Trouble (11 page)

I’ve got doctor (Mia), patient (me), sex scenarios running through my mind on warp speed right now. All of them awesome.

Dr. Callie turns from us and walks over to a metal trolley. He picks up a syringe.

I shudder. I fucking hate needles.

My mom was constantly being stuck with needles while she was going through treatment.

The treatment that didn’t save her.

Dr. Callie walks back toward Dozer, syringe in hand. “Great job on the leg.” He directs his words to Mia, then looks at us both. “I’m going to need you both to wait outside now.”

“Are you going to stick that in Dozer?” I nod at the needle in his hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s just to sedate Dozer. It won’t hurt him.”

Liar. Needles fucking hurt.

I take a step closer. “Look, I just need to know … is he going to be okay?” My voice suddenly sounds small. I’m reminded of how I sounded in the hospital when we found out the treatment hadn’t worked. That mom was going to die.

A lump forms in my throat. And my eyes start to water. A dog. I’m getting emotional over a fucking dog.

I clear my throat.

“He’s going to be fine.” Dr. Callie smiles kindly.

The receptionist holds the door open for us. For the first time, I notice the name badge on her uniform – Penny.

“If you want to wait up front in the reception area, I’ll come and let you know how Dozer is doing as soon as I can,” Penny says.

I follow Mia to the door. Stopping, I turn back to Dr. Callie. “Take good care of him.”

He nods.

Penny closes the door behind us, staying in the room.

I stare at the door. My eyes start to water again.

Stop acting like a pussy, Matthews.

“Shall we sit?” Mia says from behind me.

Pulling in a deep breath, I blink my eyes clear and turn around.

The first thing my lowered eyes make contact with is Mia’s bare stomach.

Flat, soft creamy skin that is just begging to be licked. I lift my eyes, and of course, I have to check her tits out.

If she just raised her hands above her head, I’d totally get a view…

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me?

She ripped her t-shirt to help Dozer, who is currently being treated by a vet because he was hit by a car, and here I am checking her out like a sex-crazed idiot.

“I owe you a t-shirt.” I point to the bare skin I was just staring at.

She glances down. Her cheeks flush red, and she wraps her hands around her mid-section, covering herself. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a cheap Walmart shirt.”

She drives a Mercedes and wears Walmart? This girl makes no sense at all.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

With a brisk nod, I turn and walk past her toward the reception area.

I know she’s behind me, so when I reach the seats I step aside and allow her to sit first before taking the seat beside her.

See, I’m not a total douche. I can be a gentleman.

I lean forward, resting my arms on my thighs. They’re still aching from carrying Dozer. This move puts me real close to Mia. She smells just like she did last night—vanilla.

No one should smell this good. It makes functioning difficult. Or not
functioning
, if you catch my drift.

I can’t remember ever being this hot for a girl before. Just my fucking luck that I can’t touch her.

“Thank you … for what you did for Dozer,” I say. I don’t look at her. If I want to keep my thoughts clean, then it’s a good idea to avoid as much visual contact as possible.

“No problem.”

Her voice is so soft, just as I imagine her skin feels. Soft and warm, and I bet she’s really tight…

“I like dogs,” she adds. “All animals, in fact. They’re a whole lot nicer than people.”

There’s a sudden sadness to her voice, and I can’t help
but
look at her.

Her lips are downturn, and I notice she’s still wearing those god-awful sunglasses.

“You can take the sunglasses off, you know. There’s only us here, and I’ve already seen what you’re hiding behind them.”

Her whole body stiffens.

There’s a long pause where she does absolutely nothing. I’m not actually sure that she’s still breathing. I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. Gone about this the wrong way?

I don’t want to upset her.

Why? I’m not actually sure. It’s not like I’m usually concerned with a woman’s emotional goings on. But with her, something is just … different.

She lifts her hand to her face and slowly slides the sunglasses off.

I watch her slender fingers tremble as she turns the arms of the sunglasses in and sets them on her lap, hands covering them.

Then I notice that she has these sore looking calluses on the knuckle of her right hand. I notice them because they look out of place with the rest of her soft, flawless skin.

