Chapter 4
four
. . .
Dermot
Fucking hell, Maggie is gorgeous.
And she smells so damn good.
But above all, she feels so damn good in my arms.
Even with the commotion of her mom answering questions, Tenille asking if Maggie is okay, and Kip barking like a dog on a mission to save someone from drowning in a well, I can’t stop looking at her.
Don’t get me wrong; I knew this woman was pretty.
Anyone could see that, with her sweet smile and pretty bluish-green eyes, but having her in my arms, feeling her curves and the heat of her skin… Yeah, I wasn’t prepared in the least.
Start living again. Put yourself out there.
I hear my sister’s words in my head, but I promptly ignore them, carrying Maggie into the first exam room while Kip jumps like she’s a Frisbee and he needs to catch her. Crazy-ass dog.
Before I lay her down, I give him a look. “Sit,” I command, and I feel Maggie go tense in my arms. I look at her and grimace. “Sorry, he’s a wild man.”
Her lips curve. “No, totally fine. Just wasn’t expecting you to be so…”
I raise a brow. “So…?”
“Authoritative,” she says, very slowly and seductively.
Or am I making that up because I know what lives in this woman’s head?
I have read everything she has written. She has a talent for going from sweet to totally off-the-charts deranged in a matter of pages.
She takes pride in the fact that she uses the word cock as a sentence enhancer, and all I really want to know is if what she writes is what she likes.
Because I volunteer as tribute to explore and be at the mercy of whatever this woman wants.
My face is on fire as I swallow thickly and set her down. “I can be.”
“Good to know,” she mutters, but I hear it and I promptly ignore that little comment.
Honestly, this could all be head-injury induced.
Once she’s healed, she might not look my way at all.
Lord knows she hasn’t made any move on me, just a wave here and a smile there.
Not that I’ve given her an opening. I run the other way every time I see her.
Because I haven’t been living.
Because finding out what I want to know about her will only feed my obsession. What if she’s freaked out by the fact that I’ve read her books? What if she loves it but doesn’t fall for me like I know I will for her?
There is a reason I read romance—I grew up without love from my parents, both doctors and both too busy for me.
So busy, my mom left when I was seven, and then my dad met Tessa’s mom.
She sure as hell didn’t like me, and I wasn’t getting any attention from my dad.
I have a bad habit of falling hard and not expressing that because I don’t know how.
It’s why I moved to where my sister is, so I can have a relationship with her.
To show her I’ve grown. But maybe I haven’t, since I won’t put myself out there.
Since I chose work over my sister.
I chose the inside of a book over the outside world.
Why am I the way I am? I have spent years working on myself, but here I am, questioning everything because a concussed hot chick is flirting with me.
Mentally kicking myself in the ass, I make sure she’s comfortable and then turn to wash my hands. Tenille comes in to set up the sutures station, and Mrs. Welch tells her when Maggie’s last tetanus shot was, not that I’m listening. I’m too far into my own head.
Tenille taps my back to tell me she’s done.
Before she came to the clinic, she was an ER nurse up in Lake Placid.
We only have nurses in the clinic in the mornings since our afternoons are usually dead and Tenille is able to assist me with anything I need.
I nod to her as I squeeze my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
When I feel like a confident doctor again, I grab for gloves just as I hear the paper on the table crinkling.
I look back to check on Maggie, and Kip has his whole body covering hers, his nose up under her chin as she pets him slowly.
Her eyes meet mine, and I raise my brows. “Kip.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge me. “I know I told you to sit.”
He whines and cuddles deeper into Maggie as she grins widely at me. “But I need snuggles.”
You cannot be jealous of your dog.
But I am.
I shake my head. “Wow, you’re trouble.”
Did I just say that? That is not professional at all.
“Is he talking to you or me? Probably me,” I hear her tell Kip. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s me.”
Damn it, she’s cute.
