by Lilly Atlas
Amanda shouldered the stairwell door open and started the descent down the three flights of stairs to the PT office on the first floor. A groan left her as the muscles in her legs protested. Maybe just this once she should have taken the elevator. A few of her patients had required quite a bit of assistance to maneuver and her muscles were feeling the effect.
“Amanda, hold up!” Dr. Michaels jogged down the steps after her.
And there it was. Ten minutes. All she’d needed was ten more minutes and she would have made it through the entire weekend without running into Dr. Douche.
She waited for him on the landing between the first and second floors. “What can I do for you, Dr. Michaels?”
He cocked his head and gave her a patronizing smile then made a dramatic show of looking around the empty stairwell. “Mandy, we’re the only ones in here. No need to be so formal.”
She cringed. None of her coworkers or patients called her Mandy and that’s how she preferred it. It was a small way of keeping her personal and professional life separate and she’d never given John permission to do so at work. Amanda, yes, but not Mandy.
“Well, we’re still at work.” She glanced at her watch. “At least I am for the next fifteen minutes. Did you need something for a patient?” Hopefully he’d get the hint that she was on her way out the door.
Please don’t give me an extra patient to see.
His eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together. He really was handsome. Muscular like he spent hours at the gym, with expensive clothes and perfect grooming. Not like Nick who often had scruff on his face and wore nothing but jeans and T-shirts. And she was comparing the two why?
It was too bad John was such an ass. Or at least a horrible boyfriend.
“Perfect,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be on your way out. I have to be back in a few hours, but I’ve got some time now. Want to grab some dinner?”
Huh? She blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly?” She’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that their social relationship was over. They could keep things professional and amicable at work but that was it. Done. Not friends, not dating, not even social coworkers. Strictly business.
So what the heck was this grab some dinner garbage?
He turned on a charming smile and captured her hand. She tried to draw her hand back but he held it in a gentle but firm grip. A bit of unease slithered through her as he stepped closer. As though acting of their own accord, her feet stepped back until she met the cold cinderblock wall of the stairwell. Trapped.
“Mandy, look, we had a good thing for a while. Let’s just chalk up any unpleasantness to stress at work for both of us and let it roll off our backs. How about we give it another go? A do-over.”
Stress at work? Unpleasantness? What the heck was that nonsense? She loved her job and rarely took any stress home with her. And unpleasantness was quite the benign word to describe his possessive ape-like behavior.
“Dr. Michaels, you freaked out any time I spoke with another male. You accused me of cheating on you. You called me way too many times, not because you genuinely wanted to speak to me but because you didn’t trust me. I’m sorry, but you made my life more than unpleasant in the end. I’m just not interested in having that kind of strain in my life and I made you aware of that. We’re just not meant for each other.”
“So I was a little jealous. You’re really making a mountain out of a molehill here.” He waved away her concerns with his free hand. The other still held her captive.
“I’m just going to come right out and say it like it is, Dr. Michaels.”
His eyes narrowed at the continued formal use of his name and title. Too bad. There wasn’t going to be any room for mistaking her intent here. Getting so casual as to use his first name might send the wrong message.
“I’m no longer interested. That ship has sailed. I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but I’m just straight up not interested in a date, or dinner, or even a friendship. Please let go of my hand. I have plans tonight.” A lie, unless she counted getting drunk and polishing off the rest of the ice cream in the freezer. But those plans were new as of one minute ago.
His lips turned up in a nasty scowl that removed any trace of what she’d found attractive about him. He crowded her against the wall and the grip on her hand became punishing.
“Ow, that hurts.” She yanked her hand back and shoved him as hard as she could.
He didn’t budge and caught both her upper arms, holding her flush against the wall.
“Listen and listen good, Mandy. You think you’re such hot shit, the way you prance around the halls trying to catch the attention of every doctor who works here.”
What? Was he crazy? Until him, she’d always had a strict no dating at work policy. Kat convinced her to break it for him. Big mistake.
“I do no—”
“I don’t know who you’ve fucked in the past, but you don’t get to flaunt yourself like a slut then act surprised when a man wants something from you.”
Amanda took a quick mental trip back through all the weekends she could recall working in this hospital. She wore scrubs and a lab coat for crying out loud. No part of her body was ever on display. Plus, she treated the male and female physicians the same, with respect and professional appreciation.
“Let me go! Help!” she cried out twisting and struggling against his hold. She jerked her knee upward and connected with his inner thigh. Not what she was aiming for but the grunt of pain he emitted was still satisfying.
“Maybe you’re just not that attached to your job here,” he went on. His fingers bit into the skin of her arms, and she gritted her teeth to keep from yelping.
“You have no control over my job, Dr. Michaels. You aren’t in my chain of command, so threats aren’t necessary. Please let me go and we can forget this ever happened. I’ll be sure to schedule myself on weekends when you aren’t here.”
Like she could ever work here again. She’d have to quit or spend every weekend skittish as a wet cat, worrying he’d come for her again.
