Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
My date with Blake might not have gone the way I’d thought or even wanted, but I get to spend the evening with two of my favorite guys, so I’m not complaining.
It’s early, but that’s good because I want to get to the clinic just as it opens so I can give Blake some food before his day gets crazy.
Maybe it’s silly. Perhaps he’ll look at me like I’m nuts and pat me on the head with a thank you. I don’t know. I just felt bad that he had to run off to work in a frenzy, and … hell, who am I kidding? I want to see him.
I walk into Bitterroot Valley Coffee Co to get him a coffee to go along with his breakfast burrito, and when I get to the counter, I’m greeted with a friendly smile.
“Hey, what can I get you?”
“Oh crap, I don’t know how he takes his coffee.” I frown, then chuckle. “Sorry, thinking out loud.”
“Who is it?” she asks. “I might know. I have a knack for remembering everyone’s order.”
“Blake Blackwell?”
“Ah, honey latte with oat milk,” she says with a nod. “Got it. How about you? I’m Millie, by the way. I’ve known Blake forever and a day. His family’s ranch isn’t too far from my family’s ranch.”
“Small towns, right?” I grin at her. “I’m Harper. I’ll take a non-fat white mocha, please. Cow’s milk works.”
“You bet.” Millie winks at me and taps the info into her little computer. I tap my card to pay, then step aside to wait.
Ten minutes later, armed with a bag of food and Blake’s coffee of choice, I walk through the clinic's door exactly one minute after they open.
“Hey,” I say to the receptionist. “I know this is … odd, but can I speak with Dr. Blackwell before he gets busy with patients? I’ll only be two minutes.”
She eyes the stuff in my hands, then picks up her phone to call to the back.
“Hey, this is Mo. Is Dr. Blackwell there? Can you let him know a …” She lifts an eyebrow at me.
“Harper.”
“A Harper is here to see him real quick? Thanks.”
She hangs up and smiles at me. “He’s on his way up here.”
“Thanks.”
Before the word is out of my mouth, Blake walks out from the back, and my chest pings at the sight of him.
He looks tired. But he also looks handsome as hell in those green scrubs and white jacket.
“Good morning,” I say with a grin. “I won’t keep you. I just brought you breakfast.”
He blinks at the stuff in my hands, then looks in my eyes. “Good morning,” he finally says.
“It’s just a breakfast burrito that I made. Xander says they’re good. Oh, he got home last night. And Millie knew your coffee order.”
He’s just looking at me as if I’m a mirage that will disappear at any second.
“If this is weird, I apologize. You don’t have to consume any of it.”
I start to back away, but then he grabs my arm and pulls me down a hallway and into an empty exam room. He closes the door, then takes the bag and cup from me and sets them aside. Then he’s kissing the ever-loving fuck out of me, and I immediately melt into him with a little moan.
His hands frame my face, and his lips are demanding, but then he lightens the kiss, brushing his mouth over mine and giving me tingles. Finally, he bites my lower lip and pulls away.
“Jesus, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Are you okay?” I frown up at him and rub my hand over his sternum. “Was it that bad last night?”
“It was fucking torture leaving you in that goddamn bar,” he growls, shaking his head. “It was hell, and I promise it’ll never happen again.”
“You can’t promise that.” I smile up at him. “And it’s okay. Do I look angry?”
“No, but you should be.”
“No, I’d be an asshole if I was pissed at you, Blake. I didn’t think you probably ate much this morning, although I could be wrong. So I brought you food.”
He pulls me against him and hugs me. Just hugs me and kisses the top of my head. Even that makes me shiver.
Because right now, I’m pressed up against a very firm, very muscular, hot-as-hell Blake, and I know what’s beneath these scrubs.
Heat pools in my core, and I clear my throat.
“I’d better let you get to work.”
“Tonight,” he says by my ear. “I want to see you tonight, and I’m going to make up for the colossal dumpster fire of last night.”
“It wasn’t colossal,” I say, smiling against his chest. “It was a little trash fire. Like a small bathroom-sized trash can. Nothing catastrophic.”
He huffs out a laugh and tips my chin up. “Tell me I can see you tonight.”
“You can see me tonight.”