Praise for Red L. Jameson
"This is a sexy, hot story that tugs at the reader emotionally. Ms. Jameson’s writing style in this book is deep and poignant. Absolutely adored it, highly recommend it, and can’t wait for the next book in the series!"
"Loved it! For me this was one of those rare finds, the things all readers crave but never get enough of. A book you never want to end!!!"
"I loved the characters in this book. Most of them have been through quite a bit in their lives. It takes all of them together to be whole!"
Praise for Red L. Jameson
"I truly loved the story and the balance between the three of them was so very touching and warm. There were some funny parts – well, to me! – and towards the end when many parts of different families all come together? Hilarious."
"What a wonderful fantasy with complex characters and unexpected surprises. The story wouldn't let me go! Can't wait to read another of Jameson's books in this Wild Love Series!"
"Keeps you involved every page!!! Good story and great relationship between the couple's! Makes me hope Red has many more stories to tell us!!"
Bad Medicine
Wild Love Book 4
Second Edition March 2017
ISBN: 978-1-926514-72-7
Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC
Copyright © 2016 by Lanita Beth Joramo
Originally Published as part of Coming In Hot Boxed
A Paranormal & Contemporary Medical Romance Boxed Set
September 2016
Copyright © 2016 Naughty Nights Press LLC
All rights reserved.
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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this ebook are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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Other Books By Red L. Jameson
Shine (Wild Love Book 1)
Fly (Wild Love Book 2)
Awake (Wild Love Book 3)
The Glimpse Time Travel Series
Enemy of Mine, Book 1
Highlander of Mine, Book 2
Cowboy of Mine, Book 3
Duchess of Mine, Book 4
With These Wings Series
Wing These Wings, Book 1
Anthology
Coming in Hot
Red L. Jameson writing as L. B. Joramo
The Immortal American Series
The Immortal American
The Bones of War
Dedication
For my brother, who was the kind of nurse who doctors followed his orders.
And...
I cannot find the words, so I’ll quote from a brave woman.
“And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought every day for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. As the author Anne Lamott once wrote, ‘Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.’ Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank you.”
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you to my MD mother, who raised me in an ER, who let me see my first autopsy at the age of nine, and who made feel like I could do anything I wanted, even not be an MD.
Thank you to Obsidian Dawn and Deviant Art!
All things Apple®
Laramie, Wyoming
A special thank you to Lana Williams, Carol Anne Eastman, Jamie Reynolds, and my supportive friends and family!
I really wanted to show my appreciation for my editor, Jennifer Oliver, who puts up with my weird style and syntax, who never complains, who is always so encouraging and supportive. THANK YOU! All caps thank you there, which means, yes, I’m shouting. ;)
Table Of Contents
Other Books By Red L. Jameson
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Table Of Contents
Chapter One - Ryder
Chapter Two - Asha
Chapter Three - Ryder
Chapter Four - Ryder
Chapter Five - Asha
Chapter Six - Asha
Chapter Seven - Ryder
Chapter Eight - Asha
Chapter Nine - Ryder
Chapter Ten - Asha
Chapter Eleven - Ryder
Chapter Twelve - Ryder
Chapter Thirteen - Asha
Chapter Fourteen - Ryder
Chapter Fifteen - Asha
Chapter Sixteen - Ryder
Chapter Seventeen - Asha
Chapter Eighteen - Ryder
Chapter Nineteen - Asha
Chapter Twenty - Ryder
Chapter Twenty-One - Asha
Chapter Twenty-Two - Ryder
Chapter Twenty-Three - Asha
Chapter Twenty-Four - Asha
Chapter Twenty-Five - Ryder
Chapter Twenty-Six - Asha
Chapter Twenty- Seven - Ryder
About the Author
Other Books by Red L. Jameson
Titles by Red L. Jameson written as L. B. Joramo
Chapter One - Ryder
She sees me.
Smoking.
Shit.
Blowing out a long trail of blue smoke in the purple haze of sunset, I try like hell not to wince. I didn’t want her to see me smoke. And I don’t, usually. My buddy, Adam, was the smoker. I just got it in my head that if I lit up, he’d be closer. He’s been dead for more than four years now. So I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.
Dr. Asha Whitetail makes a quick beeline for the emergency department from the staff parking lot, where I’m standing near my beat up motorcycle, fucking smoking. Her twenty-four-hour shift is about to begin. My measly twelve-hour one is also about to start.
