Chapter 3
Wyatt
The chilly fall air nipped at his ears, and the fresh smell of rain coating the pavement filled his nostrils as Wyatt gratefully left the stuffy club behind him.
Luckily, Jin met a couple and was immersed in heavy flirting and petting, giving Wyatt the go-ahead to finally leave.
He wasn’t exactly in the party mood, especially after that conversation. He was too restless to sit in an Uber, so he decided to walk back to their apartment. The light misting of rain dusted his worn UCLA sweater, but he didn’t mind it. He lifted his head to greet it and exhaled heavily.
Aside from the revelation that he may want more from Dr. Donnelly than for his coveted praise, Wyatt thought about their brief interactions today and his vulnerable admission about his shoulder. A frozen shoulder could be painful and last a long time if not treated properly.
Wyatt couldn’t help but think of his old horse, Roxeanne, who had had something similar.
The shoulder issue went undiagnosed despite the number of vets his dad had brought in trying to figure it out.
Wyatt had a theory about what was behind it, but his dad dismissed it.
She had had a stillborn baby earlier that year, and her mood had seemed more despondent ever since.
Then, on one of the rides with a tourist group, she nearly slipped off a cliffside due to improper handling of the tourist riding her, causing her to sprain her ankle.
It didn’t help that his dad’s grueling work schedule for all his horses had left her with little time to recover.
Wyatt had hated seeing her suffer, so after all the other horses were tended to and bedded down for the night, he stayed up late in the barn, working on her shoulder, massaging the tight muscles, stretching her leg, and grooming her.
She had been a good horse, and Wyatt missed her.
Thinking about her now and how she had died always made his stomach tighten.
He refused to let his mind wander, instead focusing on his booted heels striking the pavement as he walked. The one thing about Roxeanne and his father’s horses that he appreciated was that they led him to discover something about himself: he really liked being needed.
It was different in the emergency department, where he was constantly needed for his skills. With the horses, he was needed because he was wanted.
It was a quiet need. A soft one that didn’t demand or take anything from him.
If anything, it gave him purpose and meaning.
He wondered if Dr. Donnelly had anyone outside of the hospital who took care of him the way he did with everyone else.
Wyatt sighed, chastising himself for the thought, knowing that it wasn’t appropriate.
But still, he liked that Dr. Donnelly told him the truth. He had worked with him for six months, studying him, watching him work with such practiced ease amidst the madness of the emergency department, and Wyatt prided himself on someday being like him.
He couldn’t believe he thought it was just hero worship.
More like daddy worship, he thought with a derisive snort.
Blushing, Wyatt raked his fingers through his sandy brown hair, pulling the long waves on top and out of his face.
Now he knew the truth. He wanted to fuck his senior attending, and there was no way in hell he would be able to see Dr. Donnelly as just his captain anymore, but also as a man with sexual needs.
And if Jin’s theory was true, Dr. Donnelly had hungry, voracious, sensual needs, and that thought alone made Wyatt’s pulse skip.
Fuck.
I need to get laid. That’ll get Dr. Donnelly out of my head, at least for a little while.
Jin wasn’t wrong that Wyatt was a bit of a player in college. Once he was free from his dad’s strict regime, he was finally liberated to do whatever he wanted. And that meant sex. Lots of it. It was the one arena in his life where he was surprisingly confident, outside of working with horses.
Maybe that’s what he needed, he thought, a confidence boost, anything but to think about a certain doctor for the weekend. The problem was, he just left the club and really didn’t want to go back.
He heard the soft croon of a blues band outside a very posh bar and lounge, and he paused, the rain slicking his face, his eyes flickering down the dark street heading back to his apartment. The warm lights of the bar lounge beckoned him inside.
Moving on instinct, Wyatt pulled his wallet out and handed his ID to the bouncer at the door. They always asked for it. He blamed it on his boyish face, even though he was 26.
“Forty-dollar entry,” the bouncer informed him.
“Forty?” Wyatt asked incredulously.
He had student loans coming out of his ears. There was no way he could shell out money at the door and then another twenty or more at the bar. He hated being this broke. It would be at least another six more months before he was actually making money as a doctor.
“Sorry, I’m—” He glanced through the large windows of the lounge, seeing the sparkling candlelight and band.
The bar had only a few people, and his eyes narrowed half an inch and then widened.
He recognized the lone man sitting at the end of the bar, and his heart slammed into the bones of his chest.
