The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk) Read Free

desk blared to life, making me jump. “Dr. Huntington,” I answered.
    “An inmate on their way up. Yard fight. Nothing more serious than a deep cut.”
    “Thanks,” I said and hung up. Without thinking about why, I stuffed the four little envelopes into my purse and hid it under my desk. I glued the paper back down on the binding of the book and put it aside for Fatima for when she came to collect it.
    My door burst open as Fatima and Shayla, an inmate I was familiar with, came in. Shayla was hanging on to Fatima and clutching her stomach. “Fucking bitch!” she screeched. “I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucking bitch!”
    Fatima rolled her eyes at me as if to say,
Is this our life? Really?

    “Outstanding,” Andrew grunted out as he came.
    I had a little giggle to myself as he rolled off of me and collapsed on his back.
    Every time Andrew climaxed he grunted out the word “outstanding.” It was a nice compliment, but the longer our casual arrangement of sleeping together went on, the funnier I was beginning to find it.
    And comedy wasn’t really high up on my list of dirty talk that worked for me. Although I did remind myself it was way better than the guy who kept referring to his dick as his rocket. Finally, while we were in the middle of sex, he told me that if I didn’t do something quick his rocket was going to launch and detonate. I started laughing before I could stop myself and he had no choice but to pull out of me. I tried to apologize, because it really wasn’t nice of me to laugh, but he stormed off in a huff. I never saw him again. I think that was for the best.
    Andrew turned his head on the pillow and grinned at me.
    I smiled back and he bounced up off the bed with the kind of energy a surgeon needed. Once he’d disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I got up out of the bed. Inside my pants pocket I found my pager and checked it, even though I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard it go off. Sure enough, it was quiet.
    “You are so sexy.”
    I glanced up at Andrew. He was leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, completely at ease with his nakedness. I felt the same way about being naked in front of him and grinned at him. “You’re kind of sexy yourself.” And it was true. The man worked out at the gym in his fancy-ass hospital between patients. He had a sleek, hard, athletic body that was a delight to explore in bed.
    As for me, I normally wasn’t this sexually confident woman who walked around naked with ease. It was just that Andrew and I had been at this whole fuck-buddy thing for about three years now on and off. About a year after we’d started sleeping together, he met a woman and started dating her seriously, so we stopped. They broke up after about nine months, and Andrew realized he was just too much like me and we started our casual relationship back up again. Once you’d been naked with a guy that many times and he keptcoming back for more, you were pretty confident that he liked your body, so I didn’t feel self-conscious around him.
    “Just kind of?” He guffawed.
    I didn’t say any more. The man had enough of an ego to fill the entire state of Delaware. It was best to keep him on his toes so it didn’t get even more out of hand than it already was.
    “What are you doing?” he said as I began pulling my pants on.
    “Going home.”
    He pushed off the door frame, frowning as he strode toward me. He picked up my shirt and held it out of my reach. “We just started. I put aside two hours for you.”
    I tried not to roll my eyes at him. Andrew liked to think everything should be done on his schedule since he was the big important cardiothoracic surgeon. And in the interest of saving lives it probably should, but that didn’t mean I had to stick around when I didn’t want to. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
    Pouting—yes, pouting—he continued to withhold my shirt.
    I stared him down. When we weren’t having sex it