Reign: A Romance Anthology

by Nina Levine

  I may as well have stomped on his man bits and twisted.

  He starts coughing then slams a closed fist to his chest. Then, to top it off, he profusely starts clearing his throat. “Sorry, um, well…okay…that’s an interesting job,” he says with a croaky voice, as he takes a sip of his water to try and drown out what I have just said.

  This has been a complete waste of my lunch break.

  My occupation is a cock block.

  Oh, the joys of being a specialist surgeon.

  Twenty minutes later, he asks the waiter for the check. I shouldn’t be surprised. Although, I must give it to him; he’s my newest record for the shortest date ever.

  We say our goodbyes, and off the intimidated little man goes.

  Fumbling a little, I pull my phone from my handbag and press Scarlett’s name. She answers with, “How long this time?”

  “Twenty minutes after he finished eating. Not even an offer of dessert. So disappointing. I needed something sweet to get me through the rest of the day. What is wrong with the men in this city? Am I not a catch?” I attempt to not sound desperate, even though I know that’s exactly how I sound.

  Scarlett chuckles. “Dylan, there’s nothing wrong with you. They’re the ones who have a problem. They obviously can’t see the catch they have right in front of them. They are missing out.” Her words are gentle but filled with self-belief, so much so they sound forceful through the phone line.

  I sigh. “I know, but this biological clock is ticking. And to top that off, the constant nagging from my mother is going to send me to the loony house. What if I marry someone and realize I can’t have kids?” Yep, I know I sound desperate now.

  “We’re both on the same clock, Dylan.”

  “Oh, pish… I bet you’re sitting there beside your man.”

  “Yes, she is.” Lachlan’s voice comes through the phone, and I smile.

  “Why aren’t you working, Scarlett?”

  “I took a day to do nothing.”

  “Gee, I wish I had your life.”

  She laughs. “You will. When you find the right guy, you will want to work less.”

  “I highly doubt it. It’s Monday, and I’m already slammed with clients for the rest of the week. So, Lachlan, tell me what I’m doing wrong?” It’s time for a man’s point of view.

  “Like Scarlett said… I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. I just think that you haven’t met the right one. You want someone who appreciates you and values what you do as important. As opposed to the clowns you’ve been dating, who think that when they end things with you, they’ll wake up in the middle of the night with you standing beside their bed with a scalpel.” He laughs.

  “You might not be wrong there! But I’d only do that if they’d done something wrong by me.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt you’d do that. You can be scary sometimes,” Lachlan replies.

  “Well, I’ll let you go. I’m heading home. I’ll talk to you later, Scarlett.”

  “Scarlett…remember to keep an open mind. It could be someone you least expect who sweeps you off your feet. Maybe a tall, handsome and hot guy in a leather jacket will stumble into your office.”

  I highly doubt that.

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see what comes my way. Most men who come to my office are ones with wives.”

  I end the call, and I’m left to my thoughts. The same ones that plague my mind with what the hell am I doing with my life? And why have I waited so long to really attempt this dating thing?

  “Your last appointment of the day should be here any minute.” Charlie, my assistant, stands in my office doorway as I stare at the dating app on my computer screen which is full of a list of men who have swiped right.

  Lifting my head, I glance at her. “Okay, I’ll finish up here and start setting up. Last one for the day,” I sigh.

  Charlie leaves.

  I hover my mouse over the deactivate button on my account and then click.

  Instantly, a wave of relief washes over me.

  I didn’t realize this whole dating thing was causing me so much stress. After today’s tenth failed date in a month, I’ve decided I’m going to become a lonely spinster and be happy with the joy I get from my job.

  I rise from my chair as my cell rings with Mom’s name lighting up the screen. An exasperated sigh leaves me as I hang my head and press the green button. “Hey, Mom,” I greet.

  “Oh, Dylan, I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  “I’m between procedures. Is everything all right?” Mom doesn’t usually call during the day unless it’s an emergency.

  “Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted to check you are still coming for dinner tonight?”

  “Of course I am.”

  Mom’s silent for a beat then says, “Will there be a young man accompanying you?” She sounds hopeful.

  “Mom,” I sigh. “You can’t be serious? How about you go annoy Jasmine and Ariel about their love lives and let me be.” This isn’t our first talk about this. Every week we have dinner, and she expects me to bring a man. In fact, now that I think about it, I’ve never taken a guy home. I guess this explains why she’s at me all the time.

  At the moment, men are weeds that keep popping up between the cracks in the pavement. I’m waiting for a flower to grow instead. Right now, it’s as though I’m wading through the swamp water, all muddy and murky, with no end in sight.

  “Dylan, you’re my eldest girl. I want to see you happy and settled down.” She sounds on the verge of tears, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  “Mom, like I said, go annoy my sisters. They’re not that much younger than me. They’re old enough to get married and have kids, too. I’m way too focused on my work right now.” Telling Mom any tidbit of information about my failed dates would mean an endless tirade about how my job is a turnoff for men. To which I usually reply, ‘If he can’t handle a woman in power, then he’s not worth worrying about.’

  “Dylan…” she sighs.

