by Jaci Burton
No way. Not on her shift. Besides, there were kids in the waiting room.
She headed that way and stepped in front of him.
“Tucker, I have your X-ray results.”
He looked up at her. “Okay, great. Gotta go, folks. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Bye, Tucker,” one of the kids said. “I hope your leg isn’t too bad. I hope you don’t miss your next spot in the rotation.”
“Not gonna happen,” Tucker said, bending over to shake the boy’s hand. “And I hope your tonsils are going to be okay, too.”
“Mom says they gotta come out. Does it hurt?”
“For a few days. But you get ice cream. Come on—how bad is that?”
The boy grinned.
Tucker stepped beside her as she led him down the hall and back to the exam room. “We won.”
“You’ve made my entire night with that news.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
She closed the door behind her. “Take a seat.”
“Okay.” He scooted back up on the table.
“You were supposed to stay in here.”
“I got bored. And you know, the game.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, your X-rays are clear.”
“As I knew they’d be. It’s just a cut on my leg. I’m fine.”
“You will be. Keep the wound dry for the next several days. Your team doctor can remove the stitches after a week. Try not to do anything to pull the stitches out.”
“But I can pitch, right?”
“Yes. You can pitch.”
He hopped off the table. “All right then. So I can go now?”
“Yes, you can go now. Stop at the front desk where you can pick up your release paperwork.”
“Great. Thanks, Doc.”
“You’re welcome. Try to avoid getting hurt again.”
He leaned against the table and crossed his arms, giving her a smile that did strange things to all her feminine parts. “Trust me. I’m not doing it on purpose. I could have finished the game. I was pitching like a superstar, you know.”
“So modest, you athletes.”
“I take it you don’t like baseball players.”
She was making notes in the chart, so she looked up at him. “I have nothing against athletes.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”
“I really have to go.”
“So if I asked you out, you’d say no because you aren’t attracted to me.”
She’d have to be dead not to find him attractive. He was tall, with thick black hair. His eyes alone could compel any woman to drop her panties, and the dark glasses gave him that Clark Kent/Superman vibe that definitely gave her the quivers in all the right places. She’d seen more of his body than she had a right to, considering they weren’t sleeping together, and the parts she had seen?
A-number-one amazing.
The fact he was an athlete? That did nothing for her.
“My dad bought the team when I was little. I’ve been around guys like you my whole life. I’m over the whole ‘jock-and-awe’ thing.”
He let out a laugh. “Okay, so points against me because I’m a player. And when I say player, I mean sports. Not the other kind.”
She opened the door to the exam room, waiting for him to walk out. “I’ll have to take your word on the other kind.”
“If you went out with me, you could find out.”
She passed the chart to the clerk at the desk, then turned to him.
“Not going to happen, Tucker.”
“You’ve discharged me as your patient, right?”
“Yes.”
“So no conflict of interest.”
“Thirty seconds ago you were still my patient.”
“That was thirty seconds ago. Now I’m just a guy asking you out.”
They stood at the round desk where the other doctors, nurses and clerical staff wandered in and out. Currently, there were several people milling about, which meant those several people heard him ask her out. And heard her turn him down.
She was going to hear about that later.
“Don’t waste your time on me. I don’t have time to date—anyone.”
“Here’s your paperwork, Mr. Cassidy.”
He smiled at Marie, the desk clerk. “Thanks.”
Then he turned back to Aubry, picked up her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “I don’t think you’re a waste of time, Aubry. And thanks for the stitches.”
“Try not to come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back, but it’ll be to ask you out.”
“Give it up, jock. It’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.” He grinned, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then walked away.
She couldn’t help staring at him as he left. The man had a very fine ass.
She heard Marie sigh behind her.
“Not happening, Marie.”
“He’s smooth, Aubry. And hot as hell,” Marie said.
“I’m not going out with him.”
“Are you saving yourself for someone in particular? Because last time I checked, Channing Tatum was married.”
She pulled herself away from checking out Tucker’s ass, then turned to face Marie. “Ha-ha. And no. You know I’m always here.”
“Not twenty-four/seven, honey. And you should always make time for hot sex with a young stud.”
“He plays for my dad’s team.”
“So?”
“No, Marie. First, it’s some kind of conflict of interest. Second, I have my hands full just managing my residency.”
Marie stared at the closed door. “Then can I have him?”
Aubry gaped at her. “You’re married. You have four kids.”
“I’ll make time for him. I’m sure Jose won’t mind. Hell, he’d probably like to get rid of me for an hour or two a week. He says I’m a pain in his ass.”
“Jose adores you. He brings you flowers.”
Marie leaned back in her swivel chair. “On my birthday.”
“Every freaking year, Marie. He also brings you cupcakes. I would die for a man who brought me cupcakes.”
Aubry looked over at her friend Katie Murphy, a fellow resident and one of her best friends since medical school. Katie loved cupcakes.
