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

by Piper James

  “Wait. All of this angst is the product of you seeing Jessa have coffee with some guy? Rafe. Seriously?”

  “What?” I asked, flinching at the censure in her tone.

  “People have coffee. It doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together. You and I are having coffee right now, and I’m barely dressed. Does that mean you want to fuck me?” I flinched in horror, and she laughed. “Exactly. I think you’re reading too much into this.”

  “I’m fairly certain Jessa hasn’t had some secret male best friend that she kept under wraps and didn’t tell me about.” My shoulders slumped and my voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “It was six thirty in the morning, Ivy, which means they probably spent the night together.”

  I tried to stop those words from passing my lips, tried to stop myself from even thinking them, but they tumbled out anyway. I wanted to be wrong, but I didn’t think I was. I could feel the intimacy between them from where I’d stood, staring at them through the glass door.

  “That’s crazy, Rafe,” Ivy scoffed. “An early morning coffee date does not automatically mean they had sex.”

  “I know. You’re right,” I said, but there was no conviction in the words.

  The pure dread in my gut told me I was right. And if I was right, Jessa was lost to me, forever.

  32

  Jessa

  Dad was home, and I couldn’t have been happier. Well, that was a lie. I could’ve been happier, but I refused to allow myself to dwell on Rafe any longer. He was done with whatever it was we had going, which meant I had to be done, too. That was the deal.

  I helped Dad settle into bed, got him his pills and some water, and then turned on the baseball game for him. He thanked me, but his eyes remained on me, not the television.

  “Are you okay, sugar pie? You look tired.”

  “Gee, thanks, Dad,” I laughed, but his expression remained serious. “I am tired, but only because I had to get up early this morning for a meeting.”

  “What kind of meeting?” he asked.

  “Well,” I said, smiling as I sat down on the edge of his bed, “there’s a new law firm opening up in town. Two brothers—twins, actually—are bringing their practice to Milestone, and they want to rent out The Bullpen for their grand opening celebration early next year.”

  “Close down for a private event?” he asked, his tone skeptical. “We’ve never done that before.”

  “I know,” I said, “and I told Mr. Parker that I’d have to talk to you first, of course. We could close on a weeknight, when business is slower. If things go well, word will spread and we might get more party reservations.”

  “I don’t know, Jessa. The Bullpen is just a simple bar, not some fancy-schmancy hotel ballroom.”

  “And that’s what they’re looking for, Dad. They may be rich lawyers, but Max said they’re country boys at heart.”

  “It’s Max, is it?” he asked, raising a brow.

  I rolled my eyes. “Dad.”

  “What? You seem to be all cozy with the first names is all I’m saying.”

  “He offered us fifteen thousand dollars for four hours,” I said.

  Dad sucked in a sharp breath, which resulted in a bout of harsh coughing. I grabbed his glass of water and offered it to him. He took a long drink before pinning me with a narrow-eyed gaze.

  “Did you say fifteen thousand dollars?”

  I chuckled, remembering my own reaction when Max had thrown out the number. It hadn’t been much different than Dad’s.

  “Yep. We discussed terms, but again, I told him I’d have to confer with you. For that payment, he’d like us to include a bartender and an open bar—well drinks, beer, and wine. His guests will have the option of purchasing the higher-shelf liquor, of course. He’ll also be hiring a caterer, so we won’t need to supply food or wait staff.”

  “Wow,” Dad muttered, his eyes glazing over as if he were lost in thought.

  I stayed silent, giving him time to think it over. I’d seen the books at the bar. We barely cleared thirty grand a month, so fifteen for one night was insane. I couldn’t believe how lucky we were.

  Or how lucky I was, having Felicia recommend The Bullpen to Max and Marshall Parker when they expressed an interest in renting a bar for their party. She’d met them when they came to her firm to introduce themselves to her boss, Milestone’s only defense attorney, Bobby Sumner.

