Sarah Gilmore

When my phone buzzed with Toby's message, I was in the middle of discharging my final patient. I had worked an 18-hour shift and was exhausted. My plan to take a nap before driving home changed as I checked my phone with the text. My night was going to be impossibly longer.

Toby K:

GS clean. Cut right upper

Gunshot wound. A clean one meant no bullet, so either a graze or straight through. Then there was the cut of some sort, right up meant shoulder, chest, or even neck. I swiped a bag of saline and a few other materials that I knew I could use as I mumbled my distaste in how vague Toby's message was.

The last thing I needed was to fall on my face while patching up Toby or one of his guys. I grabbed a double shot of espresso and an energy drink at the little cafe in the lobby of the hospital before heading to my car.

I had met Toby Kiser through Micah Moretti. The year I'd met Micah was the worst and best year of my life. I'd helped my brother's ex-girlfriend, Remi, get away from him and into Micah's protective care.

Limiting labels, my brother, Ben, was a grade A narcissist with psychopathic tendencies. With Remi, he had gone off the deep end. He snapped. It was only a matter of time before it happened, but seeing Remi move on without him... that did it.

I think Ben had hoped she would always come back to him. He had known she was too good for him and pushed her to her limits. It had been an ugly push-pull of his controlling personality, and he didn't care. Perhaps it was wanting something he knew he couldn't have.

Who was I to speculate?

Our dad still doesn't want to believe the shit I witnessed or any of the things Ben had put Remi through. It was even harder for him to accept that Ben had run. He ran right into the grasp of Micah and his men. Although I would have liked to see him charged in a court with a judge and all that, I also didn't care enough to follow what happened to him.

It was my past. I wanted nothing to do with them. My mom was the only one I'd kept in touch with.

I'd made changes. I lived simply. Picking New Orleans, I knew I'd be away from my family and out of their crosshairs of picking my life apart or not being more supportive of my deadbeat brother, a fucking woman beating, piece of shit.

Micah and Remi helped me finish my schooling, but after that I distanced myself. I'd heard from them and Micah's men a handful of times, but nothing like this. Most of the communication had been check-ins.

NOW! Now, Wes Dalton was in my home. I had stitched and bandaged him. My care had stabilized him.

He was just as sexy, lean, and muscled as I remembered. He was delightful to look at and even better to touch. When Toby had stepped out to connect with the rest of their team, I took time to inspect Dalton while he was unconscious. His strong muscular form was wrapped in warm, soft, and partially scarred skin.

I traced my fingertips over some of the newer marks that were still pink. I swallowed hard remembering some of the stories he had shared with me in the time that we had gotten close. I had never seen him like this, weakened by his injuries. He had always seemed untouchable and hero-like.

So, when I found myself standing in my kitchen with him, nearly speechless, I said the first thing that came to my mind. I needed to eat also. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," his voice was gruff and full of exhaustion.

My head was swimming and I could feel the effects of my caffeine wearing off. Steading myself by leaning against the counter, smiling at him I teased, "You and your appetite."

My fridge was pretty empty. A lot of what I had was fresh. Fruit on the counter and some in the fridge. I kept a raised garden that had yielded decent vegetables, so there was that too.

"You know it," his smirk held heat and turned my belly into pulsing molten liquid.

"I don't have much," I admitted. Opening my fridge, I pulled out the milk and a yogurt. "There is cereal, fruit, yogurt. I have some veggies and eggs if you want to try your hand at an omelet or something more substantial."

"Cereal is fine. I don't need anything fancy." He reached around me to grab a box from the cupboard I'd just opened. His naked chest pressed against my back. Even with my thin cotton shirt, the heat I felt from him radiated through me and spread low in my belly.

Sliding over and away from him, I tried to convince myself that I could handle this. The problem was that my vision wandered to the thoughts of what this man could do... had done... How he made me feel. Everything he could make me feel. Remembering slight touches, feathered kisses, and his tongue.

Ooh, fuck! His tongue!

I shook my head and tried to see through the fog of lust that traveled with him.

"Sarah?" He set the box down and was at my side. I swayed on my feet. Between being sleep deprived and building sexual tension, I was in trouble. Rubbing my face with my hands, I tried to rub and blink away the intimate thoughts.

"I'm okay. I'm just tired." It was only then that I noticed his hands. Larger than mine, nearly covering either side of my hips. His grip was light, but there. His warmth was what I noticed most. It was a welcome change to the cold and unaccompanied life I'd forcefully chosen.

I'd tried to date but each one ended unsuccessfully. No one had made me feel comfortable. I couldn't open up about my past of my messed up family to anyone. I tried, or at least I had myself convinced that I had. None of them made me feel alive or like a good fit.