He released her and stepped back. Relief was immediate and staggering. Both arms throbbed from where he’d squeezed her, but she ignored it.
“You’d be surprised at what I have control over around here, Mandy. I’ll give you some time to reconsider, but not long. I know you need the money from this job to get work done on those shitty cabins you own. You want to keep working here, you go out with me. Simple as that.” He jogged back up the stairs and disappeared through the door after throwing her a wink.
She sagged against the wall and breathed in and out. The arrogance of that man. Thinking he owned her job. Thinking he owned her choices.
By the time she finished her paperwork and drove home, she’d been through the spectrum of emotions more than once. Anger first, at his high handedness and how he used his physical strength to intimidate her. Sadness over the fact that she would most likely have to leave a job she enjoyed. Confusion over how to handle Dr. Michaels’ behavior. Should she report him? Should she just quit and forget it?
What if he did the same to someone else? She’d never forgive herself if she let his actions slide and he hurt some unsuspecting nurse or aide. But it was the ultimate case of he said, she said. An unwitnessed encounter in an unmonitored stairwell. He was right about having more power than she did in the hospital food chain. Would anyone believe her?
Then she circled back around to anger and stuck there for the last fifteen minutes of the drive. When she pulled up to her house, she’d really worked herself into a lather. “I hate men!” she screamed into the quiet.
After storming into the empty house, she grabbed an open bottle of wine and stomped back down the steps and out into the fading evening. Knocking down the wall in her guest cabin would be a perfect way to expel some of the ragey energy she’d built up.
Nick’s cabin was dark and the three-car garage was wide open. The motorcycle he’d been working on appeared to be gone. Lo
oked like he’d gotten it up and running. Pinks and oranges decorated the late evening sky while the air was dry and cool. Nice night for a ride.
Part of her was disappointed he wasn’t home. She’d grown accustomed to his quiet, brooding manner and looked forward to working on the houses with him in her spare time. They usually shared a drink and she told him about her day at work. Most of the time he didn’t speak so she filled the silence with whatever came into her head. Tonight, though it was probably better she be alone. She was angry, emotional, and needy. Once she guzzled the bottle of wine she’d feel better, but having a man as sexy and tempting as Nick around might lead to some poor choices.
Choices that would feel darn good, but be stupid nonetheless.
She stepped into the dark cabin and flicked on two battery-operated lanterns. Nick suggested she cut the electricity to the house while they were working for safety reasons. He’d picked up a gas generator to use for power tools. It was something she’d never have thought of until she crashed through the wall and electrocuted herself.
First, she stripped off her scrub top, leaving her in the bottoms and a black tank top. Then she yanked the cork from the wine bottle with her teeth and spit it across the room with a giggle. No one around to judge. She allowed herself two large swallows then set the wine aside. Getting plastered would have to wait until after she went to town on the wall.
Eyeing the sledge hammer leaning against the wall, she couldn’t stop the smile from forming. This was the perfect way to exorcise John Michaels from her thoughts. Maybe she’d imagine his face on the wall as she smashed the hammer against it. In fact…
With a chuckle, she fished a pen out of the pocket of her scrub top and went to work.
Chapter Twelve
Damn, it felt fucking amazing to be on the back of a bike again. The wind rushing by, the power of the rumbling machine, the freedom to fly. He’d missed it like he’d miss his right arm. Like a part of his soul had been absent. Being reunited with a bike was better than any medicine, any therapy, better than just about anything. Except maybe a good fuck, but that didn’t seem to be in his near future.
There could be a woman in his future, but for reasons he wasn’t willing to explore, he didn’t go looking for an easy lay. Though he had the sneaking suspicion it all had to do with one gorgeous woman named Amanda. And nothing was going to happen there, so riding would have to do.
Nick rolled to a stop and walked the motorcycle into the garage. The last ten minutes had been murder on his leg, but worth every second of discomfort. Flying down the road on a Harley was where he belonged. It was in his blood. And with a little TLC the old hog ran as good as new. Dumb luck that Amanda had it.
He stepped from the garage into the beginnings of the twilight hours. Amanda’s car sat outside her home, but the house was just as dark as it had been all day. Maybe she’d been tired after work and crashed as soon as she got in. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t disappointment he felt at not seeing her that evening. Completing various projects in the cabins had become their nightly routine and he hated to admit how much he’d come to look forward to it.
She’d wander on down with a glass of wine and he’d grab a beer and join her. While they worked, she’d prattle on about her day and he’d offer the occasional I’m listening grunt. Sometimes he’d even add his two cents or tell a story of his own. They’d work for a few hours until she’d groan about how she had to get up early and head back up to the main house.
He never told her, but he always waited on his porch until she made it back to her house safely. The weeks away from club life were transforming him into someone he could barely recognize. There had only ever been one woman he’d acted this way around and that was his sister. While he tried to convince himself he viewed Amanda in the same light he viewed Cece, and that was why he was acting out of character, the fact that he wanted to fuck her more each time he saw her tossed that theory out the window.
