Come Back to Me_A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Vivien Vale

  It’s like my whole body is on fire at that touch.

  “Where’s your kit?” he asks me.

  It takes me a second to realize he means my medical bag.

  I don’t even argue. I’m too dazed for that.

  I just point, and he fetches it.

  Ford was always light on his feet. The difference now is that he seems to be made predominantly of muscle. Muscle, wariness, and speed.

  “Let’s get you somewhere safe for the night,” he tells me. “You want to argue more…you’ll have to do it in the morning.”

  Ford

  Fuck. The image of my Adelaide naked in my arms won’t go away.

  The way her slender arms wrap around my neck and those delicious red lips of hers kiss my face and neck. Not to mention the way—Stop it! I nearly scream at myself.

  Yes, I know she’s not mine, but I can’t help think of her in those terms. The second I laid eyes on her, my insides started to go up in flames.

  Too many memories flooded my mind for me to make sense of them.

  And then she unleashed this massive verbal attack on me. She probably didn’t realize it, but fuck, it made her look even hotter than hot.

  The way her long, beautiful blonde hair tied back into a practical ponytail shone in the low light. Not to mention the way those khaki shorts hug her behind and show of those incredibly long legs. Practical hiking boots perfectly complimenting the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen a woman wear.

  Fuck.

  I sigh.

  What had happened to my Adelaide I left behind?

  The young, innocent-looking schoolgirl? Not that she’s not beautiful anymore—quite the contrary. She looks even more beautiful than she did in high school.

  No, now her beauty is highlighted by—what would you call it? Wisdom? Maturity?

  Or maybe she’s always been this beautiful, and I’ve just not remembered her the right way.

  Briefly, I’m transported back to the end of high school. The way I used to admire her from afar.

  At recess and lunch, I would lean against the fence near where she hung out with all her cool friends. Being as pretty and smart as she is, she’s always been in with the cool people.

  I, on the other hand, I’m from the wrong side of fucking town. Okay, so that sounds like some sort of cliché, but fuck, I’m able to face the facts.

  She’s up there in the clouds, and I’m down here in the dirt with the ants. Gods and ants just don’t mix, do they?

  When I used to stare at her from afar, my eyes were glued to the way she threw her hair over her shoulders, the way she laughed, and the way she moved.

  She was the forbidden fruit.

  I have always wanted to touch her dearly, bite a piece, and fucking devour her.

  She, on the other hand was, what can I say, she’s always been fucking perfect.

  Of course Sten had always been a friend, and at some point in time Adelaide would hang out with us too.

  With a shake of my head, I try and get my feelings back under control and quash those pesky unwanted memories.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” her voice reaches from a long way away. It seems to be having trouble getting though the thick fog of fucking memories.

  “What?” I stare at her, but I’m not quite processing what she said. She’s pulled out of my hold and grabbed her bag from me.

  “I’ve got work to do. You know, the reason I’m here? To help the sick and injured.”

  Without waiting for a response, she walks away.

  “Newsflash, “ she calls over right shoulder. “I live here, so no need to take me somewhere safer.” And just like that she’s walking away from me.

  Since she doesn’t know, and there’s no harm in looking, I stare at her retreating figure. The way her hips sway from side to side and her cute butt wiggles is fucking playing havoc with my dick.

  Her feet kick up tiny bits of dust as she moves away from me. If she’s tempted to look back, she resists it.

  The last I see of her is when she enters a tiny mud hut. She has to duck to get in. Even there, she doesn’t so much as shoot another glance in my direction, even a loathing one.

  How much I’d give for any last look of her, loathing or otherwise.

  With a sigh, I shake my head. She’s not coming out of the building she entered.

  Actually, building is highly overstated. I mean, as I stare at it, I realize what a rundown, dilapidated structure she just walked into. With narrowed eyes, I take it in.

  From what I can tell, she’ll be lucky to come out of it alive. I mean, the damn thing might collapse any second.

  The roof seems to be half-missing. From where I’m standing, it looks as if the entire house has leaned to the left and there’s no front door. I can’t tell if it never had one, or if it blew off.

  Focus. Fucking focus, I remind myself and scan the lay of the land.

  From the building, Adelaide disappeared to some of the other makeshift houses.

  How do people live like this? And why the fuck was Adelaide here?

  Of course, I don’t need to answer the latter question. Adelaide is the most caring person I know.

  Around me, women are snickering, and I do my best to ignore them.

  “Mzuri,” one of them whispers.

  Others nod, and I shake my head. I’ve had tougher assignments than this one.

  I’m former CIA. I’m the best of the best. I’ve learned not to let distractions worm into my mind when I’m on a job.

  The words I’m on the job have their desired effect.

  I’m on a job.

  Focus. Concentrate.

  I shift into work mode. Protection.

  Working out how to protect her is not going to be as easy as I thought.

  The mud huts are not arranged in any kind of order. Hers could be anywhere. I better make finding out where she lives a priority.

