The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood Book 1)

by Nikki Sloane

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  OTHER BOOKS FROM NIKKI SLOANE

  THANK YOU

  ABOUT NIKKI SLOANE

  COPYRIGHT

  ONE

  NASHVILLE IN THE SUMMER wasn’t for the faint of heart—the heat and humidity were oppressive. Preston had invited our friends over to hang out by his dad’s pool, and when we ran out of beer in the cooler, I volunteered to get the other case from the fridge in the garage. I did it because I needed a break from everyone.

  Preston Lowe and I had been together for more than three years and had started dating the summer before our junior year of high school. Since then, we’d done almost everything together. All the school dances. Family vacations. Our first year of college. Hell, our senior class even voted us ‘Most Likely to Marry Their High School Sweetheart.’

  I’d loved him so much, I’d given him my virginity.

  But . . .

  Preston had changed. I didn’t know if there was a turning point, or a single event that made him different, but he wasn’t the sweet, caring guy I’d known. We’d gotten comfortable with each other—maybe too comfortable. He’d tell me anything, including when he thought I looked like I wasn’t ‘trying’ anymore, or acting like a bitch.

  It was June now, and we were both home from Vanderbilt University, but I saw my boyfriend less this summer than I did when we were at school. We had jobs, sure. But today he made it clear he was more interested in hanging out with our high school friends than he was with me.

  God. We’d been best friends, and now we didn’t really talk anymore. No deep conversations, or playful teasing, or anything. Preston only called me when he was horny. That’s what I’d become to him.

  Cassidy Shepard—Preston’s release valve.

  I tucked my phone into my swimsuit top and played my favorite song by Joven as I walked through the house to the garage on the far side of the home. I opened the door and padded down the two steps into the cavernous garage, not bothering with the overhead light. The cement floor was cold on the soles of my bare feet, but the music was awesome, and in the dark space, I tried to let go of my annoyance with Preston. Maybe I was just in a bad mood and needed to shake it off.

  I did that.

  Literally.

  I closed my eyes and danced to the song playing from between my boobs, not caring about the grimy floor, or how I was cold in my damp swimsuit. I tried not to care about anything, and it kind of worked. I swayed my hips to the music. I put my hands in the air and waved them around and couldn’t stop the idiotic smile from warming my lips.

  It felt good to dance like a fool, lit only by the light coming from the open door to the kitchen. Since I knew every word by heart, I sang along and, as I hit the chorus, I really let go. I swiveled around, swinging my hips as I belted out the lyrics—

  A startled sound choked off in my throat as I jerked to a stop.

  Dr. Lowe stood in the doorway, and judging by his expression, he’d been there awhile.

  I was surprised to see him for a number of reasons, but the biggest was Preston’s father was a trauma surgeon at Davidson County Hospital. He was usually on-call and wasn’t around much. He was always there for the things that mattered, like birthdays and graduation, but most of the time, Preston and I were alone in the house.

  Why had his father kept such a big home when his son went off to college? It was strange. Dr. Lowe barely used it.

  Preston’s dad looked younger than he was, at least in his face. There were faint lines at the sides of his eyes that hinted he was forty, but the lines made him look smart. Distinguished. His dark brown hair and short beard were threaded with a few strands of silver, and the afternoon sunlight coming from the nearby window highlighted the gray. It was a good look.

  In the series of pictures we’d taken before our senior prom, there was a shot of Preston and his dad, and my friends drooled over Dr. Lowe. I’d made fun of them, but I understood. My boyfriend’s dad wasn’t just attractive—he was fucking hot.

  But rather than smile at him like I usually did, I went wooden.

  Was it possible to die of embarrassment? My knees turned soft, but my spine snapped straight and my face flushed to a thousand degrees. I dropped my gaze to the cement floor and tucked a lock of my long, dark hair behind my ear, trying to play it off like he hadn’t just caught me dancing and singing like a crazy idiot.

  “Uh . . .” I stammered. I dug the phone out of my top and shut the music off. “I was just getting another case of beer for the—” Shit! What was I doing? Preston’s friend Mike was the only one of us who was twenty-one. “I meant Coke.”

  It was the worst ‘save’ in the history of ‘saves,’ and all Dr. Lowe did was chuckle. It was a deep, pleasant sound that filled the spacious garage. It drew my gaze up to him. He had his hands resting casually on the sides of the door frame, and his expression was faint amusement.

  But he blinked it away and straightened. “Preston sent you to get his beer?”

  I shrugged, pulled the fridge open, and stared at the nearly empty shelves. At least the cold air coming from the open refrigerator calmed my heated face. “I offered.”

  The cardboard creaked when I grabbed the case’s handle and lifted the twenty-four pack off the shelf. I tried to focus on the heft in my hand and not the man in the doorway, since it was the second time this summer he’d caught me.

  The second time he’d seen me doing something he shouldn’t have.

  Oh my God, don’t think about it.

