Unfriending the Dr: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance

“Hard ass,” he growled and stroked his chin. “I approve. Boys like that need it. Hell, I might have done better by my family if my old man had been more of a hard ass.” He clapped me on the back and smiled, pointing at the rusted mess under the hood. “How long are they committed?”

“At least six weeks, maybe more.” It was a big job for a big client, and I wanted to get it just right. The magazine spread the owner had lined up would be great exposure for the shop.

Maybe with a little more success, Persephone would see me as something more than her grease monkey best friend.

Persy

“It’ll be okay, Lacey. The tech is going to take off your cast.”

The little girl had come in today excited to have her cast removed, until it came time to having the thing actually cut off.

She shook her head, brown pigtails swinging left and right. “I don’t want it to come off. Look, all my friends signed it and drew pictures.”

“Ah, I see.” I squatted down so we were face to face. “You can keep the cast. We’ll make sure the tech removes it with one clean cut of the saw.”

“Saw?” Her big brown eyes widened in surprise, and then interest. “Really?”

“Yep. That’s made out of tough stuff,” I told her and tapped the edge of the cast. “Ready?”

She looked up at her father, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Ready.”

“I’ll be right there, honey.” He gave her a soft pat on her backside and she giggled, taking off as soon as the tech arrived, peppering him with dozens of questions.

“Finally.” He smiled. “We’re alone.”

A chill went up my spine at the predatory smile he flashed. “Is there some medical problem you didn’t want to discuss in front of your family, Mr. Jones?”

He let out a half-amused laugh and shook his head. “Of sorts. My problem is that we’re both pretending not to want each other, Dr. Vanguard. Isn’t that right?” He took a step forward and I took a step back.

“No, that’s not right. You’re married and I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on now, Dr. Vanguard, don’t tell me a woman like you is opposed to being my little bit on the side.” He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close, his breath reeking of cigarettes and cinnamon gum.

I shrugged off his touch and gave him a shove away from me. “A woman like me?” The jerk had really pissed me off. “Smart and accomplished, in addition to being nice to look at? Yeah, why wouldn’t I want to be a convenient hole for a married father who probably doesn’t even remember how to give a woman an orgasm? Unbelievable.”

His frown grew darker with every word out of my mouth. “It was just a question.”

“An insulting question after an equally insulting proposition.” I let out a shaky sigh, reaching for calm before I went berserk on this douche canoe. “Why don’t you go hold Lacey’s hand while she gets her cast off, before I get us both in a world of trouble.”

A broken arm or a well-timed kick to the nuts would cause questions, and I would be happy to provide the answers.

Mr. Jones nodded, his eyes filled with shock that any woman would dare turn down an offer to be his unsatisfied mistress. As if.

His shoulders fell, his bravado vanished. “And please, stay home for the next follow-up visit. It’s in four weeks.”

Mr. Jones shrugged. “Suit yourself. And for the record, I give plenty of orgasms.”

“I’m sure you do.” Not. “Have a nice day, Mr. Jones.” I kept a polite smile on my face, but inside, I seethed. Men. They were complete and total garbage humans, always trying to stick their dicks in someone without regard for anything else.

As soon as the exam room was empty, I took a moment to myself to calm down before I went in search of Melanie.

“Persy, what’s wrong? You look mad enough to chew nails.”

“Isn’t the saying mad enough to spit nails?”

Melanie laughed and shrugged. “Maybe, but you look so mad that you might just ground the nails into dust and swallow them like a multivitamin.”

“Melanie, you are one of the most colorful people in this town. Keep it up.”

Her laughter rang out and a few of those waiting in the emergency room looked up, curious as to what was so funny. “So, who pooped in your oatmeal, Dr. Vanguard?” Melanie’s hair brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. “It’s still weird to call you that.”

I got that often from the adults in town who knew me as a child. Some were former teachers, old employers. Melanie had been the school nurse in elementary school before getting her RN.

“Mr. Jones. I’ve asked him not to come back for Lacey’s follow-up, can you put in a reminder?” At her quizzical look, I gave Melanie a brief rundown of his disgusting proposition. “Same thing that always happens.”