by Mia Kayla
I still didn’t know what had happened between them, but from what I understood, he’d been the one left brokenhearted. If it had been the other way around and my sister had been heartbroken, he’d have gotten an ass-whipping. Being the older brother of three sisters, I’d always been overprotective.
But Trey didn’t like to talk about that time in his life; therefore, I didn’t force the issue.
He sat down on a stool next to me, his light and ready-to-party demeanor from a second ago now gone. This was turning into a sad night real fast. I tipped my beer all the way back, glancing back at the BB. It wasn’t that I didn’t have game. I was just tired of playing.
But for my boy, I’d do just about anything. I needed to lighten the atmosphere, so I zoned in on the blonde and took a deep breath. “All right then. Let me show you how it’s done.” I patted Trey’s shoulder and stood.
Trey perked up immediately and slapped my back before I strode to the other side of the room.
The blonde was attractive, but in a slightly fake way. Thick makeup caked her face and bright crimson lipstick lined her lips. Up close, I could tell she was a bottle blonde. She reeked of wealth. I’d seen it many times before. The ladies of Manhattan liked to flaunt their belongings and their assets.
I focused automatically on the curvature of her breasts. Her V-neck halter made it known she wanted everyone to notice her body.
I debated turning back around since I didn’t have time to think of a pick-up line, but she beat me to the punch. “Hey, handsome, you come over here to buy me a drink?” She touched my arm and angled forward so I could get a closer peek at her chest.
“What you having, beautiful?” I nodded in her direction.
She forced out a high-pitched laugh, and my eyes roamed up her slim, yet voluptuous figure. I knew what she’d come here for. Sitting at the bar, no girlfriends.
I didn’t want to assume, but hell, her body language was spelling it all out. She’d come here to get laid.
Maybe I should’ve been upfront: Let’s go to the bathroom and get it done. Still, the Midwestern boy in me knew there was a process to these things.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” The lilt in her voice sounded soft, cute, and somehow disconnected to her overdone appearance.
Part of me still wanted to walk away, but then Trey gave me a smirking nod from down the bar and I sucked it up once again.
After I ordered her a cocktail and another beer for myself, I leaned against the bar next to her. “Why are you here all by yourself? I know you women travel in packs.” I forced a suave smile, my normal bravado lacking.
Her red manicured fingers inched up my chest. “I’m glad they’re not here because I’m sure we would’ve had to draw straws for you.” She laughed softly and batted her eyelashes. Her eyes held a sensual flame as they roamed up my body. “You’re not from around here; I can tell. I’ve never seen you in here.”
“I don’t get out much.” I tipped back my beer as I threw her my smooth smile, but when my eyes met hers, my stomach sank, because there was nothing—no spark—and I knew I’d already grown tired of a conversation that had only just begun. How was it possible to feel lonely when this woman was standing right in front of me?
“I just moved here from Chicago. Moved in with my best friend.” I tilted my head in Trey’s direction, who was already chatting up another woman, a brunette with a short bob. By the way she angled toward him, I could tell my boy was doing well. “How about you? You grow up here?”
“Born and raised in Manhattan. Most people here are transfers, but this is the place I call home.” She crossed her legs, her skirt hitching up higher on her thighs. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Denise.” A flirtatious smile crossed her face as she seductively bit her lower lip.
I gave her my name and downed the rest of my beer. I could tell this girl knew what she wanted, and I wasn’t about to tell her no.
***
Four beers and three cocktails later, Trey disappeared, nowhere to be seen. But Denise had just delved into her aspirations of becoming a model. She was on the hunt, currently scouting agents, and her mother served as her manager.
I’d found out that she was barely of drinking age, which had surprised me. She looked mid-twenties with all that caked on makeup. Too bad, because under all that grime I could see the attractiveness of her small features. It was unfortunate she felt the need to cover it up.
She angled into me for the millionth time, practically sitting in my lap. I got another whiff of her strong expensive perfume and barely stopped myself from coughing.