Marie shook her head at Katie and Aubry. “That’s because you skinny bitches burn off everything you eat. I sit on my ass all day, and that bastard brings me cupcakes.”
“And you love him for it,” Aubry said.
Marie sighed. “This is true. But I’ll still take your boy toy Tucker for an hour, if you decide you don’t want him.”
Katie pivoted, her laser sharp eyes focused entirely on Aubry. “Who the hell is Tucker and why didn’t I know you had a boy toy?”
Aubry pinned Marie with a glare before turning her attention back on Katie. “I do not have a boy toy. Tucker was a patient of mine who came in tonight for stitches. He also happens to be a pitcher on my dad’s team.”
“Do we have anything on the board at the moment, Marie?” Katie asked.
“Nope. Board’s clear. No new patients at the moment. Tests and labs are ordered and discharge papers have been filed.”
“Perfect.” Katie grabbed Aubry’s lab coat sleeve and hauled her away from the main station, dragging her into one of the break rooms. She shut the door behind her, then faced her with a scowl.
“Okay, Dr. Ross. Spill all the details about—what’s his name?”
“Tucker Cassidy. And there are no details.”
Katie gave her a look.
“Okay, fine. I ran into him at a team party at my mom and dad’s a week and a half ago. His now ex-girlfriend gave him a knee to the balls in the wine cellar, and I found him down there in a great deal of pain, so . . . I checked him out.”
Katie grinned. “And by checked him out, I assume you fondled the package?”
“In a purely clinical way, of course.”
“Of course. And how was it?”
“Katherine Murph
y. I’m a doctor. I was merely performing an exam on his genitalia to check for injury.”
Katie went to the vending machine, slid some money in and selected an energy drink. “Uh-huh. And was he hung?”
Aubry shook her head. “I didn’t notice.”
“Now I know you’re lying. We always notice.” Katie took a seat at the round table and a long swig of her drink. “So, you like him.”
Admitting defeat, Aubry bought a chocolate milk out of the machine and pulled up a chair next to Katie. “I do like him. He’s very fine looking, funny and sexy as hell. But you know how it is, Katie. I don’t have time for a guy.”
“Make time. Sex is a great stress reducer.”
“So I’ve been told, but it’s been so long I don’t remember.”
“See? This is why you should hop on the hot athlete.”
“No. And how about you? You’re not dating anyone.”
Katie took a long swallow of her drink, then pulled a granola bar out of her coat pocket. “Who says you have to date someone to have sex?”
“That seems so . . . random and unemotional.”
“I know,” Katie said, unwrapping the granola bar and taking a big bite out of it. “That’s what makes it so great. You get off, he gets off, there are no emotional entanglements to clutter up your already busy life. Everyone’s happy.”
Maybe that would work for some people, but Aubry didn’t think she could make it work for her. She’d had two long-term romantic relationships in her life. One in high school, and the other during medical school. Both had been okay, but not earth-shattering.
She wanted earth-shattering, goddammit. Was that too much to ask for?
The problem was, life as a resident was hectic and unpredictable and a total time suck. She didn’t have the time or energy to give to an earth-shattering romance.
So maybe some great hot sex was the answer after all.
And when hot sex popped into her head, she could definitely picture Tucker Cassidy. He had great hands. She could already imagine all the delicious things he could do to her with his hands.
“See? You’re already picturing it in your head, aren’t you?”
She looked up to see Katie grinning at her. She couldn’t help the curve of her lips.
“Maybe.”
“So go get you some hot baseball player.”
She shrugged. “He said he’d see me again.”
Katie nudged her with her shoulder. “So when he does, for God’s sake, say yes.”
THERE WAS NOTHING WORSE THAN ONE OF HIS BROTHERS popping in for a visit.
And even worse when it was his twin brother, Barrett.
That was the bad thing about football off-season. He saw way more of his brothers than he wanted to.
“You know I want to come to one of your games, while I’m here,” Barrett said, dropping his bag on the floor of the living room.
“Why are you here again?”
“I’ve got a meeting with my agent—actually our agent—Victoria Baldwin. We’re doing some contract stuff, then some PR shit.”
“Stuff and shit. Got it. You want a beer?” Tucker asked as he led Barrett into the kitchen of his condo.
“Yeah. Oh, hey, I saw your run-in at first base last week. You couldn’t get the hell out of the way?”
“That wasn’t my fault.” He pulled two beers out of the refrigerator, popped open the tops and handed one to Barrett, who’d already made himself at home by taking a chair at the island.
“That’s what you always say. But you are the klutz of the family.”
Shaking his head, Tucker took a couple long swallows of his beer. He and Barrett had been at odds with each other since—hell, probably since the womb. They fought all the time and were atypical as far as twins went. It wasn’t an us-against-the-world type of relationship at all. Maybe because they weren’t identical twins. He had no idea.
Of course if anyone gave his brother shit, he’d be the one that was right there to defend him. Because he loved his brother. He might fight with him, but God help anyone else who did.
