by Amanda Faye
Of course, he has a motorcycle. An image comes to me of him climbing off a bike, hair wild around him, leather jacket caressing his muscles. His thighs are tight from having the cycle in between them. A shudder runs through me as I picture how strong his legs must be to support the weight of the bike with them. Can you be any more pathetic, Emma?
"You're going to walk? In the middle of the winter? In Denver?"
I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye.
"Sure. Why not? It snows almost as much in New York as it does in Denver, so I'm used to it. My apartment is only a few miles from the hospital. But I got a rental anyway after Noah said that the public transportation isn't all the reliable after a certain time of day."
The intimacy of the last few minutes combined with the stillness the snow brings made it feel like it was later than it is, and it's barely nine p.m.
"The code is 1025. For the gate, I mean."
I make a mental note of it just in case I ever need to use it again and roll my window down as I come up to the keypad.
The tension level in the car has reached nuclear. The blast of cold air on my face is much needed. He's going to want me to come inside with him, and my traitorous body is throwing every calculated reason why I shouldn't go into the trash.
But this isn't who I am, not anymore. My days of random hookups went out the window the second that pregnancy test came back positive nine years ago. And despite how much my body aches to be manhandled by Logan again, I can't go there. Not when the danger so outweighs the benefits. I need to talk to Charlotte.
He doesn't speak again until I start easing through the gates.
Logan wouldn't be a random hookup, though, not really. I mean, I do know him already. Kind of. It's not like I'm never going to see him again. He's going to be here for the foreseeable future. We work together now.
All the more reason not to do this, the rational side of my brain says.
"My apartment is on the ground floor around the back. Just follow the curve. It's number 1712, I think."
I turn in his direction one more time, and even in profile, he's gorgeous. His hair is scraggly around his head, and I don't think I realized just how sexy a man's neck could be until just this minute. My hands are getting sweaty on the steering wheel with the need to touch him. That makes my decision. I can't let my body overrule my mind. Not here and now, when there is so much at stake.
"Just park next to the black jeep right there. That's my other space, I think."
Instead of parking next to it, I pull up behind it, then hit the electric locks on the car.
"Okay, here you are. Are you sure you know how to get to work tomorrow?"
His chuckle makes my lady bits tingle with need, and I clench my legs together as much as I can sitting in the driver's seat of my car.
"I'm sure. Are you sure I can't talk you into a nightcap?"
He reaches up and gives my ponytail a slow tug, making my back arch and my breasts press up into the air. My eyes roll into my head before I can bring myself back under control. My panties are already soaked.
It takes me two tries before I can answer him without my voice cracking.
"Nope, I'm good. But thanks. See you around Logan."
"Oh, yeah. You can bet on it."
I start to drive away before the door shuts completely.
Chapter 5
Emma
"CHARLOTTE!"
I slam the door behind me, then rush up the stairs like I've got a patient coding in front of me.
My roommate and best friend, Charlotte Smathers, meets me in the hallway with a panicked expression on her face. Her hair is pulled back with a headband, and her winter pajamas are hanging low on her hips. She's the exact opposite of me looks-wise. While we're both on the taller side, she's got short dark hair to my long blonde and is stick skinny compared to my more rounded figure. No matter what she does, she's always so thin — the bitch.
Charlotte and I have been friends since the first day of our internship. Her husband left her five years ago, and she and her children have lived with Brandon and me since then.
Due to an incident at the hospital during our last year of residency, she doesn't practice surgery anymore. Instead, she works in research at the local university.
"I have to talk to you. It's a Twinkie and Vodka level emergency." That's the highest level DEFCON we have between us, and her eyes widen at my exclamation.
"Okaaay. But still, that doesn't permit you to wake the kids. If no one's dying, stop screaming. I hid the twinkies on the top shelf of my closet. Get out of your boots, I'll grab the Vodka, and I'll meet you in my room in five."
