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CHAPTERONE
JULES
"Jules, phone!" Mariah Sandoval calls, poking her head around the corner.
"Can you take a message?" I ask, not lifting my gaze from the computer as I type notes on a patient for Dr. Tate Grimes, the pediatric heart surgeon who runs the clinic where I work as a nurse. "I'm in the middle of something."
"It's the sheriff."
"Again?" I groan, dropping my head in defeat. Sheriff Dillon Armstrong is a menace to society. Okay, so that's not true. He's been a pretty decent sheriff since he won the election. Silver Spoon Falls is lucky to have him. But he's quickly becoming a menace tome.
The man is driving me up the wall.
This is the fourth time today he's called, demanding to speak to Tate. I don't know why he refuses to accept from Mariah that Tate isn't available. He justhasto hear it from me. And he's grumpy about it, like I'm just supposed to magically pull Tate out of thin air or something. Sheriff Dillon Armstrong is a tyrant.
Unfortunately for him, I'm not very good at taking orders. The bossier he gets, the more riled I get. At this point, I'm one more high-handed comment from crawling through the phone line to strangle his fine ass with the phone cord.
"Did you tell him that Tate isn't here?" I ask, spinning my chair around to face her.
"Yep," Mariah says, fighting laughter. Her face is nearly as red as her scrubs, her hazel eyes bright with amusement.
"He's a cop," I mutter, throwing my hands up. "Doesn't he have anyone else to harass other than me?"
Mariah gives up trying to fight her amusement and laughs loudly before slapping a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she cries, ducking when I toss a pen at her. We both know she doesn't mean it. This whole situation is giving her life today. "He's only calling because he likes you!"
I snort, refusing to even consider it… even if my stomach does flutter at the thought. The man is seriously gorgeous. But no freaking way. The last thing I need in my life is another overgrown, bossy man trying to tell me what to do all the time. Between my older brothers and Tate, I have enough of them already, thank you very much.
I reach for the phone on my desk, scowling at it even though it's not to blame for my bad mood. The man on the other end of the line is one-hundred percent responsible for that. Couldn't he at least sound like a tyrant instead of a sexy cowboy or something? Hedoessound like a sexy cowboy though.
"This is Jules."
"It's Dillon," Sheriff Armstrong growls.
"I'm aware, Sheriff Armstrong," I say, emphasizing his title.
"Is Tate back yet?"
"Have you been to Houston lately?" I ask instead of answering.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Because I told you an hour ago that he was still in clinic there," I remind him, straightening the mess of Post-Its and scraps of paper on my desk. It's usually covered in them by the end of the day. Tate is one of the best pediatric heart surgeons in the country. We stay busy. "Since Houston is nearly two hours from here, and he's neither a pilot nor a magician…"
Sheriff Armstrong pauses. "Are you teasing me, Jules?"
"Maybe a little bit," I admit.
"Fair enough."
I crack a smile, unable to help myself. Why does he have to sound as ridiculously hot as he looks? It's really not fair. That deep voice is hypnotizing. "What's the big emergency, anyway?"
"Dinner."
"Dinner?" I blink. "You've been driving me crazy all freaking day to makedinner planswith Tate? Are you kidding me?"
"I'm not making fucking dinner plans with Tate. I've been calling him about Brady. I'm making dinner plans with you," he growls. "You're going to dinner with me."
Tate is a member of the Silver Spoon MC, a motorcycle club made up of the rich and powerful. Brady is a Prospect they've been having some trouble with for the last few months. I guess he's up to no good again. But I can't even focus on that because the rest of what Sheriff Armstrong said throws my entire world out of whack.
