Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(38)

No.

No, no.

Fuck no.

No, that gorgeous doctor wouldn’t be just a lay. No. She’d be more, much, much more than a hit and run. That had long-term relationship written all over it.

Fuck.

And she even had the guts to take me on and call me on my shit when we’d pulled her over. Ballsy little thing. That alone did me in. She didn’t hesitate jacking Ritchie up either.

When she bent over into that cabinet, I wanted to take her right then and there. Tight body, perfectly rounded heart-shaped ass, ample breasts that would fill my hands perfectly—made my mouth water again just thinking about them. I wanted to lay her across the f*cking hospital bed and peel those light blue scrubs off her, see what kind of panties she had on under there while making those tits of hers ache with pleasure.

God, she was beautiful. Smart and independent, too. Wouldn’t even let me pick her up from work, insisting she’d catch a ride to meet me here.

She didn’t seem bothered that I worked night shift, either. Hell, she said she worked the same hours. That was a major bonus. Major. But they all say that at first before things come up to make my hours an issue. I so didn’t need a repeat of Nikki, making me feel like shit for leaving her alone at night. There’s only so much of that I could take. It’s not like the bad guys commit their crimes at convenient hours. If a woman couldn’t respect what I stood for and believed in, then I guess they weren’t worth standing by.

Huh. Doctor Erin Novak. Who’d ever think I’d hook up with a doctor?

That long honey-colored, dirty-blonde hair tied at the nape of her neck—just begging for a hand to grasp onto it—was such a turn-on. I knew it made me a totally sick f*cking bastard to think it, but the whole time she was stitching me up I couldn’t stop fantasizing about holding onto it while guiding her mouth up and down on me.

I felt my balls tighten. It had been too long to remember what feeling real with a woman felt like. Even though I’d gotten laid since ending it with Nikki, it wasn’t worth the time it took. But I knew going in that the girl was going to be nothing more than a few hours of fun, even though the generic sex didn’t feed my needs.

Only a special kind of woman could satisfy that.

Ever since that f*cking episode aired with me with my shirt off, things had been getting out of hand. All I had to do was pick any local club in Philly; girls started recognizing me, and it was like shooting fish in a barrel. But now this shit with these obsessive psycho fans, all the fan mail, bras, pictures, telephone numbers, girls coming to my damn house… Did these women actually think I’d relocate to Austin or bum-f*ck Tuscaloosa for companionship? Grab one off my f*cking front lawn? Yeah, like that would ever happen. The only thing their behaviors were doing was confirming my opinion that the world is full up of crazy people.

But Doctor Erin Novak didn’t seem to have a clue who I was. She didn’t have cable TV, either, which was another huge bonus, although I was surprised she didn’t pick up anything from the newspapers, since our “Prowler Pack” was all over the local news as if we were the next best thing since those Jersey Shore douche bags.

I watched my waitress saunter over. Even in her early sixties, her hips still had the small diner sway that would garner more in tips. “You want some more decaf, Adam?”

I blocked her pour with my bandaged hand. “No thanks, Kathy.” I bit back the throb that immediately shot into my wrist. It was as if my hand had a freaking pulse of its own.

Like a disapproving mother, she frowned at me. “What happened to you?”

I stared at the gauze, thinking how this night could have turned out much worse. I was slipping. Getting sloppy. But I wasn’t about to explain myself so I shrugged it off. “Got cut.”

She stood there waiting on the rest of the story but I wasn’t in the mood for sharing.

Kathy tisked and then finally resigned to the idea that she wasn’t going to get any more out of me. She tossed her chin. “Is it going to be on this Sunday?”

I scratched my forehead. How the hell would I know what scenes they edit and what gets prime time viewing? Considering I got hurt and Dumb and Dumber were ordered to follow me into the ER, all signs pointed to it being aired eventually. “I don’t know. Doubt it.”

“You want your usual?”

“Yeah, but not yet. I’m waiting on someone.”

One very thin penciled-on eyebrow lifted. Why women shaved them off only to draw them back on was another one of those female mysteries I’d never care to understand.

“Should I be jealous?” she asked a little too seriously. As if I’d ever date a sixty-year-old at this point in my life.

“Should your husband be?” I tossed back at her.

“Touché. I’m glad you finally came in. I thought after… Well Kara’s been moping around here for weeks.”

Shit. Don’t, just don’t. I held up my hand. I was not in the mood for a lecture. “It was a mistake.”

“I’m worried about her.” Kathy sighed, leaning her hip on the back of the booth. “She doesn’t seem to know that.”

If I could kick myself, I would have. “A mistake that I won’t be repeating.”

“I’ll talk to her,” she said. “My grandson wants to know if you were serious about the offer to do that weight training with him.”