Cocky Doc: A Hero Club Novel

by Samantha Lind

  “Breakfast is served, milady,” he says playfully as he holds up a tray to place across my lap. I finish my sentence and save my location, then tuck my Kindle under the edge of my pillow. I sit up and, once settled, he places the tray over my lap.

  “This looks amazing,” I tell him excitedly, looking down at the plate filled with two eggs, some hash browns, a couple sausage links and two pieces of toast. He’s added some butter and jelly packets, along with a glass of orange juice and coffee that is still steaming it’s so hot.

  “I told you I’d cook a mean breakfast,” he says.

  “Where’s yours?” I ask.

  “Still out in the kitchen,” he says, pointing behind him and out the door.

  “Well, go get it. I don’t want to eat alone or let this go cold,” I say and he takes off to get his own tray. He joins me a minute later and we both quickly eat the breakfast he cooked us.

  “Did you get enough?” he asks once I move the tray away.

  “Um, yeah. You keep feeding me like that and I’m going to need bigger clothes. Where’d you learn to cook like that?” I ask.

  “Breakfast and grilling are my specialties. Dad and I would always get up on the weekends and cook Mom a big breakfast. It was our thing, how we’d spend time together. We’d discuss our week and what was going on. When Tyler was in his sickest days, Dad would still spend Saturday mornings with me cooking breakfast while Mom was at the hospital with Tyler. On those days, we’d just cook for the two of us, but when Tyler and Mom were home, we’d cook for them, as well,” he tells me, opening up just a bit more.

  “I love that. Such a special bond between the two of you, and something for just the two of you.”

  “It really was. When I first went off to college, I got up on my first Saturday and felt almost lost because I wasn’t starting out my day cooking breakfast with my dad. I got used to it over the years, but we still get together some weekends when it works with our schedules.”

  “I bet the two of you together can cook some amazing things.”

  “We’ve experimented over the years,” Drew says, laughing as if he’s remembering different times.

  “Do tell.”

  “One time, we made something,” he says, pausing as he thinks back on the memory. “I was probably six, maybe seven, and it called for a cup of sugar. I accidentally grabbed the salt and Dad didn’t notice until we had it finished, and he took a bite and got the shock. It was quite comical. He knew right away what the issue was. I was so upset, but he told me not to worry about it, that we’d start over, and that time he made sure that we used sugar.” By the time he finishes telling me the story, I’ve got tears rolling down my cheeks I’m laughing so hard.

  “Oh my, that must have tasted so bad!” I say between giggles.

  “It was. I still remember it to this day and that was twenty-six or so years ago,” he says, laughing right along with me. “What about you, do you have any traditions with your parents?” he asks as he gets up to move the breakfast trays from the bed.

  “Nothing on a weekly basis like that. Whenever I’d be in the hospital, Mom would always bring in puzzles for the two of us to work on for hours at a time. Every December, we’d have a huge baking weekend. I’m talking hundreds of batches of cookies and candies would get made between my mom, both grandmothers, aunts and cousins. Then they’d get handed out to people at church, or taken to the fire station and police station, teachers and my physical therapists.”

  “Sounds like a great time and a diabetic coma waiting to happen,” he jokes.

  “So much sugar, oh my God, you have no idea. Well, sugar and butter.”

  “I can only imagine,” he says.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Nothing specific, we can go explore the area if you want out of the house, or we can spend the day on the deck enjoying the fall weather while we kick back and read or relax. We can go to the movies, or something else. Whatever you want to do to decompress.”

  “Sitting out on the deck, watching the waves, sounds heavenly,” I reply.

  “Then get up and dressed and we’ll move this party outside. I’ve got finger foods in the kitchen for lunch, so when we’re ready for that it will be easy to bring outside. You won’t even need to lift a finger if you don’t want to,” he says.

