by Webster, K
The sun is dipping close to the horizon by the time I reach Lauren’s house. Her dad has money, though I still don’t know what he does for a living. I’m not particularly looking forward to meeting the guy, because frankly I’d like to throttle him for ignoring his daughter’s health needs. I park in the driveway and walk to the front door. After ten minutes of knocking and not being answered, worry niggles at me. But then I hear laughter. Sweet and melodic. Backyard.
I’m totally a creep, but I don’t care as I stalk around the side of the house and through the gate. I find Lauren on the phone as she bends over, situating something on the porch floor.
“Love you too.” Another laugh. “Bye, Dad.”
She hangs up and then positions her phone as though she’s taking a picture of what’s at her feet. I take a moment to assess her health—because clearly that’s the reason I run my greedy eyes up her bare, tanned legs. She’s barefoot and wearing jean shorts with frayed ends. They’re short enough that the pockets stick out beneath the denim. Her black Rolling Stones shirt is fitted, nicely hugging her breasts. It’s her hair, though, that I have such an intense craving to touch. Long, golden, blond. It hangs halfway down her back in messy waves.
She’s beautiful.
I kissed her a couple of weeks ago like she was mine.
And then…
She left.
Hurt burns inside my gut, but I ignore it. My dumbass hasn’t dated in so long I can’t even remember how to be normal. I should be after women my age, not one who just graduated with my daughter. I’m twenty-seven years her senior, which is kind of fucked up.
Maybe the kiss was unwanted.
What young woman would want her old doctor trying to make out with her?
Then that means I misread our chemistry and her expressions and our touches. Goddammit.
“You going to keep standing there looking like a psycho muttering to yourself or are you going to watch the sunset with me?”
The sassiness in her voice jerks my attention to her. She has one hand on her hip with it cocked out to the side. A dark blond brow is arched high in challenge and she’s smirking. It makes me want to suck that half smile, half sneer right off her juicy lips.
No.
I need to erase those thoughts.
She’s eight-fucking-teen.
I clear my throat and shrug. “I guess.”
Her brown eyes gleam with victory as she turns and walks over to the porch swing. My gaze follows her ass in her tight denim shorts. She looks healthy and hot as hell. I follow her, unbuttoning my dress shirt at my wrists and rolling up my sleeves. It’s warm and watching her makes it that much hotter.
We sit on the swing together. She turns her body to face mine, boldly stretching her legs across my lap. Fuck, she confuses the hell out of me. Like the greedy bastard I am, I slide my palm up her lower leg from her ankle to her knee and then back again. Goose bumps rise on her flesh at my touch.
“Why are you here, Dr. Dan? To take my rectal temperature?”
I grit my teeth and shoot her a warning glare. “Stop.”
“Why would I want to stop when going is so much more fun?” She laughs, but I don’t laugh back. “Aww,” she croons. “Come on. Don’t be like that. I missed you.”
This gets my attention.
I study her features closely. Despite her smile and sunny disposition, worry and fatigue claim her. Her brown eyes are intense and her brows slightly pinched. The dark circles under her eyes lead me to believe she’s not getting much rest. I run my palm back up her thigh, hoping to comfort her. She relaxes and leans her shoulder on the back of the swing before her gaze drifts beyond the porch to the setting sun. I sense that she wants peace, so I follow her stare and watch it go down. My hand slides up and down her leg, never stopping.
“What’s all that?” I ask, pointing to the flowers and books and plate of cookies on the porch floor.
She smiles. “I was working on something for my blog.
“You have a blog?”
“Keep up, stalker.”
Slipping my hand to her foot, I give the bottom a tickle. “Are you always such a smartass?”
She laughs and tries to pull her foot away, but I grip it to keep her from going anywhere.
“When I’m feeling great, I am.”
This should calm my erratic heart, but it doesn’t.
“You’re feeling great right now?”
“I feel better than I have in months.”
A huge “but” lingers in the air.
“But what?” I can’t help but ask. I need to know.
She shrugs. “Why are you here?”
Because I’m fucking obsessed with you.
“To check on you,” I grumble.
“Your bedside manner is commendable,” she teases. “Maybe I should interview you for my blog.”
I tickle her foot again. “And what questions would you ask?”
My words interest her because she meets my stare and toys with my tie, a beautiful smile on her face. “I’d ask you what’s your favorite part of being a doctor.”
“Helping people.”
“Generic. Give me something juicy and good.”
“I like fixing people in their most traumatic times and giving them hope when they may not have had any coming in.”
“Right, so this is going to be harder than I thought. My blog followers like the nitty gritty. Your hero answers aren’t working.” But despite her words, she likes my answer based on her cute smile. “Okay, so what do you eat when you’re slammed busy at the ER?”
“Usually I grab a Mountain Dew and a package of those little vanilla cookies. The sugar keeps me going.”
“And how do you keep those abs of steel with that kind of diet, Dr. Dan?”
“I’m a gym nut. So sue me.”
“Oh, definitely not punishing you for that one.” She grins wickedly at me. “Maybe I should take a picture of those abs. My blog would definitely like that.”
“Next question.” I playfully grumble but wink at her.
