Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Of course.” He lays a comforting hand on my knee, squeezing gently, before rolling over to his computer to input some information. “That should be everything for today. If you experience any discomfort or bleeding, or you’re unable to feel your strings at any point in the future, feel free to come back.”
Moving with efficiency, he tidies up the counter, picks up his laptop, and heads for the door.
“You’re good to check out now,” he says. “It was nice meeting you, Natasha.”
“Thanks, Doctor…” I rack my brain for his name and come up empty. “Actually, I don’t think I caught your name.”
His thick brows shoot up as though he hadn’t realized his error.
“Forgive me. I’m Dr. Ransom.” He offers me his hand to shake, and I take it.
“Dr. Ransom.” I repeat his name, as though there’s any legitimate risk of ever forgetting the name of the first man who put his head between my thighs. My breath hitches at the mental image.
For God’s sake, he’s your doctor. Stop being weird.
He’s still holding my hand when he says, “Enjoy your summer, Natasha. And think about what I said. You’re already making smart choices. Trust your gut to know what’s right for you. Forget about everyone else.”
“I’ll try,” I tell him.
His words echo through my mind long after he’s left the exam room.
You’re already making smart choices. Trust your gut…
Getting an IUD was a smart choice. As long as I stick to my plans and don’t take any unnecessary risks, there’s no reason I can’t have the kind of summer I’ve been dreaming about.
A fun, flirty, sexy summer.
Thankfully, the hard part is over now. All that’s left is to help Ollie convince his dad to let us move into the lake house.
Easy.
CHAPTER TWO
EVAN
Seated behind my desk in the cool darkness of my office, I rub my eyes and sigh. As an OB/GYN, it’s my job to care about my patients’ sex lives. But my initial reaction to the thought of Natasha having sex at a party just to get it over with was anything but professional.
Absolutely not, I thought to myself. No way in hell.
It was the kind of thing a father might say in response to his daughter’s request to stay out past curfew. In other words, completely inappropriate given that Natasha isn’t my child. But that simple fact wasn’t enough to quell the heart palpitations, excessive perspiration, and oral parafunction threatening to crush my molars into dust.
I was never so grateful for a pair of legs to duck behind. And I’ll admit, as far as legs go, hers were pretty spectacular.
But this isn’t what I do. I don’t make a habit of checking out my patients…like that. On the rare occasion when our interactions veer toward flirtations, I laugh it off, figuring if they’re comfortable enough to flirt, I must be doing something right. But Natasha wasn’t flirting or seeking my attention. She was just being herself. Her honesty and her innocence, even her nervousness, touched me deeply, unlocking a protective instinct I haven’t felt since my son was little.
Natasha’s not a child, but something about her comes off as…innocent. Still, I shouldn’t be thinking about her as anything more than a patient.
Even if she is an exceptionally beautiful patient, who deserves to be with someone who will take her comfort—and her pleasure—seriously, it’s not my place to tell her what to do with her body. I can only make her aware of the potential benefits and risks at her disposal and hope she heeds my advice.
I switch on my desk lamp and dive into paperwork prior to my next appointment. Between covering for Dr. Longmire and seeing my own patients, the day passes quickly.
It’s still light out by the time I make it to the gym after work. Normally I’d sweat out the day’s stress by running circuits on my favorite machines, but tonight I need to be quick if I’m going to make it home in time to shower and change before dinner with my son.
Ben Gold, one of the owners of Gold Standard Fitness, greets me with a wave as I pass the front desk. Ben’s a giant, even by my standards, and one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. Maybe too hardworking for his own good.
“Evening, doc,” he says, nodding.
“Hey, Ben. You ever think about taking a night off?”
He grunts. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like my sister.”
“Maybe you should listen to her.”
“Say that again and I’ll revoke your membership on the spot.” His gaze drifts toward the yoga studio. “As a matter of fact, I do have plans tonight.”
“I don’t think a yoga class counts as taking the night off if it’s held at your place of work,” I say, just as a pretty young redhead in tight athletic pants exits the studio.
Awareness dawns on me as I watch Ben track her across the room.