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bigger pain in the ass than this burn
on my arm, so let it go.”
    “Okay, it’s
forgotten. But if it starts to hurt or you need a break, take it.”
    “I will.”
    “So, did you see
Tate?”
    If something
good could come out of being injured, it was that it forced him to swallow his
anxiety about seeing her again and drag his procrastinating ass into her ER for
treatment. Her reaction had been in line with what he’d expected, perhaps
slightly better considering she didn’t kick him in the nuts.
    Ryan nodded at
Kevin’s question. “It wasn’t exactly a Hallmark moment.”
    “I hope that’s
not what you were expecting.”
    “No, but I still
had some ridiculous expectation that there might’ve been at least a few smiles
on her part, maybe a rational conversation beyond the awkward hellos and doctor
speak.”
    Kevin frowned. “She
didn’t tell you to fuck off entirely, did she?”
    Ryan sucked in a
deep breath, blew it out slow through his nose. “Well, maybe. It’s hard to be
sure with Tate. She talks a big game, but that’s her protective mechanism for
keeping people at a distance.”
    “I’ve got one of
those at home now,” Kevin said wryly.
    “Holy shit, Elle
moved in?”
    “Last
weekend. It’s been an adjustment to say the least. My
apartment looks like a bomb went off inside it. Except for
the kitchen of course. She steers way clear of my kitchen. If I wasn’t so crazy about the woman, I would’ve strangled
her by now.”
    A pang of
jealousy hit Ryan. He was ready for that also—commitment and domesticity.
Arguing over who drank the last of the orange juice and stuck the empty
container back in the fridge, or who left wet towels on the bathroom floor. Fighting for the remote or sections of the newspaper over coffee in
the mornings. Waking up with a warm, soft body curled next to him, a
spill of glorious red hair across the neighboring pillow. God yes, he wanted it
all. Bliss and belligerence. He knew where he’d find it, too. Now he just had to do a
damn good job of convincing the other party.
    “I hurt Tate
pretty bad,” he said.
    “Did you tell
her what happened with your family?”
    “Not yet. I need
to feel things out between us first, see if there’s even a flicker of hope left.
I’m trying to remind her of the good parts of our relationship before I go and toss
my family’s dirty laundry into the mix.”
    Even after all
this time, bitterness still rose in Ryan’s throat when he thought about what his
father did.   How it had torn apart lives
and families.
    He owed Tate the
truth, but first he wanted to know if she could care deeply for him again
before he told her everything. He didn’t want pity to taint her feelings. If he
stood any chance whatsoever of getting her back, Ryan wanted the emotions to be
genuine.
    “So what’s your
next move?” Kevin asked.
    “I’m going to
annoy the hell out of her until she gives in.”

Chapter
Three
     
    Ryan was going
to annoy the hell out of Tate.
    It was clear now
that was his ploy—exasperate her to the point of giving in and agreeing to see
him. First, it had been the flowers; now it was food.
    Precisely at
six-thirty the next evening, and the exact time she took her dinner break,
three men dressed in black pants, black vests, and crisp white shirts, delivered
enough food to feed the entire ER staff. But not just any
food. No, he’d honored her heritage by preparing Soda Bread, Irish Stew , and some kind of extravagant apple cake for dessert. Even
she wasn’t that knowledgeable about
traditional Irish dishes.
    Tate couldn’t
figure out how she could be simultaneously flattered by the lavish gesture and
mortified by the subsequent razzing from her co-workers. Word had spread rather
quickly about her handsome suitor, thanks to the hospital’s rabid gossip vine.
    “You’re Irish?”
one of the other doctors asked, his plate heaped over with food.
    Tate stared at
him dumbfounded, fighting against the compulsion to ask him how he