  She’d called me and urged me to take the meeting, going on and on about how insanely hot the twins were. And after meeting Max, I had to agree. With blond hair that was longer on the top, endless blue eyes, and that scruffy facial hair, Max Parker was extremely good looking. I couldn’t even imagine how a girl could handle being in the same room with identical twins who looked like that.

  I could certainly see the appeal of Max’s polished beauty. It just didn’t appeal to me. My tastes veered closer to the dark-haired, brown-eyed type. I grunted and tried, once again, to push Rafe from my mind.

  “I think we could make it work,” Dad said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “I thought so, too, Dad. Should I call him and tell him we’re in?”

  He smiled, but the expression quickly fell. “If I let you run with this, will you still be here to see it through to the end?”

  My head jerked back, and I frowned. The party would be at least six months from now, and I had no plan to stay in Milestone that long. The sooner I could get out of here, the sooner I could start to forget about Rafe and move on with my life.

  “I don’t think so, Dad,” I mumbled.

  “It’s okay, Jessa,” he said. “Just give me his number, and I’ll call him after I rest.”

  That was a dismissal if I ever heard one, so I pulled out my phone and texted Max Parker’s number to Dad’s phone. With a soft goodbye, I left the room.

  The house felt stifling, so I texted Karly to see what she and Felicia were up to. They’d be off work soon, and Janice assured me she didn’t need me at the bar tonight. With Dad resting comfortably at home after his setback, I felt a need to get out and blow off some steam.

  Karly texted back that they were free, and we set up a time to meet up at Milestone’s only dance club, The Strawberry Patch. We were going to drink and shake our asses off, and I was going to convince myself and everyone around me that my life wasn’t spiraling out of control.

  Because it wasn’t. I was fine.

  “Let’s take a break.”

  Karly was holding her red curls off her neck, fanning herself as she made the suggestion. We’d been on the dance floor for at least six songs. Sweat dripped down my back, and my throat felt parched, so I nodded in agreement. Karly grabbed Felicia’s hand and pulled her with us as we zigzagged through the throng of people to our table.

  I slid into the U-shaped booth first as my two friends slid in on either side of me. There was a round of shots waiting for us. Shots we didn’t order.

  A cute guy at a nearby table caught my eye, raising his beer in salute before mouthing, “Enjoy.” I nodded my thanks, lifted the shot to my lips, and chugged it down.

  It was top-shelf tequila, and went down almost as smooth as the stuff Dad stocks at the house. I lifted the empty glass toward the guy, giving him a silent thanks. Karly and Felicia pushed their own shot glasses aside, ignoring them just as a couple of guys joined our benefactor at his table.

  “Ooh, they’re hot,” Karly said. “Maybe we should invite them to join us.”

  “I don’t know—” I started, but Karly was already waving them over.

  I grabbed her shot and downed it.

  “Just have some fun,” Felicia murmured in my ear before she slid out of the booth to let guy number one in to sit beside me.

  “Hi,” he said, and a small shiver ran down my spine at the deep timbre of his voice.

  It reminded me of— Nope. Not going to think of him tonight.

  “Hi,” I replied. “You have good taste in tequila.”

  My hand snaked out to snag Felicia’s shot. Giving him a s
mile, I tilted my head back and poured it down my throat. The burn in my throat was minimal, but the warmth in my belly spread to the rest of my body.

  “I aim to please,” he said, and there was a growly edge to his words that screamed double-entendre.

  I cleared my throat and focused on the other guys, who were using the same slick tactics with Felicia and Karly—slouched, devil-may-care postures, smoldering glances, and thinly veiled sexual innuendos. The girls seemed to be eating it up, but to me, something about these guys felt…off.

  I remained mostly silent while the conversations ebbed and flowed around me. Hunter—the one sitting beside me who bought the shots—tried repeatedly to rope me into flirty conversation, but I was too busy trying to figure out why I wasn’t interested in playing along with him.

  He ordered another round, but the girls were too busy flirting to notice. I ended up drinking them all. Again.

