And why the hell was he that upset by it?
“Carter?”
He looks up at me, a soft smile warming his brown eyes. “I thought you’d like something nice. Something just for you.”
Oh. That’s… insanely sweet.
“Look at the menu, Grace.”
I do now, reading it over. Mostly because once again, I have no idea what to say back to that. “Carter, you’re giving me whiplash.”
“And you’re giving me heartburn. Did you pick out what you’d like to eat yet?”
There are all kinds of specialty waffles. Sweet ones, savory ones, all delicious sounding. And yes, waffles are my absolute favorite. He knows because he was… watching me? How does that make any sense?
“Next week is your birthday,” he muses, accepting coffee from our waiter. I shake my head, covering my mug. I need sleep, not caffeine. “She’ll have the mixed berry smoothie.”
I will? It sounds good. Like something I’d order for myself if I had bothered to read the menu more carefully. For once, I don’t argue.
“Very good, sir. Are you ready to order?”
“Grace?” Carter waves a hand in my direction.
Um. Jesus. Who knew breakfast with your boss could be this stressful? “I’ll have the chicken and waffles, please.” Because the spicy syrup with it sounds amazing and there are pieces of bacon cooked into the waffle itself though it was a close call between that and the Nutella and berry one.
“I’ll have the lobster eggs benedict, please.”
That sounds good too. I wonder if Carter is the type who shares or hordes all to himself. And is it weird if I take a bite of his breakfast? Why does this feel like a first date?
“Why does this feel like a first date?”
Carter grins, a twinkle of something in his eyes that I can’t read. “As I said, your birthday is next week. We should do something special for it.”
I take a sip of my water and sit back in my chair, studying the man across from me who just blatantly dodged my question. The one who doesn’t look like he’s been up for more than a day delivering babies and doing surgeries. The man who is becoming more and more unexpected and confusing as the days I’m spending with him tally up.
“What do you think we should do?” I throw back at him, curious if for no other reason than Carter seems to be the man with a plan. He brought me here this morning after all.
My smoothie arrives and I take a small sip, and wow, it’s fucking fantastic. If my waffles are anything like this, I’m in for a real treat. And maybe that’s why he did this? So I could have a treat? Something nice as he said.
Forget whiplash, he’s giving me a migraine the more I try to figure him out.
Is he… is he wooing me?
Have I been reading the signs wrong all this time?
Or is this just Carter being a good guy, looking out for his resident and his brother’s best friend? I legit can’t tell. All I know is Carter isn’t interested in dating me. If anything, he wants to fling with me. Sort of how Margot said. That’s what he does. He doesn’t do relationships, he flings.
I inwardly sigh at myself. I’m way overthinking something that does not require this level of insight… or oversight. This is what I mean. I can’t do casual. Hell, I can’t even have breakfast without dissecting every damn thing the man does.
“How’s the smoothie?”
“Marvelous. Want some?” I stare as I hold my glass out to him, but all he does is shake his head no. Huh. “How can you drink coffee before sleeping?”
“I’m not going to sleep until this evening. If I sleep today, it will mess with my rhythm and then I won’t sleep tonight, and I’ll be a mess to start the week.”
“I’ve tried doing that. I never make it past two without crashing hard.”
“I usually make it to about five or six and then I crash for the night.”
Ah. The life of a doctor.
“We keep skirting around your birthday,” he says, and I can’t fight my smile.
We do. We’re skirting around a lot of things it seems. It feels like a game, one I’m not sure how to win or lose, especially when I don’t know the rules or even the stakes.
“What would Tony have done for you?”
That’s an interesting question for him to ask.
“Usually, Tony would have bought me a piece of jewelry and then taken me out for an expensive dinner. But maybe I’ll do something with the girls this year? I don’t know. I don’t care all that much about it. Honestly, I never really did. All the jewelry he bought me I never wore because, well, life of a resident and most of it wasn’t my style anyway. It was like he bought it for me because he read in a magazine somewhere that’s what you’re supposed to do. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, it’s just…”
He never asked me what I wanted or gave any consideration to what he purchased. Every birthday and every Christmas, the same thing. Jewelry and dinner. Huge diamond drop earrings. An emerald necklace. A sapphire and ruby pin—who our age wears pins? If I were ever meeting the Queen of England, I would have had the right jewels, short of that…
It was always from the same jewelry store too and now I can’t help but wonder if he was fucking the woman who helped him pick out whatever he bought for me. That’s where my mind goes now whenever I think of him and the things he did for me. Right now, I only know about two women, but I know there were more. I just do and I… I hate him.
I’ve moved past disgust and now I’ve officially reached the hate stage of this.
“No jewelry or even fancy dinners for you then. How about a party?”
I stare blankly at Carter. A party? That could be—
“It could be just what you need.”
I smirk at him. “Are you reading my mind now?”
He chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee without removing his eyes from me. The man is good at this. Getting my heart rate going just a little. Making my skin buzz with a gentle hum. Keeping me on the edge of my seat, anxious for what comes next. All with a look or a smile because let’s be real here, his looks are damn intense. So intense you feel them in every cell of your body. And his smiles could melt butter in subfreezing temperatures.
“A party it is then.”
“Carter, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. But you have to promise me something.”
I blink at him. “What’s that?”
“You won’t bring a date.”
Now I nearly fall off my chair, but I don’t get a chance to do that or even respond with why do you care if I bring a date because a massive plate of chicken and waffles is placed in front of me with a flourish and holy wow, it smells like the best thing I’ve ever smelled. Sweet and spicy, savory and salty.
Carter’s benedict looks equally as scrumptious. The waiter leaves us, and Carter cuts a bite of food, layering it all up onto his fork and then holding it out for me. Without questioning him, I lean forward and take the proffered bite—the first bite, I might add—the flavors exploding in my mouth to the point where I inadvertently moan. Carter’s eyes flare, his nostrils too as I lick my lips like the food hussy I am.
“Good?”