“Hmm, so how come you’re not married?”
Maybe Mom will subscribe to this blog. It’s her favorite question.
“I haven’t found the one,” I mutter. “I don’t date much.”
“Why not?”
“Women don’t like men who are married to their careers.”
Her brows furrow. “But you love your job.”
“Women want to be loved more.”
“You can love both.”
“I know I could, but try telling that to the women I’ve dated over the years.”
Her lips purse together. “Those women are bitches.”
I laugh because she has a point.
Lauren
I’d been mad. Infuriated even. Two weeks ago, Daniel dragged me to the ER with good intentions, but then he fell into obsessed doctor mode, hunting for answers. The connection I’d felt to him—especially after our kiss—was severed as I lay in that bed stewing over my ailments. When Dad showed up, I was more than ready to bail. And with a little urging, I was able to get Dad to make that happen.
All Daniel’s texts and calls were easy to ignore. I felt great with the antibiotics and was getting over my kidney infection. I’d even felt good enough to do a long overdue blog post.
And then he showed up.
Our connection hadn’t been cut. If anything, it was stronger. He tugged on the invisible cord as soon as we made eye contact. I willingly fell into his presence. Now, as he strokes my leg as though it’s the most natural thing for him to do, I realize how wrong I was.
We like each other.
It’s clear as day in the way we banter and our proximity.
The urge to kiss him again is strong. I’ve never dated an older man. He’s older than Dad by six years. I know this because I looked Daniel Venable up on social media. We may have not spoken for two weeks, but I’ve spent my lonely, depressed times checking in on him.
Oranges and pinks in the sk
y have faded to dusty purples and now dark blues. The sun is gone and I can hear the crickets chirping as the evening rolls in.
“I missed you,” Daniel mutters, his palm lingering above my knee on my inner thigh. “I thought about you more than what was probably necessary.”
He seems embarrassed by his words.
“Lauren…”
“Hmmm?”
“This thing going on between us…it’s more than a doctor caring about his patient. Tell me it’s not one-sided. I haven’t dated much, so I feel out of the loop on reading people like I should. I’ll feel like a fucking bastard if I’m pursuing you and you don’t want it.” Shame coats his words as he starts to pull his hand away from my thigh.
I grip his wrist and shake my head. “Don’t you dare pull your hand away, Dr. Dan. I quite like your obsessive tendencies when it comes to my well-being.”
He snorts. “You’re a brat.”
“Your brat,” I amend, smiling.
“Mine, huh?”
“If you want me.” My voice is meant to come out sassy, but even I can hear the vulnerability in it. With Dad working all the time and Landon always gone, I’m alone far too much for my liking. With Daniel, I feel alive, on fire, and tethered to the moment.
“Of course I want you,” he murmurs, squeezing my thigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
I sit up and boldly straddle his lap on the swing. Sweat trickles down my spine as I worry he might push me away. His face is stony and serious. He clenches his jaw as I try to calm my erratic heartbeat. Sitting on his thighs with my hands on his shoulders feels natural. When I lick my lips in a nervous way, he finally slides his palms to my ass, gently squeezing. Emboldened by his touch, I lean forward and press my lips to his. The kiss is sweet and simple until we both part our lips. He meets the urgency of my tongue with his own. His hands grip my ass tighter this time, urging me closer. As soon as I rub against his dick through his slacks, I let out a breathy moan.
“Christ,” he hisses, nipping at my bottom lip. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I smile against his mouth, rocking my hips, hoping to bring him pleasure with my own body. His breath is hot and the groans coming from him are so male and erotic it makes my head spin. One of his palms works its way under my shirt, caressing my lower back. I’m sweaty there and it makes me still, embarrassed.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice rough.
“I’m sweating,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “It’s ’cause you’re so hot.”
“You’re supposed to save the dad jokes for your kid, not your girlfriend.”
Pulling away slightly, he lifts a brow at me. “Girlfriend?” In the dark, I can barely make out his features, but he’s amused, not annoyed.
“It sounds a lot better than ‘the girl you stalk.’ Am I right?”
He leans forward and nips at my chin.
“Hey!” I say with a laugh. “You just bit my chin. That’s so weird.”
His lips press kisses to the spot he just bit. “Told you I’ve been out of the game awhile. Certainly never had a ‘hot girlfriend’ before.”
“You’re a dick.”
“And you’re a brat a lot of the time. I’d say we’re evenly matched.”
This time when he bites me, it’s on my neck. He distracts me with his mouth as his palm caresses my lower back. Shivers, despite the warm summer air, ripple through me.
“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks, pulling back.
“Are you asking as my boyfriend or my doctor?”
“Does the answer vary based on which one?”
“It depends on whether or not I’ll send you home.”
“You’re a brat,” he grumbles. “I can say that because apparently I’m your boyfriend now.”
“Good.” I tug on his tie. “I haven’t eaten. Want me to cook something for you?”
His brows lift in surprise. “You know how to cook?”
A wave of sadness washes over me. “My mom loved to cook. We spent a lot of time hanging out in the kitchen together.”
