Free Sweet Surrender by Maddie Taylor Page A

busy to call, yet you had time to send off a bullshit text? I want answers.”
    “Look, I’m sorry, but once I went to sleep on Sunday, I slept straight through until morning. On Monday, I was here for pre-op at six a.m., worked through lunch, and took over in recovery for one of the girls who had a sick child. I left here with only thirty minutes to get to my five o’clock class, which lasted until nine. Then I went to the library to catch up on homework and do some research that I was behind on because I went out with you twice when I really should have been studying. This is my last semester and I can’t afford to slack off or be distracted.”
    “I understand being busy. You couldn’t have taken a minute to call and tell me that?” he demanded, convinced his anger was justified. Seeing the regret flicker across her face lessened his temper a bit. “So I’m a distraction, am I? That’s a relief at least. I thought I’d scared you off.”
    “I didn’t intend to say, I mean—that isn’t what—I…” Flustered and making little sense, she clamped her mouth shut and glared up at him.
    He couldn’t keep the grin from emerging at her nervous rambling. “Although your behavior doesn’t deserve a reward, have lunch with me?”
    The wrinkling of her brow and the little moue of her lips as she tilted her head sideways charmed him thoroughly. That all changed with her words. “I can’t. I brought my lunch and plan to do some last-minute cramming for an exam tonight.” She took a step back; in the small alcove there wasn’t much space and she came up against the desk chair, knocking it into the wall. Rattled, she looked away, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. This was not a good sign.
    “Although I had a wonderful time with you, this isn’t a good time for me, Marc. I have to focus on school. For the first time in a long time, I see the light at the end of the tunnel that for once is not an oncoming train.”
    “Did I do something wrong?”
    “No, it’s—”
    “Can’t you look at me, Jess?”
    Turning, she faced him, although her eyes zeroed in on his chin. “This is awkward. We work together, we shouldn’t—”
    “There are no rules prohibiting doctors and nurses dating.”
    “No, but if it’s awkward now, imagine when it’s over.”
    “So, you’re ending it before it begins. How do you know it will be over, Jess? There’s a spark between us. We’ve both felt it. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit it.”
    “We’re very different.”
    “Is that a bad thing?”
    “We’re from two different worlds.”
    “You’ve been listening to hospital gossip again.”
    “No, I Googled you.”
    “You did?”
    She ignored his pleased grin.
    “Yes. Son of David Trent, plastics mogul from Bloomfield Hills, you were educated at U of M and Columbia Medical School. For Pete’s sake, there’s an educational endowment named after you in Ann Arbor. You’re also a member of Forest Hills Country Club and the Detroit Yacht and Sailing Club. You played lacrosse in high school and college. I don’t even know what that is. We have nothing in common. I’m the daughter of a single, hardworking, blue-collar waitress from the much less influential suburbs. My mother still lives in the trailer park I grew up in. She works two jobs, which barely pays enough to cover her rent and utilities. We’re too different, it wouldn’t work out.”
    “Do people look down on your mother for what she does, how much she earns, and where she comes from?”
    “Every day.”
    “Do you think it’s fair when people judge her like that?”
    “No!”
    “Aren’t you doing the same to me?”
    Her mouth opened, but only a small, choked sound came out. Her eyes lifted; they were liquid pools of emotion, hiding nothing. He could see he’d struck a chord. Since she had softened and her shields were weak, he pushed forward, on the offensive.
    “I’m not asking you to spend the rest of your life with me