  “Keep spoiling me and I won’t want to go back home and to reality.” Since we arrived here at his family’s beach house, I’ve felt a shift in our relationship. I know we were both ready for sex, and it was everything I could have hoped it would be. I feel like it’s deepened our connection and made it just that much stronger. I’m excited to see where we can take this as things continue to get more serious between us.

  “That can be arranged,” he says, leaning over to kiss me.

  I do as he suggests and toss on a sundress. I stop in the kitchen and fill my water bottle up from the fridge dispenser, then join him out on the deck. He’s moved some of the furniture out of the way, pulling two reclining deck chairs out with a small table between them.

  “I can help you transfer if you want to lay out, otherwise, I can move the chair out of your way,” he offers. I roll to the edge of the deck and look out over the railing. The deck has a couple steps that float off each end, down to a brick pathway that leads out to the sand a few feet away.

  “I’ll move to the chair in a little bit,” I answer him over my shoulder. He joins me at the railing, looking out over the water.

  “If you want to go down to the water, I can carry you,” he offers.

  “I’d like that.” Taking my chair into the sand isn’t something that I can do, but I’d love to put my feet in the water, even for just a minute to say I’d done it. “Maybe a little later, after lunch when it’s warmed up a tad bit more.”

  “You tell me when and we’ll go out,” he assures me.

  We both stay there, watching the waves roll in, the birds as they swoop down, attempting to grab bits of things floating in the water they think is food. After a good thirty or so minutes, I move back, and Drew helps me transfer from my chair to the deck chair he set out for me.

  Once I’m settled and comfortable, he pours me a glass of lemonade from a pitcher I didn’t realize he brought out here.

  “Thank you,” I say to him as I accept the glass, taking a satisfying drink before I set the glass on the table between us.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies as he settles into the chair he set out for himself. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

  “I am. It’s so peaceful, I can see why your mom likes it here so much. Easy to just let the world fade away and forget about all your worries and commitments,” I tell him. “And I can see why it’s where you come when you need to decompress and get away from the world and everything that rests on your shoulders.”

  He nods his head in agreement and we both fall into a silence as we enjoy the warm weather we’re being treated to this beautiful fall day. It could have just as easily been colder this weekend, but we’ve been blessed with almost perfect weather.

  “Are you hungry at all?” Drew asks a while later.

  “I could eat something light,” I tell him as I put my Kindle down and shift in his direction.

  “All right, I’ll be back,” he tells me, standing up from his chair. He leans over me and brushes his lips over my own in what’s becoming one of my favorite things he does lately. It’s almost as if he’s drawn to me as much as I’m drawn to him.

  There’s this weird magnetic force field that’s pulled us together, and we just fit. As much as I never imagined that I could find my person, I feel like I have with Drew. Not many guys want to date the girl in the wheelchair. Want to take on what all that entails or know how to deal with everything that comes with loving someone that has a disability. But then Drew tripped into my life, literally, and he’s someone I can actually see myself falling in love with if whatever this is between the two of us continues to grow and gets seri
ous.

  “Wow!” I say as Drew sets down a serving board on the table between us. “That looks amazing,” I tell him as he hands me a small plate.

  “I can’t take credit for it. I ordered it like this from the store,” he says, picking up a cracker and slice of cheese, popping them both into his mouth. “Easy finger foods to hold us over until dinner, especially since we’re just hanging out on the deck and enjoying the nice weather.”

  “It’s perfect,” I assure him as I take a few of the meat and cheese options from the charcuterie board.

  “What’s the plan for dinner, anyways?” I ask, adjusting the skirt of my sundress around my legs.

  “I was going to fire up the grill and make us some steaks, along with some roasted baby potatoes and veggies.”

  “Way to make my mouth water about dinner while I’m stuffing my face with lunch,” I tease him. “It sounds perfect.”

  “I’m glad you agree,” he says on a laugh. “Do you need help getting up or into your chair?” Drew asks once I’ve finished eating and set my plate aside.

