She followed him back down the hall, anxious, as he opened the locked room where the medications were stored. He went to a shelf and dug around until he found the box with the inhalers. He handed her one. “Here you go, sweetie. We can’t have him suffering another attack, can we?” As she went to grab it, he held it back and regarded her intently. “Come to me whenever you need more.”

She took the inhaler cautiously. “I can’t give you anything for this.”

His glance skittered across her chest and back up to her face. “No worries. I like to make sure my staff is taken care of.”

She clutched the medicine to her chest, clamping her mouth down before she lashed out. The past few years, her temper had been like a stove burner that wouldn’t switch off, usually on low but easily turned up, glowing red at the slightest provocation. No matter how much Dr. Collins deserved to be burned, she had to figure out a way to stay cool.

Theresa pushed through the door. “Oh, hey, we need some…” The pink-faced girl squinted at a paper in her hand. “Epinephrine. Can you help me, Angel?”

Dr. Collins winked at Angel and left. It would feel amazing to let him have it, but thank God she’d kept it together—it was more important that she provide for Jose.

Once the door swung shut, Theresa put down the slip of paper and said, “Whew. That was close. You’re welcome.”

“You interrupted us on purpose?”

“I don’t like that guy. No one does.”

Angel blew out a frustrated breath. “He gave me this sample. I’m hoping he doesn’t think I owe him.” The counter on the inhaler showed only six puffs. She zipped open her bag and slid the medicine inside.

The other girl pursed her lips. “Oh.”

“I cannot wait to be free of this place.”

Hoisting her backpack, she opened the door and poked her head out slowly, as if in a spy movie. The hall was empty. She strode out, relief setting in when she hit the waiting room.

Bursting out the double doors, into the weak February sun, she felt like an escapee from prison. At the bottom of the stairs, she closed her eyes and tilted her face to the light.

“That feels nice, don’t it?”

Her eyelids popped open. A foot from her face were the amazing green eyes of the man who got her fired from the Peacock.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

The lanky, graceful man backpedaled. “That sounded like I was being creepy. The sun. I meant the sun feels good.”

“Back off.”

“Hey now.”

“You were here yesterday, then at the club—and, by the way, thank you for that—and now here you are again. Are you stalking me?”

“No! Well, maybe, I guess, right now. I was trying to find you to apologize.”