  Feeling more relaxed, I studied Hunter’s profile as he talked to one of his buddies. He was hot, with blondish hair that curled around his ears and a wide, brilliant smile. His white t-shirt left little to the imagination, showcasing his broad, muscled chest and thick arms. He was friendly and obviously interested, so what was wrong with me?

  Returning his stare, I attempted to smile as his hand landed on my thigh. His fingertips smoothed over my jeans, dancing around my knee before cutting a path in the opposite direction. His hand halted at a respectable location, not venturing too far upward or curving toward the inner thigh, so I allowed it to remain where it was.

  I tried to dredge up some sort of interest. A spark of need. Anything.

  But all I felt was indifference. Not seeming to notice, Hunter leaned in closer, pressing his lips against the side of my throat. Revulsion shivered through me, but he must’ve misread it because his mouth traveled up to my ear.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice husky with need. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

  Images flashed through my mind in fast succession. Me, stretched out on Rafe’s bed, his face between my legs. His body moving over mine. My “checkup” on his kitchen table. Dinner with his family. His smile. His voice. His hand in mine.

  “I can’t do this,” I said, a little more harshly than I’d intended. “Please, let me out.”

  “Come on, baby. You know you want me,” Hunter said, his grip tightening on my thigh.

  “Stop,” I said, pushing the hand away.

  “What a fucking cock tease,” he growled.

  “What the fuck did you just say to her?” Felicia shouted, her hip already pushing the guy next to her out of the booth.

  The guy grumbled a complaint as he slid out, but Felicia just ignored him as she, too, exited the booth so Hunter was no longer trapped between us.

  “I called her what she is—a cock tease. Fucking whore,” he said as he slid out.

  Several things happened at once, and my brain had trouble processing all of it. A red stiletto sailed through the air to smack into Hunter’s forehead. I looked over to see Karly winding up to let loose the other one, but before she could, Hunter howled and began shaking uncontrollably.

  My eyes darted to Felicia, who wore a ferocious smile as she held something against his midsection. Strange popping noises came from the device until she pulled it away, and Hunter slumped into the booth.

  “Is that…a taser?” I asked, my voice incredulous.

  “Sixty million volts,” she said, blowing a stream of air across the top of it like a gunfighter before tucking it back into her bag.

  “You bitch,” one of the guys said, but quickly backed off as Karly lifted the spike-heeled shoe she hadn’t thrown yet.

  The other guy grabbed Hunter’s arm and pulled him from the booth. They worked together to help him stumble away as I watched with horror and disgust. I looked back at Felicia.

  “Can you get into trouble for using that in here?”

  “The law is on our side, babe. He sexually and verbally assaulted you.”

  The look in her eye warned me not to argue the validity of the sexual assault claim. I nodded in agreement, and she smiled. Who was I to argue, anyway? She was the lawyer…well, almost.

  “Let’s get out of here. This place is lame,” Karly said from under the table. “Got it,” she added, emerging with her missing red stiletto.

  The image of Hunter’s head flinging back from the force of that shoe hitting him flashed through my mind, and I tried not to laugh. But I kept seeing it over and over, like a gag reel playing on repeat. Felicia and Karly were watching me expectantly, waiting for my opinion on whether we should leave the club.

  My eyes started to sting as I again heard the thwack of leather against forehead, and the laughter burst out of me, accompanied by a very loud snort. The obnoxious sound made me laugh even harder, which resulted in another snort. Felicia and Karly were looking at me like I’d lost my damn mind, and I laughed even harder at their expressions.

  The room started to spin, the loud bass of the music pounding through me as the flashing lights seared my eyeballs with their brightness. Nausea bubbled in my stomach, and my laughter died off abruptly as I bent over to cradle it. The cool wood of the table felt good against my hot face as I laid my cheek against it, sighing with a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

  “Jessa, are you okay?” Felicia asked, and I felt the booth seat dip as she slid back in next to me.

  I tried and failed to form words—my mouth just wouldn’t cooperate—so I just moaned a simple, “Mm hm.”

