Them Back Dimples (Some Girls Do It #4)

by May Sage

  Them Back Dimples

  Some Girls Do It Book Four

  May Sage

  Contents

  1. Wren

  2. Cali

  3. Cali

  4. Wren

  5. Cali

  6. Wren

  7. Cali

  8. Wren

  9. Cali

  10. Wren

  11. Cali

  12. Wren

  13. Wren

  14. Cali

  15. Wren

  16. Cali

  17. Wren

  18. Cali

  19. Wren

  20. Cali

  After Them Back Dimples

  More From May:

  May Sage 2017

  Edited by Lisa Bing

  Cover Design by Graphic Lane

  Wren

  “We’re losing him, dammit! Where the hell is Richards?”

  Dr. Wren Richards opened the door of the operating room and managed a smile as he caught Dr. Lennox’s last words.

  “Richards was removing a six inch piece of glass from a teenager’s leg,” he retorted, calmly washing his hands and putting on a new pair of latex gloves. “What do we have here?”

  “Car accident,” his college replied. “Multiple lesions and fractures, but my actual problem is this.”

  Henry Lennox pointed to the man’s open skull. “His skull was fractured, and there still are bone fragments in his brain; I don’t think he’ll make it.”

  “Of course you do, or you wouldn’t have called me,” Wren replied logically, stepping forward. “Julia?”

  The nurse didn’t need more prompting; she handed him forceps and got a scalpel ready. Eighteen minutes later, he’d picked out the last piece; he left Lennox to clean up and sew up his patient, running out of the operating room, and hurrying to the changing room.

  “Three minutes,” he told the mocha skinned goddess who’d been so good as to wait for him again, before rushing to the lockers.

  A few seconds later, Wren popped his head out of door to check left, then right, before getting out of the changing room, happy to see that the coast was clear; he headed right to the gorgeous woman reading a book in the staff room, taking her forearm and pulling her towards the exit as fast as he could.

  “Let’s get out of there.”

  “What is it with you today?” Amelia asked, her delightful French accent rolling around each word.

  The volunteer lived close to him and he arranged to carpool with her whenever he spotted her on the rota; any other days, he took a taxi. Wren could technically drive, and he also has the loveliest cars gathering dust in his garage, but medical staff were generally so exhausted he was pretty sure that they qualified as statutorily drunk on their way home after their insane shifts. He wasn’t about to take chances, not eager to end up on the operating table himself.

  “I just have a feeling,” he stated, begging his intuition to be wrong, this time.

  But of course, the one day when he would have liked to go home early, he was right. They only made it two feet to the door when the woman of his nightmares stopped their progression.

  “Hey Richards, can you do another double shift?” the annoyingly calm, collected, professional voice of Arianna Williams asked. “Hammond’s daughter has the flu, he’s had to call in.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” he yelled, glaring at the woman who’d snuck in behind him.

  Amelia did her best not to laugh, waving goodbye. Lucky woman; she didn’t have to be here and no one expected her to be. She made him question whether he’d chosen the right field every other hour.

  “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Of course, I’ll do it,” he grumbled, returning to the changing room, and grabbing the crumpled blue scrubs he'd just removed.

  “But next time you ask me, I'm going to quit, damn you.”

  He was lying of course. Wren was normally happy to take the extra shifts; or rather, resigned to it. They asked him, rather than any of his colleagues, because he was the only single surgeon without a family; the others were doing the grown-up thing, either married, with children or both. Wren wasn't even sure how they managed it; he didn't have the time to keep a pet fish alive, let alone caring for a living, breathing human being. Nevertheless, he understood and respected their circumstances. He never had a problem working around Christmas, or taking second shifts when one of his colleague’s daughters was sick, or when someone was taking a sicky just for the hell of it, come to think of it. He knew that his dedication was the reason why he had gotten so far in such a short period of time. So, after twelve hours of work, he was back to it. No one in the department bothered to act surprised to see him back in the operating room.

  The other reason why he was so good at what he did, was because even after over twenty hours, his hands were still steady, he was still saving lives like he was born to do. A heady feeling he’d never get tired of. There was nothing like it.

  Getting home, Wren was all but ready to collapse as usual, his limbs acting on autopilot, but somewhere between the lobby and his open plan ground floor, he stopped dead, wondering if he’d stepped into the wrong house.

  He'd never seen it like this, not even when he moved in. The house was spotless, there was nothing on the floor, nothing on the polished surfaces, and if he wasn't mistaken, some decoration had appeared here and there. He vaguely remembered buying that empty plant pot, and also that statue; he’d gotten it at some sort of charity gala, and it had lived in a cupboard for the last couple of years.

  He stepped further into his home, and stopped again when he took in the sleepy figure on his beige sofa, startled and for a moment, confused.

  Then he remembered. Of course; that explained it all. The reason why his house was so tidy; and also, the reason why he’d wanted to get home right after his first shift, so many hours ago. Cali.

