Sierra nodded her understanding. “Whatever you need to do, Doc. But I gotta warn you, I’m an adrenaline junkie and I’ll need to feed my habit again soon. So, fix me up stat!”
“I’ll do my best.” Her smile was sincere and she oozed confidence. After visually scanning her patient’s body for any signs of damage, Dr. Davies paused to make a few notes.
What happened next shook Sierra to her core. When the doctor’s bare hand finally touched her skin, it was unlike anything Sierra had experienced before. Scintillating. Electric. Her touch brought Sierra’s numb nerve endings back to life and erased the pain on contact. Closing her eyes and relishing in the feel of warm fingers on marred flesh, Sierra bit her lip and hoped Dr. Davies hadn’t noticed the flush rushing across her skin.
Damn! How hard did I hit that freaking tree?
Sierra’s eyes popped open as a piercing pain ripped through her. “Ouch! Shit! That hurt!” On instinct, she tried to pull her left arm back, but the injured limb was locked in the doctor’s grasp. Weak ass, she chided herself. That was not the impression she had wanted to leave. “Sorry for the language.”
Unaffected by the outburst, Dr. Davies offered a sympathetic smile and continued her exam, taking the various body parts through ranges of motion and making mental notes. For the most part, her palpations were more a caress than a move to provoke pain. Sierra would swear those hands lingered a bit longer than necessary a time or two, though the doctor was never unprofessional. Not for one second. Still, the feel of the woman’s expert hands on her skin evoked not-so-innocent images of the goddess in a polo shirt running those hands all over her naked body.
An uncontrollable groan of pleasure freed itself without permission, bringing Sierra back to the awkward reality of curious green eyes studying her with concern.
“You okay?”
“Huh? Umm…yeah. Sorry. Just ready to get this over with. I haven’t spent much time in these places.” Apparently, hitting a tree revved up her libido. That never needed a boost. She needed a distraction. “How long have you been doing this?”
Dr. Davies paused to write in the file and then replied, “This is my second mountain biking event. They recruited me to help since the sport’s grown so much. I’ve worked other events though.” She returned to work through the rest of the exams, the Glasgow Coma scale, balance and reflexes, before returning to the left shoulder. As she traced over the darkening skin of Sierra’s shoulder, the doctor’s firm touch softened and her hands slowed. The word “amazing” was murmured in awe.
Sierra glanced over her shoulder, grinning seductively as she caught a look at the doctor’s beet red face.
“I mean…” The previously stoic professional faltered for a moment, then cleared her throat. “I can’t believe you’re A-C joint wasn’t separated after a blow like that. It seems you’ll only have bruising. Just amazing.” The flustered doctor turned away, returning to the safety of her notes.
Sierra didn’t want to come off as cocky, but there was no way she could leave that comment hanging. It wouldn’t be her. With a confident smirk, she said, “I love it when women tell me I’m amazing.”
“I’m sure you do.” Amusement sparkled in the doctor’s words.
“Well, Doctor Davies, I would be happy to fill you in on my diet and training regimen sometime. You know…so you can see what makes me tick.” Arching a brow, Sierra watched for any reaction whatsoever. It was a sincere offer that also included the intended innuendo, should the doctor decide to take up the offer. The fact that she didn’t have much of a regimen was irrelevant. She’d wing it if the opportunity arose.
Was that a hint of a smile working at the corner of the doctor’s mouth as she finished her notes? The possibility of the subtle response gave the Sierra hope of a late-night rendezvous, but that dream came to a crashing halt when the physician fell right back into full doctor mode once again.
“Your neck is out of alignment after that shot you took and your gleno-humeral joint is jammed. With your permission, I’m going to provide some gentle manipulation to help return them to their natural place and allow the body to heal itself. Have you ever been adjusted by a chiropractor?”
“No, can’t say that I have. Usually, I get some meds or a shot for the pain. Like I said, I heal quickly.”
“Sorry. That’s not what I do. My job is to put motion back into the joint and allow the body to do the rest. If pain meds are what you want though, I can refer you to one of the MD’s, but I promise I’ll be quick and gentle.”