Her eyes glossed over, and I had to admit that I, too, was well into the hella-good zone. She giggled at everything I spilled out, and when she peered up at me with her dark-as-night pupils, I cupped the side of her face and kissed her.
Instantly, she opened her mouth to let me in and, within the next few seconds, her hand had moved down the front of my jeans. My cock stiffened on contact.
We made out for a couple minutes as she continued to give me a hand job. I teased and suckled her lips as my cock strained against my pants, needing to break free.
And then she pulled back, breathless. “Wanna get out of here?” she slurred.
My eyes met hers then flickered to her lips. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing when I kissed her. Maybe this was a good thing.
“My place is just down the street,” she said sweetly as her hand brushed against the bulge in my jeans.
Shit. I wanted this, but I didn’t.
I hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and all of me needed this. But I didn’t need complications, especially since my last relationship had failed. I wasn’t ready for anything serious. I didn’t have time for that with my responsibilities at work.
Judging from the smirk on her face, it didn’t seem like she was looking for a relationship either. We were the perfect detached duo looking for a little excitement.
I nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” I reached for her hand and scanned the place for Trey. If I left, he’d know what happened. Hell, he’d probably wished this on me, since I’d been working like a dog. If anything, he had the same plan in mind for tonight.
We were about to exit, when I jerked to a stop. I glanced dazedly behind me to find a massive, tattooed male in a leather vest, gripping Denise’s other hand and staring at me like he wanted to stuff my balls in my mouth.
Oh hell.
He shot daggers at Denise. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were staying in tonight.” His tone seethed with mounting rage.
I released her hand, unable to bite back the guilt. ‘Sorry, dude, you’ve just been played,’ didn’t even need to be said. I’d been there.
I turned, about to leave them to handle their business, when he twisted her arm and her face registered pain. “You fucking whore! Is this the guy you’re screwing?”
“Stop, Damon. You’re hurting me,” she yelped. “Let go!” She yanked her arm back, but couldn’t budge as the man, I assumed to be her boyfriend, crushed her skinny arm in his grasp.
Watching him sobered me up real quick. Okay, so I wasn’t the most standup guy out there, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to witness this prick hurt her.
I stepped in between them, straightening my stance. “Listen, the lady said let her go.” My voice was firm as I squared my shoulders, sizing him up.
He released her with a growl, and I tilted my head to take in his height. He had a few inches on me, but we had the same build. I’d taken down guys bigger than him before, but I wasn’t expecting his aggression to escalate to a fight.
“Why the hell are you with my girl?” he growled, the veins on his neck bulging.
Before I even had a chance to respond—POW! In the face.
Surprised, I staggered back. My hand flew to my eye as pulsing pain rushed to the surface, the brass ring on his middle finger most likely leaving an indentation on my skin. The stickiness of blood gushed down my face.
Great, just fucking great.
> I pulled back my arm, ready to fire back and beat the shit out of this bastard, but then Denise sheltered him with her body, saying to him in a panic, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes at me until she threw herself at him and started kissing his face, running her hands up and down his shoulders.
I blinked and shook my head at the comedy of this scene, then let out a low, humorless laugh as the taste of iron hit my mouth.
When I felt someone behind me, I automatically brought up my fists, ready to spring into action in case his friends wanted to play ‘beat the nice guy.’
“Whoa, dude, it’s me.” Trey was behind me with his hands up as if he was about to be the victim of my aggression. “You’ll bleed dry if I don’t get you to a hospital.”
I groaned, knowing from the pain and the amount of blood oozing from above my eyebrow I’d probably need stitches. Having played football throughout high school and being the rambunctious kid that I’d been, I was familiar with the protocol. I unbuttoned my shirt, jumbled it into a ball, and applied pressure to the wound.
Shithead wasn’t worth it. I could’ve taken him, but I needed to get fixed up and head home. Shit, I should’ve just stayed home, in front of my damn computer. Less drama.