  Cali was a young woman - or younger than him, in any case - who’d had a rough time, if he read between the lines of the vague explanation about her situation he got from his friends. Frankly, he didn’t have to work too hard to hazard a guess: the bruise on her forehead, and the way she never spoke of it, said it all. Conjugal abuse. He’d seen it a thousand times before; only, more often than not, the women didn’t get out.

  She’d needed a break, and he had needed a housekeeper, although he knew that he would never have actually hired one. He wasn't comfortable making somebody else pickup his shit; it made him feel even lazier than he was, which was saying a lot. But Cali had seemed happy at the prospect of having something to do; she’d wanted to pay her way. Wren would have let her stay for free, like any friend of a friend in need of a place to crash, but he had a feeling she wouldn't have taken a handout. Hell, he’d had to fight to get her to accept to let him pay for groceries and essentials, although she didn’t have a job, or much money, from what he’d gathered.

  Wren wondered why she was on the sofa, and not in her bed. He would have believed she might've been watching TV, but the screen was dark, and the remote control was far away from her. Strange. He'd been staring for too long, probably – not his fault; she was kind of pretty, despite the annoying bruise – when the woman stretched gracefully and opened her eyes, batting her long lashes.

  “Oh, you're back?” she said, covering a yawn with her hand. “What time is it?”

  “Sometime past two in the morning,” he replied, yawning too - these things were always contagious. Cali seemed surprised, but she didn't pay it much mind, launching in a report of her day.

  “I managed to get most of the common area done down here,” she told him, “but I didn't get into your room or your en-suite, because I didn't know if you wanted me to?”


  Wren just nodded, not sure whether he was saying that he wanted her to do it or not; it was too late for that, he was too exhausted to think straight.

  “You know you don't have to stay up to tell me what you did, right?”

  “I didn't,” she responded smilingly.

  Stuff pretty. When she smiled, the woman was nothing short of gorgeous. How inconvenient; he felt his dick twitch in his pants. Down boy. No one called you.

  “I stayed up because I wanted to tell you I made some food, it's in the microwave. Well, I would've written it on a piece of paper, but I wasn't sure you would get it. I guess I should have gone to bed, but I fell asleep.” Wren’s poor, neglected, stomach roared at the promise of food, and without even taking the time to thank the girl, he zeroed in on the microwave and opened it.

  “Oh my fucking God, Cali you are a goddess.”

  Lasagna; she'd made lasagna, his all-time favorite.

  He didn't even bother to heat it up, taking a fork and directly diving into it, moaning in pleasure when the cocktail of flavors hit his taste buds. She’d made good lasagna, too.

  Wren joined her on the sofa, feeling a little more human now.

  “This is delicious,” he stressed, pointing to his plate with his fork.

  “It would be better if it was warm,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “There’s salad in the fridge to go with it.”

  Wren nodded, knowing he probably should have some salad, but that meant getting his ass up from the sofa and well, that wasn't happening until the delightful meal on his lap was completely finished. “You don't have to cook for me, you know,” he told her, somehow reluctantly.

  He was grateful, but it wasn't fair on her; they'd only agreed on her cleaning the house, and he felt bad enough about that.

  “I know,” she replied, beaming at him.

  But the next day, the day after, and the day after that, she was there when he came back from work; and there also was something delicious waiting for him.

  Getting used to it took a week, tops.

  Cali

  The second morning at Wren’s started out pretty inconspicuously. She wasn't going to say that it had been a normal day, because waking up in gorgeous house more luxurious than most five-star hotels, feeling sunshine on her skin, and then smiling because she knew she was safe, was not normal for her.

  But that day wasn’t in any way exceptional at first; indubitable proof that some things just creep up and hit you when you least expect them to.

  One minute, she was minding her own business, tidying up stuff, carrying clothes to the washer, scrubbing the floor, and the next, when she opened the door of Wren’s en-suite bathroom, her perfectly boring morning crashed and burned.

  Holy fucking shit.

  She should have turned around immediately, but she was too busy picking her jaw up from the floor.

  “Jesus,” she whispered faintly.

  Right in front of her, there was a delicious male specimen shaking his booty in front of his mirror. The man was shirtless, just wearing a towel low on his waist.

  Wren Richard was already the kind of man who made you twist your neck to look at him on the street; the kind who belonged on a billboard, selling perfume or something equally glamorous. A younger Brad Pitt, just as carelessly, effortlessly stunning. He wore his hair short, and there always was some stubble around his jaw. Cali saw all that the first time they met and genuinely thought that it wouldn’t be a problem; firstly, she was completely, utterly done with men, and secondly, even if she had been interested, he was so out of her league they might as well exist in different universes. But when she’d reasoned that her hormones wouldn’t be an issue, somnolent as they were, she hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that he might have a thing for dancing half naked.

  Holy… were those dimples? Because she had been pretty confident that back dimples had been a myth until then; something people photoshopped on actors to make women develop unrealistic expectations.

  Wren didn't stop swaying; he was wearing headphones, so she guessed he hadn’t heard her come in. She should have counted her blessings and left as fast as possible, but she just couldn't force her feet to budge, incapable of detaching her eyes from the way the man moved, rotating his hips left and right, slowly, curving them like he did it for a living.

