Hotshot (3 page)

“Wrong impression? Fucking me out of convenience when it suits you? Well, that stops now. I deserve better. What exactly is your hang up? Is it work? Because I have a goddamned job, too.”

My hang up? My hang up is that my heart doesn’t skip a beat each time I see her. She has no clue what makes me tick or lights my fire. I know it makes me a total dickhead, but there’s no feeling at all except knowing she’s an easy lay. Even then, I’ve been drunk each time we’ve fucked.

“Need to go,” I repeat and avoid looking at her.

“You’re going to regret those words, Ren Bennett. I could be the best thing that has ever happened to you!”

I practically run out of her house. Lesson learned. Even if my dick only gets release from my hand for a while, stay the fuck away from Sasha Crane.

“Get me three million and I’ll get you a contract with a signature,” I tell the rep on the other line then wait for his excuses.

As if it’s a common script, this guy spouts off the same shit I hear every day negotiating endorsement deals. Everyone wants the big names, but nobody wants to pay. This time, though, they want Nick, and I don’t budge.

This guy’s voice drones on, and my eyes start to close until my assistant, Gail, bangs on the window between our offices. She makes the motion to ‘wrap it up’ and shoots me a knowing look.

“Hate to cut this short, but a situation has come up. Call me when you get your head out of your ass. Having Nick Bennett promote your product isn’t cheap. The preseason starts in a few weeks. Don’t forget he’s got the best arm in the league right now. His defenders are protective and his receivers on fire. You want the best, you pay.” I drop the receiver and look back up to see Bizzy walking through the office in her nursing scrubs.

She stops to give Gail a hug and talks for a few seconds. Gail’s eyes slice to mine, and I go on alert. When Bizzy turns to me, I know there are about ten seconds to get her in my arms before she loses it.

I round my desk as she comes straight to me. As soon as I have her firmly in my grip, she bursts into tears. Gail brings in a bottle of water then closes my door and initiates the privacy shades.

I slide my hands up and unlatch the clip holding her hair on top of her head. My fingers work through her thick waves until they gently massage her scalp. This is one of many soothing motions I’ve discovered helps to calm her in the rare times she allows herself to break down.

“Get it out, Bizzy. Give it to me. I’m not letting go,” I say softly into the top of her head.

She tightens her arms around my waist and cries harder. Each tremor and shake pierces my heart. Usually, the sound of my voice eases her, but today, it seems to do the opposite. Instead of calming, she wails deeper.

The sound resembles an injured animal, begging for relief. There’s only twice in my life she’s shown this level of pain and vulnerability, and it hits me in the gut. She’s losing a patient.

“Sweetie, how old?”

“Fourteen.”

Each tear she sheds is absorbed straight into my skin, branding me with her ache. With one hand still massaging her head, I move the other to her back.

Finally, her breath grows shallow and she loosens her hold. “I’m sorry, Shaw. I tried to go home, but my car brought me here. I think I was on auto-pilot when I left the hospital.”

“Tell me.” I walk us back to the sofa and maneuver so she’s in my lap. It’s an intimate gesture, but she needs me right now, and I’ll do anything to lessen the burden she carries. When she looks up, fear and sadness cloud her beautiful face. Even bloodshot and full of tears, her eyes are mesmerizing.

“The treatments aren’t working. His family would like to try some alternative medicines, but we all know it’s only a matter of time. Evie suggested bringing a Hospice team to keep him comfortable. It looks like the cancer won.”

“Jesus.” I pull her back to me and kiss her forehead lightly. “Honey, I think it’s time you ask for a transfer. Pediatric Oncology is killing you. It’s too close to the heart, especially with your history.

“No, Shaw. Being with these kids is where I belong. I love my job.”

This is an argument we’ve had frequently, one no one wins. Even Bizzy’s parents begged her to reconsider Pediatric Oncology when she applied for the position. We all encouraged her to stay in MedSurg, but she refused.

“I know, but it hurts to see you so affected.”

“There’s more,” she whispers so softly, I almost miss it.

“It’s Nicky. This young boy, Grady, looks so much like Nicky. That’s why I’m hanging by a thread. When we told his parents, all I could see were Seth and Maria’s faces.”

My breath disappears, thinking of my parents for all those months. It was brutal to watch them so helpless while Nick fought his battle.

“Bizzy…”

“I’ve gotten stronger, promise. Nurse Evie helps me every day. Her strength is my guiding light, but today, something broke. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t go to Nicky.”

Her statement doesn’t offend me at all. She typically doesn’t go to anyone but me when something happens at work. Usually, Mathis will find out because he’s doing his residency at the same hospital.

“No need to explain. I’ll always have time for my girl. You know this.”

She gives me a weak grin and face plants back into my chest. “I owe you another shirt. This one is now soaked in snot and tears.”

“That’s why I keep a selection of clean ones here,” I try to joke.

“Gross. I’m gross.” She giggles through a hiccup.

“You’re beautiful.” I lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Always beautiful.”

She blushes every time I tell her this, which makes it even more true. If possible, I’d take every ounce of hurt from her life.

“Why don’t you let me take you home? I’ll grab us something to eat, and we’ll chill tonight.”

“I can’t. Claire and I are going to Grady’s house to help them get settled and bring him some things.”

“Like what?”

