Crazy Imperfect Love: A Dirty Dicks/Big Sky Novella (Kristen Proby Crossover Collection Book 3)

by K. L. Grayson

  Breathe, Abigail, breathe.

  That’s not the easiest thing because the rich, masculine scent of his cologne is causing me to lose all coherent thought.

  “I was trying to make you laugh, not kill you,” he says, his voice thick with amusement as he pats my back the way a parent would a small child’s.

  This time I manage to laugh without spewing alcohol everywhere.

  “There it is,” he croons, removing his hand from my back and placing it on the bar. “I knew I would love it.”

  I turn halfway. My eyes lock on his hand first and travel to where the sleeve of his shirt bunches around his elbow. The material is crisp, white, and stretches across his thick forearm.

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus, I didn’t know forearms could be sexy.

  Swallowing, I follow that forearm up to his broad shoulders, and then I go for it—eye contact.

  The moment I see his face, my body melts. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, otherwise I’d be a pile of goo on the floor at his feet. He’s tall—well over six feet—and quite possibly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His dark hair is messy, giving it that freshly fucked look, and his chiseled jaw looks as smooth as a baby’s butt.

  Dark brown eyes watch me with a hint of laughter and enough heat that I don’t have to guess whether the attraction I’m feeling is mutual. It’s clear that he, too, likes what he sees.

  My tongue darts out, wetting my bottom lip. His grin is boyish and outlines two rows of straight, white teeth. The longer I stare, the more his smile grows, and when a set of dimples pop up on his cheeks, I know I’m a goner.

  Get it together, Abby.

  Clearing my throat, I look away and take a sip of my drink. When I’m certain I have my eyes and crazy-ass hormones under control, I meet his gaze.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said I knew I’d love it.”

  “Love what?”

  He tilts his head and watches me as if I should already know the answer. “Your laugh.”

  “How could you know you’d love my laugh?”

  “Because you have a mesmerizing smile. It caught my attention from across the room when you were talking to Hannah and Grace.”

  This makes me sit up straight. “You were watching me?”

  “Only for a minute. Why, is that weird?”

  For a split second he looks nervous, and I decide I like this look on him just as much as I like the confident one I saw a few seconds ago.

  My lips quirk up. “Well, that depends. Are you a serial killer?”

  “I can devour an entire box of Lucky Charms in under an hour. Does that count?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He grins and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I know, but you laughed again, and that’s really what I was going for.”

  Oh my. He’s good. “So, you’re not a serial killer?”

  He shakes his head. “I assure you, I’m not.”

  “A creeper?”

  “Only if you’re carrying around a tub of brownies or warm chocolate chip cookies.”

  “A man after my own heart,” I say, pretending to swoon. “Tell me, are you here for Hannah or Brad?”

  “Both,” he answers.

  “Cop?” I ask, curious if he’s one of Brad’s friends from the force. But he shakes his head.

  “I work with Hannah.”

  “Ah, so you’re an OBGYN?”

  He shakes his head again. “Actually, I’m not. Why? Do you have a thing against OBGYNs?”

  “Not at all. But I don’t date doctors.”

  A look flashes across his face. It’s gone as quickly as it appears. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

  “Good to know. You’ve passed the test.” Releasing my glass, I hold my hand out in front of him. “My name is Abigail. My friends call me Abby.”

  He places his hand in mine and repeats my name, “Abigail.” The way it rolls off his tongue causes my heart to flutter, and I nervously tuck my skirt around my legs. “Delicate and beautiful. It suits you. My name is Drake.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Drake.”

  “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine. No woman has ever made me work so hard just to get her name.”

  “I’m not your typical woman.”

  He smiles. “Thank God.”

  After several long seconds, I reluctantly release his hand and reach for my glass—anything to hide what I’m sure is a goofy smile plastered to my face.

  “Tell me, Abigail, why a beautiful woman like yourself is sitting at the bar alone.”

  Twisting my glass against the bar top, I look down. “I’m not sure you want to know the answer.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me.”

  I shake my head and take another drink. “You first. What are you doing here?”

  “That’s easy. I followed you over. Now it’s your turn.”

  “You’re good for my ego.” Taking a deep breath, I wet my lips. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.”

  Drake holds up a hand. “Wait. Maybe I should be the one interrogating you. Are you a serial killer?”

  “No,” I laugh, finding myself relaxing. “Well, maybe with Cocoa Puffs.”

  He sighs. “Good answer. A creeper?”

  “Depends. Do you have a bag of Twizzlers?”

  “Cherry or strawberry?”

  “Strawberry.”

  “Okay. We can still be friends. I’m ready for you to tell me.”

  I could make up some stupid excuse and move the conversation along, but there’s something about Drake that makes me want to tell him the truth. He’s a stranger, for one thing, and I’ll likely never see him again. Or maybe it’s the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach every time he smiles at me. Either way, I’m going with it.

  “Long story short, I need to take more chances in life and try new things. Grace seems to think I should go about that by having a one-night stand with a stranger.”