  Lord knew I’d spent enough nights fantasizing about that day, so I plastered on an indifferent expression and lugged the beer toward the door. Every step brought us closer, and yet Dr. Lowe didn’t move. His maple brown eyes sharpened on mine until I pulled to a stop. He was blocking me.

  “Are things okay with you two?” he asked, full of concern.

  I nearly dropped the case in surprise. Preston seemed oblivious to the divide growing between us. How the heck did his dad see it?

  “We’re . . .” I wasn’t sure what to say, or how to say it. “I think it’s school. It got us out of sync.”

  Dr. Lowe nodded slowly. Preston had struggled with his new freedom as a college freshman, and he’d found going to class on a regular basis a challenge. His grades hadn’t been good, and it was a sore spot between him and his dad.

  I forced myself to brighten. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  His expression didn’t change. He looked at me funny, like he was worried or upset, or as if he didn’t believe me. But he nodded once more and stepped back to let me pass. I was halfway through the kitchen before he spoke.

  “Cassidy.” His voice was quiet, yet strong. “I don’t know if I ever said it, but thank you for everything you did with Preston.”

  Confusion made me slam on the brakes.
“What?”

  Dr. Lowe shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable. “When he came to Nashville, it was hard on him. You made it easier.” He balled his fists, set them on the kitchen island, and leaned forward, pressing his knuckles into the granite. “You made him a better person, and I’m grateful.”

  The cardboard was cold as I clutched the case closer to my body, stunned.

  Growing up had been complicated for my boyfriend. Preston’s parents had him young and never married, and he didn’t talk much about why he’d lived with his mother in North Carolina until he was sixteen.

  I didn’t know what kind of relationship he’d had with his father before he arrived in Nashville, but it sounded nonexistent. The story I’d pried out was he’d been hanging around with a group of kids his mother was scared of, and like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, she’d shipped him off to live with his dad, determined to keep him away from their bad influence.

  When Preston and I started dating, we both joked it was because I was the first girl who was nice to the new kid in town. My smart, somewhat nerdy friends became his friends, and eventually, his mother’s plan seemed to work.

  I squeezed the beer in my arms, not sure how to respond to his father’s gratitude. What was I supposed to say? You’re welcome? “That’s really nice, but I didn’t do anything.”

  A faint smile lifted at the corner of Dr. Lowe’s lips and spread wider as he spoke. “Well, I’m thankful either way. Sorry about interrupting whatever that was you were doing a minute ago.”

  His light teasing brought on fresh embarrassment, and I pulled my shoulders back. “Hey, I couldn’t help it. I really like Joven.”

  “I agree they’re good, but they don’t,” his smile widened, “give me seizures.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said in a flat tone. “I’ll have you know I’m normally a great dancer. I didn’t know anyone was around.” I shot him a pointed look.

  He lifted his hands in mock surrender, but his smile didn’t fade. “Well, I don’t really have room to talk.” He hooked his thumbs back at himself. “World’s Worst Dancer right here.”

  “I don’t know. Your son might have you beat.”

  Preston spent most of the school dances hanging out on the side of the dancefloor. Whenever he did dance, it was like he was mimicking those inflatable windsock men outside of used car dealerships—all flailing arms and spastic hips.

  As I left Preston’s father and went down the stairs to the basement, I couldn’t shake the feeling he’d given me. A warm tingling in my chest that felt all sorts of wrong, but good too.

  It was two more weeks with Preston before I reached my breaking point.

  As I sat in my sweltering car, parked in the Lowe driveway, grief swept through me. I mourned the death of our relationship. I missed the guy I’d loved, but knew he was never coming back.

  My grandmother passed away last week, but Preston didn’t come to the funeral. He’d had to work, he said—which was fine. But he didn’t come to the visitation either. He didn’t stand beside me or hold my hand as I’d cried while staring at the casket. He’d left me on my own to field the incessant question from my family, “Where’s Preston?”

  “Sick,” I’d lied.

  I found out from our mutual friends he’d forgotten and gone to the movies. That made it obvious how little I mattered now.

  A frustrated sigh slipped out as I reached across the seat and snatched up my backpack. I’d brought a swimsuit and towel over, knowing I was going to need to work up to the moment I told him it was over between us. I’d never broken up with someone before.

  I didn’t ring the bell. I climbed the front steps and pushed open the unlocked door, comfortable walking into the Lowe house unannounced. Would this be the last time I did it?

  The wind sucked the door shut behind me with a loud slam, and heavy footsteps pounded on the hardwood floor until his dad stepped into view.

  “Cassidy?” The momentary confusion on his handsome face was replaced with an easy smile.

  I froze in place. “Hey, Dr. Lowe. Didn’t he tell you I was coming over?”

  He shook his head. “I think he’s in the pool already.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I headed toward the door to the basement, but only made it a few paces before the toe of my sandal caught the edge of the entryway rug. “Ah!”

  Like an idiot, I stumbled forward on shaky legs, fighting not to go down, and instead tumbled right into Dr. Lowe.