He starts to say something, but then stops himself before patting my ass. “Let’s get in there so you can show me your skills. I’m hungry as hell. It’s been a wild day at the ER.”
Reluctantly, I slide out of his lap and stand. I’d much rather sit in his lap and make out, but the mosquitos are nearly as hungry as I am.
“Any allergies?”
“None.”
“I’m thinking spaghetti. It’s pretty quick and my mom’s recipe is the best you’ve ever had.”
He chuckles as he stands. “Don’t tell my mom that.”
While I boiled noodles and browned hamburger meat, Daniel ran out to his car to grab his bag. He changed out of his fancy doctor clothes into a pair of jeans and black T-shirt. No matter what he wears, he’s hot. Like now, as he hovers, inhaling the sauce smell as it simmers, I can’t help but check out the way his shirt clings to his sculpted body.
“I’m dying,” he rumbles, his hand patting my ass in a familiar way. “And this food smells so damn good.”
“You act like you’ve never had a home-cooked meal before,” I tease.
He shrugs. “I get them when Mom cooks. Jenna’s not much of a cook, but her husband is. They’re both so busy, though, so they eat out a lot.”
“And you?”
“Whatever I can grab on the way to and from work.”
I turn away from the stove and look up at him. Sure, he’s older than me by a lot, but right now he seems so young. Like a college guy completely transfixed that his girlfriend knows how to cook.
“I’ll cook for you anytime you want,” I promise.
This earns me a wide grin. “Man, I should have gotten a hot girlfriend who cooks a long time ago. A guy could get spoiled.”
I stand on my toes to brush a kiss over his lips before turning back to the food. He explores the kitchen, opening cabinets and fetching plates. All of this feels so comfortable and domestic. Truth is, Daniel is just easy to be around. I like his attention and his presence. He’s funny and sexy and sweet.
Dad is going to die.
It’s a buzzkill thinking about how Dad will take the knowledge that I’m so into my doctor. Knowing Dad, he’ll try to be the present parent he’s not and throw a damn tantrum. Landon, the carbon copy of Dad, will take his side and try to make me feel bad for being with Daniel.
I don’t, though.
He’s different than any guy I’ve dated.
Smarter. Cuter. Nicer.
My body catches fire when I look at him. I steal glances at him as I finish up cooking our dinner. Once I serve our plates and we sit down, I can’t help but peek up at him. He wastes no time diving in. A groan rumbles from him and his wide eyes find mine. There’s sauce on the corner of his lips. He swipes it with his thumb and then licks it off before grinning.
“You were right,” he says.
“Aren’t I always?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve ever been right about.”
I playfully scoff. “Asshole. What was I right about?”
“Your spaghetti sauce is better than Mom’s. Don’t tell her I said that, though. I’ll deny it until the day I die.”
I pick up my fork and grin at him. “Thanks. But if you ever make me mad, I’ll totally tattle on you.”
His green eyes gleam with mischief as we eat. The sauce is good, but it reminds me of Mom. This will be the second Mother’s Day without her. That first one I barely crawled out of bed. This one, I can’t imagine it’ll be that much better, especially without Dad and Landon here.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel’s voice is gentle and his brows are scrunched together in concern. God, he’s beautiful.
“Nothing,” I say in a playful tone, but it falls flat.
He sees right through my façade. “Tell me about nothing then, because I sense it’s still something.”
I poke at my noodles with my fork. “
Sunday will be my second Mother’s Day without her.” Hot tears burn at my eyes, and I bite on my bottom lip to keep from crying.
His chair scrapes along the tile as he stands. In the next moment, he’s kneeling beside me, taking my hand. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
A tear streaks down my cheek and he reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb. My throat hurts from stifling a sob. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me.
“I think I’m done,” I mutter, pushing my plate forward.
He rises to his feet and helps me to mine. When I’m pulled into his strong embrace, I relax against him. “Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll clean up in here and come tell you good night before I leave.”
I nod, but it’s not what I want.
I don’t want him to leave at all.
While Daniel cleans up the kitchen, I take a quick shower. I’m embarrassed that I got upset and ruined what’s essentially our first date. I can’t help it, though. I miss my mom so much. After I brush out my wet hair, I’m feeling slightly dizzy from the hot shower. I wrap my towel around my body and then head into my room on a hunt for clothes. I’m stopped short to find Daniel sitting on the edge of my bed, his green eyes sharp and probing as he rakes his gaze down my body. A shiver ripples through me.
“Cold?”
“Nope.” I smirk at him. “Hot actually.”
“That’s a given.” He spreads his thighs a little, so I take his unspoken command to come stand between them. “You feeling okay?”
I groan and start to pull away, but his strong hands grip my hips over my towel.
“You can’t expect me to never ask about your well-being, Lauren. Don’t put that on me because I can’t be that person.” His thumbs stroke me as he tilts his head up. “I obviously really care about you. Give me that.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I run my fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want this relationship to be based on you worrying over me all the time. I want us to have fun and feel each other.”
“I want that too,” he murmurs, sliding his palms to my ass. “But I can’t change who I am. I won’t nag you about your health, but I sure as hell won’t shy away from it.”
“Fine,” I clip out.