Maybe she has eczema or something.

I lift my eyes to her face.

Her eyes are closed. The bruise so very evident.

Anger pulses inside me again, so fucking fierce that I could punch a hole in the wall and still not feel clear.

I clench my hands in my lap. “The asshole that did that to you…?”

She bites her lip and looks away.

The caveman inside me is beating his chest right now, ready to beat the shit out of the asshole that did this to her. No woman should ever go through that. Especially not her.
Definitely
not her.

“I can hurt him, Mia. Just say the word and it’s done.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath. Wide, blue eyes meet mine.

Jesus, she’s breathtaking. Even with the black eye.

Her eyes are as stunning as I knew they would be. They’re the color of the water of a caldera.

After high school, I went traveling with some buddies—it was before my mom got sick, and I had to come back home. We were in Lombok, an island in Indonesia, and we had trekked out to Mount Rinjani. There was a caldera there. The water stays hot permanently, due to the volcanic activity, and is so purely blue. All filtering shades rippling together to make the most amazing shade of blue you will ever see.

Mia’s eyes are the exact shade of blue as that water.

Breaking our stare, she begins examining the sunglasses in hand with her eyes and fingers as if her life depends on it.

I don’t think she’s going to say anything, and I have no clue what else to say.

“No one did this to me. It was just an accident.”

Her words are softly spoken, but I feel like they’ve just punched me in my chest.

I shake my head. “People don’t hide accidents like you’re hiding that black eye. And the very fact you said it was an accident just confirms to me that someone did this to you.”

Her eyes snap up to mine. There’s an unexpected fire in them. I like it. Means there
is
some fight in her.

“So what if someone hurt me. What business is it of yours?”

Wow, that stung. Why did that sting?

I grit my teeth and lean back in my seat. “You’re right. It’s not my business.”

Her anger instantly disappears. So quick, it surprises me.

“God, I’m so sorry. That sounded—I don’t—” She shifts in her seat, her fingers pulling on that plump lower lip. “I don’t mean to come off like a bitch. I really appreciate your offer, but hurting …
him
… it’s not necessary.”

I turn my head and stare her straight in the eyes. “It looks necessary from where I’m sitting.”

Her hand drops back to her lap. “Violence never solves violence.”

This asshole blacks her eye, yet she thinks that way. She’s either a fucking angel, or really stupid. From what I’ve already seen of her, I’m going with angel. I hope she doesn’t prove me wrong on this.

“Maybe not.” I notice her eyes are on my mouth, so I swipe my lower lip with my tongue. “But trust me, it’s the only language that scum, like the bastard who did that to you, understand. And it’d make me feel a whole lot better knowing that me teaching him some manners would mean he’d keep his fuckin’ hands off you.”

Seriously, once I was done with him, he wouldn’t even breathe in her direction again. I want to hurt this asshole badly. About as badly as I want to be situated between her thighs.

Why? I barely know this girl. Is it because I want to fuck her more than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone before.

No, it’s not that. So what the hell is it?

I glance at her, and see that her eyes have filled with tears.

Shit, don’t cry. I don’t do crying chicks.

“Look,” I start to speak quickly to stave off her tears, “I’m just saying that if you want me to hurt him, I will. Call it my way of paying you back for taking care of Dozer. If you don’t, you don’t. No big deal.”

Biting her lip, she nods. A tear falls from her long lashes, splashing onto her jeans.

My chest starts to feel tight.
What the fuck is that?

I look away, giving her privacy as she swipes her fingers under her eyes to dry them.

And also so I can rub this fucking ache out of my chest.

“Mia, I just want you to know that not all men are assholes.”

What. The. Fuck?

Not all men are assholes? Jesus Christ, Matthews. Yes, we are. There are just varying degrees of male assholeness.

I’m an asshole. One who would never raise his hand to a woman, and I fucking abhor men that do. But I have absolutely no problem in hooking up with a chick, then walking away from her the second my cock is out of her.

Case in point – whatsername from yesterday. See, I can’t even remember her name. That’s how big an asshole I am.

Weird thing is … I don’t want Mia to think I’m an asshole. I want her to like me.