  “Did she have too much to drink?” Karly asked, and I wondered why her voice sounded so panicked.

  “I don’t think so. She had a couple of beers while we were dancing, then…” Her voice trailed off for a second as her hand rubbed soft circles on my back. “Wait. She drank all the shots that douche canoe sent over.”

  “She did? Are you sure?” Karly sounded anxious, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “It was…good…tequila,” I managed to mumble.

  “Fuck. This is my fault. I wasn’t paying attention, and by the time I looked, she’d already downed them,” Felicia said. “And did he order more?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention either,” Karly said, her voice even more stressed.

  I wanted to tell her I was okay. That I was just a lightweight, I’d had too much to drink, and I’d be alright in the morning. I just needed to sleep it off. Or maybe dance it off. With a sudden burst of energy, I sat up and pushed against Felicia.

  “Let’s go dance some more,” I said, bouncing a little in my seat.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jessa,” Karly said.

  I tried to focus on her face, but my vision was still blurred, and I couldn’t make out her expression.

  “It’s okay,” I slurred. “We can sweat out all the alcohol, then we can go to the diner for pancakes.”

  At least, that’s what I meant to say. I wasn’t exactly sure if that’s what came out, especially when Felicia abruptly stood and started pulling on my arm.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” she said, tugging me out of the booth.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as they each wrapped an arm around my waist to help me walk.

  “We’re going to the hospital,” Felicia answered.

  “What? No,” I argued, attempting to dig in my heels. “Let’s stay here. I want to dance. I don’t want to see Rafe.”

  “Rafe isn’t there tonight,” Karly said quickly. “We just want to get you checked out. There’s no telling what that asshole put in your drink.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, smacking my lips together. “There was tequila in my drink.”

  “Jesus, Jessa. He could’ve drugged you. Do you understand?”

  “Drugged?”

  I didn’t understand. I would never take drugs, so why were they talking like I had? And why were they taking me to the hospital if Rafe wasn’t there?

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go. And I hope he is there, so I can giv
e him a piece of my fucking mind.”

  33

  Rafe

  I sipped my coffee as I read over the chart of my last patient. The boy had come in with a broken arm, and, per hospital protocol, I’d had to separate him from his parents and ask questions about how he’d broken it. Everything seemed to check out—he’d fallen from a tree house—and he didn’t appear to be nervous or lying. We’d set the bone and got him casted in no time.

  “Hey, Dr. Walton,” a nurse said, poking his head through my office door. “We have a possible date rape drugging victim in room two.”

  “Thanks, Tom,” I said, my blood starting to boil as I dropped my tablet and coffee cup onto my desk.

  Fucking douchebag assholes. I stopped to wash my hands as I mumbled obscenities and tried to get my anger under control, then knocked softly on the door to exam room two before pushing it open.

  When my eyes landed on the patient, they nearly bugged out of my head. I forgot to breathe for a moment, and the pounding of my heart drowned out all other sound.

  “Jessa?”

  The word came out as barely a breath. Was I dreaming? Had I fallen asleep in my office, and this was some freakishly horrendous nightmare?

  “Oh, what’s he doing here?” she asked, her words as disgusted as they were slurred.

  “Sorry, Rafe,” the redhead—Karly, I think—offered. “I know this is awkward, but we didn’t know what else to do.”

  “We thought she might have been given something, but we’re not sure,” the other one, Felicia, said.

  I barely acknowledged them as I shuffled toward the bed, where a very intoxicated Jessa was laid back with an extremely mutinous expression. When I got too close, she leaned away from me, so I took a small step back to make her more comfortable.

  “How much has she had to drink?” I asked no one in particular, praying that this was a simple case of being drunk, and not what the nurse initially thought.

  “We’re not sure,” Felicia said. “Two beers when we got to the club.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “That was three and a half hours ago. Then some guy bought us a round of shots, and she drank all three. They were already on our table when we came back from the dance floor, so…”