He quickly reached for his credit card and handed it to the bouncer.
“Have a good night,” the bouncer said, removing the black velvet rope and allowing him entry.
The warmth from inside the bar greeted him, and Wyatt stared, suspended in shock.
Dr. John-haunt-my-sex-dreams-Donnelly was here.
He had never seen Dr. Donnelly outside of work. Hell, he didn’t see any of his fellow doctors or nurses once their shift was over.
Dr. Donnelly, with all his confidence, all his knowledge and wisdom, was the epitome of a great—no, fantastic doctor, and possibly the best in the city. So, the idea that he was alone, sitting at this posh bar on a Friday night, felt wrong.
Wyatt took this rare, unexpected opportunity to study Dr. Donnelly as he tugged off his rain-dampened sweater, racing a hand through the damp waves, swallowing down the nervous butterflies creeping up his throat.
Dr. Donnelly’s hands were clasped around a glass of whiskey as he leaned against the bar top, an achingly sad expression on his face.
Wyatt took an instinctive step forward, recognizing the emotion instantly: loneliness.
And that surprised him, because he was attractive with the hint of gray peppering his dark brown hair and beard, and the sexiest crinkles around his piercing blue eyes.
He was especially handsome when he smiled.
The older doctor was tall, at least 6’3, but his height never felt imposing.
His broad shoulders were typically donned in the dark gray scrubs and the occasional sweater these days.
Tonight, he wore a white button-up that molded to his thick, brutish body, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, with a silver watch glinting on his wrist. His strong forearms were sprinkled with rich, dark hair as he sipped his drink.
Wyatt’s gaze fixed on his hands. They were aged with experience and life.
Hands that brushed behind Wyatt’s neck on occasion, clasping roughly and then affectionately.
Hands that he could easily imagine grasping him between the legs, taking control, demanding him with touch alone…
Collaring him while he sucked his cock.
Jesus, I can’t be thinking this.
He swallowed, wondering if the minty drink from the club was finally catching up with him.
This is stupid.
I should leave.
The nerves of this moment suddenly slammed into him like a bullet through the chest.
What the hell am I doing? Am I really going to—what? Join my lonely-looking attending at a bar and have a drink?
Inhaling an unsteady breath, Wyatt, deciding to man up, strode forward and maneuvered past a few candlelit tables, all preoccupied with lovey-dovey couples. The nervous energy increased the closer he got to the bar—to him.
I’ve literally inserted tubes down windpipes, removed bullets, been vomited on more times than I can count, and mended gushing wounds.
I can say ‘hi’ to Dr. Donnelly outside of work.
I’m not doing anything wrong…
So why did it feel like he was?
Wyatt’s foot caught the edge of the sleeve of his sweater that he was carrying, and he stumbled into the barstool next to Dr. Donnelly, face flushed and nervously grasping the edge of the bar to steady himself.
Shit. What am I doing?!
Dr. Donnelly glanced up immediately, and his dark blue eyes widened in surprise.
“Lawson?” he asked, the same surprise reflected in his gaze.
“Yes,” was all Wyatt could think to say, followed quickly by a stammering. “Sorry… sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. It’s just—well—I…”
Mercifully, the bartender interrupted his humiliation and asked him if he wanted a drink.
Yes, definitely, yes.
“Uh, yeah,” he managed out in a rush. “Whiskey.”
The bartender succinctly slipped away, preparing the drink.
He returned his gaze to Dr. Donnelly and saw him smiling gently, and somewhat incredulously. “Whiskey?”
Wyatt sucked in a breath, trying hard to calm the fuck down. “I don’t really drink, but when I do it’s usually just whiskey or beer,” he said with a slight shrug, trying to look casual and not flustered and heart-poundingly nervous.
“Same,” Dr. Donnelly said and gestured to the barstool Wyatt was practically straddling. “Well, if you ordered a drink, you might as well stay awhile.” He paused and glanced behind him, as though looking for a date or friends. “Unless there’s someone here with you?”
“No, and thanks. I would love to join you.” He tried not to flinch at how eager he sounded. “Sorry again, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. I really just wanted to come over and say hi.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Dr. Donnelly replied coolly and seemed to mean it, a genuineness in his gaze that made the storming butterflies in Wyatt’s stomach ease a little. “I’m surprised to see you here, I will admit.”
“Really? How come?”