  Drake points to himself. “I’m a stranger.”

  “I know,” I say, laughing. “But I came to the bar because I wanted to prove to myself that I could step out of my comfort zone and meet someone new. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “Fair enough, although I don’t think you should remove it from the table just yet.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  Drake holds out his hand. “How about a dance then?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t dance.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know how.”

  “There’s only one way to learn.”

  When I don’t put my hand in his, Drake reaches for me. I allow him to pull me to my feet, but that’s all the farther I’m going.

  “I’ll step on your toes,” I warn.

  “That’s okay. I have ten.”

  I laugh for what feels like the hundredth time since he sat down beside me, only this time I find myself leaning toward him. “And I’d prefer you to keep them.”

  “I’m willing to risk a few.”

  “I’m not dancing with you.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Drake tugs gently on my hand, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anxiety in check. Except it doesn’t work. My heart rate kicks up a few notches, sending a surge of adrenaline throughout my body.

  “N-nothing,” I stutter.

  “Then dance with me.”

  Biting my lip, I watch couples glide effortlessly around the room. The thought of being out there with Drake excites and terrifies me.

  “What if I’m horrible at it?” I whisper.

  His hand tightens on mine. “What if you’re not?”

  I blink up at him.

  What if I’m not?

  I’d never thought of it like that before. I always just let fear take over.

  “Promise me you won’t laugh if I step on your feet, or tr
ip and take us both down?”

  With a gentle tug, Drake pulls me to the corner of the room. We’re out of the way of the other dancers, but still on the wooden floor.

  “I would never laugh at you,” he says, wrapping me in his arms. “I’ve got you, Abigail. Trust me.”

  Drake holds me close, and I stare hopelessly into his dark brown eyes before my focus dips to his mouth. Those sweet lips have coaxed me into doing something I swore I wouldn’t do tonight no matter how much alcohol I had in my system, and I can’t help but wonder what else they could convince me to try.

  With his arm snug around my back, Drake leans in close. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

  My skin flushes, and in a moment of boldness, I press my body against his. “It’s all you.”

  “Nah. It’s us. You fit perfectly in my arms.”

  His words cause a shiver to race down my spine, and when I find the courage to look up again, I find him watching me intently. We’re so close that all I’d have to do is lift up on my toes and our lips would touch. I wonder how soft his would be against mine, or traveling across the base of my neck and down—

  “Abigail.”

  “Yes?” I breathe, dropping my eyes to his chest.

  “You can’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  Drake puts a finger under my chin and tilts my face toward his. “Like you want to kiss me as bad as I want to kiss you.”

  I swallow past the growing lump in my throat—or maybe that’s my stomach; I’m really not sure. I do know that if he doesn’t kiss me soon, I might kiss him.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  His smile grows as he hauls me in close. Drake is much taller than I am, and I’m forced to lift onto my toes.

  “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispers.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  Chapter 1

  One month later

  Abby

  “How’re you feeling this morning, Mrs. Trager?”

  The eighty-one-year-old woman grunts and moans as she sits up in bed, but waves me off when I reach out to help her. “I’m good as gold. I don’t know why the doc made me stay the night. My third husband had his gall bladder removed and went home the same day.”

  I open my mouth to respond when the door swings open, bumping into the wall behind it.

  “You know exactly why I made you stay overnight,” a warm, oddly familiar voice says.

  It’s the same voice I’ve dreamed about every night for the last four weeks. The voice that whispered in my ear as its owner brought me to orgasm over and over and over again. I spin around and come face to face with the person who is unknowingly responsible for my move to Cunningham Falls, Montana.

  “Drake?”

  His piercing brown eyes widen as he steps into the room. He looks as happy to see me as I am him. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Abigail.”

  “What are you doing here?” I laugh, stepping around the bedside table so I can get a better look at him.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  I point to myself. “I work here.”

  “So do—”

  “Yoo-hoo. Don’t forget about me, the patient who is ready to get the hell out of here. What’s it gonna take for you to sign those discharge papers, Dr. Merritt?” Mrs. Trager says, cutting him off.

  Doctor?

  My eyes finally leave Drake’s face, and I note the blue surgical scrubs and black stethoscope draped around his neck.

  Oh. Hell. No.

  This is not happening.

  “Excuse us, Mrs. Trager.” I walk across the room and stop next to Drake. “Can I speak to you in the hall for a second, please?”

  “Sure.” He nods before looking at the patient. “I’ll be right back, Genevieve, and then we’ll get you out of here.”

  When I step toward the door, Drake follows me. And then he follows me around the corner and down the hall to a small break room, which is thankfully empty. The door shuts quietly behind us, and I whirl around.

  “You lied to me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes. I clearly remember asking if you were a doctor, and you said no.”

  “No.” Drake dips his hands into the pockets of his scrub pants and shakes his head. “You asked if I was an OBGYN, and I’m not. I’m a surgeon.”

