Playing With The Doctor: A Romantic Comedy: Milestone Mischief #1

by Piper James

  “I do not,” Karly grumped. “I try, but not everyone has the good sense to appreciate me the way you do.”

  She curled up her fist and let it fly, right into Felicia’s boob. She just punched her friend. In. The. Boob.

  Felicia howled and rubbed her boob while Karly leaned back in her chair, sipping her margarita with a smile. My wide eyes flicked back and forth between them, waiting for whatever would come next.

  “Shit, Karly. That hurt.”

  “Well, you did say I was being weird. Might as well live up to my reputation.” Karly shot me an exaggerated wink, and a laugh burst from me.

  “So glad my tit pain amuses you,” Felicia grumped, still rubbing the offended area.

  “Don’t look now, but the old dudes across the bar are enjoying the show,” Karly chirped, and I turned to see a table full of men staring at Felicia with glazed-over expressions.

  They quickly diverted their attention, and I looked back in time to see her flipping both middle fingers in their direction.

  “Fucking perverts,” Felicia grumbled before turning her attention back to Karly. “Punch me in the boob again, bitch.”

  “Or what?” Karly sing-songed, batting her eyelashes.

  These two were something else. Something I was quickly starting to like. A lot.

  But letting my guard down meant inviting people in. It also meant giving them the opportunity to hurt me. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to give anyone that much power. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.

  I shook off my serious thoughts, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence I’d fallen into.

  “So, do you guys come here often?” I asked.

  Karly burst into giggles while Felicia arched one of those gorgeous black brows at me. “You trying to pick us up, Jessa Maddox?”

  “I might go for it,” Karly chimed in. “It’s been a long dry spell for me, and I’m desperate.”

  She dipped her shoulders forward to show me some cleavage as she waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively and pursed her pink lips into the perfect imitation of a duck face.

  “No,” I laughed. “I just wondered, since I’ll be working here for a while, if I might see you again while I’m here.”

  “We have girls’ night at least once a week. Now, that we know you’re here and we’re friends, we’ll make sure we come to see you,” Felicia said with a bright smile.

  Friends? Was this really all it took? A few minutes and a few jokes? It couldn’t possibly be that easy. Could it?

  “Speaking of friends, have you seen Nate since you’ve been back?” Karly asked.

  “Nate?” I asked, shock rippling through me. “As in Nate Walton?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Weren’t you two chummy in high school? I remember seeing you with your heads together a few times.”

  “Um, no,” I said quickly. “Nate Walton was my lab partner in biology and refused to do his part. If you saw us together, it was probably because I had to chase him down and force him to participate.”

  “He is so hawt,” Felicia drawled.

  “Is?” popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  She nodded emphatically, waving her hand in front of her face. “He owns a car repair shop across town. I have my oil changed religiously, every three thousand miles, whether it needs it or not.”

  I smiled at her antics, but it was the other Walton brother who wouldn’t leave my mind. Nate was exotic-looking with his darker complexion and bright blue eyes, but Rafe? He was the whole package.

  And as far as I knew, he didn’t chase every skirt in a fifty-mile radius like his younger brother.

  If he did, I might start wearing skirts.

  I cursed myself for the wayward thought. I was not interested in opening my heart to romance, and I was not interested in Rafe Walton.

  “Have you seen anyone else since you’ve been back?” Karly asked, ever curious.

  “Well, Rafe Walton has been coming by the house to treat my dad,” I said before I could stop the words.

  Felicia’s dark eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “Dr. Rafael Walton comes to your house?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, nodding. “To check on my dad.”

  “Does he wear his scrubs?” Karly asked, sounding almost giddy. “I had to go to the E.R. once for a sprained ankle, and let me tell you, that man in scrubs is de-lectable. Yum.”

  “Sometimes,” I admitted, hoping my face didn’t reveal how attractive I found him.

  “Oh, shit,” Felicia said, “you like him.”

  “No,” I argued.

  “Yes. Yes, you do. Are you going to go for it?” she asked, her words peppering me like shrapnel.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. This stay is only temporary.”

  “Girl, who said anything about a relationship?” Karly asked. “You need to hit that.”

  “Oh, my God, Karly. Who says, ‘hit that’ anymore?” Felicia groaned.

  “Shut up. Jessa is obviously feeling unsure of herself, and she needs us to encourage her.” Karly’s bright green gaze locked on me. “Are you single?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. Permanently.

  “Is he single?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “Well, we’ll find out for you.”

  “What? No.”

  Ignoring my objections, she went on. “Felicia and I will help you get him, if he’s not in a relationship. Or even if he is. That’s what friends are for.”

  There was that word again. Friends.

  “Stop,” I protested, holding my palms in the air. “Even if I did want him, and I’m not saying I do, it’s too late. I’ve already made a fool of myself in front of him. Twice.”

  “Tell us everything.”

  “Shut. Up,” Felicia said when I finished telling them the bra story. “That did not happen.”

  “Yes, it did,” I laughed, seeing much more of the humor in it after telling someone else. “I nearly took the man’s eye out with my underwire.”

