by DJ Jamison
Urgent Care
Hearts and Health: Book 3
Copyright 2017 DJ Jamison
Published by DJ Jamison at KDP
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KDP Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return Amazon.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content suitable for mature readers.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Thank You for reading
About the Author
Other Books
Acknowledgments
I am no expert in the field of medicine, and I couldn’t have written Urgent Care without the help of no fewer than three nurses and their own contacts in the medical field. Any inaccuracies are my fault, but I hope I’ve come close to doing medical professionals justice in the Hearts and Health series. I also owe many thanks to my betas, who regularly save me from embarrassing lapses in logic. After all, the best fiction is the truth inside the lie, as Stephen King has been known to say. My betas help me make my fiction more truthful, and for that, they’re invaluable.
Most of the towns in Kansas mentioned in the book are real, with the exception of Ashe and Pullman, which are pure fiction. All the locales in those cities are the work of my imagination.
Chapter One
June
Xavier stepped into the swampy heat of Club Eros and immediately felt the thump of club music vibrate up his legs and straight to his dick.
He was revved up, and he’d pulled out all the stops tonight. He needed to get laid. The sooner the better. He was a stressed motherfucker, tension tightening his shoulders even now. He rolled them, trying to loosen up, and sauntered to the bar.
He was fully aware of the sway to his hips. There were eyes on him, and he wanted to make the most of it. If he could find a fuck fast enough, he could still get a decent night’s sleep before he had to go to work at 8 a.m. the next day. Followed by nursing classes and lab hours. Followed by family obligations.
No rest for the wicked.
It was still summer, and Xavier had opted to work his feminine side. It took a lot of guys by surprise because Xavier wasn’t petite. His arms and shoulders were built from lugging fertilizer and planting trees in his landscaping job. Not to mention single-handedly doing all the maintenance on his family’s house, which was pretty much falling down around his grandmother while she made Sunday dinner every week.
Xavier wore a pair of tight white shorts that practically glowed against his skin tone and an electric blue sleeveless top that showcased his muscles. He added just a touch of make-up, nothing too over-the-top, and his hair was unrestrained for once, spilling to his shoulders and brushing bared skin.
The expressions coming his way, a mix of confused and aroused, made Xavier grin.
His soft feminine touches emphasized his natural masculinity, and people weren’t always sure what to make of him. It wasn’t something he did in everyday life — his life was too mundane, and he was too entrapped in social norms to even consider it — but it felt good to let his freak flag fly when he went out to a club.
Club Eros was a mostly safe place to do so. No place was entirely safe.
He had to drive nearly an hour to reach the gay nightclub, but it was worth it. Unlike some of the seedier bars closer to home, Eros had a healthy mix of young and old, hot and mediocre, extreme and mundane. Twinks with mesh shirts and skintight pants danced alongside beefy guys in casual blue jeans and T-shirts or muscle T’s. Cross-dressers weren’t unusual, but Xavier didn’t fit the typical profile. In fact, most men expected him to be a controlling top, rather than a demanding bottom.
In reality, he was both. But not tonight. Tonight, he only wanted one thing.
He stopped at the bar and ordered a vodka and cranberry. He didn’t particularly like mixed drinks. Normally, he’d go for shots, but he did have work in the morning. The cocktail wasn’t so much for drinking as it was a prop anyway, something to fit his image for the night.
It was stupidly easy to find a guy to top. He could wear jeans and a tank, glare at some guy and the hookup was as good as done. But the other way around was trickier. Guys found him intimidating: sometimes because of his size and sometimes because of his race. He was biracial — half black, half white, or “coffee and cream” as his sister liked to joke — but people mostly only saw the one side to him and reacted to that. Racism existed in the strangest ways, sometimes unintentionally, but it was still there.
Tonight, he wanted to bottom because as good as it felt to fuck someone into the mattress, nothing forced his muscles to relax like an invasion into his most private places. And he needed that. So, he worked his femme side — always a fun diversion that had the added benefit of making him more approachable to men who preferred to top.
Xavier sipped his drink, sweetness splashing over his tongue and nearly making him cringe. He sat down the glass and swirled the straw around. In the mirror overhead, he watched a man approach. He was tall, lean and casually sexy in jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his thighs and chest in all the right ways. He had dark hair, which had always been Xavier’s type. He kind of looked like Xavier’s roommate at first glance, which was a bit weird, but Zane was a sexy fucker. No denying that.
This is promising. I might even get eight hours of sleep tonight unless he’s a total beast in the sack.
Xavier looked down as the man neared, not wanting to seem too eager. He felt the warmth of another body behind him and the press of a hand against his back. Slowly, the stranger’s hand slid up his spine to the nape of his neck, sending tingles through him.
This was one presumptuous fucker, but it was hot.
