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My mouth forms a perfect retort, but a wave of nausea washes over me and I have to close my eyes and breathe through the sensation. It doesn’t pass until we pull up to a small building. “I’ll help you out.” Emmi doesn’t wait for me to respond. She helps me out of the car and holds my arm as I wobble on shaky legs to the front door.
A chime dings overhead as we walk in. An empty waiting room greets us. Great, no one’s here because this doctor is shit. I sit in the chair as Emmi speaks with the receptionist, who shows me into the back almost immediately. Luckily, the wave of weakness passes long enough for me to make it to the exam table.
“Doctor Armstrong will be right with you.” The woman gives a curt nod, and leaves the room. My brain races, conspiring plans to get the hell out of here before the doctor arrives, or at least act healthy enough for him to leave me the hell alone.
A strong knock at the door brings my eyes upward as it slowly creaks open. “Hello?”
I want out. I want out of here, I don’t trust doctors and I don’t trust—
The thoughts disappear into the ether. The man who appears at the door cannot possibly be a doctor. A rough and tumble lumberjack, maybe? His broad shoulders stretch almost as wide as the doorframe. He wears his light gray button down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing a sleeve of colorful tattoos. While he’s built like a superhero, his face belongs to a movie star. A patch of gray stubble sits in the middle of his dark beard, accentuating his impossibly strong jawline. But it’s his eyes that take my breath away, bright and Caribbean blue.
“I’m Dr. Armstrong.” He smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth. Though his right incisor sits slightly longer than the rest. “Megan Sweet, right?”
“Meg.” Is all I can say before another wave of fatigue washes over me and I feel myself falling forward, straight into the doctor’s strong arms.
2
Davis
I rush over justin time to stop her fall, gently gripping her arms as her head lolls forward. A strong hint of juniper fills the air between us. It must be her shampoo. “I’m fine,” she says through a mass of dark brown curls.
“You don’t seem fine.” Slowly, Meg raises her head and opens her eyes. When I’m met with the darkest sapphire blue eyes I’ve ever seen my entire body tightens. “Have we met?”
“I don’t think so.” She says between ragged breaths as I slowly help her back to her sitting position. Her full lips form a perfect o-shape as she blows out a long breath. “I would’ve remembered, I think.”
“Wait, you own the bakery.”
“Small towns, man.” Her voice remains weak. “Everyone knows everyone.”
“Not entirely true.” I pull my stool up next to her, trying my damndest to ignore the tingling in my stomach as I draw closer to her. She shoots me a look, and it lowers my defenses. “Okay, it’s pretty much true.” The curve of her chest pulls my attention as she takes long, smooth breaths. I shake the thought away. That’s horribly unethical, and I am not that kind of man. “So, what’s going on?”
“I’m dizzy. That’s it. Overworked. Seriously, I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“That’s what Emmi said.” She mutters.
“Who?”
“My baby sister.” She bites into her full bottom lip and my body ignites with electricity.
“Let’s get you looked at.” I shake the thought from my head that this is the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tension between us is palpable. It’s certainly not anything I’ve felt before, especially around a patient. As I conduct her examination: checking her vitals, pressing the cold metal of the stethoscope to the bare skin below the neck of her shirt, I remember the oath I took as a doctor, and I do my job as if she were a ninety-year old man and not a stunning curvy goddess who smells like a slice of pure heaven. This way, it’s easier to keep my emotions out of it and identify the reason she’s here.
Which isn’t to send my body into a lust overload.
I take off the stethoscope and move away from Meg, trying to keep my eyes from falling deep into hers once more. “How much water have you been drinking?”
“I guess the normal amount.” Her face twists.
“You’re severely dehydrated. There’s no getting around it. I’m going to issue an IV.”
“An IV? I hate needles.” Her voice rises into a desperate whine. Then her face drops and her eyebrows pinch together. “How do you know for sure?”
“How do I know—?”
“That I’m dehydrated.”
Now it’s my turn to raise my brow. “Because I’m a doctor.”