“I guess all my Nick Bennett memorabilia. He knows we’re friends and was really bummed when he missed Nicky’s last visit to the hospital. So I’m taking them. I’d ask Nicky to visit, but it’s too raw. The resemblance is too strong. Young boy, two brothers, football player, cute and goofy, yet so kind and sweet… He’s almost an exact doppelganger.”

I scrunch my eyes in confusion at her term.

“Doppelganger is almost like a twin,” she clarifies.

I nod in understanding and take my cell out of my pocket. Gail answers on the first ring, and I give her a list of things to grab from our stock for Grady.

When I hang up, Bizzy stares at me, her ice blue eyes shining again with tears. She surprises me by fisting my shirt and laying a soft, sweet kiss directly on my lips.

“I love you, Shaw Bennett. Thank you,” she whispers against my mouth.

My heart swells, and every nerve in my body lights on fire.

In this instant, my life changes.

Bizzy

“No, Claire, I’m not going on any more of your blind dates. Why the hell did you join a speed-dating club and dating site, only to push me to these guys?” I switch the phone to speaker so I can finish getting dressed.

“Because they may not be right for me, but you may hit it off. Let me at least send you his profile info.” My best friend pleads the same argument we have each time she tries to set me up. After last week’s debacle, I’m done.

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to shrivel up if you don’t get action soon.”

“Claire!”

“Seriously, you should thank me. I’m looking out for your poor vagina. That thing needs action that’s not silicone induced.”

“I hate you. Tell me again why we’re even friends?”

“Because one look at you in Nursing School and I decided you deserved Claire Dixon in your life. There are some things even your precious boys can’t get you through.”

“Right now, I’m leaning toward my boys. Seriously, he wore a suit to a beach bar. I can appreciate a man in a suit, but it was so formal. No more.”

“Bet if Crenshaw wore a suit to a beach bar, your ovaries would explode.”

She’s the only person in the world I’ve confided in about my feelings for Shaw, and it’s comments like this that make me regret telling her.

“Jesus, I’m hanging up the phone. You’re annoying. Thank God tonight will bring me back into normal territory.”

“The boys, the boys, the boys,” she sings. “You are one lucky bitch. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? A lawyer, a doctor, and an NFL player—all rich, gorgeous, and successful. Not to mention, all wrapped around your finger.”

“I am a lucky bitch, but they’re not wrapped around my finger. They can be handfuls.”

“Is tonight monthly dinner night?”

We started the tradition of monthly dinners three years ago when the NFL drafted Nicky to play in Miami. At the time, I was a nervous wreck because rumor was Texas wanted Nicolas Bennett and was coming after him. But somehow, Shaw worked his magic, and Miami traded for Nicky. For the first time ever, outside of holidays, we were all in the same place at once. Between law school, college, and medical school, we’d had a lot of distance. I insisted on one night a month with the four of us getting together for dinner. No one has ever missed it. Even if scheduling is a nightmare, these dinners are sacred.

“Sure is, MDN is here, so I need to get off the phone.”

“I’m sending you the profile of a guy that looks like your type. Hell, it says he’s even a lawyer.”

“Stop!” I hiss, hang up on her, and rush to finish dinner.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. “Come on in,” I yell from the kitchen.

“Bizzy!” Mathis comes in shaking his head. “I’ve told you about that. Keep your damn door locked!”

I kiss him on the cheek and accept the bottle of wine he offers. “I knew it was one of you.”

“Still, you shouldn’t be careless.”

The doorbell rings again as I dump the noodles in the water, and Mathis goes to answer, since he apparently locked it after he came in. Both Nicky and Shaw walk in with their own bottles of wine. I go to Nicky first and cup his cheek, searching his face. It’s a habit I formed after we both went into remission.

He silently does the same. When we’re both satisfied, we silently give a shake of the head and hug tight. He kisses my temple and moves to the appetizers on the counter. Then I’m faced with Shaw’s overwhelming presence. A surge of desire and longing shoots through me as I take him in.

His six-foot two frame towers over me. He’s kept a well-trimmed beard for the last few years that sets off his full lips His eyes glow with shades of gold. It’s no secret I have unusual eyes, but when I stare into his, I could lose myself for days. They are the most soulful eyes I’ve ever seen on anyone in my life, have been since the day I first saw him.

It’s so much more though, every time I see him, he exudes a raw, deep, and undeniable sex appeal. The kind of appeal that no one else can match.

Through the years, I’ve become a master at hiding the feelings swirling when it comes to Crenshaw Bennett. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that he’ll always see me as a sick, young girl. Even now, at almost twenty-five, he’s never looked at me as a woman. I’ve tried to get over my hopeless infatuation, but there’s no denying that he owns a piece of my heart.

That’s why, when I find myself suffocating under the pressures at work, he’s who I turn to. The instant I’m in his big strong arms, the weight of grief dissolves. He handles me so gently, I almost feel precious in his embrace.

“Bizzy,” he says, kissing my cheek. He mirrors Nicky’s move by searching for any sign of sadness. I know he’s worried about my breakdown last week, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that Grady is going to die soon.

“I’m good, Shaw. Promise.”

He nods but instead of moving his hand, he sweeps his thumb across my lips gently. My breath hitches, and his eyes flash. Something passes between us, but I’m too lost in his gaze to figure out what it is.

“I’m starving.” Nicky opens a beer and slides onto a barstool.

Shaw drops his hand as I snap out of my trance and move to the stove.

“I tripled the recipe. You should be fine.”

“What are we having?”