Heating up the Holidays

“He’s probably sleeping.”

“Okay, but I still need to see him. I think I might…have feelings for him. Real feelings, you know?”

Blake laughed softly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well, I didn’t!”

“That’s because you’re a little slow on the uptake. But we love you anyway.”

She stared at him for a beat. “You do?”

“All of us, Cristina. Every last one.”

She struggled with this concept, wanting to believe that could actually even be possible, but not sure, even now, if she could. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Maybe it’s your sweet, sensitive nature.”

“No, really. Why?”

He took in her tense features, and softened. “We love you because you’re the best of the best, Cristina, and because you’re fierce and intense and amazing. You’d lay your life down for any single one of us. Hell, you’d do it for a stranger. Now you have a guy, also one of the best of the best, who feels the same way about you, and you’re sitting at a green light looking at me.”

“Oh!” She hit the gas and didn’t let up until she’d pulled back into the hospital. She rushed past the E.R. cubicle where only a few hours before Dustin had lain bleeding, not able to feel his toes, to the information desk, where she was directed to Dustin’s room.

And found an empty bed.

An aide was cleaning up the sheets. “Where is he?” she demanded hoarsely.

“Who?”

“Dustin Mauer. The patient who was here. Where is he?”

“He’s gone.”

FOR THE FIRST TIME in her entire life, Cristina left the job in the middle of a shift. Abandoning Blake at the hospital, she drove to Dustin’s house and banged on his door, opening it herself when she couldn’t wait. “Dustin-Oh.”

A Dustin look-alike was on the other side of the door. He was tall, leanly muscled, and so much like Dustin she had to blink.

“Hello,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I-” She looked behind her, back outside, to make sure she’d driven up to the right house.

“Oh, you’re at the right place,” he told her. “You’re the heartbreaker, right? Cristina.”

“Jason.” Dustin said this from his perch on the couch, his voice low and raspy and so familiar it nearly brought her to her knees. “Let her in.”

“She’s already in.” But Jason stood back and gave her room.

“My brother, Jason, the watchdog,” Dustin said. “Jason, this is Cristina.”

Cristina managed a small smile and then moved past Jason to stand in front of Dustin, so relieved to see him she could scarcely breathe. He looked like shit, like death warmed over really, but he was breathing, so that was good. Still, she wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let go. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“So we’re even.”

“I scared you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why are you here?” he asked instead of answering her.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. Probably she should have figured out exactly what to say to him. “Isn’t it customary to visit someone who’s been shot? Even idiots who check themselves out of hospital against doctors’ advice?”

His eyes gave nothing away behind his glasses. “So this is a friendly visit then? A how-are-you-doing visit? Well, I’m pissed off and in pain. There. Now you know. Thanks for coming.”

As if on cue, Jason opened the door in a not-so-subtle invitation for her to walk back out again.

“Wait.” She let out a breath and shoved her fingers in her hair. “Just wait a damn minute.”

Dustin waited with a patience that stretched hers thin for no reason that she could put her finger on. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so weird? We-we’re-”

Completely unhelpful, he lifted a brow.

“I mean, I thought we-”

He still just looked at her.

Goddammit.

“Okay, let me help you,” he said.

Well, finally!

“We’ve been friends,” he murmured. “Close friends.”

She’d never been good with the word close, but it was hard to dispute the truth. “Yes.”

“We’ve been sleeping together.”

She shot a quick glance at his brother. “Well, not regularly or anything. At least until this week,” she muttered.

Jason pursed his lips. “Sounds like you kids have some talking to do. I’ll be eavesdropping from the kitchen.”

He left, and a heavy silence filled the room.

“Here’s the thing,” Dustin said.

Good. The thing. She was so glad he was about to define the thing.

“I’m tired.”

“Well, of course you’re tired. You were shot!”

“No, I mean, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of the yo-yo. I’m tired of making all the moves.”

A burning panic began to rumble low in her belly. “What are you talking about?”

“If I don’t push you, then we stand still. But I’m tired of pressuring you into each and every single tiny step forward we take. It’s why I came to your place the other night to say goodbye. Which didn’t stick, obviously. So if you want to make the first move today, then make it already. If not, I’d like to be alone.”

Hurt, stunned and more hurt, she just stood there.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Sounding extremely tired, he lay back and closed his eyes. “Lock the door behind you.”

Well, wasn’t that subtle? She’d just lock the door then. Asshole. She let herself out and not only locked the damn door, but slammed it first.

And drove herself home to think.

And think some more.

And in the thinking, found her mad. How dare he go along with whatever the hell it was they’d been doing all this time, and then suddenly decide that wasn’t working for him?

It wasn’t like it was working for her, either. Not even close. She spent a very long night stewing, and when she woke up, she stormed back to his house.

Only to find it empty.

It was her day off, but she drove to the station and sought out Zach, who was doing pull-ups on a bar in the hallway, shirtless. Once upon a time she’d harbored a secret crush on Zach. They were friends, and twice they’d been friends with benefits, but it had been a long time ago, and, while he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met, he was a better friend than most.

Plus he’d found true love with Brooke, and been taken off the market.

But even before that, she’d fallen for Dustin. She hadn’t known back then the why or how of it, but Dustin had taken her off the market, too.

It was time he damn well knew it. “Where’s Dustin?”

“Gone.”

The same queasy panic she’d experienced yesterday flooded her again. “What do you mean, gone? Where does a guy who’s been shot go?”

Zach released the pole and hopped down. Letting out a long breath, he looked her in the eyes. “He’s at his mom’s house in San Luis Obispo.”