  But, heck, no job is too difficult for me. If someone wants to mess with her, they’re going to have to get through my security measures and through me first.

  I mean, I was the best of the best of the CIA.

  But it wasn’t the greatest of times—secret missions, danger, loss.

  Around me, people died. I lost some good people. And no matter how many times I’ve been told it wasn’t my fault, I have to take responsibility.

  It separates us: those who understand the world they live in, and those who don’t.

  In a way, leaving the agency had been a relatively easy decision after Mission X.

  Mission X, in hindsight, had always been destined for failure. If I’d stopped and questioned the assignment, lives might not have been lost. But like anyone in my position, I just followed orders.

  And following orders can sometimes be fatal.

  What’s worse was I didn’t pay the high price, but some of my best people did.

  In the deepest, darkest hour of the night, I can still see their faces and hear their screams as—no, I have to stop this now. I don’t need to relive it right here, right now.

  When people around you die too many times, you know it’s time to move on.

  I’ve fucking moved on.

  There are only so many losses a person can endure.

  I’ve got my own private security business now, and I call the shots. I decided who goes where, when, and how. And most importantly, I make sure no one I care about has to lose his or her life.

  And, of course, that’s why I’m here in the middle of fucking nowhere in the stinking heat, looking after Adelaide.

  But that’s all I’m doing, looking after her safety. She’s fucking off-limits.

  I mean, it’s not as if I even have a chance. Did I mention I was from the wrong side of life?

  Well, I still am.

  Someone like Adelaide is not going to fall for someone like me.

  She’s got style, class, and that something that makes her extra special. No doubt there’s some doctor, someone who’s got an eye on her, and she on him.
/>   Even thinking of her with another man is more painful than being punched in the gut.

  Come on, I tell myself. Time to focus on the job.

  “Need help?” a small woman to my left asks.

  I look at her. She’s got more wrinkles than a New York road map.

  How old would she be? A hundred? The fact this old lady is asking if I need help is funny, and I suppress a laugh.

  But maybe she could be of help somehow.

  Never underestimate the power of the people on the ground, the ones who can be your eyes and ears in places you can’t be.

  “Maybe,” I mutter. “Maybe.”

  “You like lady doctor.”

  It’s not a question but a statement.

  My instinct wants to deny the allegation, but I decide not to.

  Sometimes if you fuel a fire, it burns more brightly. And denying the allegation will do exactly that. And, of course, I can’t deny I like Adelaide.

  Because I fucking do.

  But she doesn’t like me. It’s obvious the way she reacted when I told her my reason for being here.

  “Tell me,” I say instead. “Is there a special building the lady doctor uses to treat people?”

  The old lady grins and points to her left. “Come, I show you.”

  Without another word, I follow.

  As I do so, I take close note of everything around me.

  “Can you show me where lady doctor lives?”

  The old lady grins, nods and points to her left.

  Adelaide

  The anger is still raging through me, invading each of my pores.

  I still can’t believe he’s here.

  At first, I admit that I was pleased when I saw him walk toward me.

  Of course, the second I found out his reason for being here, my joy evaporated faster than sweat on skin in a hot day.

  I shake my head and try to slow my breathing.

  “You okay, Doctor?” the toothless Azizi asks, and I force myself to focus on his arm. I need to apply a new dressing.

  “Thinking,” I reply and smile.

  “About new man?”

  His grin widens, and I’m amazed with how quickly word has spread.

  I shake my head instead of giving a reply.

  “Now hold still, this might hurt a little.”

  I pour disinfectant on the wound. It’s a nasty looking injury.

  Azizi had a run in with his donkey. Earlier, he said the donkey looks far worse than his arm.

  “Me, no pain,” he mumbles, and I start applying my magic liquid.

  The first time I used the antiseptic and healed a nasty wound on a young child, the villagers were amazed, particularly the child’s mother.

  It was one of the village elders who called the antiseptic ‘magic’.

  Over time, we became used to calling it as the magic potion.

  “New man good looking.” Azizi says.

  I ignore his comment.

  Over time, you learn to choose your battles, and I don’t want to fight this one.

  It goes without saying that Ford is handsome.

  Unfortunately, he’s more than good looking, he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

  He can have any girl he wants.

  I sigh.

  How long ago had our bumbling little high school fling been? It seems a lifetime ago.

  I better not start thinking about all the women he’s been with since then.

  “Does it hurt?”

  My patient shakes his head.

  I study his eyes. Sometimes men don’t tell the truth.

  I’ve tried to talk to them, urging them to tell me when they feel pain, but usually they don’t—has something to do with losing your face.

  Men. What can I say?

  With a new dressing over the wound, I get up to leave. There are a few more house calls to be made before I start seeing patients at the clinic.

  Clinic is a bit of an overstatement. More like ram shackled building with four walls and a room over our heads.

  “You back tomorrow?”

  I nod.

  “Now, make sure you keep taking these two times a day,” I say, handing him a small bottle with antibiotics in it.

  Azizi nods.

