Page 170 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Sexy AF Doc: No restraining order needed. Just come have a drink with me, Harlow.

Have a drink with Scott Shepard?

This is probably a bad idea, Harlow, I thought to myself.

But that lasted all of two seconds before my fingers typed out another response.

Me: Are you buying?

He took a few steps forward until we were nearly standing side by side, and his eyes only briefly left mine as he typed out a quick response.

Sexy AF Doc: Yes.

Me: Fine. But I’m choosing.

Sexy AF Doc: Perfect.

I read his message and glanced up to meet his rich gaze—right there. He looks even better up close. Seriously, if his eyes were candy, they’d be that delicious, specially made chocolate you could only get from exotic locations like Paris or Brussels.

“Sexy as fuck Doc?” he questioned with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “Tame your ego, cocky. I never save contacts in my phone as their actual names,” I explained on a lie. He was literally the only person I’d ever nicknamed in my phone.

“Yeah,” he added, and his smirk got bigger. “But you didn’t nickname me Ugly Doc, now did you?”

“I’m about to change it to Creepy Doc.”

“You think I’m sexy,” he declared. “Harlow Paige thinks I’m sexy as fuck.”

“How do women stand you?”

He winked. “Most women find me charming.”

“I guess I’m in the minority, then.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire, Harlow…

He chuckled. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you’re full of yourself.”

“Nah,” he refuted. “I’m just aware of the effect I have on women.”

“Are you going to buy me a drink, or are we just going to stand around and talk about how amazing you think you are?”

Scott’s chocolate eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Goddamn, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m just me.” I shrugged. I honestly didn’t know any other way to be. I knew I could come across as opinionated—or bitchy—to some people, but it was just my nature to say how I felt and not beat around the bush with niceties. Hell, I often envied the people who could sugarcoat things to prevent hurting someone’s feelings.

“I think I like you, Harlow,” he said with a smirk.

Obviously, no matter how badly I wished I could deny it, Scott Shepard was starting to grow on me too. I liked his cocky smiles and witty banter. And don’t even get me started on his muscular body or goddamn eyes. Jesus Christ, I could spend hours swimming through those chocolate orbs.

But instead of letting him know the real effect he had on me, I quickly redirected the subject. “Well, if you want to stay in my good graces, you should recall that you offered to buy me a drink…”

He grinned. “You’re in luck. Remembering things is yet another talent of mine.”

I didn’t know how I’d gotten here, holding the door open to a bar I almost never told anyone about for fear that its secret special something would get out—and instantly turn popular—while Harlow scooted inside ahead of me. It was like my body was acting on its own, without permission from my brain.