Realizing that I am indeed still in my boots and jacket, I follow her down the stairs. When she turns left to go into the kitchen, I go right to drop my crap into the hall closet. Retracing my steps back up the stairs, I shuck today's clothes and put on my favorite comfort attire. Taking the time to scrub my face and braid my hair, I head back into Charlotte's room wearing my yoga pants and a too-large hospital shirt.
Climbing into bed beside her, I ignore the cup she's holding out to me and reach across her to her table where the Vodka bottle is sitting feeling neglected. Vodka should never feel abandoned.
Ignoring her questioning gaze, I take a swig straight from the bottle before quickly chasing it down with the heavily spiked sprite she hands me.
Char's kind enough to let me repeat this process several times before the interrogation begins.
"Soooo?"
"So, I slept with someone."
Swig, sip. Repeat.
"Oh! Who, what, when, how? Give me the details."
"In Mexico."
She gives her head a little shake and a what the fuck look covers her features.
"Today? Did you go to Mexico today? I'm so confused."
Swig, sip. Repeat.
The muscles in my neck are releasing in a pleasing ache, and I twist my neck this way and that until the telltale pop pop pop releases the rest of the built-up tension.
"No, not today! How would I get to and from Mexico today, Char? No, this summer. When I went to that conference, I slept with someone."
"Yeah, that's not helping me any. I'm still confused. Why would sleeping with someone," she counts it out on her fingers, "seven months ago cause you to raise the DEFCON level tonight?"
Chug, Chug. With a look of alarm, Char tries to pry the now considerably lighter vodka bottle out of my hands. Seeing as how I probably drank a fourth of the thing in the last ten minutes, it doesn't take much for her to win the battle.
"I didn't just have sex with someone. That would be like saying the Grand Canyon is just a little hole in the ground. I had earth cracking, soul-shattering, toe-curling, mind-bending sex. It was like an out of body experience."
"Daymn." Charlotte takes a swig out of the vodka bottle herself at my proclamation.
"No, not damn. It was way more than damn. During my out of body experience, God came to me Char and told me he'd blessed this man with all the sex powers he possesses. I got it on with a sex god Char." A lot.
"Why am I just now hearing about this? And why aren't I hearing a step by step dictation of how amazing this guy was?"
I try to make another grab for the bottle, but she smacks my hand and puts the lid back on it. Taking pity on me, she tips the rest of her cup into mine. Saluting her with my refilled drink, I take another swig before I answer.
"I didn't tell you, because it was supposed to be a 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' sort of thing, in Mexico. It was pretty out of character for me, at least the current version of me." Sleeping with random strangers is something I stopped a long time ago. Or so I thought until he slipped that paper into my pocket, that is.
"So, what's changed? Also, can I hear more about how hot the sex was? Because it's been a looong time since I've talked to God if you know what I mean."
"Noah, he hired a replacement to cover his service while he and Lizzy our out of town. It's him."
"Him?"
"The guy I slept with in Mexico, he's Noah's replacement. Keep up, Char! He's at my hospital for the next three fucking months."
The look on her face would be almost comical if I weren't drunk, and getting wet just talking about my time with Logan. I am so screwed. Nearly every day, I tell Brandon how much I hate whining and listen to me, crying like a teenage girl on her period. I'd be embarrassed for myself, except see above. I'm drunk and horny.
"Holy shit! Have you seen him yet?"
"Holy shit is right! He's covering for Noah. They were talking about the new guy all over the hospital. He's freaking gorgeous FYI, and I told Lizzy that I'd go out to dinner with them and him and help him out, and it was him!! I tried to get out of it, but they wouldn't let me, and he was practically undressing me with his eyes all through dinner, and then he asked me to go home with him!! I mean he's here!! The sex God is here, Char!" I follow up on this incomprehensible rant with a hiccup.
Charlotte rolls her eyes at me and lets out a long-suffering sigh before climbing out of bed and leaving the room. I hear her on the stairs before I turn my attention back to the cup in my hands. The bubbles are pretty the way they rise to the surface of the liquid. I wonder if Logan likes Vodka? If he doesn't, then I couldn't sleep with him again. That would be an easy solution to all of life's current problems.
