Chapter Four
Mick stretched his aching neck and yawned. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He should have been out the door twenty minutes ago, but a rather complicated surgery on an MVA patient had led to a shit ton of paperwork. Nothing like going head first into a windshield to fuck up someone’s day. If that guy’s mangled body wasn’t the perfect shot for a public-education campaign on the awesomeness of seatbelts…
His pager buzzed. One of the ICU docs wanted a consult on a post-op X-ray. Mick logged off and shut down his computer for the night. He grabbed his backpack, checked for his keys and wallet, and made a quick dash for the nearest elevator.
The consult was quick and painless. The guy had been circling the drain when he’d arrived via helicopter and had left Mick’s operating table in critical-but-stable condition. He seemed to be holding on fairly well, but only time would tell. If he made it through the night, Mick would be stunned. That kind of head and chest trauma didn’t heal easily and usually led to massive complications.
His consult complete, Mick made a quick getaway. Lingering in the hospital was a bad idea. He’d just get roped into taking an urgent surgery or covering for someone else. He wasn’t on call, and for the first time in months he really, really wanted to get home. He was desperate to see Whitney and Eddie.
The freeway was a fucking nightmare, so he hopped off at the first exit and crawled along side streets. Every traffic light taunted him, flashing red the second he drew near. Not one to tempt fate and run a red light, Mick not-so-patiently waited for the green lights, his fingers tapping the wheel or fidgeting with the radio.
All day long he’d been plagued with flashbacks of last night. Christ, the sex! It had been amazing. Mind blowing. Earth shattering. Whitney’s nubile body and Eddie’s domineering tone. Mick shook his head. There was some major, almost magic, chemistry among the three of them. He’d always known it would be good between them, but
Rather smugly, Mick preened like a peacock. He’d been right all along. She was the one for them. Like a missing piece to a puzzle, she’d slipped right into the empty spot and locked perfectly in place. Eddie’s fears were clearly unfounded. Now, Mick just had to pray there weren’t any ugly bust-ups.
The easiest way to avoid conflict and keep the relationship developing was to set out some ground rules. Eddie thrived on rules and regulations. If they made some decisions at the outset, there would be no questions about what was or wasn’t permissible within the bounds of the relationship. Better to get the uncomfortable stuff out of the way up front, he reasoned.
That was assuming Whitney wanted some kind of relationship with the two of them and didn’t consider last night a one-off kind of thing.
Mick’s gut soured. Fuck, if that was the case, Eddie would be inconsolable and a son of a bitch to be around for the next few weeks.
But Mick was sure that wasn’t the case. This morning when he’d awoken to the annoying chirp of his cell phone alarm, Whitney had been securely nestled between them, her head on his chest and her ankle crooked across Eddie’s calf. Mick had met Eddie’s gaze across the bed. His old friend had smiled warmly and carefully shifted Whitney onto his chest as Mick slid out of bed. He’d leaned over and pecked both Whitney and Eddie on the cheek before making his way to the bathroom for a shower.
When he’d checked in on the pair before heading out the door, they’d both been fast asleep. It had warmed his heart to see the two people he cared about most so tranquil and content. That was exactly what he wanted to see every morning when he left for work. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?
Mick’s heart raced as he turned down their street. Eddie’s truck was parked in the driveway again, so he assumed the other garage spot was still full of construction crap and killed his Mercedes next to Eddie’s Ford. He grabbed his backpack, slid out of the car, and slammed the door. He hit the button on his key fob as he hurried to the front door.
The delicious scent of Mexican food enveloped him as he stepped in the house. Whitney was a fabulous cook, much better than Eddie even, and had learned a lot of great recipes from her longtime foster mom, Lupe. Mick loved it when she took her turn in the kitchen. He was sure to gorge himself on delicious food and cold beer.
But, wait, if Whitney was cooking in the kitchen…
Taken aback, Mick hovered in the doorway between the entry and the living room. He’d been expecting the horrendous mess he’d left behind that morning but was shocked to see a scene like something out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. Eddie lounged on their comfortable brown leather sofa, the supple fabric seeming to gleam in the new space. He lifted his beer in a greeting. “Hey, you’re finally home!”
“What. The. Fuck?” Mick pronounced each word clearly as he toured the completely redone living room. The horrendous hole in the dining room wall had been perfectly cut out and shaped to form a beautiful archway. “This is like something out of one of those makeover shows on TV.”
“I know, right?” Eddie shook his head and sipped his beer. “I came home to find a crew hard at work and Whitney shouting orders over the speaker on the contractor’s phone. She came home with bags of curtains and throw pillows and new frames and knickknacks and put me to work.”
Mick dropped his backpack on his favorite low leather chair. He felt the cool kiss of a breeze from the overhead vents. He went still. “Is that the air conditioner?”
Eddie nodded. “She had the A/C guy here before I left for work. Said she couldn’t expect Miguel’s crew to work in this heat.”
“Well, I couldn’t,” Whitney said, bringing an ice-cold beer into the room. She started to hand it over to Mick then stopped. “Wait. Are you on call tonight?”
“No.”
“Good.” She smiled and handed him the beer.
“Thanks.” He reached out and hauled her close for a kiss. She melted into him, the taste of lime and mint filling his mouth. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively. “Mojito?”
“You know it,” she said, patting his shoulder. She carefully unwound herself from his arms. “Give me a few minutes in the kitchen to get everything together. Then you two can help me carry food into the dining room.” She headed out of the room and called over her shoulder, “Then we can talk.”
Eddie made a face. “I don’t like it when women want to talk.”
“Me either,” Mick agreed, “but I think it’s probably for the best.”
Eddie harrumphed. “I suppose.”
“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to get some ground rules laid out?”
Eddie considered that for a second. “Yeah. You’re right. We definitely need to talk.”
“Guys?”
Mick and Eddie rose and headed into the kitchen where they discovered a selection of platters and bowls overflowing with food. Stomach growling, Mick licked his lips. Before he could reach out to take a tortilla chip from a bowl, Whitney smacked his hand. “Uh-uh! Wash your hands first!”
“Yes, Mother.” Duly chastised, Mick walked to the sink and gave his hands a good scrub. He held them up for his inspection. “Clean enough?”
Whitney gave them an exaggerated once-over. “Yes.”
“You know I wash my hands at work all the time.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t keeping them clean at work,” Whitney replied. “But you’re still in your scrubs. I just don’t want you sprinkling MRSA all over my chips and salsa.”
“These are clean scrubs,” Mick assured her. “I changed into these after my last surgery of the day.”
“For what it’s worth,” Eddie interjected, “she makes me wash my hands the second I set foot in here, too.”
Mick narrowed his eyes in mock disdain at Whitney. “Germaphobe.”
“And damn proud of it,” Whitney retorted with a saucy little wink. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Mick and Eddie loaded up their arms with dishes and followed her into the dining room. The new decor looked even better up close. There was a faint smell of paint in the air but nothing the spicy scent of cumin and chili powder couldn’t cover. The inviting terra-cotta color on the walls complemented the dark wood of the table and chairs. Whitney had replaced the old curtains and plain rods with a more ornate bronze bar and cream-colored panels. All the old furniture looked so much better.
