Chapter 7

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Blakely

As I barrel into my mom’s office, my heart pounds out a heavy rhythm. “Hey,” I greet her. I’m breathless and turned on, something I did not expect to happen with the grumpy doctor. Sure, I knew he was hot, but his touch set my body on fire.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks, standing from her chair to come closer. She places the back of her hand on my forehead, just as she used to when I was younger and she was checking for a fever.

“I’m fine.”

“Blake, you’re all flushed, and you’re wheezing. What happened?” Her voice is firm. She’s not going to let me out of this office until I give her something.

I love my mom. We’re close, but I’m not telling her the reason my face is flushed is because I’m turned on. Nope. I’m not going there.

“I’m fine,” I assure her, trying to slow my breathing. “I was on the ladder, and when Dr. Thompson walked in, he startled me.”

She studies me as if she knows I’m not giving her the entire story. “And why did you come rushing into my office like there was a bull chasing you?”

“Oh, I need my tablet.” I point to my messenger bag that I carry back and forth from work. “We’re going to go over my list for the gala.” I pause, not sure how much to give her, and decide she needs a little more. “Dr. Thompson insisted on hanging the rest of the garland, and I don’t want to take up more of his time than necessary.” It’s a good thing my face is already flushed. I can hide my reaction to the sexy grump.

Bending over, I grab my bag from the chair and toss it over my shoulder. My eyes meet my mom’s, and she’s smirking. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes, because I already know what’s coming next. I’m just glad my aunts aren’t here as well.

“So, Dr. Thompson seems nice.”

“He’s a grump,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Oh, I didn’t get that impression. He was very cordial to me.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not a grump,” I counter.

“Would a grump help you hang garland?”

“He was worried he’d have to fix a broken bone if I fell off the ladder. It was purely selfish. I’m certain.” I’m proud of myself for coming up with that answer on the fly. Sure, he didn’t want me to get hurt, but I can say with 100 percent perfect certainty that it had nothing to do with not having to fix my broken bones. Well, maybe it was, but not in the way she’s implying.

“He’s very handsome.” Mom’s grinning like a fool at this point.

“Mom,” I whine. “Really? He’s a colleague.”

“Is he your boss?”

“No. You know he’s not.”

“Then there is nothing wrong with you admitting that he’s handsome.” She gives me a pointed look.

“Fine. He’s handsome.”

“Oh, do you like him?” she says, barely holding in her laughter.

“Ugh. Whatever you have going on in that head of yours, can you please keep it to yourself? I don’t need the Kincaid family tree blowing up my phone. Half of them will want to know when the wedding is, while the other half will be threatening to take him to the train station, Yellowstone style.”

“I didn’t raise you to be this dramatic,” she teases.

“Mom!” I huff out a laugh.

“Fine. I’m just giving you a hard time, but I want you to one day find what I have with your dad. You’re never going to if you don’t start looking and opening yourself up.”

“Do you know what it’s going to be like for any man I bring home? Have you ever actually thought about it at all? There are ten of them, counting Uncle Deacon. Ten !”

Mom smiles. “For all ten of those men, there is a woman behind them who will keep them in check. When you find a man you want to bring home, you let us ladies know, and we’ll take care of it. We know you well enough to know, if he’s given an invitation to meet the family, he’s important to you.”

“Fine. However, I’m holding you to this. In fact…” I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. “Can you say that again, nice and slow, so I can record it as evidence?”

Mom chuckles. “We’ve got you, sweetheart. You just find him, and me and your aunts will take care of the rest.”

“Can I go now? I left him in there waiting for me.”

“Of course. I’m actually heading home. I’ll lock the doors as I leave. Just make sure they’re pulled tight and the lights are off when you go.”

“I can do that. Love you.”

“I love you too, Blake.” She gives me a huge hug, and I turn and rush out of her office and back to Oli—Dr. Thompson. I’m going to need to put that name barrier between us to keep my libido in check. Who would have thought the grumpy doc would do it for me?

Entering the main event area, I see Oliver standing in the middle of the room, staring at the giant Christmas tree. I step up beside him and smile. “This place might be part of why I love Christmas.”