  “Okay, okay,” Karly said, reining in her own laughter. “Tell us the other incident.”

  “I knew he was coming by to see Dad, and I was nervous about seeing him again after the whole attempted-murder-by-bra debacle. So I downed four shots of tequila.”

  “Woo,” Karly breathed. “So you were sloshed?”

  “Yep. I thought—out loud—about how good he looked in his jeans, then he tried to talk me into going to an AA meeting before I asked for his number in case I needed a designated driver.”

  “Wait,” Felicia cut in, holding up a hand. “Did he give it to you?”

  I shrugged. “I passed out, and when I woke up, I saw this.”

  I opened the texting app on my phone and held it up so they could see his message.

  “In case of emergency only,” Karly read aloud.

  “What constitutes an emergency?” Felicia asked, and I shrugged.

  “Is a neglected vagina an emergency?” Karly asked before bursting into laughter.

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” I said, laughing with her.

  Felicia shook her head, her expression serious, then pointed at my phone. “Nope. I don’t buy it. He wanted you to have his number, and your drinking problem and subsequent request for his digits gave him the perfect excuse. But that’s all it was. An excuse. You should call him.”

  “What? No.”

  “Ooh, call him and tell him your car broke down. Maybe he’ll bring Nate with him,” Karly chimed in.

  Her margarita was definitely hitting her system.

  “No,” I insisted. “I am not calling him.”

  “Text him, then,” Felicia said. “Tell him you need CPR, or something.”

  “Or better yet, tell him you need mouth-to-mouth,” Karly added. “No reason to be coy.”

  I shook my head. “Not happening.”

  “We’ll get you there, Jessa Maddox. Don’t you worry. You’ll have that man in
your bed before he can say cardiac arrest.”

  11

  Rafe

  I pulled my car to the curb in front of the Maddox home, the steering wheel gripped tightly in my fists. I told myself I had very professional reasons for being here—I needed to check Greg Maddox’s progress.

  A little voice in my head called bullshit, and I told it to shut the hell up.

  Grabbing my medical bag, I climbed from the car before I could talk myself out of it. I was here on business. That was it.

  Never mind that I took special care shaving and styling my hair. Or that I wore the same jeans I had on the night Jessa drunkenly commented on how well I filled them out. Or that I ran out and bought some expensive cologne that was advertised as being irresistible to the ladies.

  None of that mattered. All that mattered was Greg and his health. That’s why I was here.

  Who was I kidding? I knew I didn’t need to be here. I knew Jessa would call me if anything seemed off about her father. I knew my visits were bordering on overkill.

  Despite knowing all of that, I knocked on the door. I just couldn’t help myself.

  “Rafe.”

  Jessa threw open the door with that one word. At least, I thought that’s all she said. I may have missed any other words because my brain went a little haywire at the sight of her.

  My eyes carved a slow path up her body. Bare toes with polish-free nails. Suntanned legs. Tiny shorts. That damned white tank top.

  By the time my eyes met hers, her head was cocked and the towel wrapped around her hair was leaning to one side. I cleared my throat as I broke our stare, mumbling something about checking in on her dad.

  Again.

  Pulling the cockeyed towel from her head to release her long, damp hair, she stepped to the side and waved me inside. Pushing the door shut behind me, she told me to go on back and rushed ahead. As I turned down the hall, I saw the door across from Greg’s closing.

  Jessa’s bedroom. A dozen images ran through my mind of what she might be doing in there. What we would do if we were in there, together.

  “Nope,” I breathed, rapping my knuckles against Greg’s door.

  “Come in,” his voice called out.

  “Hey, Greg,” I said as I walked inside. “How are you feeling today?”

  “I’m okay,” he said, punctuating the words with a harsh cough.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good,” I said, pulling my tools from my bag.

  “It’s been a week, Doc. Shouldn’t I be getting better by now?”

  “Give your body some time to heal,” I said, listening to his chest through my stethoscope. “It can take up to a month for your lungs to clear—”

  “A month!” he interjected.

  “—and six weeks for the cough to go away.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” he grumbled.

  “It’s not like you have to stay in this bed the whole time, Greg,” I assured him. “You should be up and about by now.”

  He leaned to the side to look around me toward the doorway. Finding it clear, he waved me forward so he could speak in low tones.

  “I am,” he said. “But when Jessa is home, I lay it on a little thick. I’m not ready for her to leave, yet.”

  I felt the urge to give him a lecture about lying to his loved ones about the severity of his medical condition, but I bit my tongue. I already knew he was playing it up to keep Jessa here. I’d even participated.

  I wasn’t ready for her to leave, either, despite knowing nothing could happen between us. One day, she would leave to go back to Atlanta. Besides, I didn’t have time for a relationship. And she seemed like a “serious relationship only” type of girl.

  At least I knew she was single. Greg had made that clear when he flat out asked me if I thought she was pretty. A question I never answered, because if the man knew how attractive I found his daughter… If I told him all the thoughts and daydreams I had about her, he’d probably leap from his bed and punch me in the face.

