she must think she does if she’s expecting me to have dirty details to share.

Hell . . . I’d settle for remembering what dirty details actually feel like.

And on that note, I point my finger right at Bellamy. “Now, second, I’m right there with you, sister. I do have a date. But it’s a pity date.” And with that thought, I toss the rest of the cookie into my mouth and wish it was at least a Sweet Temptations cookie and not a dried-out, three-day-old one from the cafeteria. Chocolate really does release endorphins, but all this one does is make me wish I had a cup of milk to wash down the dry crumbs.

Bellamy waits a minute, then raises her hand.

“Oh my God, what?” I laugh and gently smack her hand down.

“Explain pity date,” she demands.

I look around at the crowded cafeteria. There aren’t any workers near us, just a few people chatting two tables away. “Dr. Dick sort of cornered me the other night when I left West End. Nixon and I were walking home, and he assumed Nix was my boyfriend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly touch her hairline. “Why would he assume that?”

I shake my head and look around again, frustrated to even be having this conversation. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I want anyone else to hear this. “I don’t know. I tripped. Nixon caught me, and Dr. Dick apparently saw it. He made an assumption, and instead of correcting him, Nixon played into it,” I whisper-hiss the last few words, still wondering why I agreed to this crazy plan. But Bellamy doesn’t seem surprised. “Why don’t you look shocked?”

She reaches up and yanks her rubber band off her hair, then runs her fingers through it before re-doing her messy bun.

Definitely a nervous habit, if I’ve ever seen one.

“Listen. I lived with Nixon for a few months before Caitlin and I moved in with her brother and the guys. Nix is a good guy with a protective streak a mile wide. It’s just who he is. And I can only imagine the vibes he was catching off Dr. Dick. That asshole gives me the heebie-jeebies on a good day. And I haven’t seen him have too many good days since I started working here.”

“What’s his deal?” I ask, honestly curious. I was lucky. After I finished my residency in DC, I came back to Kroydon Hills and stepped right into my aunt’s ob-gyn practice. She welcomed me with open arms, and the last thing I want to do is sound like I’m complaining to her, so I’ve kept my thoughts on Dr. Dick to myself.

“He’s just another handsy doctor. We’ve got a few of them, to be honest. Most of us just ignore him. He’s the head of the department. He’s triple board-certified and can perform surgeries less than ten doctors in this country are qualified to perform. Who do you think the hospital values more? Him or us?” she asks, already resigned to her answer.

That’s what I thought, but it doesn’t make it right.

“I get it. I’m not his biggest fan either, and Nixon could tell. So he said he was my boyfriend, then lied and said he’s taking me to the gala.” I drop my face back into my hands, knowing I’m going to have to tell his sisters this too. “Anyway. It’s this weekend, and Everly said she has a dress for me. I’m stopping there on my way home to pick it up.”

“Nixon Sinclair is sex on a stick, Kenz. Maybe he could help you with those rechargeable needs.” She grins as we both stand from the table and gather our trash in our hands. “I bet he could go all night long.”

“Whatever . . .” I shake my head and toss my trash in the bin. “It’s not like I’m going to be replaceing that out.”

Later that day, I look at my reflection in the three mirrors angled toward me as I stand on the dais in Everly’s flagship store. She and Lindy opened Everly Wilder Designs a few years ago. It was originally just couture wedding gowns designed by Everly and managed by Lindy. Since then, they’ve brought a few employees on, including the addition of Caitlin as a junior designer. She focuses on bespoke tuxedos, bridal party dresses, evening gowns, and cocktail dresses. She has her hands in them all.

All three women look at me with varying shades of amusement when I finish explaining my fake-a-date predicament for Saturday while Caitlin pins the hem of the beautiful pink silk dress that’s currently hitting me somewhere between ankle and mid-calf. “Stop fidgeting, Kenz, or I’m going to stick you with a pin. And I will not be happy if you bleed on the silk.”

“You heard her, little sister. No blood on the silk.” Lindy laughs. “That was handmade by dozens of nuns in some far-off land.”

