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I shifted, put the truck into gear. “Oh, you’ll get some of this fun. This one… hell, she’s the one. No question.”

“The one.” He laughed. When I didn’t join him, he went on. “Really? The one? You think because you got your dick out, she’ll be interested in both of us.”

I shook my head. I’d felt the same way until twenty minutes ago. I’d hoped, but never really expected, a woman to want a serious relationship with two guys. A wild night to check off the bucket list, sure, but not forever. Cy Seaborn and Lucas Mills were in a relationship with Hailey Taylor, the ski racer. It wasn’t rumor. They’d confirmed it for me when I towed her car a little while back. I was happy for them and a whole fuck-ton jealous. Not because I wanted Hailey, but because I wanted the kind of connection they shared.

I felt in my gut that the doc was the one, even after the ridiculous way we’d met. I wasn’t going to argue with Hardin. He’d find out for himself soon enough. “You’ll see. Third row, five cars back on the left, white Honda SUV,” I mumbled to myself.

“What?” he asked, looking

out the window.

“That’s where she said her car was.”

“Who the fuck knows exactly where they park?”

I laughed, pointed at her car when we stopped in front of it, exactly where she’d said.

“The lady doc,” I replied. “She’s a by-the-book woman. Precise. Smart, beautiful, organized. Detailed. Gorgeous in a subtle way. And fucking young.”

When the hospital security office called and said one of their docs had a flat tire, a Sam Smyth, I hadn’t expected Sam Smyth. I was all for women doctors, but I’d been set up for failure with this one. My dick sure had liked the surprise just fine. So did the rest of me. I saw past the messy hair, the scrubs. She didn’t have on a lick of makeup, so she had that girl-next-door look. There was no way she was trying to get me hard. She had zero artifice. I doubted she even knew how to flirt. But that uptight personality, and fuck, those glasses. Those were what had turned my dick into a lead pipe in my pants… to start. Then, when she’d said she wanted my pants down, I didn’t question. My dick had screamed OUT! even though I’d had no idea why a little thing like her was ordering my pants down when I was there to fix a flat.

“Completely opposite of you,” Hardin countered.

“No question. She’s meeting me—us—here. She had to track down a wayward patient.”

Before I left, Dr. Smyth… Sam… gave me the exact location of her car—even the license plate number—and said she’d meet me in the lot but had to track down the missing Mr. Marx first. I assumed it wasn’t good for a patient to go missing. I realized I wasn’t too thrilled to have the hot doc getting the old geezer off with a little ass play. Fuck, I knew it was her job and all, but still. I wanted those hands on me.

What conscious guy would argue with a stunner like her? If she wanted my pants down, my pants went down. Period.

I turned off the tow truck’s engine and hopped out to see the damage, if the tire could be plugged and re-inflated. Hardin followed. I squatted down beside the tire to take a closer look.

“What the fuck? That tire’s slashed,” he commented. We owned the shop together, both of us mechanics. While we tackled all kinds of cars and trucks, we also repaired snowmobiles, ATVs, tractors, even snowblowers.

Who’d want to slash the doc’s tire? She wasn’t old enough to have enemies. I went from eager to fucking pissed in two-point-five seconds. Who fucked with a woman like this? It was an asshole thing to do. It might have been over fifteen years since my mom died. I hadn’t been there for her, my own fucking fault, but I’d take care of Sam. Cancer and a slashed tire weren’t remotely close to the same thing.

Most tow drivers would fix her flat and walk away. Never see her again. It was business. One more tire in a long line of tires. That sure as fuck wasn’t happening with us. We’d see her again, and not because some asshole had fucked up her car. We’d see her again because not seeing her wasn’t an option. Hardin would agree as soon as he laid eyes on her.

“Who the fuck would want to do that?”

“I have no fucking idea,” I murmured. “I don’t like this.”

He made a sound of agreement, a cross between a grunt and a growl. A slashed tire was petty. A dick move. Besides being an asshole, the guy didn’t have the balls to be up front about his problem. While I didn’t want a guy getting up in Sam’s grill, this passive-aggressive shit only riled me up.

Hardin agreed. She’d get our protection.

The sound of crunching snow signaled the doc’s approach. I looked up at her and… fuck. Yeah, the sucker punch I’d felt when I saw her inside had been real, not the burger I’d had for lunch haunting me. I wanted this woman with a fierceness I’d never felt before. With the slashed tire on top of it all, I was fierce.

“Holy shit,” Hardin whispered.

Yeah, I’d been right that the doc would do it for him.

There wasn’t much of her we could see between her thick puffy coat, fleece scarf, hat and mittens. Her blonde ponytail stuck out below her thick hat. Strands had come loose and framed her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks were as pink as her full lips, her eyes—hidden behind those fucking glasses—were as blue as the cold sky.

I pegged her at maybe midtwenties, pretty damned young for a doc and pretty damned young for me. Hardin, too. Her coat stopped just above her knees, and she wore blue scrub pants and sneakers. She was a few inches over five feet, and her shape was well hidden. I remembered seeing the swell of breasts beneath her scrubs, but the drab hospital clothing wasn’t flattering and hid too much. I itched to push her up against her car, unzip her coat and roam over every inch of her, but I also wanted to zip the coat up even higher and hustle her into the warmth of the tow truck’s cab.

She was… adorable, which was the dumbest fucking word for me to even think. I wasn’t a seven-year old girl looking at puppy pictures. Yet she’d gotten my pants down and my dick all hard.

She wasn’t like any woman I’d ever been with. Hell, unlike any I’d ever met, and the thought of her riding my dick in only her glasses made my jeans fucking tight. Hardin was the one who liked to read books without pictures, and I knew the whole naughty librarian thing did it for him. But a dirty doctor who screamed prickly naivete? He was a goner.

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