Michael, though, didn’t leave.

Even when his ex-wife showed up and pressed her entire body against his to get a fucking gauze pad when she could’ve gotten one out of her pocket.

Bitch.

God, she made my life a living hell.

Literally, day after day she made it a point to torture me, and I didn’t know why.

She didn’t know that I liked Michael.

Hell, only a few people knew that I even knew him.

What Joslin didn’t like about me was the fact that everyone liked me.

I was, by nature, a nice person.

I got along with everyone. I was a team player, and I could work with damn near anyone.

Her, though, I couldn’t work with.

Not only because she refused to, but because she hated me and I refused to torture myself.

So when she started to push in close to Michael, I wanted to smack the hell out of her.

But, as the professional that I was, I backed out of the room, and turned to see where I was needed.

I was the newest ER Tech.

I was a licensed paramedic.

But a paramedic that couldn’t be in an ambulance because I got motion sickness.

Something I’d not figured out until I’d taken my first job.

Lucky for me, I was starting with another licensed paramedic to watch over me, because I spent my entire time puking, effectively ending my career before it’d even started.

I’d completely disregarded the medical field after that, going back to my father’s office where I’d been a secretary, with my tail tucked between my legs.

But when my best friend, Georgia, came back into town, she convinced me to give it another chance, and here I was, on the IV team and being a helpful person in any way I could.

“What happened?” I heard asked from behind me.

I saw Paxton, a PA that worked with us, looking at the room that I’d just managed to get the hell out of.

“Gunshot wound to the head,” I whispered, trying really hard to forget, yet not managing to accomplish that very well.

“Fuck me,” Paxton breathed.

I liked Paxton.

He was a very sexy man with dark brown hair that curled over his ears, and a beautiful blue set of eyes that could make any person’s heart start to flutter.

His heart only fluttered for men, though.

Specifically, his significant other that he’d met just a few months ago through a mutual friend of the two.

“Yep,” I said, turning away and washing my hands in the sink that sat right next to the exit that the paramedics used to transfer patients in and out. “I’m going to run to Starbuck’s. Want anything?”

Paxton shook his head.

“Nah, I just had a candy bar. My ass can’t take any more calories today,” he said sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes.

My ass definitely couldn’t take it either, yet I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit at the moment.

I definitely took after my curvy mother.

I had what my sisters liked to call ‘child bearing hips.’

Big boobs, big hips, toned thighs (that, might I add, were still on the bigger side of acceptable) and a chin that was questionably close to what they called ‘double.’

My friends and family didn’t see what I saw, the imperfections.

They said I was beautiful.

I said I was chunky.

To-ma-toes. Tom-a-toes.

Don’t ask me why I did what I did next.

It could’ve been because I was crazy. Or it could’ve been because I knew he needed it, but I did it with no ulterior motives.

“I want a twenty ounce amaretto latte, and a twenty eight ounce black Americano,” I ordered.

She young teen smiled, busying herself steaming my milk and shaking cinnamon sprinkles on my frothy milk that collected at the top of the drink.

“That’ll be eight fifty,” she said, holding out her hand.

I shoved a ten in her hand and said, “Keep the change.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Taking my two coffees, I walked back down the hallway to the ER. When I turned the final corner that would take me into the ER, I ran straight into a brick wall of flesh.

Instinctively, I lifted my hands up to save the coffee, and inadvertently padded my collision with my breasts which pressed up against a hard, well defined chest. They instantly pebbled.

“Oh!” I said in surprise.

“Fuck,” a deep voice hissed out, hands moving to my hips to keep me steady.

That voice always had the capability to send shivers down my spine.

“Michael,” I breathed, smiling timidly at him.

“Nik,” he sighed. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Bringing my cups down, I stepped back, and instantly regretted the loss of his heat.

I knew, though, that the longer I stayed there touching him, the harder it’d be to move away.

“I got you this,” I said, shoving the coffee in his direction.

He caught it before I could spill it all over his chest, but to be honest, his shirt really couldn’t get much worse.

Not with the massive amount of blood I could see soaking it.

He’d have to throw this one away.

It may be black, but there was no way he could get the blood out of this one.

The white lettering that designated him a KPD officer was stained red, and I had a feeling that it wouldn’t come out. Not with any amount of scrubbing.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding surprised.

“You look like you needed it,” I muttered, walking around him to the door that led into the ER.

He smiled sadly.

“‘Preciate it,” he muttered, staring at the coffee like it was the answer to all of life’s questions.

Seeing him like that made me remember the last time he’d done that.

It’d been at a SWAT meeting that’d turned into an impromptu party when I’d shown up with a box full of tamales from my mother.

***

Two years ago

“Holy crap that man’s freakin’ hot!” I said to my best friend in the whole wide world.

Georgia was freakin’ beautiful. Just as beautiful now as she had been when she’d left.

And I’d missed the absolute crap out of her.

Georgia smiled over at me.

“Which one?” She asked cheekily.

I knew that was right.

They were all overly hot.

Except my brother. He was just my brother, and eww. That was just wrong to think of that… on so many levels I couldn’t even list them all.

“Everyone but Nico. He’s ugly,” I told her.

She gave me a roll of her eyes. “Your brother is beautiful, and you damn well know it.”

I shrugged.

“I was talking about Michael,” I stated, watching as he leaned forward on his chair and laced his fingers between his knees.

Georgia rolled her eyes.

“Why are you always going for the bad ones?” She asked, forcing a beer in my hand.

I blinked.

“I don’t like beer,” I said, extending my hand to her, as well as the bottle.

She gave me a pointed look. “Go take it to him. He asked for it.”

Butterflies started to churn in my belly, and I smiled at my best friend. “I love you, you know.”

Georgia’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Don’t make me cry. Take it to him before I do.”

Sticking out my tongue, I walked across the space separating Georgia and me from the men.

I knew he’d clocked me from the moment I left Georgia.

He wasn’t so much as watching me, as he was aware of me.

When I arrived at his side, he turned his face up to me and looked at me, not smiling.

“Your beer?” I offered it to him.

He took it from me carefully. So carefully that he didn’t touch a single piece of my skin in the transfer.

“Thanks,” he muttered, smiling half-heartedly. “’Preciate it.”

I had seen him before. Noticed him at SWAT events. Watched him while visiting my brother. That was the night I became aware of him.