"No, no. None of that now. I want the entire story from the beginning."
Charlotte walks back into the room with two mugs in her hand right as a colossal yawn rips through my body. Replacing my almost empty cup with a mug of what appears to be tea, she settles back into her side of the bed and blows on her mug.
"We're going to take this from the top. What is this man's name?"
"Logan. Dr. Logan Taylor. He's a plastic surgeon."
"Since he's covering for Noah, I would hope so. You say he's good looking?"
"Oh, God, Char. Think Jon Snow meets Kylo Ren."
"I don't know who that is."
I scoff at her in disgust before I put down my tea and pull out my phone.
"You need to spend more time watching TV with the boys. Or with Lizzy. If she'd heard you say that you didn't know who those guys are, she'd glue you to the couch until you've watched every episode of Game of Thrones there was."
I hand her my phone to flip through the pictures I've pulled up and smile at the whistle that leaves her lips.
"I've seen pictures of this one before. I just didn't know his name." Jon Snow. Kit Harrington. Of course, she has. You'd have to be blind AND deaf not to have seen references of him over the last decade, and even then it's debatable.
"So yes, he's good looking. But he knows it too. Normally, I don't go for guys who are obvious about their good looks, but something about him just caught me, and it wasn't simply that he's gorgeous."
She hands my phone back, and I drop it onto the bed between us.
"What's the problem, Ems? So you fucked the hot doc. No offense, but it isn't the first time."
Yeah yeah, I'm a whore. Whatever. That isn't my point anyway.
"I wasn't expecting to ever see him again for one thing. When I walked out into the hallway and saw him stalking towards me, I thought I must be hallucinating. Then when it became apparent that he wasn't a figment of my imagination, I tried to run away. But between him and Noah and Lizzy, they had me pinned.
"Liz could tell right away that something was going on. The man personifies sex on a stick. He was pointing all of his magic goodness in my direction with laser focus."
I can't help the shiver that overtakes me thinking about the way he was looking at me. My nipples are close to slicing through my shirt; they are so hard.
"Wow. You are in so much trouble. You've got it bad, don't you?"
"Oh God, Charlotte! What am I going to do?" I hate the whine in my voice. I grab a pillow and try to smother myself with it, hoping to put me out of my misery.
"Do you want my honest opinion?"
"Uuugghhh. Of course, I do. So long as it's the answer I'm looking for." I pull the pillow off my face just enough to see her over the top of it.
"Then I say go for it. What do you have to lose? Nothing. You need this. WE need this. Do it for both of us."
"But what about Brandon?"
"What about Brandon? Unless you're planning on bringing your child on your fuck dates with you, I don't see where Brandon should make a difference one way or another."
"No, of course not. And Eww."
"Well then, I say, get yours, girl. And then, come home and tell me all about it!"
I growl into the pillow one more time, then fling it off of me. Char looks sincere, and a thrill sings through my body. Am I actually going to do this?
Chapter 6
Logan
I hear my phone ring, and with a doctor's reflexes, I'm half out of bed with my hand on my phone before I realize it's Amanda's ringtone.
Rolling my eyes and sighing, I see that it's just before six a.m. Denver time, which means it's just before eight a.m. New York. I debate about answering it, but she'll just call back if I ignore her.
"What?"
"And hello to you too, grump ass. Shouldn't you be up by now anyway?"
I put her on speakerphone, then stretch out in bed. Part of my contract with the hospital is that they pay for housing. They offered me a suite at the local extended stay, but I opted for a studio apartment at a complex a few miles from the hospital. It's on the larger side for a studio, and I can comfortably fit my queen-sized bed and a loveseat with my tv. That's all I really need in life: a place to fuck and a spot to watch the Knicks.