“You were pitching great until you fucked it all up by letting Stokes stomp all over your leg, though.”
Tucker laughed at Barrett’s backhanded compliment. “Yeah. I could have finished that game. My arm is feeling good so far.”
“The game you pitched in Cleveland was okay. That loss wasn’t on you.”
He grimaced just thinking about that game. His leg had been fine, and he’d pitched six strong innings. The relief team had given up three runs and they hadn’t been able to make up the deficit. “Yeah, that sucked.”
“Mom says to tell you hi, and that she and Dad will be up to catch a game this month.”
He nodded. “I talked to her the other day. She said something about a trip up this way but she didn’t have the dates nailed down yet. Something about doing paint and fabric shopping with Katrina and the kids.”
Barrett nodded. “They’re in remodel mode at Grant’s place. Oh, and we’re having dinner with Grant and Katrina and the kids tonight.”
“We are? Since when?”
“Since I told them I was going to be in town. Katrina invited me to dinner and said I was supposed to bring you, too, unless you had a game.”
“Which I don’t. Not tonight. You know I just got back in town after a road trip, right?”
Barrett slid him a look. “Oh, right. I keep your travel schedule on my phone so I know your whereabouts at all times.”
“Fuck off, Barrett.”
Barrett laughed. “Love you, too, Tucker.”
He’d planned to make good use of his day off by getting in touch with Aubry. That would have to be delayed since the last thing he wanted to do was drag her over to meet his brothers.
“So, dinner, huh?” Tucker asked, his stomach grumbling at the thought.
“Yeah. You should go take a shower. You look like shit.”
“I was at the gym working out, asshole.”
“That’s not why you look like shit. You always look bad.”
“Kiss my ass. And should you really be insulting your twin’s appearance?”
“I wouldn’t if you actually looked like me, which you don’t, unfortunately for you.” Barrett flexed his considerable muscles.
Rolling his eyes, Tucker finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the recycle bin. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Good. I’m going to play a video game while you’re getting pretty. Try to do that in under two hours.”
In less than twenty minutes, Tucker had showered and gotten dressed.
He went out into the living room and grabbed his phone from the table behind the sofa, stared at it for a few minutes and thought about giving Aubry a call at the hospital.
Barrett turned around. “You ready?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“In less than two hours, too. Are you sure you’re pretty enough?”
“Prettier than you, asshole.” He slipped his phone in his pocket, figuring he’d call Aubry later.
He drove them over to Grant’s house. It took about thirty minutes to get there. He’d made sure when he rented his condo that he didn’t live right damn down the street from Grant. He loved his family—all of them. But independence meant a lot to him. And while he liked seeing his brothers and enjoyed getting together with all of them, he needed to be on his own. Too much togetherness? Not necessarily a good thing.
But he had to admit, when he’d signed with the Rivers last year, he’d been happy to be in the same city as Grant. They wouldn’t see each other all the time, but they’d be close enough.
Barrett, on the other hand . . .
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked as he glanced over at his brother, who was rifling through the contents of his glove compartment.
“Checking to see if you have any women’s underwear in here.”
Tucker shook his head. “No.”
“Then what the hell are you doing in your spare time
?”
“I had a girlfriend. We broke up recently.” He wasn’t about to tell Barrett about the incident with Laura in the wine cellar. Barrett would never let him live it down.
“Yeah? What did you do wrong?”
He pulled onto the highway, easing into traffic. “Why would you assume I was the one who did anything wrong? Maybe it was her.”
“Oh, it had to be you.”
“Trust me. It wasn’t me.”
“So tell me about it.”
“She wanted to move in together. And she drank a lot. When she drank, things got ugly. We argued, I broke it off. That pissed her off.”
Barrett laughed. “She sounds like a real sweet girl. You sure know how to pick ’em, Bro.”
“I don’t see Miss America hanging off your arm, douchebag.”
“Not right now you don’t, but when I’m ready to settle down? The cream of the crop will flock to me.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen the cream of the crop you hang out with in pictures on social media.”
“Naw, that’s just bed buddies. I’m just playing right now.”
“So the women you fuck aren’t the ones you’d bring home to meet Mom and Dad?”
Barrett slid him a sly smile? “Why? You jealous of the action I get?”
“You’re an asshole.”
Barrett laughed. “Yeah, you’re jealous.”
Tucker clenched his jaw and concentrated on the road.
By the time they arrived at Grant’s house, Barrett had rifled through the console in Tucker’s car, flipped through his phone—including his text messages—and made a general ass of himself asking intrusive questions about Tucker’s sex life, none of which were answered.
He remembered what it was like having his twin brother up in his private business.
And he hadn’t missed him at all.
At least when they got to Grant’s house Barrett could go annoy the shit out of him.
When they arrived at Grant’s there were several work trucks parked outside.
They went to the door and rang the bell.
Nobody answered.
Barrett motioned with his head toward the side of the house. “He’s probably out back where all the noise is coming from. Let’s go that way.”