  “If you don’t mind, that would be great.” It had been a few hours since I was last up and I should probably use the bathroom. Drew helps me into my chair, and I roll off, not needing his assistance now that I’m back in my chair.

  Once back on the deck, he helps me get back into the deck chair, where I stretch out and read a few more chapters before the heat of the afternoon pulls me and I fall asleep.

  15

  DREW

  I SIT ON THE DECK, Megan in the chair she’s claimed as her own all day, and watch as she peacefully sleeps. I look at her, how her natural beauty shines through. How she’s so confident despite what life has thrown at her. What she has to deal with on a daily basis. I sink deep into my own thoughts and how much I enjoy her company, how she brightens up my day whenever I see her, and when I really let those thoughts sink in, they scare the shit out of me.

  As much as those thoughts scare me, they have also opened my eyes to the possibility of more. Of allowing myself the freedom of falling for someone. Someone who wants me for me. Someone who can support me when life is shit and, with my job, that can happen far too often. I knew from a young age I wanted to be a doctor, one specifically that helped kids. I wanted to be that twinkle of hope for families, like Tyler’s doctors were for my family when he was sick and needed help. To be that sparkle of hope, I had to go into this profession knowing that I wouldn’t save every patient. I wouldn’t be the hero one hundred percent of the time. But I can be that bright spot in someone’s bad day. I can be the doctor that my smallest patients don’t mind seeing because I can help them not be quite so scared of doctors and hospitals and tests.

  I turn my thoughts back to Megan and what this is between us. We’ve obviously grown closer these past few weeks that we’ve been seeing each other. Last night was the culmination of many hot and heavy make out sessions over those weeks, and it was just what we needed to take our relationship to the next level. Some might think that it was too soon, we’ve been dating for about a month, while others would be surprised to find out we haven’t been sleeping together since the gala. Lucy would probably be in the latter.

  In some instances, the night of the gala feels like it was months ago. How in the world was that just last month? So much has happened in that short amount of time, and that alone has my head spinning. How can I be thinking about forever with this girl a few feet away from me when I’ve hardly known her for two months? How can I feel so close to her, like we’ve known each other for our entire lives, yet also feel like I have so much to learn, so much to discuss and talk about? What are her aspirations in life outside of her dream job at the hospital? Does she want to eventually move back to Nebraska and be near her family? Does she want kids and a family of her own? Do I still want that? So many questions ping around in my mind, causing it to race.

  I quietly get up, trying my best to not wake her. She’s been peacefully sleeping for an hour or so, and I don’t want to wake her just yet. I head inside, taking the mostly empty charcuterie board with me and placing the few leftover items in a container in the fridge. With that put away, I head into the bedroom and slip on a pair of athletic shorts and t-shirt, along with a pair of socks and my running shoes. There’s not much a run can’t clear out of my mind, so I take off out the deck door and down onto the sand. I set a decent pace, running until I reach the end of the beach this way, or at least the amount of beach I have access to. I turn and run back, a total of about two miles. A quick look up onto the deck tells me that Megan is still asleep, so I continue on my run. I run a loop that direction, adding another two miles to my already finished loop of two miles.

  When I return from my run, I’m hot and sweaty, in dire need of a shower. I grab a water bottle I’d stashed on the deck and drain it in a few swallows. I watch Megan as she starts to stir in her chair. The wind has picked up slightly and has moved some of her hair into her face. She wipes it away, her eyes slowly opening as she finds her bearings.

  “Have a good nap?” I ask, leaning against the railing as I stretch out my calf muscles.

  “Yes. I didn’t realize I was so tired. It just kind of snuck up on me,” she admits.

  “Well, I’m glad you got in a nap then. Wouldn’t want you too tired for tonight,” I say, winking at her, and I can see the blush staining her cheeks from where I’m standing ten-plus feet away.

  “Where did you go?” she asks, shifting around on the chair as she reaches for the lemonade that was left from this morning on the table next to her.

  “I went for a run along the beach. Needed to get out some energy and the beach was calling.”