  “I’m sorry to be your biggest disappointment, Mom. I love you, but this constant nagging doesn’t help the matter.”

  Charlie shows up at my doorway again and points toward the waiting room.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, I have to go. My next patient has arrived. I’ll see you tonight. Table for one.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Closing my eyes, I clench my hand into a ball. I love my mother, but this constant pressure is pushing me to the limit of my patience on the matter. “No, we won’t. Bye, Mom.”

  She says goodbye, and I end the call with a loud sigh.

  Pulling on my white coat as quickly as I can, I exit the office and close the door behind me then make my way to the procedure room. The preparation has been done, but I quickly check over everything on the tray to make sure I am happy with the placement. Once I know the positioning is correct, I call through the intercom to Charlie who steps into the procedure room.

  “Do you want me to bring him in?” Charlie’s face turns a nice shade of pink, and I cock an eyebrow.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, curious by her sudden flush.

  “Yeah. You’ll see soon enough. I’ll go fetch him.”

  “Okay.” Turning back to the job at hand, I pull new gloves from the box on the wall after sterilizing my hands.

  A minute or so later, I sense them entering the room.

  Charlie ushers the patient in like always. “This is Dr. Dylan Rhodes. She will be carrying out your procedure today.” She sounds a lot chirpier than usual.

  I take the tray and turn around, and as I look up, I say, “Hell—” My greeting becomes lost, as does my voice.

  This can’t be right.

  I have to be dreaming.

  2

  Dylan

  The leather jacket the man is wearing hugs his huge shoulders.

  My eyes rake over him—dark hair that’s short and a tangled mess. What would it feel like if I ran my fingers through it?

  Taking a
step forward, without taking my eyes from his dark ones that seem to claim me the moment ours connect, I don’t pay attention as I keep walking. The table connects with my leg, and the tray that I am holding drops to the floor with a series of loud metallic clangs as my tools hit the hard floor.

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m sorry. Please give me a moment. Charlie, can you prepare another tray? Excuse me.” I rush past the large-framed man who’s near the exit. His scent hits me as I step out.

  Stupid, Dylan, stupid.

  Damnit! How embarrassing.

  I race to my phone and type a quick message to Scarlett.

  Dylan: I swear the man you described to me is standing in my office right now. Dressed in black with a LEATHER JACKET hanging off his broad shoulders. Oh, and don’t even get me started on his eyes. Dark. And oh my goodness, I just embarrassed the hell out of myself.

  Hitting send, I place a hand over my erratic heart. Not one of my dates has had this kind of effect, and I haven’t even looked at his junk. Pull yourself together, Dylan. So, I take a deep breath and straighten my jacket. “You can do this. You’re a professional.”

  Weak-kneed, I make my way back to the procedure room. Clearing my throat upon entry, both sets of eyes land on me, and I want to shrink away again. Even though Charlie has the biggest grin on her face, I keep my focus on her.

  Note to self: kill her later.

  “So sorry about that. Clumsy me.” I grin and hold my hand out to the fine piece of art that I miraculously conjured up in a conversation not that long ago. If I’d have known describing the perfect guy would bring him to my office, I would have made it happen sooner. “I’m Dylan.”

  He takes my hand, and the warmth from his spreads up my arm and fills my entire body. “Nice to meet you.”

  Reluctantly, I release his hand and turn back to Charlie who has a new tray ready to go. The smile on her face causes me to narrow my eyes at her. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Now it’s just the two of us. I glance his name on the paperwork, Cole Carter.

  “Mr. Carter, let’s get started.” I grab the folder with his paperwork to check everything is signed and correct then continue, “It’s a fairly quick procedure. You’ll be in and out in about twenty to thirty minutes. No heavy lifting for one week. Do you have any questions?” My eyes come up and meet his amused ones.

  “Ah…what’s the procedure? Isn’t it just a urine sample for testing?” His superstar smile falters.

  My eyebrows furrow as I take another check over the paperwork in front of me.

  Vasectomy—check.

  “No, it says here, vasectomy.”

  Stepping closer, I show him the paperwork.

  He holds his arms out at full length, wanting to keep some distance between us. “Whoa, what? You want to snip my junk?”

  “Well, that is what you’re here for, right? Did your wife not tell you about it?”

  His lips curl up in a crooked grin. “There’s no wife. Obviously, someone’s gotten the best of me.”

  Gazing at him questioningly, I tuck the folder under my arm. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m letting you near my manhood.” He gestures to his crotch.

  “It’s nothing to be scared of. I’m the best in my field, and I promise you, your manhood is safe in my hands.”

  I want to facepalm.

  Did I really just say that?

  Keep cool, Dylan.

  “No, you’re not going near it—well, not in a surgical capacity...” His voice turns sultry and wanting.

  For a moment, I gnaw down on my bottom lip, not knowing what to reply. Once I get all my senses back from wherever they scurried off to, I reply, “Tell me why you’re here then, if not for this procedure that you’re booked in for.”

  “My friend told me I had to get a drug test done, and he told me where I needed to go. Obviously, this is some joke he’s playing.”