“I don’t mind a little rough here and there.”
The comment had the desired effect as the doctor fought a grin, but the corner of her mouth hiked up anyway. She refrained from a retort and continued on topic, “You need to ice on and off for the next forty-eight hours, but I expect you’ll be good as new before you know it.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
The exam had long since ended, yet the doctor’s hands remained on Sierra’s shoulder. A wicked grin curled as she formulated a plan. Lying back on the table, she figured she’d give it another shot, maybe wear the woman down. “Well, if you decide you want to know how this superwoman maintains her indestructible body, let me know. There is an open invite for you to do a little research.” Sierra broke out the infamous “Cody smile” that left the girls swooning and faked a stretch that accentuated her breasts.
This time, the doctor’s professional persona broke and a laugh poured out. Tiny gold flecks danced in her eyes like the sun danced on the ocean, dazzling Sierra and commanding her full attention.
Dr. Davies smiled warmly, took Sierra’s arm, and began to manipulate her shoulder. “Well, I do like research.” Her strong, confident hands moved with precision and speed.
In a matter of minutes, Sierra had been pushed and pulled and squished and twisted, or “adjusted,” as Dr. Davies had called it. Whatever it was, it had worked wonders. She sat up and moved her neck and shoulder. There was much more freedom throughout the range of motion. Pleasantly surprised with this newfound treatment, not to mention the treating physician, Sierra remarked with awe, “You’re really great with your hands.”
Dr. Davies rolled her eyes and laughed. “Thanks. I think you’re all good now. Follow up with your primary physician if you experience any lingering effects and be careful out there, Ms. Cody.”
The use of a formal name was a mood killer. The doctor may have been into her breasts, but apparently, that was all. “Thanks Doc, but I’m not making any promises.” As she slipped her jersey back on, with only minor soreness, a whooping and hollering called out from the entrance.
“What up everyone? Ronni D is in the house! Where’s my girl, Wiley? Wiley Cody?”
Sierra’s best friend had dubbed her “Wiley,” as in the coyote, years ago. She didn’t love the nickname, but that damn cartoon coyote was determined as hell and that was something she could relate to.
She peeked out from the curtain to find Ronni fist bumping everyone in celebration of her victory. Her old friend was tall and lanky, but strong as an ox, and not to mention, fast as all hell. Never one to be lost in a crowd, she was always sure to stand out, both in attitude and attire. This weekend was all about orange—orange hair, orange shoes, orange jersey, orange bike. Ronni was definitely one of a kind and apparently, a marketing gold mine.
“Over here, Ron.” Sierra waved from the back of the room.
Taking time to greet every person in the room, Ronni made her rounds until finally reaching the back, her hand raised high in wait for Sierra to return her five. Her eyes drifted toward the corner and one Dr. Davies, who had begun packing up. Looking the doctor up and down, Ronni nodded approvingly and winked before letting out a wolfish whistle. “Damn, Wiley! I’d bet if you knew the doctors here were this hot, you would’ve taken a header a lot sooner.”
Sierra cringed and shook her head. Subtle, her best friend was not. Had there been any sliver of a chance left with the doctor, it was certainly gone now. Shootin
g a look of disapproval had little effect, but that was no surprise. Glancing over her shoulder in hopes of offering an apology, Sierra’s heart sank. The doctor had already made a quiet escape.
“Dammit, Ron!” It was a hushed whisper followed by an elbow to the ribs.
“Ow! What? Oh wait, were you trying to hook up? Shit. I’m sorry. Where’d she go? I’ll fix it.”
Looking back over her shoulder again, Sierra said, “No. No. You leave it alone. She’s not interested. But you made it weird.”
“Okay, well, she’s hot for sure, but seemed a bit uptight. I mean, I’d bet her panties were perfectly pressed too. Am I right?” Ronni laughed.
Sierra palmed her face and shook her head. Thanks to Ronni, she was imagining the doctor in several varieties of underwear, the pictures flashing through her mind like a lingerie catalogue
Ronni squeezed Sierra’s arm, pulling her attention back as her smile faded and concern took over. “You okay? I don’t like to win that way.”