A breath whispered against his ear. “You are a goddamned treasure, you know that?”
Xavier couldn’t help it. He snorted a laugh. “You lay it on thick.”
The man gripped his hair, tugging Xavier’s head back. “I just go after what I want, and I don’t apologize for it.”
The words should have been sexy. But Xavier’s head tilted back, his gaze slid over, and he saw the face of the guy manhandling him.
“You sure don’t,” he said flatly.
Trent Cavendish’s expression froze. He looked stunned, an expression Xavier hadn’t seen in more than a decade. He hadn’t seen any expression on the man’s face since he left so many years ago
.
Trent’s surprise faded quickly, replaced with lust as his eyes scanned Xavier’s body.
“Fuck, baby,” Trent whispered, his voice rough.
Fuck was right. Just his luck he’d reel in his ex-boyfriend from high school. The one who’d torn out his heart and stomped on it — and insulted his family and his principles while he was at it. Twelve years had dulled the pain, but not the anger.
Xavier jerked back, hissing as Trent’s fingers caught in his hair and pulled him up short.
“Sorry,” Trent muttered.
His ex-boyfriend vibrated with tension, but he relaxed his fingers and carefully withdrew them. They slipped from Xavier’s hair and danced over the heated skin of his neck a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Trent asked, as if there weren’t a mountain of resentment between them.
That just pissed off Xavier more. Why did this asshole get to act like he wasn’t fazed by Xavier’s appearance in his life? Like he hadn’t thrown away a good — no, a goddamn great — thing without looking back?
“Listen, motherfucker,” he growled.
Trent’s eyebrows went up, and a moment later Xavier felt a niggle of guilt. He’d met his ex-boyfriend’s mother. It didn’t seem right to call him that.
“Okay, not motherfucker. That’s not true. But dickhead, prick, asshole, you pick one.”
“Asshole, I guess?”
Xavier rolled his eyes at the amusement in Trent’s tone. “Okay, no, not asshole. Because I like assholes in the right circumstances.”
Trent smirked. “You don’t want one tonight, though. Am I right?”
He was so right. The fucker.
Trent grabbed Xavier’s wrist before he could think of a response and tugged him toward the dance floor. Their drinks sat on the bar, long forgotten.
“What the fuck?”
“Just dance with me.”
“Fuck you.”
“God, yes, anytime,” Trent said, tugging Xavier forward by the hips.
As much as Xavier protested with his mouth, he couldn’t seem to make his body obey. He moved with Trent, their bodies falling into a familiar pattern and hips rolling in sync. Trent was a study in contrasts. Dark hair fell across his forehead, flopping over blue eyes fringed by long eyelashes. Stubble shaded a strong jawline and lent color to pale skin. He was light and shadows, with splashes of color in his eyes and lips, and Xavier couldn’t deny he was sexy as fuck.
Trent had only gotten better looking in the years they’d been apart. He’d been thin and lanky in high school, with a bit of a baby face. While he was still lean, he’d put some work into his body, and muscles shifted under his shirt as they danced. His face had matured, too, making him look older, but only in the best ways. This was a hot man in the prime of his life.
His ex-boyfriend oozed confidence, just as he always had. He’d been so certain of his future, even as a teenager. Now, no doubt, he was the surgeon he’d set out to become.
Meanwhile, Xavier had stayed home to help his family and plant trees. Maybe Trent was right to question his priorities back then. He was 30 years old and just now entering his final year of nursing school.
“I can’t get over this,” Trent said, gesturing up and down Xavier’s body. “So hot.”
A flutter in his belly warned Xavier it was time to make an escape. He wanted his ex to see what he’d been missing; he didn’t want to give it to him on a silver platter.
“Too bad I’m a loser with no ambition,” Xavier said, in part to remind himself of why falling into bed with Trent would be a horrible idea. It would kill any shred of pride he had left.
“Aw, don’t be that way,” Trent said with a flirty smile.
Fucker.
Xavier found the strength to pull away. He turned and pushed between twisting bodies, weaving around and between couples to make his way to the exit. Xavier was no longer in the mood to cruise for guys. His ex had ruined his whole night.
I needed some fucking stress relief. Now, I’m wound even tighter.
Trent caught him at the exit. “Xav, wait!”
“What?” Xavier said angrily, using every ounce of self-restraint not to yell. Or punch Trent in his disloyal face. It was a toss up at the moment.
“Come home with me.”
“Fuck off.”
“Okay, coffee? How about coffee?”
Trent dropped the sexy innuendo, and his eyes looked almost pleading. But that couldn’t be right. He just wanted to lure Xavier into his sex trap.
“We can catch up,” Trent said. “I don’t know anything about you anymore.”