  Was she licking her lips? Shit. She was.

  Cali should be taking notes, or maybe just pin him down and take a bite out of that delightfully sculpted ass.

  Fuck, what the hell was wrong with her? She was done with men, dammit. Plus, she was certain there was a law written that went you shant drool all over your boss-slash-roomie’s ass. If there wasn’t one, it damn well should be drafted.

  Thankfully, it didn’t matter that she found his ass, his shoulders, and them back dimples biteable. She was a hundred percent sure she wasn’t Wren’s type; men like him ended up with women who had their shit together, or sometimes, just with women who were beautiful enough to make up for it. Cali failed in both regards.

  That sobering thought had almost been enough to get her to stop staring when Wren turned around, toothbrush in his hand, still shaking it like a pro.

  Oh, no. He caught her stupidly gawking at him.

  Wren smiled and removed his headphones, stopping his enticing movement, thankfully for her sanity.

  “Hey, Cali. Good morning,” he said, casually, carelessly, as though he wasn't standing right there, covered by practically nothing; as though she wasn’t taking in his sculpted torso with a fine layer of hair leading down to the budge in his towel.

  Dammmmiiiiiit. The man also had the V. How unfair was that?

  Somehow, she managed to regain some of her brainpower, and speak.

  “Cleaning! I… I’m here to clean. You said I could do the bathroom. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in there…”

  He shrugged it off.

  “No worries, I’m all done. Good thing you didn’t get in five minutes ago, hm? Might have given you an eyeful.”

  Yeah right. Because that wasn’t an eyeful? Dear god, there were women who paid to watch guys like him dance like that.

  “I’ll try to remember to close the door,” he promised, winking before walking towards her, and passing by her.

  Cali exhaled a big sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, clutching the poor heart that was beating way too hard, and shook her head.

  They were roommates; in a humongous house, but roommates nonetheless. Something like that had been bound to happen. She should just be glad it was out of the way now. Neither of them had been weird about it; or rather, she hoped she hadn’t openly freaked out. Now, it was onwards and upwards. They’d both put the incident behind them…

  Just as soon as she stopped seeing him shake that fine, fine ass every time she closed her eyes.

  Cali

  Tidying up the house didn’t take long now; the first time had been an ordeal, she’d had to polish, dust and clean like a maniac – her hands, arms, legs and back had felt sore for a whole week – but now, it was just a matter of staying on top of it.

  Before she’d moved in, Wren had warned her that he would be a nightmare, always leaving his crap around, but he wasn’t bad at all. He was rarely home in any case, working too hard every single day, but when the hospital let him go free for a few hours, he seemed pretty house-trained. The previous evening, he’d taken her plate along with his after they were done eating the brownies she’d made in the afternoon. She felt a little awkward about that; after all, cleaning up was her job here, but he’d insisted.

  “Don’t you dare get up from that sofa. You fed me chocolate – good chocolate. The least I can do is clean your damn plate.”

  She didn’t point out that it was chocolate he’d bought; Wren had a personal shopper drop off fancy food a couple of times a week. He’d asked her to add whatever she wanted to the list, and the first time, she hadn’t, feeling shy and awkward. But one morning, he’d waited for her with his muscular arms cros
sed, and a frown on his annoyingly perfect face.

  “There’s nothing except what I’ve written on the list, Cali. I know I didn’t have beef or basil in the fridge, so you’ve used your money to feed me. That’s not fair on you, and that’s making me feel like shit.”

  She knew she was being manipulated and guilt-tripped; she had enough experience with both to recognize it. But when he did it, Wren was just trying to help her, so she couldn’t exactly be annoyed with him for it. Besides, she didn’t doubt his words; she wasn’t sure what his friend had revealed about her circumstances, but he felt bad for her, so that meant that he was feeling guilty when she refused to let him buy the groceries.

  Cali knew which battle to pick; she did cook for him as well as herself, so he had a point. She forced herself to write down a few things.

  She’d grown bolder this week, adding baking ingredients, and sure, it had felt wrong at first, but it turned out that Wren had a sweet tooth; the way he’d welcomed the unnecessary expense had alleviated some of her awkwardness. Good thing, too. While her waistline definitely didn’t need the extra calories, her sanity demanded it.

  Cali smiled, thinking about her hunky boss. Roommate. Something. It was hard to define; she would have stuck to boss, if he wasn’t doing his damnedest to make her feel like he wasn’t. He hung out with her to watch movies after work, although he always fell asleep halfway through. She immediately retreated to her floor to collapse on her bed after he did; her days were ridiculously long, as she liked to wait for him and he rarely made it home before midnight.

  Although it was still a little weird along the edges, their arrangement was working out; taking care of a house wasn’t difficult; she had done it for the last three years.

  Three years. Remembering how long she'd stayed with her ex-boyfriend made her feel like a complete failure; it was embarrassing, and made her angry at herself every time she thought of it. It was finished now though; she'd been given a second chance. The nightmare was completely behind her.