He massaged the muscles of his sore thigh as he started back toward his cabin. Lights shone from the window of the empty cabin revealing the outline of her form in the den. Looked like he’d get to see Amanda after all. He told himself there was nothing to the giddy excitement that zinged through his blood. Picking up his pace, he lumbered to the empty cabin instead of his own.
She was muttering something when he stepped through the open door and followed the lights to her location. Dressed in a skin-tight black tank top and her work pants, she stood in the dining room, drawing something on the wall.
She was oblivious to his presence and he used that to his advantage, leaning against the door frame and admiring her. Skinny wasn’t a good word to describe her, although she was trim. Athletic fit her body type better. Made sense. She spent her days lifting people and running all over the hospital. Her arms, shoulders, and upper back were toned, not bulky, but sculpted in a way that showcased her feminine strength. She wasn’t fragile, and he appreciated that about her.
How would that strength translate to the bedroom? Would she give as good as she got and be able to handle his rougher nature with ease? Fuck, he’d sure like to find out.
“Stupid, arrogant, jerk of a man. Grrr. He’s just so…stupid!”
Snake chuckled under his breath. Not once had he heard Amanda cuss. Not even the time she whacked her thumb with a hammer. She’d yelled something about the “dang stupid hammer,” but that was it. He’d love to loosen her up, get her saying things she never said. Maybe right before she came, if he was buried deep inside her driving her crazy. Maybe then she’d let a few profanities fly.
She stepped back from the wall and admired her work. Snake tilted his head to get a better peek. On the wall, she’d drawn a life-sized stick figure with the words Dr. Michaels over its head. Dr. Michaels? Wasn’t he one of Snake’s physicians at the hospital? The one whom Amanda seemed uncomfortable around? Just as he was about to make his presence known and demand an explanation, she picked up the sledgehammer.
“Sorry, Doc, but you brought this on yourself.” With a small grunt of effort, she hefted the heavy hammer over her shoulder and prepared to swing it into the wall.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, slugger.” Snake darted forward and snatched the substantial hammer from her hands.
The screech that flew from her mouth could have woken the dead, and she released the handle, backing up until she hit the wall. Wide eyed, she gaped at him, holding a hand over her heart. “Holy cow. You scared the daylights out of me. How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know that Dr. Michaels did something to royally piss you off. Almost feel sorry for the man.”
She pursed her lips and blew out a slow breath. The action calmed the heaving of her chest. “Yeah, well, don’t. He’s a huge jerk. The least he deserves is to have his drywall face smashed in. Why did you stop me?”
Snake rested the hammer against the wall once again. “You can’t just go smashing the house down like a madwoman. There are support structures, electrical wiring, and pipes in those walls. We need to be smart about the demolition.”
Her shoulders slumped and her lower lip popped out in a pout. It was cute as hell and he wanted to kiss the frustration off her face.
“Here,” he said as he rifled in a tool bag they’d left on the ground. “This is a stud finder. If your artwork is between two studs then you can knock him into next week. Deal?”
The radiant smile returned. “Deal.”
He marked the studs on the wall and it turned out she got lucky. Stick man was right smack in the middle of two beams. And he knew from consulting a plumber while she was at work a few days ago that there weren’t any pipes right there either. She was free to smash the shit out of Dr. Michaels.
“Hey, what’s that between his legs?”
She moved next to him and snorted out a laugh. “That’s his teeny tiny penis.”
Snake choked on his saliva. “Say what?” His gut twisted. How did she know he had a small cock? Were they lovers?
Had the doc tossed her over for some bitch? Was this the act of a woman scorned? The idea of the doctor’s hands on her, of him seeing her skin, of him watching her come had Snake ready to kill.
“His teeny tiny penis,” she said, louder this time.
“Yeah, I got that. How the hell do you know he has a small cock?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But you figure a man with a huge one wouldn’t have to force himself on a woman. They’d flock to him naturally, right?”
Snake’s blood ran cold. “He tried to force himself on you?”
Her eyes widened. Yeah, his voice had dropped to a tone that he’d used to scare the shit out of people in the past. This time it was unintentional. This time it was born of pure rage, not strategy. But the tone worked as it had in the past. Amanda started spilling her guts.
“No. We dated for a few months. It was good at first, then he turned into a possessive and jealous jerk. Today he cornered me in a stairwell and demanded I go out with him again. When I turned him down, he threatened my job and got a little rough with me. That’s all. He didn’t actually try to force himself on me.”
She rubbed her upper arms as she spoke, her hands sliding over little purple marks on her delicate skin.
Snake took a deep breath and concentrated on her drawing on the wall. Controlling his anger wasn’t something he excelled at. Because it wasn’t something he ever tried to do. If he was pissed, he took action whether with his fists, his gun, or with some more careful planning. But he didn’t suppress his anger in fear of scaring someone else. Ever. And Amanda would be scared if he let the full strength of his fury be known. Murderous bikers steered clear of him when he was in a rage filled frenzy.