“You’ll need stitches,” Trey said, following me out.
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered.
Life was a bitch sometimes.
More recently, it seemed that bitch was intent on taking me down.
TWO
KENDY
I adjusted the Michael Kors watch on my wrist. The larger than life gold dial told me I still had six more hours until my shift ended.
Coffee was calling my name and, as I advanced toward the nurses’ station, I caught Sarah, my cute little friend, charging my way.
Her dark, pin-straight hair bounced as she rushed toward me. At five-four, half Hispanic and half German, she was a looker. When I’d met her on my first day, she’d slapped her ass and said that her big ole’ booty had come from her Spanish side. She functioned as my daily dose of laughter, something I especially craved since I was the newbie and didn’t know many people.
Sarah reached for my arm, catching her breath as though she’d just run a race. “What’re you doing tomorrow?” The enthusiasm on her face and suffocated rasp in her voice from running had me smiling.
I noted her flushed cheeks and wondered if she was late to work. “Where are you coming from?”
She wheezed a short laugh. “I tried to chase down the late night burrito truck, but I couldn’t catch up.”
I couldn’t control the fit of giggles that escaped my lips. “That’s totally something I’d do.” I led us to the set of chairs against the wall. “What’s going on?”
By the mischievous look in her eyes, I knew something was going down.
“I have gossip.” She leaned in, her elbows resting on her knees, and I followed her lead. “So . . . I know where the hot doctors are going to be tomorrow.”
“Even my man?” I asked, my heart fluttering against my ribcage. I crossed my fingers and toes, waiting for her reply.
I trusted Sarah. She had been good about keeping my secret about my big crush on Dr. Klein.
“Even your man,” she cooed as she fluttered her lashes at me.
I didn’t even try to hide my cheeky grin as I bounced on my toes and shook my shoulders in a shimmy motion. “Okay, details,” I whispered to her, looking around to see if anyone could overhear.
Sarah always had the ins and outs of everyone’s love life in the hospital, another reason why I loved her.
I knew we’d be best buds for life when she’d made it her secret mission to help me achieve my goals in landing him. In return, I had promised her a spot in our wedding.
“Well, you know that bar right down the street, The Bartlett?” Sarah’s copper eyes widened with delight. “I know for a fact that your man and a bunch of other good-looking residents are meeting there tomorrow night.”
She gripped my forearm a little harder than expected, startling me. “So are you going with me?”
“Uh, yeah, hello?” I absently rubbed at my arms, lifting an eyebrow at the silly question. “You did say my doctor would be going.”
She chuckled and let out a hushed squeal.
Why hadn’t I thought to track him down outside of work? I’m surprised I hadn’t stalked him sooner. This would be the first time I’d see him out of the hospital.
Now what would I wear? My brain started going off on a tangent. I’d been working on getting him to ask me out on a date, purely by being my charming self, but now I had the chance to dress to impress. “Let me know the time and I’m there. I’ll be bringing sexy back.”
We gave each other a grinning high-five before discussing the plan.
My phone buzzed in my pocket interrupting our giddy session and indicating a new patient. “Hey, I’ll check you later. Let me know a time tomorrow.”
She reached over and gave me a hug, practically killing me with her squeeze. It was obvious she was excited to play cupid, a role she played often. “See you later,” she sang, turning to head down the hall.
I picked up the phone, the nurse informing me that my next patient was a kid with a busted knee. “Room one-oh-three? Okay, I’m on it.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket and rushed down the hall.
When I heard the high-pitched wails of a young child, I charged toward the room, ready to spring into action. “Hi, I’m Kendall Miller,” I said in my professional but warm nurse tone.
I stuck out my hand, automatically introducing myself to the child’s mother. But then I reeled back when I saw a familiar redhead—Clary Clensen, Bowlesville’s biggest skank.