  He might have liked the idea of Jessa dating a doctor. He might’ve even approved of me as the doctor in that scenario. But no father wanted to hear some guy expound on the sex appeal of his daughter. Of how amazing she looked in that tight, white tank top. How I wondered what her lips tasted like, and what they would feel like on every inch of my body.

  “You okay, Doc?” Greg asked as I shifted my stance and fought the urge to adjust myself in my jeans.

  “I’m good,” I said, then nodded at the television. “How are the Braves doing tonight?”

  The subject change seemed to work as he started complaining about subpar pitching and a lazy third baseman. I pretended to listen, and nodded in agreement, but my mind was on the girl across the hall.

  I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d never been this distracted before, especially when I was with a patient. I quickly wrapped up my examination of Greg, who helpfully mentioned that Jessa would be starting her first shift at The Bullpen in a couple of hours.

  Jessa’s door was still firmly closed when I left, much to my disappointment. I’d hoped…I didn’t know what I’d hoped. To see her again before I left? To talk to her?

  Frustration spawned from that disappointment, so I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot off a text as I walked to my car. Nate and Lola were right. I needed to get out and have a little fun.

  I needed a distraction.

  “Why are we coming here? You don’t even drink.” Ivy peppered me with questions as we approached the entrance to The Bullpen, then dug her heels in on the sidewalk and said, “Oh!”

  “Shut up, Ivy,” I said, not without love.

  “Oh!” she repeated. “Is she here tonight?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “Oh, don’t you lie to me Rafe Walton. I know all your tells. She is here, you know it, and you brought me here so you could stalk her without it being too weird.”

  “I most certainly am not stalking her, Ivy. I…like their onion rings.” God, I hope they serve onion rings here.

  I’d never actually been to The Bullpen before. As Ivy so helpfully stated, I don’t drink. And I rarely go out.

  “Yeah. The onion rings,” she said, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm as I opened the door for her.

  “Just be good and don’t embarrass me, okay?” I asked.

  “I make no promises. Ooh, is that her?”

  I slapped her arm down as she lifted it to point at the bartender. “No. Now, stop it, or you officially lose your best friend status.”

  “As if,” she shot back as we slid into opposite sides of a booth. “You’d be lost without me.”

  Whatever I was about to say evaporated as the door behind the bar swung open, and Jessa Maddox walked through it. She was wearing that white tank top I loved so much. I wondered if she still had those shorts on with it, but the bar blocked my view.

  Her long, wavy brown hair swung behind her as she greeted customers and pulled out glass tumblers, lining them up on the bar. She smiled at someone, and my breath hitched. She was in her element, and I’d never seen her look so beautiful.

  “Okay, that’s obviously her,” Ivy said, snapping her fingers in front of my eyes.

  “What? Sorry,” I said, my Jessa-trance broken.

  “Good Lord, man. You’ve got it bad. Why don’t you just ask her out?”

  “I told you. Her stay here is temporary, and I don’t have the time.”

  “Bullshit.” The word was half-disguised by a fake sneeze in true Ivy fashion.

  “Real mature,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll spell it out for you, bestie. I. Call. Bullshit.”

  She enunciated each word in a loud, clear voice that had me cringing as a waitress approached us. Ivy ordered a beer, then cut in as the waitress turned her attention to me.

  “He’ll have a glass of water…and the onion rings.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Ivy, and she laughed. The waitress nodded as she wrote the order down and walked back toward the bar
. So, they did have onion rings. Hopefully, they were decent. Because now I had to eat them on principal alone.

  “She is gorgeous,” Ivy mused, her eyes following Jessa’s movements.

  I wanted to tell her to stop staring, but what was the point? If Jessa noticed us sitting here, it was going to be awkward, regardless of whether or not we were looking back at her.

  I knew she was working tonight, and she knew I knew it. There would be no way for me to play it off as a coincidence…unless I could somehow talk Ivy into pretending like it was her idea.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling Ivy’s attention away from the bar, “if she comes over, I need you to say you insisted on coming here.”

  “What? Oh, my God, Rafe. What are we? Twelve?”

  “Please, Ivy. I—oh shit, she’s looking. Don’t look. Don’t look!”

  “You’re such a goner,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on me as she tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

  “Like what?” I asked, my eyes surreptitiously darting between her and the bar.

  “Whatever this is,” she said, pointing a finger at me and twirling it in a circle. “Excited. Nervous. Almost…giddy, like a schoolgirl with her first crush.”

  “Shut up, Ivy,” I warned, narrowing my eyes at her. “She’s coming over. Be cool.”

  Ivy barked out a laugh. “You be cool, you big dork.”

  “Hi.”

  I looked up to see Jessa standing beside our table, her weight shifting from foot to foot as she waited for us to acknowledge her. I nodded a greeting as my gaze travelled over her. She wasn’t wearing the shorts from before. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans with shredded knees that left nothing to the imagination.

  “Welcome to The Bullpen,” she said after clearing her throat. Then she held out a hand to Ivy. “I’m Jessa Maddox.”

  “Ivy Anderson,” Ivy replied, taking Jessa’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “And this is Rafe Walton.”

  “She knows who I am, Ivy,” I said, flinching at the growl in my voice. What was wrong with me?