Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
"What consult?" I scowl at the folder.
"The one you told Gage you'd take," she reminds me, referring to my best friend from medical school, Gage Bronx.
"Shit," I curse, taking the folder from her. He called me about it a couple of days ago, said the baby has a congenital defect and is too sick to be flown home to California for the surgery. He asked me to take it as a personal favor. The aunt is his wife's best friend. "That's today?"
"Yep." Jules eyes me critically, her dark gaze scrutinizing my appearance. "You might want to do something with your hair. And put on your coat. You look like you just left the gym."
"That's because I just left the gym," I mutter, tucking the folder under my arm. "I thought I had a few minutes to deal with some notes this morning before I started seeing patients."
"No such luck. You need to call your twin after your consult, and then call Sheriff Armstrong." Her nose wrinkles. "He called you four times yesterday about Brady. I don't like him, by the way."
"No one likes Brady." The Prospect has been nothing but a pain in the collective ass of the MC since we agreed to do his brother, the Mayor, a solid. Lesson learned. Next time, we'll be burning that bridge and saving ourselves the headache.
Unlike a lot of MCs, ours isn't involved with anything illegal. We expect all our members to be legitimate. No criminal history, no bullshit. Brady failed to disclose his criminal history, which had Dillon Armstrong knocking on our door with an arrest warrant for him a few months ago. Getting it sorted out has been a pain in the ass. Brady is lucky Cash wanted to keep the mayor on his good side or we would have helped Armstrong cuff him.
"Xavier called?" My twin brother is supposed to be in Japan, working some big deal for our mom's company. At least he was two days ago. He went so our father could whisk her off to Europe for a week. Both he and Sariah work for her company. She'll be handing it over to them soon. She keeps insisting on naming me to the board as well, but I'll be a silent partner. I have no interest in running the company.
"Yep. He wants you to call him later. And I wasn't talking about Brady. I meant Sheriff Armstrong," Jules says, rolling her eyes at me. She tosses her head, causing her ponytail to bounce as if to emphasize her annoyance with the Sheriff. "He's bossy."
"He's the Sheriff."
"He doesn't have to be a tyrant about it."
I arch a brow, amused. "He's the Sheriff. I'm pretty sure that's in the job description."
"Overgrown, bossy, growly…" Jules mumbles a few other descriptors under her breath before the phone rings, snagging her attention. She snaps out of her diatribe, settling her irritated gaze on me. "Go put your doctor clothes on. We have things to do."
"You do remember that I'm the one who pays you, right?" I call after her, and then chuckle when she throws a hand up in the air in response. "Guess she's not a fan of Dillon Armstrong," I mutter to myself.
Huh. I wonder what he said to ruffle her feathers this morning? He's not a bad guy. In fact, he's one of the most levelheaded men I know. If he's in a mood bad enough to rile Jules, I'm guessing whatever Brady did isn't something I want to deal with today.
I shrug it off, deciding someone else can handle Brady for the day, and head toward my office to change and look over the new patient's file before her aunt arrives. Gage didn't have a lot of details when he called. All I really know is that the baby is young and has a congenital heart defect. Her aunt is her legal guardian, which is a recent development.
I toss the file toward my desk, reaching to pull my t-shirt off over my head. Then and only then do I realize there's a woman curled up on the sofa across from my desk, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. She's passed out, her plump lips softly parted.
I freeze with my arms halfway over my head, staring in shock.
She's…Jesus. I drop my arms back to my sides and blink, trying to process the chaos currently coursing through me. A landslide roars through me, toppling entire sections of my soul in its wake. My heart pounds a frenetic, dizzying rhythm, the throb of my cock beating in syncopation. There's something about her…something so familiar and yet I'd stake my life on the fact that I've never met her before in my life.
She's tiny, curled up into a little ball on the sofa as if to make herself as small as possible. Even that doesn't hide the lush curves of her body from my gaze. The swells of her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath she takes, the generous flare of her hips…the thickness of her thighs. She can't be any older than twenty-two or twenty-three, but she has the ripe, luscious body of a woman a decade older.