  “Do you need anything else? Water?” It’s risky for me to ask him this. Men are proud and don’t want to appear helpless.

  But I also know he doesn’t have any family to help.

  He shakes his head.

  “You look after yourself,” I call out as I leave his mud hut.

  “Be nice to new man,” I hear him say.

  With a shake of my head, I’m about to go to my next patient—when someone blocks my way.

  “We need to talk.”

  Instantly, I freeze.

  There’s nothing I need to talk to Ford about, nothing at all.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see familiar faces.

  I don’t want to cause a scene out here in public.

  “I don’t think so,” I reply as calmly as I can.

  As I stand under the burning hot sun, I feel little beads of sweat trickle down my neck and back.

  The sky is as blue as it can be, with not even the hint of a cloud in sight.

  It hasn’t rained in weeks, maybe even months. Each day, I look for the telltale sign of relief from this seemingly never-ending drought.

  But so far, nothing.

  “Oh yes, there is.” He stays by my side as I walk toward the next mud hut.

  With each step, I kick up a little dust.

  Rain would help settle dust—and with less dust, some of my patients would have less breathing problems.

  I step over a goat lying in the slither of shade alongside the building I intend to enter.

  The animal is covered in flies. Even they don’t bother to leave the shade—that’s how hot it is.

  “You can’t go in there.” Ford grabs me by the shoulder and stops me from moving forward.

  I glare at him. “What do you mean? Of course I can.”

  He shakes his head. “No, you can’t. What if someone’s lurking in there, waiting for you? Before you can even call for help, the intruder will have knocked you unconscious and carried you out through the back. I checked, and most of these little huts have a back exit.”

  “Clearly, you watch too much television,” I reply and try to walk past him.

  He won’t let me.

  “I don’t think you appreciate how serious the situation is. You’ll have to start listening to me and change the way you do things around here.”

  He’s got to be fucking kidding me.

  If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s overprotectiveness.

  When I arrived here, the first thing that struck me was how free I felt.

  Finally, I got rid of the shackles my family put on me. I was free—free to be who I want to be.

  As far as I’m concerned, I’m just here to do a job, and that is to look after the sick and do no harm.

  “Listen here, Ford.” I take a step toward him and poke him in the chest.

  He doesn’t flinch or move, or show any kind of reaction at all.

  If I didn’t know he was human, I’d half suspect him to be a cyborg.

  “You can’t just waltz into my life and this village and make demands. I’m fine. I’m not in danger. So please go back to where you came from, and tell brother dearest to mind his own business.”

  If I thought he was going to let me pass, I thought wrong.

  He stood his ground.

  For a few seconds, we stare at each other. A war is raging inside me.

  My stupid, weak flesh is engaged in a battle with my brain.

  My brain is telling me to turn around, walk away and come back later—but my flesh wants me to take another step forward so I actually touch him.

  My nerve cells are quivering with anticipation and dying to feel his touch.

  “I know you’re not happy about this arrangement, Adelaide. But I’m here to do a job
—and I will do that job.”

  A job.

  I was nothing more than a job to him.

  I lock eyes with him.

  “In that house,” I point at the building he’s stopping me from entering. Luckily, my hand is not shaking. “Lies my patient. She’s about ninety-four years old. She’s hardly a threat to my security. Now please, let me see her.”

  He still doesn’t move.

  I sigh.

  “Why don’t you go in ahead and make sure no one else is in there? Then you can piss off.”

  I think the corner of his lips curl up the tiniest bit at my last two words. Was it possible Ford thought I was funny?

  Too annoyed and angry, I stomp my foot.

  “Look, without breaching doctor-patient confidentiality, the woman is not well. Can you please let me see her before she’s dead?”

  Finally, the penny drops.

  Ford moves. He walks into the tiny hut ahead of me.

  Seconds later, he sticks his head back out.

  “You’re safe to come in.”

  I roll my eyes. “I could’ve told you that about ten minutes ago.” I snap and walk past him.

  It takes me a little while to adjust to the dim light.

  “How are you today, Inira?”

  The frail woman is lying on some banana leaves on the floor. I’ve tried to get a bed for her, but she won’t hear of it.

  Last time I raised the matter, she told me she’s spent the better part of ninety-three years on the floor, she’d be alright to do so for a bit longer.

  “Faini,” she mutters before a coughing fit grabs.

  I rush to her side and drop to my knees. It takes me less than a minute to wipe her sweaty brow and help her drink some water.

  “Is the cough getting worse?” I ask, but I fear she may not tell me the truth.

  The trouble with the elders in this community is that they don’t want to be a burden on anyone.

  No matter how many times I assure them that I’m here to help, they still deny their troubles to keep me from worrying.

  “A little,” she replies to my utter surprise.

  “I’ll get you some special medicine,” I assure her and rummage around my bag.

  I’ll need to go to the clinic to get it. The last of my Ventolin was used on another patient.

  More people have had chronic asthma since the extended dry spell.

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” Inira says.