“Fine,” Sierra grumbled. “Indestructible as always.” Her shoulder was already feeling better, but her desire to spend more time with the doctor had her more worked up than usual. She could definitely use a drink. “Let’s go celebrate.”
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Ronni thrust her fist into the air in victory. She smiled as she caught sight of the doctor again and called out, “Hey, Doctor McHottie!”
Sierra whipped her head around. Ronni’s attempts to fix things had never worked in her favor. She dreaded what might come out of her friend’s mouth next. It appeared that Dr. Davies was every bit as frightened as she side-stepped behind a large storage container in a failed attempt at hiding, looking as though she’d been cornered by a Rottweiler. In a sense, she had been.
With a “trust me” wink that failed to soothe Sierra’s fears, Ronni continued, “Everyone’s headed down to Taco’d Brewery. You should join us. Drinks are on me,” she sing-songed the last two words. “Cause I’m the winner, bitches!”
The few stragglers remaining in the room roared their approval and Ronni flashed a championship-worthy smile.
Dr. Davies’ eyes popped wide. Her hands gripped the box she was holding hard enough to crease the sides. “N…No,” she stuttered. “I don’t think so. I have a lot to get done here, but thank you and congratulations on your win.” She turned her attention to Sierra. “Ms. Cody, don’t forget to ice.”
Ronni’s brows jumped up and her lips pursed. “Ms. Cody?” she whispered. “Ouch.” With a sympathetic pat on the back, she added, “Better luck next time, Wiley,” and then meandered toward the exit with much fanfare.
Count that as my second crash and burn for the day. Go me.
Sierra signed the release form and lingered near the back of the pack as the last remaining riders cleared the care center. Her pride had taken a hit today and as easy as it would be to walk away and drown her sorrows in alcohol, there was something about Dr. Davies that wouldn’t let her accept defeat.
Before the doctor could shut the clinic door, Sierra stopped and turned back around. With all the pomp and circumstance of the event over, the two of them were alone. Standing face to beautiful face, Sierra was struck with something she was not at all accustomed to—nerves.
Trying not to appear too anxious or desperate, she smiled and sputtered, “I uh…I wanted to thank you. I’m feeling much better already.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.”
“I know, but still, I appreciate you. And we’ll shut Taco’d down tonight, so please feel free to stop in, even if it’s not until later. I’d love to buy you a drink to thank you. Plus, I can fill you in on my superpowers,” she finished with a wink.
Dr. Davies shifted awkwardly and gave her a tight smile. “I appreciate the offer and I’ll think about it, but I have a lot of packing up to do and an early morning. Please enjoy your evening. I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime, especially the way you ride,” she teased.
Though Sierra had expected the letdown, it didn’t hurt any less. Deflated, but determined not to show it, she reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. On contact, she was once again rendered awestruck. There was something about the woman that had her desperate for more time together. Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t in the cards tonight. She pulled the doctor close and leaned into her ear. “You can bet on it, Doctor Davies.”
The doctor’s face was unreadable as she replied, “Have a good night, Ms. Cody.”
Again, with the shifting to a formal name. For a moment, irritation began a slow, steady pick at Sierra’s ego. Times when her persistence failed to pay off were far between. Resigned to the fact she wasn’t going to get her chance tonight, Sierra turned to leave, but not before flashing one more knee-weakening smile for the doctor to remember her by. Her first impression may not have been the best, but she was going to try her darnedest to make the last one leave a mark.
CHAPTER THREE
Thanks to the race, the crowd was larger than normal at Taco’d Brewery, even for a late-summer Saturday night. While Bend, Oregon had no shortage of amazing breweries to kick back in and enjoy a pint or two, most fat tire fans chose the one with the bent bicycle rim logo. The appeal of Taco’d was much like any old pub with hardwood floors and a long antique bar, but what clinched it for Sierra and her friends was the collector’s delight of all things bicycle that hung upon the walls. The owner, Axel, was a local pioneer of the sport. He’d been carving up the mountainside since long before manicured trails and full body padding. On any given night, he could be found regaling the patrons about the good old days of biking.