The slanting sun hits her just right, bouncing off her shiny black hair that she’s tucked into a messy bun on the top of her head, giving her the appearance of a lavender halo. She’s so fucking beautiful that my heart does what it has since
the first second I saw her two months ago—it stops then kicks into high gear, making my ribs hurt, making it hard to breathe.
Yeah, got it bad for her.
But I can’t have her.
Not just because she’s so fucking beautiful, while I’m…With a sigh, I realize I’m a lot like my bike. I have scars, many visible. I look rough because I probably am. And although I’m up and kicking, I’m not quite running the way I’m supposed to. I know that. I’m fucked up. Inside.
And she’s a young doctor who saves lives every day. Like her silky skin, she’s pure. Flawless. Sweet. Kind. Shit, the first time I saw her smile at a patient I almost fell to my knees. I had this weird impulse. So fucking primitive. I wanted to hike her over my shoulder, take her into the janitor’s closet to confine her in a small space and…not hurt her. I’m not a complete asshole. Although, some might argue about that. No, the impulse wasn’t about touching her. But just to be close to her. To be close to the warmth she exudes. To look at her up close. To see her smile. At me.
Imprisoning her would certainly endear her to me, I’m sure. Maybe it’s because I have a dick. Maybe I am related to Neanderthals. I don’t know, but I fucking want her. So bad. Not for sex. Although, I hate to admit how many times I’ve imagined her under me. All my masturbation fantasies are about her now. She’s been in my bed thousands of times. I’ve been inside her, making her legs shake and call out my name. But when I come, I feel dirty, which I usually like. But not with her. She’s too good for a man like me.
I wish I could say it was the eight years as an Army medic that changed me, hardened me. But even before my time in the military, I wouldn’t have been good enough for a woman like Dr. Whitetail. The Army saved me from a criminal life, and I’m a better man now than before. After the military, I went to school, got my nursing degree—to all those who think male nurses are pussies, I’ll gladly take them to a dark alley to discuss it—and am here, in Laramie, Wyoming, getting caught smoking by the pretty doctor who I have an insane crush on.
I didn’t have crushes in high school.
I’ve never had a crush.
I’ve never felt like this—sucker punched right in the gut yet my idiotic cock is happy as all get out around her.
It’s not because I’m a nurse that’s stopping me from taking her. I’ve never seen a soap opera, but I think a hospital is comparable. Everyone is fucking everyone else. Admins with janitors. Nurses and doctors. No one cares about a career hierarchy when it comes to sex. When it comes to the job itself, that’s another matter.
But there was a reason why guys like me, enlisted, never fraternized with commanding officers. Not just to keep order within the Army. But because we come from different worlds. I’ll never forget a snotty lieutenant who complained about his parents not paying for his last semester of university. He was in the hole for six thousand dollars. Most of the troops around me didn’t feel comfortable to tell him that they didn’t have the financial opportunities to attend college, let alone get in the hole for it. We resented the hell out of the ass for whining about his life, while he never bothered to ask where we’d come from.
Yeah…different worlds.
Although I don’t know which world Asha Whitetail comes from, I know it’s different from mine.
Almost to the back entrance of the Laramie Hospital emergency department, and the pretty little doctor pivots her gorgeous head. Right at me. Catching me suck on my coffin nail. She’s wearing her black framed glasses tonight. Fuck, she’s hot in her little glasses. She has a red pair she’s worn only once, and I wanted to pin her against the wall when I saw her in those. Before she walks into the hospital, her dark gaze studies me. She sees right through me and I know she does. She sees the mess that I am. She knows I’m not good enough for her.
But her lips quirk up. Just one side of her full, sensual pink lips, lips I’ve worshipped for the last two months, tilt upwards, giving me almost a smile. Then she rushes through the door.
When I can’t see her any longer, I let out a shaky breath, my knees feeling weak. And unbelievably my stupid cock is awake. Not hard. But it’s there, wondering how to get close to the pretty doctor.
Well, shit.
Tonight, working together, should be awkward as fuck.
Chapter Two - Asha
Keep your game face on, I tell myself as I find my way to the staff room. Yeah, keep your game face. Why am I using football terms to avoid looking like a buffoon?
Because I just saw Nurse Ryder. Ian Ryder. His name is even cool. Like him. He’s always calm and collected. Wordless, except to give me or other doctors orders. I swear to god the man is omniscient. I’m the one with the MD, but he knows how to handle every accident, every trauma, everything.
