Wyatt couldn’t help but think of his old horse, Roxeanne, who had had something similar. The shoulder issue went undiagnosed despite the number of vets his dad had brought in trying to figure it out. Wyatt had a theory about what was behind it, but his dad dismissed it. She had had a stillborn baby earlier that year, and her mood had seemed more despondent ever since. Then, on one of the rides with a tourist group, she nearly slipped off a cliffside due to improper handling of the tourist riding her, causing her to sprain her ankle. It didn’t help that his dad’s grueling work schedule for all his horses had left her with little time to recover.
Wyatt had hated seeing her suffer, so after all the other horses were tended to and bedded down for the night, he stayed up late in the barn, working on her shoulder, massaging the tight muscles, stretching her leg, and grooming her.
She had been a good horse, and Wyatt missed her.
Thinking about her now and how she had died always made his stomach tighten.
He refused to let his mind wander, instead focusing on his booted heels striking the pavement as he walked. The one thing about Roxeanne and his father’s horses that he appreciated was that they led him to discover something about himself: he really liked being needed.
It was different in the emergency department, where he was constantly needed for his skills. With the horses, he was needed because he was wanted.
It was a quiet need. A soft one that didn’t demand or take anything from him.
If anything, it gave him purpose and meaning.
He wondered if Dr. Donnelly had anyone outside of the hospital who took care of him the way he did with everyone else.
Wyatt sighed, chastising himself for the thought, knowing that it wasn’t appropriate.
But still, he liked that Dr. Donnelly told him the truth. He had worked with him for six months, studying him, watching him work with such practiced ease amidst the madness of the emergency department, and Wyatt prided himself on someday being like him.
He couldn’t believe he thought it was just hero worship.
More like daddy worship, he thought with a derisive snort.
Blushing, Wyatt raked his fingers through his sandy brown hair, pulling the long waves on top and out of his face. Now he knew the truth. He wanted to fuck his senior attending, and there was no way in hell he would be able to see Dr. Donnelly as just his captain anymore, but also as a man with sexual needs. And if Jin’s theory was true, Dr. Donnelly had hungry, voracious, sensual needs, and that thought alone made Wyatt’s pulse skip.
Fuck.
I need to get laid. That’ll get Dr. Donnelly out of my head, at least for a little while.
Jin wasn’t wrong that Wyatt was a bit of a player in college. Once he was free from his dad’s strict regime, he was finally liberated to do whatever he wanted. And that meant sex. Lots of it. It was the one arena in his life where he was surprisingly confident, outside of working with horses.
Maybe that’s what he needed, he thought, a confidence boost, anything but to think about a certain doctor for the weekend. The problem was, he just left the club and really didn’t want to go back.
He heard the soft croon of a blues band outside a very posh bar and lounge, and he paused, the rain slicking his face, his eyes flickering down the dark street heading back to his apartment. The warm lights of the bar lounge beckoned him inside.
Moving on instinct, Wyatt pulled his wallet out and handed his ID to the bouncer at the door. They always asked for it. He blamed it on his boyish face, even though he was 26.
“Forty-dollar entry,” the bouncer informed him.
“Forty?” Wyatt asked incredulously.
He had student loans coming out of his ears. There was no way he could shell out money at the door and then another twenty or more at the bar. He hated being this broke. It would be at least another six more months before he was actually making money as a doctor.
“Sorry, I’m—” He glanced through the large windows of the lounge, seeing the sparkling candlelight and band. The bar had only a few people, and his eyes narrowed half an inch and then widened. He recognized the lone man sitting at the end of the bar, and his heart slammed into the bones of his chest.
He quickly reached for his credit card and handed it to the bouncer.
“Have a good night,” the bouncer said, removing the black velvet rope and allowing him entry.
The warmth from inside the bar greeted him, and Wyatt stared, suspended in shock.
Dr. John-haunt-my-sex-dreams-Donnelly was here.
He had never seen Dr. Donnelly outside of work. Hell, he didn’t see any of his fellow doctors or nurses once their shift was over.
Dr. Donnelly, with all his confidence, all his knowledge and wisdom, was the epitome of a great—no, fantastic doctor, and possibly the best in the city. So, the idea that he was alone, sitting at this posh bar on a Friday night, felt wrong.