“Just part?” he asks without removing his eyes from the tree.

“Yeah, I have a large family. My dad has eight brothers, and his cousin Ramsey is like a sister, so essentially ten kids, ten spouses, and a shit ton of grandkids for my grandparents. There is never a dull moment, and Christmas is always a blast with everyone getting together. What about you?”

“Only child.”

“So you get lots of quiet.” I lean into his shoulder with mine.

“Something like that.” He clears his throat. “What’s on this list of yours?” he asks, finally pulling his gaze away from the Christmas tree.

“Okay.” Reaching into my bag, I retrieve my tablet and power it on. “I was thinking we could set the stage by the tree. That way the tree can be our backdrop. The manor has round tables that seat ten, so I thought we could space them out around the perimeter of the room. That’s five couples per table.”

“Not everyone is a couple.”

“True, but very rarely do people come to these things solo.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you coming alone?”

“I am.” I nod slowly. “I’ll be working, so there will be no time for me to entertain a date.” I pause as I tell myself not to ask him, but the words are out before I can stop them. “What about you?”

“I don’t date.”

“Never?”

“Not for a long time.”

Not only has the sexy grump awakened desire in me, but now he’s piqued my curiosity. I have no right to ask him, and I won’t. Not tonight anyway.

“If we’re spacing the tables around the perimeter, what’s going in the center?” he asks. His tone of voice almost has me believing he’s genuinely interested. Almost.

“The dance floor, of course.”

“Right.” He nods.

“Did you not pay attention when you attended in years past?” I know he’s attended because his name is on the guest list for two tickets every year.

“I’ve never attended.”

“But you buy tickets?” I tilt my head to the side as I study him. He really is too damn handsome for his own good. Too bad his personality doesn’t match the spectacular packaging.

He shrugs. “I’ve bought tickets yearly since being hired at Willow River General. I gift them to my parents. I’m helping my employer, and it’s a great cause each year. Besides, my mom loves this kind of thing.”

“She sounds like my kind of girl.”

He turns to face me and studies me for several long heartbeats. “Yeah, you and my mom would get along.” His voice is soft, almost as if it pains him to speak the words.

“How can you hate Christmas so much growing up with a mom who loves it?” It’s an intrusive question, but I’m too damn curious to feel guilty for asking.

He shrugs. “What else is on your list?”

Fine. He doesn’t have to answer my question, but dammit, I’m going to make him enjoy this holiday and this gala if it’s the last thing I do.

“I thought we could have the deejay set up over there.” I point to the far-right corner. “Hilary already had that scheduled. Do you have any song requests? Maybe your favorite Christmas song?”

He gives me a look. You know, the kind that doesn’t need words. His look is saying, “You know better than that.”

“Fine, no favorite holiday song. Sheesh, tough crowd,” I mutter, and if I wasn’t witnessing it for myself, I never would have believed it. His mouth tips up in a small smile. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I reach out and place my hand on his forehead. “You feeling okay there, Ollie?” I tease him.

“Oliver,” he replies. His voice is low and gruff. His hand wraps around my wrist, and he places my hand on his cheek. “I feel just fine. How about you, Ms. Kincaid? How are you feeling?”

Oh, fuck a duck. This is flirting. The hot, grumpy asshole doctor is flirting with me, and God help me, I know we work together and it’s wrong, but I’m leaning into it. Leaning into him.

“Feeling a little… feverish. I mean festive.” I smirk.

“Yeah? And what can I do to help you with that?”

Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Why do I find him so hot? Clearing my throat, I smile up at him. “There is one thing.” I bite down on my bottom lip while he licks at his as he watches the action.

He steps closer. “What’s that?”

“We need to test it out,” I tell him. His eyes heat. I’ve read about eyes being liquid pools of desire, but I’ve never witnessed it myself, not until this very moment.

“Test what, Blake?”

I like how he shortens my name as if we already have familiarity between us. Moving my hand, I place both of mine on his shoulders and step even closer so that my body is aligned with his. On instinct, his hands go to my hips. He’s gripping me tightly, holding me close to him.

