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Gay natural caregiver meets arrogant first-time gay.
My job isn’t easy but taking care of sick people in the comfort of their own homes is so worthwhile. I like to think I’m professional and know I’m good at what I do, regardless of the circumstances, the patient, or even their families. Maybe it’s because I’ve known loss in my own life, or maybe I was just made for the job. Either way, I love what I do.
However, everything I thought I knew about myself is going to get sorely tested with this new assignment. The patient is a battle axe, and she’s the type to take that as a compliment. If it were just her, there wouldn’t be a problem. I’ve dealt with spirited, hardheaded, pain-in-the-ass patients before.
No, the problem is her son, Shane.
I don’t know what it is about him. I know he’s exactly my type, but he also has a way of getting under my skin, and worse, helikes getting under my skin. The funny thing is he’s supposed to be straight, but the more I keep “running into” him, the more I’m beginning to question that. Which is dangerous because I find myself wanting him to get under my skin. All my personal rules and boundaries are getting tested, and all for some rich, spoiled brat with a gorgeous smile and something vulnerable in his bright eyes.
Basically, I’m in trouble.