My blood pressure rose. Had I straight up died and gone to Hell? I searched frantically around the room. Maybe I could run out and get her another nurse before she recognized me.
“Oh my goodness, Kendy!” Clary clasped her hands together as her son, no more than four, continued to wail in front of her. An older woman was cradling the boy in her arms as Clary’s protruding eyes scrutinized me.
She was wearing four-inch Louboutins designer shoes, and sitting at the edge of the bed was her Chanel purse, chilling like there was no tomorrow.
Funny how she acted with forced excitement, happy to see me, when we both knew we hated each other’s guts.
“Kendall,” I corrected her, adding under my breath, “Only my friends call me Kendy.” Even though everyone in my small town called me Kendy, I refused to be called a beloved nickname by this hooch.
I would never forgive her for what she’d done. Never. Ever. Even when I was ten feet under dirt.
“You’re a . . . nurse?” There it was—the condescending edge to her tone.
It took all my self-control to force a smile. “Yep.” I moved past her to wash my hands and slip on gloves. Regardless of how much we despised each other, there was a hurt child in front of me, and I had a job to do.
I advanced toward the cute child with a full head of short brown curls. “Shhh. It’s okay, buddy,” I told the little boy. He cowered inward, now sobbing quietly, but I couldn’t get a direct look at his knee. “I need to see your owie, bud. So I can make it better.”
I gave him a small smile, though he paid no attention since the pain consumed him.
I turned to Clary. “What happened?”
“I’m not too sure. I wasn’t there.” She turned to the older woman. “Anne?”
“He slipped and fell against a glass table.” Anne rocked the boy, held him against her chest and continually rubbed his arms to calm him.
My smile turned sympathetic. This was not going to be fun. Even being a nurse, I still hated watching people in pain, but seeing kids hurting tore at my insides. Each and every time, I’d wish it was me instead. Or even better—some other mean bitch, like Clary. Why couldn’t she have fallen on the glass table?
“We’re going to have him lay down,” I said firmly.
The little boy started to scream, and Clary narrowed her eyes at him, propping one hand on her hip. “Billy Bob, you need to quiet it down.”
My eyebrows shot to the ceiling.
Billy Bob? What the hell? We’re not in Bowlesville anymore.
Sighing, I turned to Clary. “Can you hold him still? I’ll need to examine his wound and get a better look to see if he’ll need stitches.”
Clary just stood stoic in her spot.
I quirked an eyebrow at her and waited for her to react. Do something. Anything. In the next second, I was about to cross the professional line and smack her on the side of her head.
“Anne will lay him down. She’s his nanny.”
I rolled my eyes as I moved toward the poor child.
Focus on the task at hand.
Billy Bob started to flail his arms as Anne tried to restrain him against the hospital bed. Blood trickled from his wound, spilling over to the white linen. The scent of iron, a familiar scent in my line of business, hit my nostrils.
I shot Clary an impatient look. “You’ll need to hold his lower body.”
Anne continued to kiss the boy’s forehead while his own freaking mother stood there, fidgeting with her bracelet, looking like she was afraid to break a nail.
I shot daggers at her. Any moment now I was about to let her have it, but finally Clary removed her jacket, rolled up her sleeves in slow motion, and held his sides, as if her child wasn’t wailing and his knee wasn’t oozing blood.
I leaned in to get a better look. When I swiped the infected area with an alcohol swab, he flinched and his cries heightened.
“It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you better.”
I stepped back, reached into my pocket, and paged Dr. Klein. A few minutes later, he entered our room and Chlamydia Clary—as I had nicknamed her way back when—suddenly and mysteriously brightened up.
Surprise, surprise.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Klein.” He gave Clary his professional smile before his eyes focused on the boy, assessing him from across the room. His voice softened as he approached the hospital bed. “It’s okay. I’m here to fix you all up.”
Clary straightened her shirt and displayed her winning smile as she stepped away from the child. I stood there, frozen, and gawked as they shook hands.
