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Mav: I’ve seen the show, which means I’d trust you if I was hit by a manhole cover.
That ridiculousness happened in one episode, and I’d saved the patient’s life.
Theo: I’m a real doctor. I could take a manhole cover out of your torso, but you’d still be dead.
Mav to Theo: Your hair wouldn’t look as good as his while doing it and you have the bedside manner of a constipated whale.
This was when I found out they were brothers.
Mac: How’s it feel to be famous?
Me: Annoying.
Theo: That why you’re in Hunter Valley?
Me: You don’t know from social media?
They looked at each other, then back at me.
Mav: Do we look like guys who use social media?
Me after studying the three of them: No, you definitely do not. Then the answer is vacation. I’m here for vacation.
I wasn’t telling them about Lacey and the fact that I was supposedly in rehab. They didn’t seem to care what I did, but guys didn’t probe. Theo was a trauma surgeon turned small town doctor, Mac was the town fire chief, and Mav was the CEO of a billion-dollar company. I got paid to pretend to be something I wasn’t while my hair looked good. In comparison, I was dull as fuck.
All they wanted was to kick back with a beer and eye their women. I couldn’t blame them because it was impossible not to watch Aspen. Not that she was mine.
Yet.
I wanted her. Fiercely.
From the ice cream outing the day before, I knew Sierra and the neighbor boys were off to camp today. So I held off—barely—until Sierra was gone to see Aspen again. The way she led her class with calm confidence was impressive. It had been hard to keep moving instead of staring at her demonstrating the various poses, giving beginner and advanced options for each. She made them all look effortless, which I knew from years of yoga that they were hard as fuck. The way she bent and flexed reminded me how flexible she’d been in bed and gave me ideas on how I wanted to fuck her next.
I’d never once done yoga with a hard-on and I sure as hell tried not to have that problem, but Aspen made it really fucking difficult. Like sitting on the far side of the table and not being able to talk with her. Instead, I’d been just one of the guys and watched how she smiled genuinely with her friends over too many glasses of wine. How she laughed and cried with them, probably talking about Sierra. The girl had been a fucking spitfire the day before on the hike. Funny, bright, active, and eager to go away to hockey camp.
I abandoned my car on Main Street and drove Aspen’s to her place, parking it where she told me in her driveway.
She climbed out and I followed her to her door. I let her attempt to key in her door code but asked her what it was and did it for her. Then she grabbed the front of my shirt, spun me around with a surprising amount of strength for a woman her size, and pressed me into the wall. The same wall I had her against the day before.
Her mouth was on mine, her hands roaming over me.
My dick was all into this, but nope. Not happening. Taking her wrists, I raised both of them over her head.
She purred. Yeah, actually purred like a fucking tiger and grinned.
“I like it when you take control.”
FUCK!
I groaned and pressed my hard dick into her soft belly, then stepped back. “Tonight, me taking control means we’re getting you some water and aspirin and tucking you in bed.”
“What?”
I released my grip, turned her toward the steps and gave her ass a little slap.
She looked over her shoulder as she made her way up the steps. I eyed her pert ass the entire way.
When we got to the top, she dropped her bag on a small table, and I looked around. The space wasn’t big. In fact, it was downright tiny. There was one main room that served as her living room, kitchen, and dining area. The walls were a soft tan and the furniture eclectic. Framed photos were all over the place and what was probably Sierra’s artwork hung on the walls and attached to the fridge with magnets.