It’s the whole damsel in distress thing. Has to be. And the way she took care of Dozer before, so gentle with him. Frigging amazing.

It’s doing fucked up things to me.

I risk a glance and her wide, glistening, bright blue eyes are blinking back at me. Long lashes bat against her cheekbones.

Jesus, she’s beautiful.

She licks her lips and presses them together. My eyes fall to them.

I want to kiss them.

Her.

Everywhere.

Run my tongue over every inch of her silky soft skin.

I bet she tastes like vanilla. Tastes exactly like she smells.

I want to spread her legs and bury my head between her thighs. Lick her until she screams my name. Then push my cock deep inside and fuck her until we both lose our goddamn minds from the pleasure.

I might not have test driven her yet, but I just know that sex with Mia Monroe would be
that
good. I have a sense for these things.

Yes, I know it’s totally inappropriate for me to want this at this exact moment, but people look for comfort in difficult situations, right?

And Dozer would understand. That dog is as horny as I am. He’s just about dry humped every piece of furniture we own. I once caught him going at it with the wooden table in the garden. Poor bastard was so desperate to get off that he risked splinters. I really should get him laid.

Holy shit. Dozer’s a virgin.

Now that’s just not right.

I swear to God right here and now – get Dozer through this and I promise the first thing I’ll do is hook him up with the hottest dog I can find. Not that I know anything about hot dogs … yeah, I caught that, I’m as funny as I am good-looking. But I think a fancy dog like a poodle or something would work for Dozer.

“So, Jordan…” I seriously dig the way she says my name. “Dozer is an unusual name for a dog. Where did that come from? He sleep a lot?” Her lips work on a smile, and my dick pulses in response.

She’s after a subject change, and I can go with that. I let out a laugh and look away before I do something stupid like pull a Dozer and try to dry hump her leg.

“Yeah, he sleeps tons, but that’s not where it came from. Dozer was a stray. Found him at our door one night when he was a puppy. He was starving, so we took him in and fed him. We put out fliers, but no one claimed him, so we kept him. In the first week he stayed with us, he broke a shit load of stuff—ornaments, plates, glasses, even a window.”

I laugh again, remembering how pissed my dad was when Dozer jumped head first at the living room window trying to get at a bird on the porch. Shattered the window.

“Basically, Dozer broke everything he touched, and my dad said he was like a bulldozer taking down everything in his path, and it just kinda stuck. Ended up being shortened to Dozer, because he can be a little dozy at times.” I smile, then I glance in the direction of the hall. “I’ve just always thought of him as invincible, you know.”

“He’s going to be fine, Jordan. It’s just a broken leg—well, not
just
a broken leg, because broken legs are incredibly painful, I just meant—”

Her face has gone red. She’s flustered. Cute.

“I know what you meant.” I smile.

A small smile touches her lips. “Aside from his leg, I really don’t think there is anything else to worry about.” She touches my arm with her fingers. It’s a gentle touch, almost imperceptible. But even still, my blood turns to molten fucking lava at the contact.

She withdraws her hand. A look of surprise on her face.

You’re surprised, sweetheart? Well, you’re not the only one.

With the hot lava flooding straight to the main man, I talk to distract myself from my impending boner. “So you’re a doctor,” I say, just remembering that. How the fuck did I forget that?

Hell, she’s a living, breathing wet dream.

“Training to be,” she says quietly.

“Where?”

She slides me a glance. “Harvard.”

Harvard. She’s beautiful
and
incredibly smart.

There’s isn’t anything that’s less than perfect about her. Except for the douchehole of an ex.

“Ivy League – nice.” I nod, impressed.

She shrugs her shoulders in response and looks to the floor, kicking her sneakers together.

So, she’s from Boston. Interesting. I don’t remember seeing that on the form she filled out last night, but then I was too busy eye-fucking her to notice where she was from.

What’s she doing way out here then? I’d say vacation, but women rarely vacation alone, and they
always
take pre-planned trips. Turning up at Golden Oaks like she did … this was an unplanned trip. And I’m guessing it had something to do with the asshole who marred that perfect face.