Moore To Love by Faith Andrews

me know he senses it too.
    In this moment he can either run for the hills to avoid whatever strange twist of fate allowed this to happen or —God willing—he can throw Karaoke Girl a bone.
    Lane tilts his head and I’m certain he’s about to crush my dreams, but when he opens that sexy mouth of his, he says, “Sure. I’d be happy to. I’ll just wait out in the hallway while the doctor updates you. Sound good?”
    “Sounds perfect. I’ll be—uh— obviously I’ll be right here.” Duh, Leni.
    “Yeah. I think you’re stuck here for a bit.” He laughs again, this time focusing on the ground. Would ya look at that? Mr. Fancy Pa—I mean, Lane is nervous!
    I grin brightly and nod in the direction of the door, so as to not put my foot in my mouth the way I usually do when I’m around the opposite, very gorgeous, sex. Lane bows his head in agreement and strides out the door, leaving me to gush like a giddy school girl to the only one left to listen. This poor doctor has no idea what he’s in for.

AFTER THE DOCTOR DOES A thorough examination and gives me a full report, I give myself a reality check. Yeah right. If I weren’t so nervous I’d scramble my brain further, I’d be jumping up and down and fist-pumping to my heart’s content.
    Unfortunately, according to doctor’s orders, I have to take it easy for at least a week. My injuries earned me an overnight stay at Mount Sinai so they can run a brain scan and make sure there’s no internal bleeding. Good times. It could be worse, though. I could be here alone. Instead, I have a handsome man who came to my rescue waiting out in the hallway for the all clear.
    “All clear,” I yell, praying he’s still out there and wasn’t just pitying me before.
    When Lane appears in the doorway in a pair of green scrubs that compliment his eyes, my heart thumps uncontrollably in my chest. Thank God I’m not hooked up to some heart rate monitor. It’d be a dead giveaway.
    “You changed?” My bottom lip involuntarily winds up trapped between my teeth.
    “I did,” he answers, sauntering back into the room. Sitting at the foot of my bed, he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair. “I was a sweaty mess and, you know, the vomit wasn’t a really good look for me.”
    Oy vey. Why me? Flirting and vomit don’t usually go hand in hand.“I really am sorry about that. I’ll give you the money for a new pair of sneakers and to launder your puke splattered clothes.”
    “Don’t be silly, Madeline. I’m just glad I was there to help. They’ll take good care of you here.”
    “Please, call me Leni, and how would you know? You have an in?”
    “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m a geriatrics nurse here.”
    “Really?”
    “Yup. How do you think I scored this awesome get up?” His hand scans the length of his body.
    I’m totally impressed. This man is full of surprises. “I thought you just flashed your prize winning dimples and the scrubs fairy magically appeared.”
    Lane’s head tips back when he laughs, his Adam’s apple vibrating in his thick neck. “What is it about women and men with dimples? I don’t get it.”
    “Well, being you have quite the killer pair, you should be used to it by now.”
    He shakes his head, dismissing my compliment, and then focuses on the bandage over my eye again. “So, you gonna live?”
    I reach to touch the sore spot and flinch. “Looks that way, but I probably won’t be at the track for a while. I was told to take it easy for a bit.”
    It could be the state of my muddled membranes but I swear I see a hint of disappointment dance across Lane’s face.
    “Gonna miss me?” I joke, a boldness overtaking me that I never knew I possessed.
    “Maybe.” With a tilt of his head and a tight smirk, my knees go weak. Thank you bed for keeping me horizontally safe.
    I’ve never been good at the flirting thing, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to end this here and wait for another run in with a tree to get us together. I opt for