Xavier scoffed. “I’m not a doctor, and I never will be. That’s all you needed to know when we were 18. That’s all you need to know now.”
“Come on, Xav, give me a break here.”
Not fucking likely. Trent hadn’t given Xavier a break when his family obligations took priority over attending college with his boyfriend. No, he’d walked away, which was exactly what Xavier intended to do.
He shoved open the door and stepped into the evening air, crisp and cool after the suffocating stuffiness of the club. He took a deep, bracing breath— the smell of exhaust fumes and stale liquor replacing the scents of sweaty men and pheromones that had overwhelmed him inside the club. With a clearer head, he made his way to his beat-up 1998 Honda Accord with rust around the fenders and a mismatched driver’s-side door.
No doubt, Trent would find his wheels as lacking as his resume. But fuck him.
He climbed in and slipped the key into the ignition, startling when Trent rapped on his window. He turned the key enough to engage the battery and hit the power windows button, allowing the glass to slide down only a few inches.
“Are you turning into a stalker? Should I be worried?”
Trent smiled. It was slightly crooked and way too charming for a guy Xavier had spent so many years hating.
“The way things ended between us was … ” He trailed off, seeming at a loss for words. “I want to make things right. Better, even.”
Xavier started the engine. “Don’t waste your time.”
“I took a job in Ashe. Why do you think I came back?” Trent said, raising his voice over the rough engine. “It wasn’t for the money.”
“You have family in Ashe.”
“My parents moved to Florida three years ago.”
Xavier stared, mind blank, until Trent cursed under his breath.
“For you, Xavier. I came back to see if we could try again. Or at least make amends, you know?”
It was too much. Xavier was angry, sad, stressed,and so fucking tired. Nursing school was no joke, especially when you had classes, lab hours and clinicals—not to mention the study groups— along with a part-time job and a family who needed your support. He didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with Trent, even if he’d wanted to hear him out.
Which he didn’t.
Emotion tightened his chest, but he was determined not to show it to Trent. He pushed away the doubtful little voice in his head that said maybe Trent had changed. Maybe he was a better man now.
Maybe he’d be amazing in bed. Right. No maybes about that. He knew firsthand, and that was when Trent was just a bumbling virgin.
No. Xavier shut down the thoughts. If Trent had really come back for him, there was no reason they’d run into each other at a gay club by accident. Trent might not have his address or phone number, but he knew where Trent’s grandmother lived. He’d visited enough times in high school.
Xavier wasn’t buying what Trent was selling.
He wanted a fuck buddy, maybe. A trip down memory lane, possibly.
No way did Trent Cavendish, Dr. Trent Cavendish by now, return to Ashe, Kansas, simply to win back his first love.
That shit didn’t happen.
Xavier shifted the car into gear. “Like I said, don’t waste your time.”
He floored the gas pedal, zooming out of the parking space and leaving behi
nd the first man—the only man— he’d ever loved.
Chapter Two
November
Motherfucker.
Xavier stopped his slow jog up the hall and stared.
He was running late after barely escaping his landscaping job, his foreman’s complaints about his limited schedule still echoing in his ears. But he froze when he saw Dr. Trent Cavendish down the hall, talking with the nurse who’d be responsible for babysitting Xavier while he logged clinical hours as part of his nursing program.
The man wore the white jacket well.
Trent caught his eye and turned his direction with a puzzled expression.
“Hi,” he said when Xavier reluctantly approached. “Are you here to talk to me? I’m on rounds for another few hours.”
Xavier hadn’t expected to see his ex in a clinic environment in a million years, so he was taken aback.
He knew he’drun into Trent at some point as he did clinicals in different areas of the hospital, but he figured it’d be in the surgery center—not here— that this awkward encounter would take place.
“You work here, or is this a consult?” Xavier asked.
Surely, he’s just here for a surgical consult … Please, God.
“I’m a physician here at the clinic.”
“But ...”
Trent went to medical school all fired up to be a surgeon. He’d been ambitious and determined. The last place Xavier expected to find him was the free urgent care clinic recently launched by the hospital after the community’s primary clinic closed under the cloud of Medicaid fraud.
“Are you here for an appointment, Xavier?” Trent asked, misreading his confusion. “The front desk will check you in.”
“Oh, you’re Xavier!” The nurse with a nametag reading Hayleigh smiled at him. “I’ve been expecting you. The staff room is right back that way,” she said, pointing over her shoulder.
“You’re working here?” Trent asked, sounding surprised.
Xavier hadn’t had time to change from his jeans and jacket to the scrubs he’d wear at the clinic, and he still carried a backpack jammed with books and a laptop he’d need for an afternoon class later. So, he shouldn’t blame Trent for not realizing he was there to work, but all the past resentment swept in, raising his hackles.
