“No, you’re wrong. I never had any intention of dating them. I didn’t want a relationship with any of them. I didn’t even like them.”

“But you like Nico.”

I hesitated then decided to be honest. “Yes,” I breathed the word out, finally allowing myself to hold her hand in return. “Yes. I do like him. But I’m so different now and he—he’s some famous comedian. It doesn’t matter anyway because I told him that I use men that I don’t like for sex.”

She glared at me through narrowed eyes. “You were purposefully trying to scare him away.”

“No.” I narrowed my eyes at her, mirroring her expression. “I was trying to be honest. And if my honesty makes him realize that he is wrong about me then so be it.”

Ashley’s mouth was curved in a frown of plain disgust. “You are pushing the poor guy away.”

“He doesn’t love me, Ashley. He doesn’t even know me.”

“Do you want a relationship with Nico?”

I hesitated again. I didn’t know the answer to her question because I’d never allowed myself to consider the possibility, not even that summer when we were teenagers and he held me as I slept. The idea that Nico Manganiello would want a relationship with me—then or now—was beyond my comprehension. More than that, the idea of dating him felt wrong because I liked him and cared about him.

I’d already experienced my one great love. It wouldn’t be fair to Nico if I led him on, made him hope for a future that wasn’t possible, that I didn’t want, that I wasn’t capable of.

I decided to deflect rather than discuss these thoughts with Ashley. “You don’t understand what he was like in high school. He was the guy. Everyone had a crush on him. He was hot and smart and secreted charisma everywhere. There was much swooning whenever he walked into a room.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“He’s a celebrity. And he has a terrible security firm. He needs better security.”

“Again, what does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve already had my great love.”

Ashley blinked at me, waited, then shook her head slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve already been in love.” I glanced at my watch. Much to my annoyance I still had another fifteen minutes before lunch time was over.

“It’s like you and I are having two different conversations. I asked you if you want a relationship with Nico and you haven’t answered the question.”

“Because I don’t know how to answer it.”

“Well, that’s an answer. You could have just said: I don’t know, Ashley. I don’t know if I want to have a relationship with dreamy Nico Moretti even though I like him and he’s a great guy and he loves me and over half the population of the United States wants to get in his pants.” Her voice was high as she mocked me and she lost most of her Tennessee drawl in favor of a Fargo, North Dakota accent.

I twisted my mouth to the side. “I do not sound like that. And, really, over half the population?”

“More like three quarters. I know some straight men who would switch teams to take a bite out of that apple arse.”

I hit her thigh. “Ashley!”

“What? It’s true. I know I’d like to take a look at his knackwurst.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ashley and I stiffened and automatically turned toward the owner of the voice. I met the dreamy—yet leaden—gaze of Dr. Ken Miles with an expression that I was sure looked guilty.

“Oh, hey, Ken. I didn’t see you come in.” Ashley didn’t look guilty. She looked pleased. I scowled at her.

“So who were you two talking about? Was it me?”

Ashley kept her face turned toward Dr. Ken Miles, but her eyes slid to me. “Actually we were talking about a friend of Elizabeth’s from high school. She just recently made contact with him again and he wants to get together, so. . . no. Not you.”

It took all my Jedi power to keep from smacking Ashley at that moment. She knew my plan for Dr. Ken Miles. She knew he was my best hope for getting laid in the foreseeable future. She knew she was interfering with the potential for an orgasm, maybe several if I was lucky.

Friends don’t pu**y submarine friends. Not cool.

“Old friend?” Dr. Ken Miles turned his pale-blue eyes to mine. He appeared to be interested, and his voice held a slight edge. It was a good sign and a bad sign.

I shrugged. “Oh, yeah, well. You know. I went to my high school reunion this weekend and ran into some people.”

Dr. Ken Miles was chewing gum and holding a half-finished milkshake. He pushed blond curls to one side of his forehead then crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I saw that.”

