(Source: jessespencergifs)
(Source: jessespencergifs)
“Fancy seeing you here,” came a voice from behind her, and Jordan turned to see the firefighter strolling up.
Now he was infiltrating her early-morning run, too? He couldn’t just stick to driving her up a wall at work?
“I’d say it’s a pleasure, but, y’know, I would be lying.”
“Someone’s not a morning person.”
“And someone’s talking too much for this early.”
“Then I’ll be quiet and appreciate the view,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
“Or you can shut up and run.”
He arched an eyebrow. “With you?”
“Against me. I’ll be more motivated to finish if I have a goal.”
“So, a race.”
“You’re going down.”
“No.”
“Cross my heart, Doc.”
“I don’t care. I’m not going to go to dinner with you.”
“Just a thank you dinner, for patching me back up.” He leaned against the front of the nurses’ station, flashing his most charming grin.
“No.” She turned her back.
“Oh, come on, Jordan, give me a break, let me take you to dinner.”
“You have no idea how close I am to reporting you to the cops for stalking,” she said, closing the chart with a snap.
“That hurts,” he pouted.
“The truth does.”
“Didn’t you take an oath to do no harm, or something?”
“I did. And you’re making me regret it.”
“Get out of here,” Jordan groaned.
“Is the bar closing?” he responded with that infuriating grin.
“Then get away from me,” she amended, raising her glass to her lips.
“That’s no way to talk to a guy who was going to buy you a drink to replace that one.”
“I don’t want you to buy me a drink.”
“How else am I supposed to get you drunk enough to be nice to me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’ll never be drunk enough to be nice to you,” she replied plainly, sliding the empty glass towards the bartender.
“Never?”
“Never.”
Why it was necessary to stack things on the top shelf any more than two-deep, she didn’t know. Who could actually reach past there?
Already on her tiptoes, her arm extended completely, she was momentarily grateful as another arm reached in.
Until she saw the smug grin on his face, and the gaze on her bared hip.
Jason folded his arms. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me. I’d swear I just saw part of a tattoo, Doc,” he drawled.
Jordan casually tugged her tanktop down.
“Maybe you did. But you don’t get to know what they are.”
“They?”
“Hold still,” Jordan said kindly, “this might sting a little bit.”
The firefighter shrugged his good shoulder, and chuckled. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it,” he replied, winking.
“That’s not holding still,” she countered, arching an eyebrow.
“Well, if it does hurt, maybe you can kiss it better, beautiful,” Jason said.
“My name’s Doctor Carraway,” she replied, suddenly cold.
“Funny, your ID says your name’s Jordan. I’m Jason.” Holding out his hand, he grinned.
“Good for you,” she said flatly, not even looking at his hand. “If it hurts, it’s because you won’t listen and won’t hold still.”
“You need to stop needing to come in,” she said, rolling her eyes as she spotted Jason propped up against the pillows on the bed.
“Aw, you worried about me, Doc?” he responded with a roguish grin.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m tired of seeing you,” was her flat reply.
“Well gee, did you ever think that maybe I just want an excuse to come see your pretty face?”
“I’ll knock you out if it means you’ll shut up.”
“But then I’ll just dream about you.”
“Don’t think I won’t do it, Vaughn.”
“C’mon, Doc. Can’t you call me Jason?”
“No.”
005: “I’m Tired of Seeing You.”
004: “Good for You.”
003: “You Don’t Get to Know.”
002: “I Don’t Want You to Buy Me a Drink.”
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