  “That’s a technicality.” I bristle and clench my jaw. “You lied to me and then slept with me knowing I don’t date doctors.”

  “But we’re not dating. Yet. And I’m not a doctor. I’m a surgeon.”

  I point a finger and glare at him. “Don’t get cute with me.”

  That makes him grin. His smile is big and bright and does things to me—delicious things that I most definitely should not be feeling. Especially when I’m mad at him.

  “You think I’m cute?” he asks, closing the distance between us.

  With each step he takes forward, I take one back, and when my back hits the wall, I growl. “You’re not playing fair.”

  Drake’s smile slips, and he steps back from me. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to apologize.”

  “What do you want?”

  I want you not to work here.

  I want you not to be a doctor.

  I want you to kiss me.

  The door to the breakroom opens, and a blond nurse I met at the beginning of my shift pokes her head in. She opens her mouth and then closes it.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Drake, the ultimate professional, turns his smile to the young woman. “Not at all. We were discussing a patient. What can I do for you, Farrah?”

  “Mrs. Trager keeps hitting her call light. She says if you don’t come back in the next thirty seconds, she’s yanking her IV out and leaving whether you like it or not.”

  “Tell her I’m on my way.”

  Farrah’s eyes dart to mine one last time before she slips from the room.

  “This conversation is not over,” I say, walking past Drake, making sure I don’t brush up against him.

  “No shit. We have a lot more to talk about.”

  His firm voice stops me in my tracks. My lips press together, and I plant my hands on my hips. “Like how we need to draw a line in the sand and pretend we haven’t seen each other naked?”

  Drake’s eyes harden, and he has the audacity to look pissed. “There is no line, Abigail. And if there is, we’ve already crossed it. And I can’t pretend I haven’t seen you naked, when your body is the only damn thing I’ve been able to think about since the moment I dropped you off at the airport. Tell me you haven’t done the same.”

  Oh, God, I have done the same. Over and over and over again.

  As if he can sense the direction my thoughts are going, his lips curve up into a smirk.

  “That’s what I thought.” Drake steps forward until we’re toe to toe and lowers his voice. “All I can think about is how soft your skin is, and the way your body came to life under mine. And your smile and your laugh. God, I love your laugh. And don’t even get me started on the sweet sounds you made when I—”

  “Stop,” I beg, trying not to whimper, because that’s all I’ve thought about too—that and how much I want to be with him again. Except that can’t happen now because we work together. And to make matters even worse, he’s in a position of authority over me. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Dr. Merritt.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  * * * *

  “Hey.” At lunchtime, Hannah slides into a chair across from me in the cafeteria. “How’s your day going?”

  I swallow the last bite of my sandwich, wad up my napkin, and toss it onto my empty tray. “Pretty good. I’m having a hard time getting used to the electronic medical record system you guys use.”

  She takes a bite of her apple and nods. “It’s tough at first, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll love it.”

  “Mind if I join you,
ladies?”

  I close my eyes at the sound of Drake’s smooth voice. Was it too much to ask to go the rest of the day without seeing his gorgeous face? When I hear a chair screech against the floor, I open my eyes in time to see Hannah stand and wrap her arms around Drake’s neck.

  “Hey, you,” she says, kissing his cheek. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  There is absolutely no reason for me to be jealous, because Hannah is happily married to Brad, but that doesn’t change the tinge of green I feel creeping up inside of me.

  “And whose fault is that?” he teases.

  Drake’s smile is bright enough to light up the room. I stare at him a little too long. Why does he have to be so good-looking?

  Thankfully, he takes the empty seat next to Hannah, and as they both sit she says, “Oh, Drake, this my cousin I’m always telling you about, Abby Darwin. I was hoping to introduce you two at the wedding, but you got called in for that emergency splenectomy, and by the time you showed up, I forgot.”

  Drake’s eyes lock on mine, a smile playing at the side of his mouth. “Actually, we did meet at your wedding, but I didn’t put two and two together. I had no idea she was your cousin.”

  “You talked at the wedding? When? Where was I?”

  I can tell by the look in Drake’s eye that he’s remembering exactly what happened the night we met. And the morning after. And just how little talking we actually did.

  Swallowing, I look away from him to Hannah. “Toward the end of the night at the reception. We were both sitting at the bar, and I’m pretty sure you were humping Brad on the dance floor.”

  Hannah grabs a fry and tosses it at me. I duck and stick my tongue out at her.

  “We did more than talk,” Drake adds.

  Is he crazy? I give him a look before turning back toward Hannah. “What he means is we also danced.”

  The frown on Hannah’s face is too cute. “But you don’t dance.”

  Drake unwraps his silverware and lays his napkin on his lap. “Abigail is a great dancer. Although it took some convincing to get her out there.”

  Hannah lifts a brow. Abigail? she mouths, watching me.

  I shrug, but I can tell from her side-eye that she’s not buying my brush-off.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you two met, because you’ll be seeing Abby a lot.”