I swallow hard and ignore the look Tenille is giving me before nodding down to the station she has set up for me. Needing to distract Tenille, I ask, “Ready for me?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
I smile a thanks, still not looking into her eyes, before I push the silver cart to my patient, who has my dog lying across her like a blanket. I give him a look and let out a sigh. “This is not sanitary.”
She grins. “Nope, but that’s small-town living for ya.”
She isn’t wrong, and while I want to fix that since I want her to be safe, I can’t bring myself to tell my dog to move. Instead, I reach out, brushing her hair from the two-inch gash at her temple. Even with gloves on, I can feel the heat from her skin, and I beg to touch more of her.
“Is this going to hurt?”
I shake my head. “It’ll be a pinch for the numbing, and then you won’t feel a thing.”
“I’m right here, love,” I hear her mom say, but Maggie’s eyes are on me and I’m ensnared in them. They remind me so much of Promise Pond in June and July. So blue, but also green and sparkly. She may have been the one who got knocked in the head, but I feel like I have a concussion.
Once induced by Maggie Welch.
I swallow hard as I hold up the syringe. “Take a deep breath for me and then tell me the name of your favorite book in Promise Pond Books.”
Her eyes widen in delight, but they’re sharp, watching as I move to inject her.
“My favorite book is the very first book I wrote—” She winces, and I feel like absolute shit for it.
My heart stops, but I continue as I fill the area with numbing solution.
“A hockey memoir that is about the Nashville Assassins’ back-to-back championship seasons. ”
I quickly remove the needle and look back at her in surprise. “I thought you only wrote romance.”
Her lips tip up. “Do you know my work, Dr. Aldridge?”
My cheeks heat, and I smile sheepishly, much to her delight. She grins, her eyes bright and excited as she waits for me to answer. Since I refuse to show my cards, I reach for the thread and needle. “Tell me more about this memoir.”
Maggie only needs four stitches, but I take my time and make sure each stitch is placed perfectly.
Mostly because I’m a good doctor.
But more so because I don’t ever want her to stop talking.
Even while I’m stitching her head, she is so animated. She’s a natural storyteller, and she makes me feel like I was there when the Assassins won back-to-back Cups. Mind you, I’ve never been to a hockey game, but shit, I have to go now.
With her.
Wow.
Okay.
I shake that thought free because surely her behavior is all injury-induced.
When I finish, I tell her so, and she beams up at me. Maggie cuddles Kip closer, and I’m hit with her scent. She smells of lavender, the fresh kind with notes of vanilla and some sort of spice.
Fucking addictive is what she is.
“That was easy peasy.”
“You did so well,” I say as I set down my instruments. “Best patient ever.”
Her lips curve in almost a smirk at my praise, and of course, my horny mind wonders what it’d be like to tell her how good she takes my cock between those plush lips of hers and down that slender neck. I’d hold her right below her chin, just to feel myself pumping into that naughty little mouth.
And now I’m blushing like a teenager caught watching porn.
What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?
“You’re a great doctor, Dr. Aldridge.”
Yeah, Aldridge, you’re a fucking doctor. Act like it.
But apparently, I’m ignoring my inner self.
“Dermot,” I correct as I look over at her from where I’m taking off my gloves. “You can call me Dermot.”
That smirk of hers is dangerous. Not only does it take up her whole face, but her cheeks shine pink and her eyes are playful. When she smiles… Fuck, I only want to make her smile.
For me.
She’s just so beautiful.
“Dermot.”
The way she says my name should absolutely be illegal.
She enunciates each syllable and holds my gaze while she does it.
Her voice is low, not a whisper, but still, it feels as if she’s saying it just for me.
It doesn’t matter that my dog is up under her chin or that her mom and Tenille are in the room.
No. Her lips moving, the sounds leaving her mouth as her tongue hits the back of her teeth…
all it does is make me wonder what she’d sound like screaming my name, crying it, whispering it, and moaning it.
Yup. I’m fucked.