Page 40 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

My fishing gear. Fuck. I left it all on the pier.

I head back outside, and the door slams behind me. Both guys are standing now, watching me with matching expressions of disappointment mixed with concern.

“I’ll grab your stuff,” Jameson offers, already moving toward my rod propped against the railing.

“Thanks, man.” I run a hand over my face as my muscles coil tighter in my body. “I’m sorry. This is bullshit.”

“Not your fault.” Emmett stands and claps me on the shoulder with a firm grip. “Duty calls, right? That’s what you signed up for.”

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.” I watch as Jameson carefully reels in my line, checking the hook before securing everything properly. He’s always been as meticulous as me.

“You coming back after?” Emmett asks, his hand still on my shoulder.

I want to say yes so badly. But I glance at my watch, noting it’s already late afternoon. By the time I get to the hospital, examine her, finish paperwork, handle whatever’s waiting for me, it’ll be evening, at best. And if it’s serious or requires another surgery…

“Probably not,” I admit. “Depends on what I’m walking into.”

Jameson hands me my rod, his expression sympathetic. “We’ll still be here tomorrow if things clear up.”

I take the gear, my grip tight on the rod. “I’ll text you guys either way.”

I load everything into my car. When I turn back, both guys are standing at the edge of the pier, waving goodbye.

The drive back through the narrow road lined with trees and the afternoon sun beaming through my open window calms me, but as soon as I hit the gas station, my fingers grip the steering wheel.

I try not to think about her. About Miss Hannah Morgan with her wide blue eyes and the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s nervous. How her perfume lingers in my examination room long after she’s left, sweet and absolutely fucking intoxicating.

I try not to think about how my heart rate sped up when Mr. Peltz said her name on the phone.

This is professional. She’s a patient. She fell, she needs medical attention, and I’m her doctor. That’s it. That’s all this is.

Traffic starts to a crawl as I hit the outskirts of town. Construction is happening, which means it’s down to one lane. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I watch the minutes tick by on my dashboard clock. I told Mr. Peltz a few hours. I’m cutting it close.

Finally, I pass the construction, and I arrive at the hospital. I take the first spot I see in the staff parking lot, leaving my bag in the car to deal with later. I just grab my keys and my wallet, slamming the door behind me as I storm inside.

I slip in through the staff entrance. The hallway passes the busy ED as I head straight to the nurse’s station.

Dr. Patel is there. He looks up as I approach.

“Dr. Sterling. Didn’t expect to see you today.” His eyes scan me, taking in my casual clothes. This is definitely not my usual work attire.

“Neither did I,” I mutter. “Where’s Miss Morgan?”

His expression shifts, becoming more guarded. He glances around, then lowers his voice. “VIP room. Mr. Peltz is with her.”

“How is she?” I whisper.

“Stable. X-rays came back clean; no fractures. The IV has been running for about thirty minutes. She was pretty dehydrated.” Patel types something on his computer, pulling up what I assume is Hannah’s chart. “Vitals are good now. Blood pressure is still a little low, but better than when she came in.”

“Is she nauseas?”

“We gave her Zofran with the IV. Seems to have helped.” Patel looks up at me. “She asked if you were here.”

My stomach does this stupid somersault that I fucking hate. “I’ve looked after her before,” I say, like that explains everything. Like it’s not also because whatever this fucked-up connection between us is.

“Right.” Patel doesn’t sound convinced, but he’s professional enough not to push. “Good luck.”

I nod and turn away, my heart rate picking up with each step toward the VIP room. The hallway seems longer than usual.