"I don't have any surgeries for the next few days — nothing but consults and trying to remember my way around the hospital. I don't have to be there until after eight o'clock. I could have slept for another two hours. Thank you."
"Whatever. You didn't call me last night. What happened? I wanted to hear about how your first day went. Not even a text message. Ellie's pissed at you."
I was reaching my hand down to palm my still hard dick, which effectively wilted at the mention of my goddaughter.
"How's my best girl doing this morning anyway?"
"I'm good, thanks for asking."
"Dude, you stopped being my best girl the second she slid into my arms. Put her on the phone."
I flinch away from the phone, even though it's already sitting on the bedside table, and scrunch up my face listening to Amanda holler for Ellie.
"God Mandy, it's not enough you wake me up, you've got to ruin my hearing this morning too?"
She doesn't reply to my jabbing, and I smile as I hear the chaos in the background of Ellie running over to wherever her mom is. I can picture it perfectly in my mind, Amanda and Zoe finishing up in the kitchen while Ellie scrambles around for her book bag and shoes before school starts. She's supposed to wear a uniform to school, but she rebels on almost a daily basis, and there's a battle at home over whether striped tights under her school skirt is worth the struggle with the teacher if they call home about it.
"Looggannnn, you didn't call me last night! You promised you'd tell me goodnight every day."
She stretches out my name in a whine, and I can hear her batting her eyes at me through the phone line. Man, she's got me wrapped around her finger.
"Hey, baby girl! Something came up, but I sent you a message. Check your facetime! Just because I'm not in the same state doesn't mean the rules change. You know things happen with our jobs. Don't think you're going to be able to sucker me more than usual simply because I can't see you when you try it."
She huffs in dramatic little girl fashion, then perks up and begins to rattle off a few facts about her day. Before I even have a chance to respond, she tells me she loves me, and she's gone, just like that.
There's nothing on the other side of the line for a few moments except for the sounds of the family getting ready, then the door slams, and Amanda gives a deep sigh into the phone.
"I miss you, and you've o
nly been gone a week. What the hell are we going to do without you for three months?"
Ugh, she knows why I took this gig. I've been freelancing for almost a year now. Since Tempe decided that she didn't want to be my wife but didn't have the courtesy to leave my hospital too. Time to change the subject.
"I do have some interesting news from my first day at work."
"Ohhhh, gossip. Tell me, tell me, tell me. I have about ten minutes before Zoe comes back from dropping Ellie off."
"You'll never guess who works here. Assistant department head actually, and sister to the medical director."
"Oooh, a girl. Tell me more. Do I know her? Did we go to med school with her? College? Oh, I bet it's that red-headed Rebecca girl we both slept with Senior year. If she still swings both ways, I'd hit that if I were you. She was good with her tongue."
God, her mouth runs like a million miles a minute. It's so much harder to shut her up over the phone.
"If you'd stop talking for a damn second, I'd tell you. No, it's not Rebecca. Plus, just no. Long gone are the days where you and I sleep with the same women. No, it's the girl from Mexico. No. Not a girl. She's all woman. And fuck does she look good."
I don't tell her that the majority of the information I learned about her was after she dropped me off last night. The internet can be such an informative tool. I may not have googled her after she ditched me at the resort out of respect for her privacy, but as far as I'm concerned, we're in a whole new ball game now, baby. I need to build my offense.
What starts as a choking sound from Amanda's side of the line turns into an all-out girl squeal.
"Are you fucking serious? Not like some rando you met in Mexico but THE girl?"
I laugh at her enthusiasm and stretch on the bed, feeling it from my toes to my fingertips. Just thinking about her is getting me hard again. I try to run my fingers through my hair to relieve some of the tension, but the downside to letting it grow out the way it has is it tangles like a bitch. I take the phone with me in search of my hairbrush. I blame it on my best friend being a girl for the last forty years, but I can't stand it when my hair is tangly. I was probably the only straight guy in high school that had a hairbrush in their locker. But again, I lay the blame for that squarely at Mandy's feet.