We hung up, and I stopped at the nurses’ station that was at the bend of our horseshoe-shaped unit, sitting at one of the computers. I pulled up the chart I hadn’t had time to finish earlier and began typing my notes.

I was almost finished when I heard, “Excuse me, miss. I was wondering if you could help me with something …”

The sound of Caleb’s voice caused me to glance up, meeting his handsome face and the sexiest navy suit and gold tie. The combination was enough to make me stop breathing.

“Hi.”

As he folded his hands on top of the counter, his cuff links made a scratching noise. Casual was my favorite look on him, but the way he dressed every day for work was really growing on me.

I shook my head, still shocked that he was here. “What brings you to the ortho/neuro floor, sir?” I teased. “Sciatic pain? Numbness in the bottom of your feet perhaps?”

“There’s this gorgeous nurse who’s been caring for me, and I haven’t seen her in three days.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t get her out of my mind, and it’s making me fucking crazy.” A smile moved across his captivating lips. “I was hoping if I came here, I could convince her to have dinner with me tonight.”

Even with his attention on my face, I couldn’t feel nastier in my own skin. My scrubs were stained, I reeked of antibacterial gel, and there was probably white dust in my hair from the dry shampoo I’d forgotten to shake out thirteen hours ago.

I knew I looked even worse than I felt.

Yet he was staring at me like there was nothing more beautiful.

“Caleb, if I showed up to a restaurant like this, they’d kick me out. I’m disgusting right now.”

He reached across the space that divided us, palming my cheek. My eyes briefly closed, his woodsy scent taking ahold of me, the exhaustion tugging so hard that I could use his hand as a pillow and be asleep in minutes.

“Whitney, you’re stunning, no matter what you have on or how many hours you’ve worked. And I assure you, no restaurant I ever took you to would kick you out.”

I exhaled, his compliments wrapping around me—and so did the conversation I’d just had with my best friend. “Even if I wanted to, I promised Emily a girls’ night.”

His hand stayed on my face. “How about I walk you home, then?”

“I would really love that.”

He gazed around the nurses’ station. “So, this is your office.”

“Some of it. Most of my time is spent in the patients’ rooms. Want a tour?”

“Yes.”

“Give me one second.”