  He grunted softly as I collided with his hard chest. I knocked him back a half-step, but then his steady hands locked onto my waist. Embarrassment flickered through me, but as I lifted my flustered gaze to his, the emotion burned away.

  Oh.

  The sensation of his hands on my body made my breath catch in my throat.

  There’d been concern for my near-fall in his expression seconds ago, but it evaporated as his hold on me tensed. Something gathered in his brown eyes—something that looked a hell of a lot like heat. The muscles running along his jaw tightened and flexed.

  I had to be imagining it. There was no way he was looking at me like he was thinking about sliding his hands around my back and drawing me closer. My body hummed from the contact, and the buzz grew louder and more frantic the longer we remained motionless.

  His embrace put me far more off-balance than tripping on the rug had.

  We were standing too close, but he was magnetic. The pull toward him was a force I struggled to overcome, even when I knew I had to.

  His voice came out strange and uneven. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed. Why hadn’t I noticed how deep and beautiful his eyes were before?

  Abruptly, he released me, his hands coming off my waist as if I were a hot stove. Shame flashed through his expression and then it went blank. “Sorry.”

  He turned and strode quickly away, leaving me to stare at his broad back as he went. What was he sorry for? Keeping me from falling? Touching me? Or the way he’d stared at me like Preston used to, with a gaze that teemed with desire?

  I’d had impure thoughts about Dr. Lowe before. I couldn’t help myself and tried not to feel guilty about them. They were just harmless fantasies, I’d justified, and were kept safe in my own mind. Any shame over thinking about my boyfriend’s dad was about to be moot anyway.

  Outside, the stone patio led to the shady back yard and the bright blue pool was surrounded by a decorative black, wrought-iron fence. The pool wasn’t enormous, but nicely proportional to the sprawling home. It was large enough for either of the Lowe men to swim laps if they wanted, which Preston appeared to be doing now.

  He must have sensed my arrival because he stopped mid-stroke, pushed his wet, dark hair back out of his eyes, and flicked the water away with his fingers. He stared at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re not in your suit?” No greeting. Just his annoyed tone.

  “I’ve got it in my bag.” I glanced over at the empty lounger at the side of the pool. Maybe I should tell him I didn’t want to swim, sit down there, and find my way into the difficult conversation we needed to have.

  He swam to the edge and propped his arms on the stone ledge. “Get your sexy ass changed, then. It’s hot as balls out here, and the water’s great.”

  It felt like an order. I bit my bottom lip as I tried to muster the courage to say no.

  But I failed miserably. I turned around and went back into the house, stalling. I plodded through the large media room and into the spare bedroom Dr. Lowe used as his home gym. The only other rooms downstairs were the bedroom Preston used while home from college, and the bathroom, both of which were disasters. He left his clothes everywhere, and it was easier to change in here.

  Calling this room a home gym was probably too fancy. It had a treadmill and an all-in-one weight machine. The futon Preston used mostly as a couch at college was pushed to one corner, and I dropped my bag on it with a sigh.

  As I changed, I reminded myself of my goal. I wasn’t happy with my boyfriend,
but that didn’t mean I wanted to hurt him. I hoped to break up with him in the least painful way for both of us.

  I stacked my clothes on the futon, grabbed a beach towel out of the hall closet, and forced myself back outside.

  His gaze lifted to me, and he blinked. Then his eyes hazed as he scanned my body, clad in a simple, black string bikini. “Is that new?”

  My mouth went dry. What had I been thinking, bringing this swimsuit? I hadn’t been, really. I’d grabbed the first thing that would work and had shoved it in my bag. Wearing the bikini had been a bad idea.

  “It was on sale at Target,” I croaked.

  His expression was thick with lust as he pushed off the side. “I like it.” He swirled his hands beneath the water, floating closer to me and the shallow end. “C’mon in.”

  Preston’s intentions couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d tried. He wanted to fuck. Was it the only reason he’d called me over? I hurled the beach towel down onto the lounge chair and twisted my dark brown hair up into a bun. I didn’t want to get it wet, because it’d take forever to dry, and I might need to leave in a hurry if things became too emotional.

  Reluctantly, I went to the stairs at the front of the pool and took my first step into the water. I only made it halfway down before his cold, wet arms were wrapped around my body, and he was pulling me deep into the center of the pool.

  “Wait,” I said with forced casualness, struggling against his embrace. I wanted to get in under my terms, and I didn’t want him so close. I needed distance to do what had to be done.

  Whatever disconnect was going on between us, it seemed to get wider every time we were together, and Preston ignored my protest. His mouth crashed against the side of my neck, planting kisses. It’d always been the surefire move to turn me on, the fastest way to get in my pants, but things had changed between us, and this was one of them.

  “Preston,” I said, pushing away and finally getting out of his hold.

  He turned and looked up at the huge arched windows on the back of the house, then focused on me. “What? Are you worried about my dad? He doesn’t care what we do.”

  Oh, God. A shiver ran through me, but since most of my body was underwater, it was unlikely my boyfriend could see it.