The Good Fight (Time Served Book 3) by Julianna Keyes Read Free Book Online Page A

finished, support staff, friends and fans. A huge balloon arch marks the end and soon enough I’m passing beneath it, done for another year. I slow down and peel off to the side, accepting a bottle of water from a volunteer, shooting her a grateful smile as I tug a hand towel from my pocket and mop up the sweat at my temples.
    Around me I can hear exclamations of congratulations, people calling out to each other over the din of the crowd. I finish the water and toss the empty bottle in a recycle bin, wincing inwardly at a pang of self-pity I have no business feeling.
    I’m parked about half a mile away and I glance around for the quickest path out of the throng, frowning when I think I hear my name.
    “Oscar!”
    I hear it again, and shake my head. It’s not the loveliest or most common name, but it’s more likely there’s another guy named Oscar in the group than there’s someone trying to get my attention.
    “Oscar!”
    I pluck my sticky T-shirt away from my chest and shoulder my way through the swarm of sweaty bodies, accepting another bottle of water and downing half as I go.
    “Oscar!” One more shout I’m fully prepared to ignore until a hand clamps on my bicep from behind. I turn, stunned to see Susan standing there, pretty in her blue scrubs and ponytail, dark lashes flickering rapidly as she’s forced to squint into the sun to make eye contact.
    I look around in confusion. “What are you—”
    Someone bangs into her, apologizing before hustling past, and I tug her behind me as I push through the crowd, using the time to gather my scrambled thoughts. Pleasure at seeing her, irritation at being forced to remember the very thing I’m trying to forget, confusion at her arrival. But beneath all that...hope.
    The race ends in an enormous parking lot, with different tables set up for water, food, first aid and donations. I skim the first-aid stations, but there are no other people dressed in scrubs, just plain white T-shirts with giant red crosses on the front to differentiate them from everyone else. Finally I turn and peer down at Susan, releasing her wrist and sipping from the second bottle of water while I wait for her to speak.
    “Did you, um...do well?” she asks when I don’t say anything.
    I shrug. “It was fine. What are you doing here? Are you working?”
    “No. I just finished. The hospital’s not far, so I came over.”
    “Do you know someone else who’s running?”
    “No. I didn’t even know there was a race until you told me.”
    That’s right. On Wednesday I’d told her I’d come into the city to pick up my race packet. And she’d remembered. And now here she is.
    The tiny seed of hope is threatening to grow into something more, but I ruthlessly squash it, a task easier said than done. Because she’s unbelievably pretty, even with faint circles under her eyes and tired lines around her mouth, some indistinguishable stain on the front of her top. She’d only held my arm for a few seconds, but I can still feel the press of her fingers on my skin, and I’d run this race forward and backward all day just to feel it again.
    But I don’t say any of this. Because Dr. Susan Jones wants what she wants when she wants it, and then she wants to walk away. And though that would have worked perfectly for me before we met, it doesn’t work now.
    “You’re a chick,” Rian told me on Wednesday as he plied me with so much tequila I’d had to crash on his couch and drive home the next morning. “You want love and commitment and she just wants to sleep with you.”
    “I don’t know what I want,” I corrected him, “but she’s the first woman I’ve really wanted in a long time, and I don’t want to go into it thinking it’s one time only. And she made it pretty clear she doesn’t have time for more. Or the interest.”
    “So bang her and get it out of your system. What happened up on the roof when I was gone? I know something happened.”
    “Something,” I agreed. “And then