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“I read the paperwork,” he said. “And to be honest, you’re our last hope, which is why I would never have invited you up to my room if I’d know you would be working with Josh.”

She looked out the window, guilt washing over her as the outskirts of the city disappeared, replaced by farmland. This was the Oregon she remembered. The land of tall trees, timber mills, small towns, and emotions she’d hoped to leave buried in her past.

“Last night spun out of control,” she said. “But it won’t happen again.”

“No,” he said firmly. “It won’t.”

“I also need you to trust that I can help your brother. I swore when I left that I’d never set foot in Independence Falls again, but I’m here now for one reason—­to treat Josh.”

“You don’t have any ties here? You didn’t keep in touch with your foster parents?”

“The ­people who sent me packing the minute their obligation to keep me expired? No, we don’t send Christmas cards. Especially the families from when I was in high school. I didn’t exactly make life easy for them. Most made it pretty clear in return that they didn’t want to see me again after the social worker came to pick me up and take me to the next house.”

She focused on the cows grazing in the field beside the road. “I guess family just isn’t my thing.”

KAT’S WORDS ECHOED in his head as he put on his blinker and took the exit marked Independence Falls. Not her thing? Family defined his life. When his mother walked out on them not long after his dad returned from serving overseas, Brody had stepped up. He’d helped his father with everything from laundry to figuring out how to tame his little sister’s curls so Katie didn’t go school looking like a wild animal.

When his dad died seven years ago, he’d done everything he could to make sure his siblings understood that family came first in his life. He’d go to his grave before he let them down.

But there was a world of difference between his childhood in Independence Falls and Kat’s experience. He remembered her picture running in the paper when she left for college. But his memories of her didn’t end there. In high school, he’d run into her in the art room when he went back to pick up an assignment. And he’d stay to help fix her shoes.

He remembered the exact moment he realized that she’d labeled them her “lucky shoes” because they were her only shoes. Brody and his siblings hadn’t had much while growing up, but their father worked hard to make sure they could afford clothes and sneakers.

He’d gone home from school that day and asked his dad if his mother had left behind a pair of sneakers. And he could still remember his dad’s words.

If she asked you not to tell anyone and you show up with a pair of beat-­up old shoes that probably won’t fit—­your mom had boats for feet—­how do you think that will make her feel? Keep her confidence, Brody. And let the girl keep her pride.

A few days later he saw her walking in the halls and waved. Glancing down, he spotted new shoes on her feet. Somehow, his father had found a way to get her a new pair of sneakers without hurting her pride.

“Brody, I know you’re close with your brothers,” Kat said, drawing him back to the present and the fact that the beautiful doctor riding shotgun didn’t need his pity now, years later. “But I think it would be best if we didn’t share the details of last night with your siblings.”

“We’re close, but not the close,” Brody said. “What happened last night stays between us. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Kat said. “I appreciate your discretion.”

He nodded, his teeth grinding together. Hell would freeze over before he told his siblings he’d bound Josh’s doctor with her own clothes.

“But Brody?”

He stole a quick glance at her. “Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice a low rumble. “I liked it. It can’t happen again. But I don’t want you to feel shy about sharing your fantasies.”

Her words went straight to his groin. Despite being somewhat influenced by his brain, his lower half didn’t seem to care that he couldn’t touch her again. Not while she was treating Josh.

Add in the fact that she’d been passed from family to family as a kid and it would be flat out wrong to offer anything—­like another night of kinky sex—­that suggested he was using her. Dr. Katherine Arnold might as well have been walking around with a sign over her head that read: Brody Summers, Don’t Even Think About It.

But logic couldn’t shake the image of Kat against the door, her hands bound behind her back, screaming his name.

He shouldn’t feel a damn thing for her after the way she’d left out the bit about being the most complicated woman he could possibly find for a night of no-­holds-­barred sex. Still, the parts of him that responded to that mental flashback felt a whole helluva lot. Maybe it was the fact that she liked being tied up with her own clothes while he tasted her. Or maybe it was the memories of Kat as a girl and her damn shoes.

He could picture her sitting at that art table in clothes that didn’t fit quite right. And as a teenager, he’d taken a strong interest in the girls who wore tight clothes. Even before he could touch, he had to admit he liked to look at a woman’s curves.

Breasts weren’t the only feature that drew him in. Not anymore. He had a soft spot for ­people who needed him. The accomplished doctor might not want him. But the girl he remembered? The one who’d traveled through life alone for too long? She might.

Brody pressed on the brake before making a right onto the road into town. He was pretty damn certain that was his dick trying to reason with his common sense. If she’d needed a friend—­or more—­back when she called this place home, she didn’t now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her studying the buildings as they hit the outskirts of Main Street. “Bring back memories?”

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