The Doctor’s Simple Life (Love Heals All Wounds #3)

1. Reece

CHAPTER 1

REECE

“ O ut!”

“No way, dude!” Joe shouts.

“Why don’t we let the umpire decide?” I grin.

Joe glares at me from the other side of the court. These guys don’t want to admit it, but I’m actually really good at tennis. It’s not bragging if it’s true. It’s not arrogant to know your own worth.

I suppose one of the key traits a doctor has to have is arrogance. After all, you need a degree of complete faith in yourself if you’re cutting into other people, saving their lives, changing them irreversibly.

Joe’s a heart surgeon, so it makes sense that he hates losing. I’m only a plastic surgeon, which the other surgeons look down on. But my success rate is high, and the regret rate is low. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I need to feel job satisfaction.

Nathan nods from the umpire’s box after reviewing the footage. “It’s out,” he concludes. “Reece takes the semifinal.”

I jump in the air, punching my fist to the sky. Joe stares at me, not bothering to mask his disdain.

“You realize this isn’t for anything,” he sniffs.

“It’s for my own personal satisfaction,” I shoot back, grinning. Winning and beating Joe is very satisfying indeed.

We were interns together, so we’ve known each other forever. He hated me back then too, so I guess nothing much has changed. We’re always looking for ways to outdo each other, and this time, for a change, I’ve outdone him.

“Well, your winning streak is over now,” says Mikey, slapping his palm against the strings of his racket. “Or is your confidence enough to take the prize?”

“I thought we weren’t playing for anything,” I say, clenching my fingers around the handle of my racket.

I’m not going to let it show, but I am kind of nervous to face off against Mikey. Not only is he a really good player, but he’s also my boss. I’ve been friends with him for years, so it’s not like this is going to affect our relationship. But still, I want to prove I can do something better than him.

“Well, why don’t we make it a little more interesting?” Mikey grins. “I’d say, if you win, I’ll pay you a month of my wages and vice versa, but that’s so boring.” He taps his finger against his head, pretending to think hard, even though he definitely already has an idea in mind. “I’ve got it. You know how I recently bought that hospital?”

“Yes,” we all groan in unison. He hasn’t shut up about it from the moment he became a majority owner of that place. I have no idea why he did it, other than some delusional notion of power, because it’s in the absolute middle of nowhere with some redneck doctors and, no doubt, the most tragic-looking people you’ve ever seen as patients.

“Well,” says Mikey, carrying on as if he didn’t hear our disdain. “You all think that I wouldn’t last a second out in Silverbell.”

Wisely, we all keep our mouths shut. It’s true, we don’t, but we’re hardly about to say that to his face.

“Well, I don’t think Reece here would last any longer than me. In fact, I think he wouldn’t even last a day.”

“That’s true,” pipes up Joe. I shoot him a really, really dirty look.

“So here’s the bet. Loser goes to Silverbell for a month. I’ll arrange accommodation, food, position, everything. But there’s no backing out if you lose. You go to Silverbell. You prove that you’re as tough as you say you are.”

“All right,” I say, holding out my hand. “Prove you’re that tough. You’re on.”

Mikey grins at me, takes my hand firmly and shakes.

If I wasn’t already sweating from playing a hard game in the summer sun, I would be now.

I can think of very few things worse than spending a month out in the country.

My entire adult life has been spent in Miami. I’m a city kind of guy and like the convenience of it. I like the bustle, the people, the buildings. I like knowing that no one knows me and no one cares.

We take up positions on the court, and Mikey bounces the ball a few times. He didn’t even ask who was going to serve first. But if he thinks going first is going to give him an advantage, then I’m happy to roll with him. I want him to feel overconfident.

Overconfidence is where people make mistakes.

And no, I’m not overconfident. I know exactly how good I am. I’m going to win this game.

He launches the first ball at me, and I have to move fast to parry it back. But when the first point goes to me, hearing Nathan call out the score is like music to my ears. I just have to carry this momentum through.

I strike an ace shot at him, followed by a long rally. My point. His point. His brow is dripping with sweat. I’m sure mine looks much the same. Mikey slicks back his hair, taking deep breaths as to try not to look too winded, but I can see how rattled he is.

I win the first set. He wins the second and the third.

We’re playing best of five, so the pressure is on for the fourth set.

Taking advantage of us both being tired, I smash the ball as hard as I can and grin as I watch it sail past him, taking us to a tie.

Just a few more points and I can go home with the satisfaction of knowing that tomorrow, Mikey will be getting in his car and driving to the middle of nowhere.

It’s a hard battle, both of us scoring point after point, tying and clawing back, getting advantage after advantage, but not quite having enough to win.

“Getting tired yet, old man?” I grin across the net.

“Not as tired as you’re about to be,” Mikey hits back.

“You know you can give up any time.”

Mikey raises both eyebrows. “You’d better watch out, young man. Good looks won’t get you anywhere in a small town. There’s no one pretty enough for you there anyway.”

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine women with crooked teeth and outdated hairstyles.

The worst part is I probably could get any of those girls. I’m probably the best-looking guy that they would ever have seen.

And that’s how he gets me.

I score another advantage, then lazily rally his next few shots until he surprises me with an attack that I hardly see coming. I hit my next one out, and then, like he’s found the last of his reserves of energy, Mikey slams the ball back at me.

It bounces.

I reach out with my racket. I run for it, harder than I’ve ever run.

But it bounces right under my arm and carries on over the line.

Our friends erupt into applause and whooping. I stare back at the ball.

“And that’s game to Mikey!” Nathan calls out, and the growing horror of what’s just happened rises in me. Just what have I agreed to?

There’s no use in throwing a tantrum now though, even if I want to. I still have my image to maintain.

And that means I can’t afford to be a sore loser.

I walk over to the net and hold out my hand. “Good game,” I say.

Mikey saunters over and takes my hand. “You played well, but not well enough. I’ll get everything set tonight. And first thing Monday morning, I’ll expect to see you in my hospital.”

“Hey.” I shrug. “This is going to be easy.” I stick my nose up in the air nonchalantly as everyone stares at me. “A break in the country will be fine. It’ll be refreshing to get away from all of this. What am I possibly going to struggle with? I’m not going to have any problems at all.”

Nobody seems to believe me, least of all myself. But I don’t want to be accused of being a coward. I’ll face this with dignity.

As we start filtering away from the tennis court, everyone’s abuzz with imagining how I’m going to react tomorrow when I show up in Silverbell. I brush it off, squaring my shoulders and puffing out my chest. But the truth is, I couldn’t want to do this less.

The truth is, I don’t think I can do this at all.