But it’s not just his quiet intelligence that has me feeling off kilter as I make my way to the locker room where I store my giant hoodie and other personal items. The fact is, I’m infatuated with the man. He came to the Laramie Hospital two months ago with his penetrating silence and caramel brown hair—a little long on the top, his honey brown eyes, and a dark whiskered square jawline that only men on the cover of GQ can claim. Every single female, and a few men, in the hospital were talking about him, even the eighty-nine-year-old volunteer who gets lost in the hallways. He’s got a few small scars on his face I want to ask him about and touch. Also, he’s got tattoos he tries to cover with his black long-sleeve t-shirts he wears under his black scrubs. That’s right, he only wears black. He doesn’t smile. He’s huge. All muscle too. And everyone in the hospital is infatuated with him.
I’m very aware how I’m not alone regarding this crush.
So there’s no way he’d notice me.
Besides, we work together. Although there’s a rotating door of interoffice romances in the hospital, that doesn’t mean I want to do anything about my infatuation. Not that I could. Out of all the women who are a little in love with Ryder, he wouldn’t pay attention to me. I’m no Barbie—not even one of the newest, more accurate depictions of women Mattel is offering. I’m a nerd through and through. Always bone skinny throughout my life, I thought I’d have a hard time with the weight I gained in medical school. But, I finally have boobs. And hips. My belly’s soft, but parts of me kind of look…goddess-y, so I’m not going to complain. But you want to know the main reason I’m not like anything a toy manufacturer makes? I’m Cheyenne. I’m Native. It’s a weird irony that I’m called Native American, as in my people were the first here, but there’s so little that represents me.
I sigh as I turn off my iPhone, playing Bea Miller loudly, and I hadn’t even noticed. Wincing, I check the locker room. No one around. I sigh again. It’s not like anyone picks on me. Since the first night I worked in the emergency department, Tina Landing, an older RN who took me under her wing, has ensured that no one say anything about me. I’m not sure how I came to be under Tina’s protection. Well, I cracked a joke about the Attending’s nasal hair, and from there on out I was her doctor, the one she ensures never gets made fun of, at least to my face.
Usually, there’s a weird dynamic between nurses and doctors. Especially female doctors. It’s kind of a competitive feeling. And I’ve never been good at competition. But there’s an even weirder dynamic between the male doctors and me. Luckily, there are enough women doctors here that we gang up together, eating our lunch in the cafeteria, comparing notes about our latest fascinating cases, trying to out-diagnose each other, testing our knowledge, and, yes, we spend an inordinate amount of time talking about sci/fi books and movies too. We’re all a little nerdy, which makes me happy and feel at home in Laramie.
I moved here about a year ago, following my sister and brother who had come here for legal opportunities. They’re both lawyers. I’m the odd duck doctor. My brother, Hon—short for Honiahaka, which is Cheyenne for Bear; yeah, I’m really Indian—is my twin and we’d decided since we were kids to be doctors together. But so many things changed in college. My once best friend, the one person who I felt I cou
ld communicate with in my mind, is lost to me now. Well, he’s here, living in the same town. But he’s no longer my best friend. I miss him every day in a way that aches like I had my arms torn off.
“There’s my girl,” Tina interrupts my sad thoughts, and I’m glad. Whenever I think of the chasm between my brother and me, I can’t focus on my job. Can’t focus on much, actually.
I smile as I glance over my shoulder at one of my favorite RNs. She is one of eight dark-haired sisters who have taken to me, even calling me their pretty little sister who needs to eat more. Not a chance I’d pass up being their friend what with implying I’m still thin, which I’m not. And I’m okay with that. Then again, after years of therapy, my body acceptance is kind of a given.
“Hey, Tina.” I hug her as she squeezes the dickens out of me. “You work the day shift?”
She pets an errant dark strand from my glasses, smiling with a tired expression while she nods. “I look like I just worked ten shifts in a row. Jesus, I’m tired, honey.”
“No, you don’t.” I frown at her. “You’re gorgeous as usual.”
She rolls her eyes and we keep smiling at each other. Right now, with her, and her sisters and all the other nurses and the physician assistants and the other ER docs, it feels like I belong, like I’m her family. This is why I went into trauma medicine, even if it is harder than anything else I’ve ever done, even if other doctors call me a blue-collar worker. I don’t care. No other medical department can make me feel this included.
Since college, my family has been broken to the winds. Oh sure, we all live close now. My mom and pop are still up at Lame Deer, Montana, but that’s only a few hours’ drive away. However, between my siblings and me, we only see each other when we see our folks. That’s it. We live in the same town but never visit. I came here hoping that would change. But I can’t make it. And truth be told, I haven’t done much to reach out to my brother or sister.
Bad Medicine (Wolf Love Book 4) Page 1