  “Hmm…does he enjoy wasting people’s time?” Humor is now void from my words. I don’t try to hide the fact that I’m annoyed. Who would do this to someone?

  Mr. Carter takes a step closer. His scent wraps around me, caressing my annoyance, turning it around to pleasure. “I’m really sorry. I’m happy to pay for the appointment.”

  With a deep sigh, I step back, dropping onto the bed. “So, your friend did this. Why?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Some twisted joke, I guess.”

  “Mm… well, I guess I have no right to be angry at you. If you give me your friend’s details, I’ll send him the bill if you like.”

  He chuckles, and it vibrates through me like an electrical charge. “I’d be happy to give you his details.” We stare at each other for a moment. I take in a scar on his cheek just under his eye. It’s hot, in a girls-dig-battle-wounds kind of way. “You’re not what I expected today.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint.” I smile. “I get that kind of response…a lot.”

  “What response?”

  “Men come in here expecting a man, but when they see me, I can tell by the horrified looks on their faces that they want to leave immediately.” He bursts out laughing. It fills the room as I continue, “So, just to clarify, you have wasted my time today?”

  The humor drops from his face. “Again, I’m incredibly sorry about that. Please don’t be angry.”

  I want to be angry.

  However, the more I look at him, the more an idea forms in my mind.

  “Perhaps you can do me a favor, Mr. Carter? Since you won’t have to pay for today.”

  “Please, call me Cole.”

  “Sure, Cole. I hope you’re ready to go to dinner, because you’re going to save me from the constant nagging of my mother. Call it payback.”

  A grin spreads across his beautiful face. “What do I need to do?”

  “It’s simple—dinner with me at my mother’s place. Tonight.”

  3

  Cole

  What the hell has Deacon done?

  I stare at the professional beauty in front of me. All she needs is a pair of glasses and it would be like every boy’s Playboy dream.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” I ask. Surely, she did not say what I think she said.

  “You’re coming with me to my mother’s place for dinner.” She says the words slowly and succinctly as though I’m a child.

  “I thought that’s what you said.” This wasn’t how I expected this afternoon to go. I should be tearing up the dirt track. Instead, I’m here, trying to weasel my way out of a date with a random woman’s family. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m going to kill Deacon.

  She places the folder on the bed and crosses her arms over her voluptuous chest.

  Stop being a pervert.

  “Well, the way I see it, you want to waste my time, then I find it fair you help me get my mother off my back.”

  “You can’t be serious. I only just met you,” I scoff out.

  She shrugs. “My name is Dylan, and I’m a surgeon. They will ask you all the questions and finally lay off me,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “They?” Worry creeps through me like a snake.

  “Yes. My mom and my sisters. That should be enough to make up for this…” She gestures around the room with her hand. “But I still intend to bill your friend as a form of payback…from you and me.”

  “Is there a way for me to not go to dinner? I don’t think I’m a take-home-to-your-mom kind of guy.”

  I drop into the chair against the wall.

  Dylan stands and steps closer.

  “It’s one night. One dinner. And twenty questions. Then, I can say you left and broke my heart. Boo hoo. Do we have a deal, or I’ll bill both you and your friend?”

  Rising from my seat, I move even closer, there is only a foot between our heated bodies. The scent of strawberry assaults my senses, and it’s the first time I really take notice of the strong woman in front of me. The take-no-crap-f
rom-no-one kind of girl. The dimple in her cheek and the way she nibbles her lips does all sorts of things to me.

  “You obviously have no idea who I am.” Inch by inch I move closer.

  Her head tilts up, and I could easily kiss her.

  “I could be a murderer. A madman. A stalker. Did you even think about that?”

  Her eyes dart from my lips and then back to meet my gaze. If I didn’t know any better, I would guess she wants me to kiss her. Her pink lips are like a cherry dangling in front of me, ready to devour.

  Dylan clears her throat and takes a step back.

  The air between us chills.

  “So, tell me a few things about yourself.”

  She has no idea who I am.

  “I’m a supercross rider.”

  Her brows knit together. “Motorbikes?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you any good?” A genuine smile pulls across her face.

  “I’ll let you decide that when you Google me after I leave. So, what time tonight? Can you give me your number? Am I picking you up?” A ball of nerves bounces around in my stomach. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. I must be nuts. One too many bike stacks might be finally taking their toll.

  Dylan turns her back to me and scribbles something on a piece of paper then faces me once again, handing it to me. “My phone number. You can pick me up from here at five. Don’t be late.”

  I take the note and slip it into my jeans pocket, and for some reason, it becomes a heavy weight there. As much as I don’t want to do this, I know I owe her for wasted time.

  Deacon better look out, because I’m coming for him.

  “Thanks. Well, I better let you get back to work before you rope me into something else. Also, I need to go murder my friend,” I joke.

  Dylan giggles. “He better start running then. I could easily do the procedure still if you don’t want any babies.” She shrugs.

  My hands fly to cover my manhood. She watches the action with amusement spread over her face. “I’m good. I like my bits…untouched.” What did I just say? “I mean…surgically. I don’t want them operated on.” Hell, I sound like a blubbering idiot.