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"My ego and I sleep just fine. And we don't have to share the covers."
"We both know you're full of shit," he says. "But I'm going to let you run with that line while I'm living my best life with my wife, and you're running through lotion like it's going out of style, fucker."
"I don't use lotion. I prefer the lube I found in your drawer. Speaking of which, you do know that foreplay isn't optional for women, right?" I ask, pulling into the parking lot of my building. A gray Fiat parked in front of the building catches my attention. I'm not sure if it's broken down or if someone just left it overnight, but the California tags stick out. We don't see many of those this far outside of Houston. "I believe the proper medical term islick it before you stick it. Do it well enough, and you won't need the lube."
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Cash says, laughing. "Asshole."
I grin, circling around to the back of the building. "I'll bring you a check later."
"Yeah, later," he says and then disconnects.
My chuckle dies when I see that my nurse, Jules, is already here. I've told her a thousand times that she doesn't have to be in until 7:30, but she never listens. She never listens when I tell her to park by the doors if she's going to insist on coming in this early, either. Jules does what she wants to do, my rules be damned. She's a spitfire with a heart as big as this state.
I'm not sure if she adopted me or if I adopted her, but somewhere along the way, she became like a sister to me. Like my older sister, Sariah, she loves trying to tell me what to do. Unlike when Sariah does it, I actually pay Jules for her input. She's a hell of a nurse.
"You're late," she says as soon as I step through the doors.
"No, you're early." I narrow my eyes on her. "Again."
"Nope." She smacks me in the chest with a folder, smirking. "You have a surgery consult this morning, remember?"
"What consult?" I scowl at the folder.
"The one you told Gage you'd take," she reminds me, referring to my best friend from medical school, Gage Bronx.
"Shit," I curse, taking the folder from her. He called me about it a couple of days ago, said the baby has a congenital defect and is too sick to be flown home to California for the surgery. He asked me to take it as a personal favor. The aunt is his wife's best friend. "That's today?"
"Yep." Jules eyes me critically, her dark gaze scrutinizing my appearance. "You might want to do something with your hair. And put on your coat. You look like you just left the gym."
"That's because I just left the gym," I mutter, tucking the folder under my arm. "I thought I had a few minutes to deal with some notes this morning before I started seeing patients."
"No such luck. You need to call your twin after your consult, and then call Sheriff Armstrong." Her nose wrinkles. "He called you four times yesterday about Brady. I don't like him, by the way."
"No one likes Brady." The Prospect has been nothing but a pain in the collective ass of the MC since we agreed to do his brother, the Mayor, a solid. Lesson learned. Next time, we'll be burning that bridge and saving ourselves the headache.
Unlike a lot of MCs, ours isn't involved with anything illegal. We expect all our members to be legitimate. No criminal history, no bullshit. Brady failed to disclose his criminal history, which had Dillon Armstrong knocking on our door with an arrest warrant for him a few months ago. Getting it sorted out has been a pain in the ass. Brady is lucky Cash wanted to keep the mayor on his good side or we would have helped Armstrong cuff him.
"Xavier called?" My twin brother is supposed to be in Japan, working some big deal for our mom's company. At least he was two days ago. He went so our father could whisk her off to Europe for a week. Both he and Sariah work for her company. She'll be handing it over to them soon. She keeps insisting on naming me to the board as well, but I'll be a silent partner. I have no interest in running the company.
"Yep. He wants you to call him later. And I wasn't talking about Brady. I meant Sheriff Armstrong," Jules says, rolling her eyes at me. She tosses her head, causing her ponytail to bounce as if to emphasize her annoyance with the Sheriff. "He's bossy."
"He's the Sheriff."
"He doesn't have to be a tyrant about it."
I arch a brow, amused. "He's the Sheriff. I'm pretty sure that's in the job description."
"Overgrown, bossy, growly…" Jules mumbles a few other descriptors under her breath before the phone rings, snagging her attention. She snaps out of her diatribe, settling her irritated gaze on me. "Go put your doctor clothes on. We have things to do."
"You do remember that I'm the one who pays you, right?" I call after her, and then chuckle when she throws a hand up in the air in response. "Guess she's not a fan of Dillon Armstrong," I mutter to myself.
Huh. I wonder what he said to ruffle her feathers this morning? He's not a bad guy. In fact, he's one of the most levelheaded men I know. If he's in a mood bad enough to rile Jules, I'm guessing whatever Brady did isn't something I want to deal with today.
I shrug it off, deciding someone else can handle Brady for the day, and head toward my office to change and look over the new patient's file before her aunt arrives. Gage didn't have a lot of details when he called. All I really know is that the baby is young and has a congenital heart defect. Her aunt is her legal guardian, which is a recent development.
I toss the file toward my desk, reaching to pull my t-shirt off over my head. Then and only then do I realize there's a woman curled up on the sofa across from my desk, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. She's passed out, her plump lips softly parted.
I freeze with my arms halfway over my head, staring in shock.
