Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Needing another cup of coffee to fuel my day, I head to the break room. Grabbing a pod from the drawer, I start the machine and wait for my coffee to brew. The spicy aroma fills the room, and that’s when I realize I didn’t see which pod I picked up. The staff goes crazy this time of year with pumpkin everything. Me, I’m just a plain black coffee kind of guy, but I’m also not one to be wasteful, so I’ll suffer through the pumpkin concoction.
I take a sip on my way back to my office, and it’s not as bad as I was anticipating it would be, thankfully. I sit back at my desk and take another sip. I’ve answered my messages, reviewed the charts for today’s appointments, and I still have at least an hour before the staff arrives.
A small square of yellow catches my attention, standing out like a beacon in the night on my desk. I avert my gaze. I know what it is, and I know what it says. I should have tossed it in the trash that day, but something stopped me.
Have a great day!
-B
B for Blakely Kincaid. The beautiful woman who has wormed her way into my life and into my mind. I can’t tell you how often I thought about her over the weekend. It’s an embarrassing amount. What’s even more embarrassing is when I woke up thinking about her, my cock hard and fisted in my hand.
Not my proudest moment.
Even though I tell myself to ignore it, my eyes drop to the note that’s uncharacteristically out of place on my pristine desk. That’s the nice thing about electronic health records; there are no charts and papers strung everywhere. I keep my office nice and tidy. I hate mess, and I hate chaos. I never used to be that way, but sometimes life gives you lemons, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to make the damn lemonade.
I need a distraction.
Going back to my computer, I open my email again. Surely, there’s some junk mail I can sort through. Instead, I see her name boldly displayed as my first email. I stare at the screen. Why is she suddenly everywhere? I can’t escape her or the way my body responds to her. My cock can’t handle much more time with Blakely Kincaid.
Knowing I can’t ignore her, not just because it’s in my contract to be on a hospital committee but because the marketing beauty has piqued my interest, and even though I tell myself not to look, I need to see what she has to say.
Opening the email, I scan its contents. It’s a request to visit the venue with her—her family's venue. I’m sure she knows that location like the back of her hand, yet she still wants me to go with her.
Why can’t she understand that I have no desire to be involved in this? I’m certain Hilary has told her, just as I have. Why won’t she give up?
I stare at the screen while reading and rereading her words. I stare so long that when a knock sounds at my door, I’ve lost all track of time.
Thinking about her.
This has got to stop.
“Good morning, Dr. Thompson,” Tabitha, one of the office receptionists, greets me. “This was dropped off for you.” She steps into my office and places a small plastic container on my desk.
“Good morning,” I mumble. “What’s this?” I don’t know what’s inside this container, but I’m pretty damn sure I know where it came from.
“Blakely dropped it off. She made some for the entire office but told me this one was for you. Oh, and this too.” She sets an insulated tumbler with Christmas trees and presents all over it on my desk. “She told me to tell you it’s hot.”
“Thank you, Tabitha,” I reply. She nods with a smile and goes back to her desk.
Me? I’m sitting here surrounded by the only woman to capture my thoughts since the night my life changed, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening. The phone on my desk rings, and I welcome the intrusion into my thoughts.
“Dr. Thompson.”
“Good morning. Did you get your treats?” a cheery voice asks.
I clear my throat. “I did.”
“Did you try them?”
“What is it?”
“You didn’t try them, did you?” The angelic voice laughs. “It’s Christmas bread. I made it this weekend.”
“You gave some to my staff?”
“Of course I did. Everyone loves Christmas cake.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Oh, so I get to be your first?” she asks. She’s excited, but I’m not thinking about cake now.
“You want to be my first, Ms. Kincaid?” My voice is gravelly, even to my own ears. Fuck me, I need to just keep my mouth shut.
“You know I do,” she replies. She’s flirting with me—at least, I think she is. I should stop it, but I don’t.