  “Can we still go down to the water?” she asks, a spark of hopefulness evident in her voice.

  “Of course. Let me go change so I’m not drenched in sweat and I can take you down there. Do you need to go inside first?”

  “I do.”

  I close the distance between us and help her into her chair. “All good?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she confirms as she settles into her chair. “I’m going to stop in the bathroom and then I’ll be ready.”

  “Take all the time you need. There’s no rush,” I assure her.

  I step aside so she can maneuver her chair around the deck furniture and head inside. She heads for the bathroom attached to our room, so I stop in the one off the kitchen before I head into the bedroom myself to change. I strip from my sweaty clothes, making sure they don’t land on anything important. I pull out a clean pair of athletic shorts and a tank top to pull on, until I can get a shower once we’re done going down to the water.

  I’ve just pulled up my shorts when I hear the door open, pulling my attention to Megan. I smirk at her when I catch her checking me out as I get dressed. “See something you like?”

  She just continues to stare at my six pack, so I do what any guy would in my position, and flex for her as I close the distance to where she’s still sitting in the doorway. “Careful there, you might start drooling.”

  “Those,” she stammers as she points towards my abs, “can make a girl stupid in a matter of seconds. You should really keep them covered up if you want any coherent conversations to take place.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, laughing at her comment.

  “Yes,” she says on a half moan.

  “Is that what’s going on right now, with you?”

  “Maybe?” she says, almost questioning it.

  I take pity on her and pull the tank top I’ve been holding in my hand this entire time over my head, letting it fall into place and covering up my washboard stomach.

  “It should be illegal to look that good,” she muses as she makes her way further into the bedroom.

  “Hey, it’s taken me a long time to get my abs like this,” I quip.

  “I’m sure it has, and it shows how dedicated you can be, but it still isn’t fair sometimes. Ridges like that make girls stupid, just fair warning,” she dishes back.

>   “Duly noted, but what if I only care how one girl reacts to them?” I ask, raising my left eyebrow in question.

  “Only one?” she squeaks.

  “I’m only interested in what you think about my abs,” I say as I follow her out of the room. “Ready to hit the beach?” I ask once we’re out on the deck again.

  “Yes!” Megan exclaims. I scoop her up out of her chair, her arm goes around my neck and I can’t help myself from leaning in and kissing her before I take off down the couple steps that lead to the beach. I walk out until we’re a few inches higher than the water comes up to with each wave that rolls in.

  “Did you want to put your feet in the water?” I ask.

  “Is it cold?” she asks.

  “I mean, it isn’t summer water in the Caribbean, but it isn’t freezing, either.”

  “I don’t know,” she squeals, excited. “Set me in the sand and I can scoot forward if I decide I want to get wet.”

  “All right,” I agree and do as she asked. I carefully lower her until her butt hits the sand. She lets go of my neck and makes herself comfortable. This area of the beach is soft and comfortable to sit on, which isn’t normal around the area. Most places have rocky coast lines, but we’re lucky to have such an amazing beach area.

  “This feels amazing,” she beams at me. I’ve taken a seat next to her on the sand. Watching her here, experiencing this, is what it must feel like when parents experience something for the first time through their child. That deep, heartfelt joy that comes from another person experiencing something for the first time. I watch as she picks up handfuls of sand and allows it to pass through her fingers until its gone, then repeats the motion ten-plus times in a row before moving on to digging a hole with her hands next to her and attempting to shape the sand so she can build something with it.

  “Is this your first time on a beach?”

  “On a beach, yes. At one, no. The one time we visited a beach, I didn’t want to attempt to get close to the water with my chair. Now, I just want to throw caution to the wind and experience everything I can, so thank you for this,” she says, bumping her shoulder against mine, then resting her head there. I move until I’m behind her, my legs bracketing hers. I pull her back against my front, acting as her support. She relaxes back against me as she continues to play with the sand in her hands.