The glare I throw at my sarcastic sister-in-law through three freaking mirrors is vicious. “I’m glad you’re all enjoying my discomfort.” Caitlin pinches me, and I kick her with the beautiful silver heels they had me slip on with the dress. “Ouch. What the hell, Cait?”

“Stop. Fucking. Fidgeting. Mackenzie,” she growls around the pin being held between her teeth.

“I’m glad Nixon was there, and I’m glad he’s taking you this weekend,” Everly admits as she studies the lines of the dress on my body. “He’ll scare this Dr. Dick off, and maybe him being your date will get a hot doc to look your way. You know how men are.”

My beautiful blonde bombshell best friend never needed help getting a guy to notice her a single day in her entire life. And okay, so maybe I’m a little jealous.

“No, Everly. Apparently, I don’t know how men are, since I rarely have their attention to begin with. How about you enlighten me?” And maybe my words are a little harsher than I intended. But seriously . . . if I knew how men were . . . are . . . ugh.

If I understood men, I wouldn’t need a fake date, now, would I?

Cait places the last pin, then stands and adjusts her edgy black leather skirt. “Men always want what someone else has, or what they’re told they can’t have. And you’re going to be walking in on the arm of one of the hottest men in the city. A star hockey player and a Sinclair. People will take notice.”

She moves across the room to put away her pins, and Everly and Lindy nod in agreement.

“I don’t have time for a man, ladies. I work around the clock, and when I’m not working, I don’t want to spend my time fretting over a man.” I turn so I can get a better view of the low, drapey back of the dress and the way the beautiful silk slides over my ass. “Caitlin . . .” I look over at my cousin. “This really is beautiful.”

Long dark hair frames her pale, delicate face, and a smile spreads along her cherry-red lips, making her look even more like Snow White than her mom does. “I know.”

“Four-inch heels, Kenz.” Lindy moves next to me and lifts my hair off my shoulders. “And try not to kill yourself in them, okay?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. I’m not that bad,” I counter and step off the dais very carefully. No need to wobble and prove them right. “I was an athlete, remember?”

Everly unzips the hidden zipper as she ushers me into the dressing room. “We were all athletes, Kenz.”

“I seem to remember being the captain of the team and beating your tiny ass for the spot on the all-state team,” I correct her.

“Come on, Kenz. You’ve got to admit if you’re not in sneakers or soccer cleats, you’ve always been a bit of a klutz.” She holds her hand out for the dress and waits as I slip out of the silk and back into my jeans and sweater.

She’s not wrong, but I refuse to acknowledge that out loud. “So . . . you’re not mad about me taking Nixon to the event?” I pull on my riding boots and throw my hair up into a bun. “Because I can bail on the whole thing if it’s a big deal.”

I wait, practically hoping she’ll tell me she’s uncomfortable and that she’d rather I not go with her brother.

It would be a fantastic excuse.

But I have great friends who would never do that to me.

Damn it.

Everly opens the door and waits for me to walk through it before following behind. “Nope. Not a biggie at all. I hope Nixon scares the piss out of Dr. Dick. And Cross and Ares and Easton will all be there if Nixon needs backup. They’ll make sure he knows to keep his hands, his leers, and his creepiness in check and to himself. Look at it this way, your brother and three honorary brothers will all be there for you.”

My heart sinks a little bit because somehow even my fake date just managed to get even more friend-zoned, if that’s possible.

What is it about me that everyone replaces so utterly unattractive that there isn’t a man in my life who looks at me as more than a little sister?

Then I remind myself that I’m a twenty-seven-year-old successful doctor.

My mother didn’t need a man, and neither do I.

It might be time to do some one-click shopping for a stronger vibrator though.

Why do we insist emotionally unavailable men are always hotter? Is it the chase that makes them attractive? The idea that we can fix them? This reporter isn’t sure, but I was recently reminded, yet again, why it’s so much more fun to write about sexy athletes than it is to date them in real life.

#KroydonKronicles #FriendlyReminder #PSA