Page 31 of Property of Doc

“Well, I think it’s programmed and hardwired into their DNA,” Issy wryly says. “Because Rafe has always had that personality type, even when we were kids.”

Gwynee walks over and sits down, then thanks Constance who brings her a plate piled high with all the breakfast goodies. “I think you’re right,” she muses. “From what I understood as he fell into bed, he, Rio, and Riptide pretty much drankallof the brothers under the table, except for those who were wise enough to call it a night earlier.”

“Wonder if Doc is gonna offer banana bags to any of them?” I query out loud. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got the stuff here, and iflast night is any indication, then tonight they’re going to be even worse. Issy, you better send the prospects out for more alcohol and beer.”

“Mongrel came in earlier and said he and Monkey were going to head to the store as soon as it opened,” Maria interjects. “He did an inventory on what was left and I told him to double what he had planned to buy.”

“Double is probably accurate,” Issy says. “I hope he grabs some of the wine coolers I like. Beer’s okay from time to time, but I’m feeling those for tonight, at least for me.”

“He had those on the list, Issy,” Maria replies.

“Do we need to get more food?” I ask.

“Pancho and Luis started six briskets this morning before they headed off to do the ranch chores, plus there’s a whole hog in the smoker,” Constance advises. “Right now, the other prospect is keeping an eye on everything while Monkey and Mongrel are at the store.”

“Not to change the subject, but isn’t there a farmer’s market this weekend?” Issy asks.

“There is, Maria and I will work on some cakes once everything with the wake is taken care of,” Constance replies.

“Are you going to get a table this week?” Issy questions, looking at me.

“I mean, I could because I’m not sure if the pop-up camper is finished yet. Under the circumstances, I didn’t wanna ask Doc, you know what I mean?” I reply.

“Then it’s settled. We normally have four tables at our booth. You use one for your items which will draw interest for when you have the camper ready to go,” Constance decrees.

“Are you sure?” I question. “I don’t want to overstep or intrude.”

“Positive, it’ll be a lot of fun,” Maria says.

“It’s a good thing I’ve got stock already made that just has to be dipped then individually wrapped,” I muse. “I’ll pull them out of the freezers before I go to bed tonight.”

By the time the first man makes an appearance, we’ve managed to get the common room cleaned, the supplies that the prospects went to get have arrived and are put away, and we’re trying to figure out exactly when we’re going to have this funeral. It’s definitely unlike any of the funerals I’ve ever attended. There’s a set time with a viewing beforehand. Then a few people speak before a preacher person does the rest of the service, followed by a burial at the local cemetery.

However, according to Issy, everything will happen here, on the ranch, at the small cemetery that’s at the back of the property. Pokey’s casket will be taken out there by two horses drawing a modified wagon that looks like a Harley, then once we’re at his graveside, Preacher, and likely Rio, will oversee the service. Then, we’ll return to the clubhouse where a ‘shit ton of food and alcohol will be consumed’, which makes me wonder if the prospects should’ve bought stock in Tylenol and Advil for all the hangovers that are about to arrive.

“Hey, baby,” Doc says after tracking me down in my dipping room.

I decided to make some chocolate molds in preparation for tomorrow’s dipping, so I have them laid out on parchment paper now that they’ve hardened. My labels are ready to go, as is my self-sealer.

“Hey yourself,” I reply, leaning into his kiss. “I was thinking we should possibly prep some banana bags for tomorrow based on what I heard earlier.”

“Might not be a bad idea to run to the clinic to get more supplies, just in case,” he muses. “We’ll be getting things started in about two hours, so I’ve got time.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

With everything that’s happened these past few days, I feel like we’re two ships passing in the night. I miss him; he’s become my best friend, lover, and confidant, and I’m secure enough in my femininity to admit that out loud.

“I’d like that, been missing you,” he replies.

“Let me clean this up really quick and we can go, because I’ve missed you too,” I tell him.

Because we’re picking up supplies, we take my vehicle which is fine by me. I’ll gladly be a passenger princess, especially since he’s held onto my hand the whole way to the clinic. It amazes me that I have missed his company so much; I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who attached her identity to a man. I don’tthink I’ve necessarily done that, per se, but Iwantto connect with him every day, even if all we do is sleep.

The sex, of course, is off the charts fantastic. It doesn’t matter if we’re in bed, against a wall, or in his office chair, like we are right now. “I feel a little bit naughty right now,” I confess as he thrusts upwards while I grind down on his length.

“You should,” he teases. “Taking advantage of your doctor is quite… shameful.”

“But I’m just a lowly practical nurse, sir,” I drawl out in a horrible southern accent that makes him chuckle. “So, which one of us took advantage?”