I’m standing in the hallway in front of my door when I suddenly hear a deep, velvet-edged voice come from behind me. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I whip my head around and my gaze falls on Ethan’s chiseled face. He must’ve been jogging. His T-shirt’s damp around the neck and lower chest. I suddenly remember how tight his abs are and I flush. Whatta delicious hot mess he is, with his disheveled dark golden curls. I catch myself from running my fingers through the strands that spill over his forehead.
Then my mood pummels. The vision of Dr. Rice talking to his mother yesterday still rides heavily on my skirt-tail. “Hey!” I snap, glaring at him.
Ethan’s brow shoots up. “Somebody’s not in a good mood.”
“Nope, I’m not.” I gather my keys out of my bag.
“What’s wrong?”
Chafe rushes through me