Axel’s first mountain bike, Betsy, a blue and white bike he had built from spare parts, hung proudly over the bar. His other pride and joy, his father’s bike, sat in the corner behind a velvet rope. The 1930’s Schwinn, one of the first fat tire bikes ever produced, had been restored to perfection. Some joked his collection was the reason they held so many races in Bend. Never mind the fact that the trails were among the tops in the nation and the town was a dream destination for any outdoor enthusiast.
Many nights, patrons would be treated to great musical talent, but every night, the food was not to be missed. Weekly specials featured new dishes from around the world as well as old staples done to perfection, such as burgers, wings, and nachos. Of course, a big reason for visiting a brewery was the beer and while Axel and his buddy, Cal, had brewed their own award-winning IPA beers, they prided themselves on a magnificent selection of alcohol from around the globe.
Folks would come from all over in an attempt to get through the entire alphabet. The few persistent and hardy enough to make it through the list received a Taco’d t-shirt that said, “I drank myself around the world and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” It seemed to be a great marketing ploy, because the place was always hopping.
Sierra tipped her bottle of Bottomed Out Stout to Axel. The sixty-something year old man with long, white hair pulled back in a ponytail smiled and gave her a wave. As a local herself, she’d spent plenty of nights here shooting the breeze and laughing over Axel and Cal’s tales from their youth.
To her right, a swarm of riders cheered. She turned to find Ronni standing on the edge of the bar doing shots and beer chasers from her first-place cup—a tradition born of a spontaneous joke between the two friends before they were even old enough to drink.
Ronni scanned the room, acknowledging many of her friends and stopping when she had found her intended mark. “Yo, Cam! Suck it, Bi-yatch!” She flipped her red-headed rival the bird as she nearly fell off the bar in drunken laughter.
Camryn O’Reilly gritted her teeth and returned a middle finger of her own before she downed another shot. Second place was as good as last to her when she finished behind Sierra or Ronni. The long-legged rider was a loner with piercing hazel eyes and some serious attitude.
Camryn turned to her teammate, Kourt, one of the veterans of the sport. She whispered something that made them both snicker
, no doubt a derogatory remark pointed at Sierra and Ronni.
Sierra laughed it off. She preferred to do her talking on her bike and Ronni had never once been fazed by Camryn’s attempts at intimidation, no matter how hard the woman had tried. Ronni climbed down from the bar and perched on Sierra’s lap, holding onto strong, sober shoulders to steady herself. The light haze of alcohol had begun to set in her eyes, which meant she was ready to ramble. Ronni was a talker, even more so when she had a few drinks in her.
“How you feeling?” Ronni asked. “That was quite a blow you took. And by that, I mean both the tree and the way the Doc McHottie shot you down. Damn sure wasn’t for lack of trying though.” She laughed and then continued, “For what it’s worth, I think she was interested. Probably some code of conduct thing or something. She seems like the stickler for rules type—which I may point out—you are not.” She had that cocked eyebrow thing going, something Ronni did when she already knew the answer, but wanted you to say it out loud.
Sierra’s face lit up. “I don’t know…She is just…I don’t know. She’s definitely hot, but it seems like there’s a lot more to her.” Her smile spread upward from her cheeks to her ears thinking about the woman. “I mean, yeah, of course I want her, but I also want to know more about her.”
“Wait, what’s with the emotional stuff? I thought you’d given up on all that love at first sight crap? Now it’s just hit ‘em and quit ‘em.”
“I did, but—”
“Damn, girl. How hard did you hit that tree anyway?” Ronni shook her head and downed another shot.
“When she touched me...I can’t even explain it. I mean, maybe it was the shock of the blow I took, but it felt so real and I think she felt it too. Doesn’t matter though. I doubt she’ll show up tonight. Even if she did, she was pretty clear. I’m sure she has her reasons. We’ll see what happens if she’s at another race.” The words were easily said, but there was a drive inside her to pursue the doctor— something she had never had before.
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