I smile up at him while his eyes smolder down at me. Desire rushes between my thighs, and I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. “The dance floor,” I whisper.

“You want to dance with me?”

I nod. Suddenly, the girl who always has something to say can’t seem to find her voice.

One hand flattens on the small of my back, pulling me closer. The other trails up and down my back. I feel a slight tug on my hair, and that’s when I realize he’s running his fingers through the strands.

“It’s lighter.”

“Highlights.”

“It suits you.”

Unable to stop myself, I place my palm back against his cheek. “Are you always so put together? Clean shaven, not a hair out of place?”

“I’m not sure my patients would trust me if I showed up to work full of scruff and a messy head of hair.”

I chuckle. “You might be right, but what about when you’re not working?”

“I’m always working.”

“So on the weekends, you let this grow?” I ask, rubbing against his jaw. There’s a little stubble from the long day, but not enough to even call a five o’clock shadow.

“Not usually.”

“Shame,” I say, moving my hands to lock behind his neck.

“Why is that a shame, Ms. Kincaid?”

“It’s a woman thing,” I tease as I run my fingers through his hair. I don’t know why, but I want to mess him up. Oliver Thompson put together is handsome, but having him… out of control, not too put together…. Just the thought has lava rolling through my veins.

His hands move back to my waist and tighten. “I’m a doctor. I can handle it.”

“I’m not so sure you can. Besides, I’m not sure I can divulge that information. We women have to stick together.”

“I’m a medical professional, Blake. I can handle anything you want to tell me.” His hands tighten even further on my waist, and I feel like I could combust just from his touch alone.

My hands are still buried in his strands, and I have to force myself to stop. Instead, I move them to grip his biceps, and oh holy night, the man is hiding fucking arm porn under those suits and shirts he wears to the office. I have to fight my smile when I think about my mom and my aunts. They’d definitely approve.

“Blakely,” he growls.

My eyes find his as I tighten my grip on his biceps. “Can you keep a secret?” I ask. My voice is low and husky even to my own ears.

“Yes. For you.”

For me. Why does that turn me on too? What in the hell is wrong with me? “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I want to know everything,” he says, his voice low. His eyes are hooded as he watches me, and he grips my waist as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

“Beards. Scruff. It heightens… things.” I bite down on my bottom lip. I cannot believe we’re even having this conversation. This meeting is not turning out how I had thought it would. I never could have imagined this moment or my rising attraction to him.

I watch his throat as he audibly swallows. “What things?”

“Places,” I add without thinking.

“Tell me.” He pulls me so close there’s no space between us.

“Neck.”

He leans down, and on instinct, I tilt my head to the side, giving him access. “Here?” he asks, rubbing his smooth cheek over my neck as he buries his face. If I’m not mistaken, he inhales deeply, but my mind is jumbled, so maybe I’m imagining that part.

“Y-Yes.”

“Where else?”

“Chest.”

He pulls back and stares down at my chest. He lifts his hand, and I suck in a breath as he traces my collarbone with his index finger. “Where else, Blake?”

“Thighs. I mean, between them.”

“Fuck,” he curses, and reality crashes into me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What am I doing?

Flattening my hands on his chest, I push back, and he lets me go. “Beards and arm porn, snap out of it, Kincaid,” I mutter to myself.

“What’s that?”

I take another step back. “Corn. Bread and corn. I haven’t had dinner. We should go.” His heated gaze seems to look inside my soul, and I feel exposed. I’m certain my desire is written all over my face.

“Did you get what you needed, Ms. Kincaid?”

Damn.

I nod. “Thank you for your help.” I turn on my heel and rush toward the door. I can hear his heavy footfalls, and I know he’s following me. Reaching the front door, I hit the light switches and step outside. I inhale the cold night air, hoping it will cool my libido.

“Do we need to lock up?” he asks.

“No. It will lock once we pull the door tight.”

He nods, stepping outside next to me, and pulls the door closed. I watch as he ensures it’s secured. When he turns toward me, his gaze is still hungry.

He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to my car, where he opens the door for me. He waits until I’m inside and buckled up before closing the door. I wave and pull out of the lot, not bothering to let my car warm up. I need to put some distance between us.