“If you make my uncle happy, then you’re all right by me.”
Her cheeks flush again, but she doesn’t look away this time. There’s this odd attraction between us, or maybe it’s completely on my end. I’ve had scores of reactions to beautiful women. The kind that center on my dick, but I don’t remember reacting to a woman like this before.
I want to reach out and give her a feeling of acceptance, reassurance. But she’s not mine to touch, so I restrain my hands and break our gaze by scanning the black rubber belts circling in front of us. My bag appears on the belt and I pull it off, stand it up, and we start walking toward the exit.
When did I start worrying so much about other people’s feelings? First Rachel, and now Harlow. I’m not heartless, just selfish at times and singularly focused on my own goals—med school, residency, and then my own practice. The patterns for my life are carved in deep.
She reaches into her designer bag and pulls out her car keys. “I’m not parked too far,” she mutters. I trail dutifully behind her, enjoying the view as I follow her out a set of glass doors leading to the parking garage.
“James suggested I take you to a restaurant downtown called Rogue.” She shrugs, clearly wanting my approval.
“Sounds good to me.”
“It’s new in town and I’ve been wanting to try the place out, but I’m not allowed to go by myself.” Her voice fades into almost a whisper.
“What do you mean, ‘not allowed’? Is there something wrong with the place? Bad part of town?”
“It’s in a safe area by The Clinic.” Well, that didn’t answer my question. She stops in front of a sweet little BMW and clicks the fob to unlock the doors.
“I’m assuming this is yours?”
“Yep,” she quips, standing next to me at the back of her car. She releases the trunk and I place my luggage inside. I walk to her door and open it for her.
“Thanks,” she responds in almost a question, looking up at me with a curious brow. Her confused face forces a smile from me. For some reason, I really do like this girl. I close the door after she’s in and hurry to the other side.
“Nice set of wheels,” I compliment once inside the car with her. “Safe and still a little edgy.”
“Thanks. The car was James’ idea,” she says with no emotion as we both buckle up.
“Yeah, he chose well.”
She flips on the air and her perfume punches me out of nowhere. Damn confined spaces. I take a moment and close my eyes. The scent borders between sophisticated and flowery, and very expensive.
I hope to hell this clerkship keeps me busy. Otherwise, it’s going to be four long weeks for me. Now, where the fuck were we?
“So, you can’t go to the place we are heading to alone?” I wait for her to fill in the blanks.
“James doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to go there.” She maneuvers the car out of the parking area. “And I hate to disobey him.”
Obey? What, is he her father?
“Why isn’t it a good idea?” I leave the obey part for later.
“There are people my age there. Single men. James worries about me in that kind of environment.”
“Really?” I would worry about you, too.
“He’s protective of me. It’s endearing at times.” She glances at me. “He doesn’t trust other men around me if he’s not there.”
“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief. She nods her head. “I’m pretty sure you could handle yourself in a restaurant in downtown Rochester.”
Something about Harlow and this entire conversation seems off. She hesitates as she gives me details, and blushes once she does. I feel like I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg and the truth is lying under the water out of sight. James has never married, never even been close from what Nina says. Then he picks a young, beautiful innocent for his wife. Something doesn’t add up here and I hope to find out what’s behind his fears and demands. For Harlow’s sake.
Chapter Eight
Harlow
I try to keep my eyes on the road as I drive toward town, but all I want to do is look at him. Search his eyes again and confirm their unique whiskey color. Who has eyes like that? They’re almost unnatural.
Sinclair doesn’t fit the profile of the typical med students I’ve seen waltz through this town since I was a child. When he was walking down the ramp toward me at the airport, I had a totally different impression of him. He resembled an athlete with his tall frame, sculpted muscles, and mile-wide shoulders. I try to imagine him wearing a white doctor’s coat, and it doesn’t seem right.
By the way he speaks to me, kind and concerned, I see a soft side of him. A man proving he could dedicate himself to the sick and listen to their worries. A gentle giant might be the best description. Under the black clothes and boots, the rebel-looking exterior he owns, I think he’s a really sweet guy.