“This isn’t funny,” Beth insisted, grabbing an apple from the lunch line and wishing she could squeeze it like a stress ball. “‘Fess up. You were just telling me about that phone app that makes your number appear as someone else’s last week. I know it was you last night.”
Following closely behind her in the hospital cafeteria lunch line, her best friend snickered. “I wish it had been, but I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”
Emily had insisted the same thing earlier in the day when she had called the ICU regarding a patient and Beth had asked about the messages. She still wasn’t convinced her friend hadn’t sent the texts. The body build was wrong for the photo to have been a posed shot of Eddie, but Emily could have easily found the picture online. It was just the kind of thing jokester Emily would do. No doubt her friend would play the prank out a bit longer.
“You should show me the text messages,” Emily said as they sat down at a table in the hospital cafeteria. Not that either of them would be able to stay there long. Beth was surprised her friend had been able to sneak away from the emergency department at all. As a nurse, one never knew if you’d actually get a lunch break or not.
“You should confess that you sent the messages.”
Emily shook her head. “Wasn’t me, I promise.” Her friend waggled her perfectly waxed brows and crossed her heart. “Hope you didn’t say anything incriminating.”
“You know exactly what I said and about whom.”
Her friend’s eyes widened. “You revealed your crush on Dr. Randolph—” her friend mouthed the name rather than speaking it out loud in case someone t overheard “—to the mystery texter? As in, you gave a name?”
The absolute shock on Emily’s heart-shaped face had Beth’s stomach spasming. Despite the local theater her friend often volunteered at she wasn’t that good an actress, was she?
Trying to pretend she wasn’t freaking out inside, Beth took a bite of her apple, chewed slowly, let loose an inner scream of denial, then shrugged. “I don’t want to discuss this any more.”
“I do.” Emily’s eyes glowed with excitement. “I want to know who you were texting with, because Eddie seriously had me otherwise occupied last night.”
Trying to squash her doubts and thoughts of what her best friend claimed to have been doing instead, Beth shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
Lord, she hoped her friend was teasing, that Emily had been the texter, as she’d been so positive about the night before when she’d been too tired to think clearly. Good ole Emily. Always pulling her leg and trying to push her out of her comfortable protective shell.
“Sure we will.”
Beth cut her gaze to her best friend. “How?”
“Hello.” Emily snapped her fingers in front of Beth’s face. “You’re smarter than that.”
Realization dawned and Beth’s jaw dropped. “Uh-uh. No way am I calling that number.”
Emily held out her hand. “Fine. I will. Give me your phone.”
“No way.” Beth’s gut clenched into tight knots. “If I wasn’t texting with you, then I prefer not knowing who now knows my biggest secret. How humiliating?!”
Emily didn’t look impressed by Beth’s inner misery. “So what if someone knows you think Dr. Randolph is the cat’s meow? The man is hot. It’s a fact.”
Beth couldn’t stop her blush.
“Plus, if what you said is true and he and Dr. Qualls have broken up, then he’s fair game now.” Emily waggled her perfectly plucked brows. “If you ask me, you should tell him you think he’s one fine specimen of a man.”
Beth went into sensory overload and mental shutdown any time the man was near. The last thing she should do was tell him how fine she thought he was. She shook her head. “I don’t know that they’ve broken up. Plus, even if they have broken up, they’ll probably just get back together.”
“Ask him, and you can’t judge every man by what Barry did.”
Beth shook her head harder, faster, as if that made her response more negative and would jar Barry Neal from her mind forever.
“You have a serious problem, you know.”
Beth knew.
“You let a stupid ex influence how you view all men, influence how you dress and act, and then, when you finally start getting over him, you fall crazy in lust with a man you avoid at all costs. I’ve never seen feet move as fast as yours any time he comes near.” Emily gave a disappointed sigh. “I really think this whole Eli thing is just another way for you to avoid getting back into the dating saddle.”
“Maybe.” But she really didn’t think so because she’d like to be back in the dating saddle. As far as the way she dressed and acted went, Emily was referring to her college days. One couldn’t wear streaks of blue in one’s hair, a nose ring, and colorful Hello Kitty T-shirts and retro make-up forever. The changes in her had nothing to do with Barry having crushed her heart and spirit. She’d grown up, had a more mature look, that was all.
“You’re crazy,” Emily accused.
If she’d revealed her silly schoolgirl crush on Dr. Randolph to some stranger then she couldn’t argue with her friend’s assessment of her mental state. She was crazy.
Crazy about a man who didn’t know she existed.
Whether to distract himself of his failure with Cassidy or for some other insane reason, Eli had thought of little other than the previous night’s text messages. He’d even gone so far as to try to track down who the number belonged to via the internet but had been unsuccessful as the number wasn’t a public one.
He couldn’t seem to put the messages from his head.
Especially at moments like the present one.
Moments he was at the hospital and searching every face as if somehow he’d figure out who the texter was by the look on her face. What did he expect? That the truth would be stamped across her forehead like a scarlet letter?
Most likely, whoever the texter was, she worked in ICU since she’d had to work late to cover for Leah Windham. She was also probably a nurse. Which made sense since she was friends with Emily Jacobs.
With a little patience and a leading conversation to find out who’d worked late the night before, he’d have this figured out before the day ended.
Usually he rivaled Job on the patience score, but today he just felt antsy. He wanted to know whom he’d been texting. Why it was so imperative, he wasn’t sure—he just needed to know.
He’d actually considered asking Emily which one of her friends was obsessed with him, but figured the woman would tell him where he could go rather than give him a name.
“Dr. Randolph?” A pleasant female in her mid-fifties caught him just as he’d been heading for the elevator. “A patient is being admitted to 303 with a pulmonary embolism and you’ve been consulted on her,” the charge nurse told him. “She’s not on the floor yet, but should be within a half hour.”
“Thanks, Ruth.” Glancing at his watch, he figured he should grab something to eat while still at the hospital. Then hopefully the new admission would be on the floor and he’d do the consult prior to heading back to his office to start his afternoon appointments.
Maybe, just maybe, while in the ICU, he’d get a glimpse of whoever he’d been texting with the night before, because, whoever she was, his interest was piqued.