I stared at him for a beat. When I spoke my voice cracked. “You saw what?”

Dr. Ken Miles’s eyes narrowed, I was suddenly in the path of Dr. Ken Miles’s vacant stare zone; his jaw opened and closed as he kneaded the gum between his molars. “The YouTube video with you and that comedian guy. Meg showed it to me yesterday.”

Shisterhosen! Megalomaniac eyebrow-tweezing Meg.

“Oh. That.” I laughed. I knew it sounded insincere and forced. I grimaced.

He smiled at me in return. It looked insincere and forced. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

I rolled my eyes and released a long sigh. “I don’t. I didn’t. I was trying to be helpful.”

“See. She was trying to be helpful,” Ashley said sweetly.

“I was, Ashley.” I issued her a stealthy death stare while I maintained a smile on my face. “As I was just explaining, Nico and I were acquainted in high school. One of his closest friends was my boyfriend. At the reunion there were some intoxicated women who were harassing him so I tried to diffuse the situation by yelling something to shock the ladies out of their inappropriate behavior.”

Dr. Ken Miles pulled up a chair next to me while I was speaking, his expression was still guarded. “Why didn’t you yell fire?”

Oh, for the love of—!

“I actually explained that too.” My smile was waning, and I worried that it looked more like a growl than a grin. I wondered how many times I was going to have to explain the legality of screaming fire in an occupied room. “It is actually against the law to yell fire in a crowd of people. You know, what with all the panic and trampling to death and whatnot.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Ken Miles leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes continued to move over me speculatively. “So you two hooking up now or something?”

“That’s a pretty personal question, Dr. Ken,” Ashley’s Tennessee twang reminded him that she was still there. “Unless you have a stake in the dairy farm, the milking pen is none of your beeswax.”

Dr. Ken Miles frowned at Ashley’s untoward metaphor, his eyes moving over her in plain contemplation. He responded with a vehemence I wasn’t expecting. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, Nurse?”

Ashley and I shared a look and silent communication passed between us.

Me: That was weird.

Her: What is all that about?

Me: I don’t know. Kinda douchey though.

Her: Yes. My sentiments exactly.

“Well.” Ashley stood from her chair slowly, keeping her eyes on me. “I suppose that is my cue to leave.”

I glanced at Dr. Ken Miles, glowering at his rudeness, then back to Ashley. “No, no—you don’t need to go.”

“No, no. Dr. Ken is actually right, I need to get back. You two have a nice chat.” She stressed the end of the word chat and issued me a wonky stare as she left.

I frowned at her back then shifted my attention to him, waited for him to speak.

“That was really rude, Dr. Ken Miles.”

“Yeah, well. She did need to get back.” He sighed, continued to grind the gum between his molars. “I’ll apologize to her later, okay? I just wanted to talk to you alone.”

I studied his pretty face. Decided to let it go, for now, but I tucked it away as another reason why I disliked him.

He issued me a flat smile. “So, then you had a nice time at your reunion?”

I nodded. “It was different than I expected but not unpleasant.”

He opened the lid to his plastic cup and spit the gum into it. Gross. “I heard about your latest prank.”

“Really? From who?”

“Dr. Botstein.”

“Huh.” I shrugged. I was just happy he’d dropped the Nico-babygate scandal so fast. “Really? Was he still mad?”

“He asked me if I thought you should be disciplined.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“Because I’m the chief resident.” Dr. Ken Miles looked a little affronted that I would even ask the question.

This annoyed me. I decided to cover my annoyance by flirting. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone: disguise my irritation that Dr. Botstein had consulted dull-Dr. Ken Miles on my antics and push my getting laid agenda.

Thoughts of getting laid made me think of Nico.

My stomach flip-flopped. For a single second I entertained the possibility that my strange, chaotic, messy, tangled feelings for Nico were just a byproduct of engorged hormones. Maybe all I needed was a nicely built partner.