This man, Wes Dalton, made me feel it all. All the emotions I kept locked away, but especially my vulnerability. It scared the shit out of me. He knew my past. He had seen me at one of my lowest points and he had wanted more from me, and I was the one who pushed him away.

"You don't look okay. Let me help you to bed. I'll feed myself once I've sorted you out." Not waiting for my response, he gingerly scooped me up. I left the milk and my yogurt on the counter. Willing myself to not object or fight him on this. My only reaction was to cling to him, forgetting about his injuries as I gripped his shoulder.

His sharp inhale and slight groan as he gritted his teeth above my head made me flinch.

"Ohmygod! I'm so, so sorry! Wes, are you okay?" I removed my hand from his bandage as soon as I'd realized my mistake.

"I'm fine, sweetness. Don't worry about me."

"But you need to heal!"

"Play doctor with me tomorrow and all will be forgiven," I didn't need to see his face to know the wicked smile. I lay my head on his good shoulder and let him carry me.

When my feet hit the ground, I went to thank him. My words were silenced when his fingers undid the button and unzipped my shorts. "Wh— What are you doing!?" It came out more like a shocked squeak than something that anyone could take seriously.

Standing at his mercy, his eyes roamed over me before he slipped them off. Without a word he stood, wrapped one arm around me, and unclasped my bra through my shirt. Pulling each strap down each arm and pulling the black bra through the neckline of my shirt.

"Wes," I snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You never slept in a bra and those shorts were tight. What I was doing," he purred as he lightly rubbed where my bra had been constricting under my arms, "was helping you get ready for bed."

My jaw dropped and I stared at him. I didn't move. I knew I should have stopped his actions, but I couldn't. I wouldn't.

"I should," I threw my hand over my shoulder to indicate the bed.

"Sarah," speaking my name so softly, the hairs on my arms stood on end. He brushed my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered.

"Wes, please," I whispered in response, leaning into his touch. I didn't know what I was saying. If I wanted him to continue or to stop.

He closed the space between us and I placed a hand on his chest. Bare warm skin, tone and soft against his muscles. Leaning his head down to mine, our temples touched. Rolling my head against his, I let my lashes fall shut. Letting the electricity zing from our contact down through my chest.

Giving me a kiss to my temple he took a careful step backwards. I immediately felt the absence of his body heat. "Sleep well, sweetness. See you in the morning."

He turned and left, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, I collapsed onto my bed.

"What the fuck am I doing?" Saying it more to myself than to the room. I could barely control myself. Sleep would probably help.

I didn't have the energy to make it to the bathroom to brush my teeth or run a brush through my hair. I settled into my unmade bed and buried my face in the cool comfort of my pillows. I'm not sure what time it was or when, but I passed out.

Waking up was like swimming through murky swamp water. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over. My house was quiet.

Sitting still, I listened to the familiar silence. It was too quiet.

Scrambling to get into my sleep pants, I headed to the spare bedroom. The bed was stripped, the pillow undressed, and the room seemed cleaner than it had been when Wes first arrived.

I suddenly felt incomplete. Staring at the emptied room, the feeling in the pit of my stomach returned. The same feeling I had when I left him. This time, he left me and I didn't know if I was alright with it.

Looking at the clock, it was almost one in the afternoon. Food! By the grumble coming from my midsection, I needed to get food soon or I'd regret it.

An empty house was how I liked it, so why now, did it feel overly baren?

As I scrambled my eggs, I jumped at the sound of my dryer. Buzzing to notify me that it was finished with a load, but I hadn't run it.

Cautiously, I entered my small laundry room. Opening the door of the dryer, warm and freshly cleaned towels and sheets greeted me. He had washed his linens! There was no trace of the blood that had been there the night before.

I inhaled the fresh scent of my laundry detergent from the first towel. A comfort that I would always cherish would be the scent of clean laundry. It was something that I didn't have when I lived in Maryland.

My ex, Romeo, would smoke in the house and not just cigarettes. Everything I owned would reek of whatever he decided to burn. I shook the unpleasant memory away as I pulled the clean laundry out and cleansed the thoughts with another inhale.

My eggs finished and I ate them at the small table at the far end of the kitchen. A piece of paper stuck out from under my salt and pepper shakers. I recognized his writing and was surprised that he had left me a note.

I was shocked. He never left notes. Curious, I pulled it free and read the short message, immediately rolling my eyes to the back of my head.

'Sweetness,
Sorry I dipped. I'll be back tonight. Clear your schedule. I want to repay you.
-D'

It was then that the thought hit me. I had plans. How long had he been standing at the doorway to the kitchen?

"Absolutely not," thinking it out loud, I was not about to change my plans because he had come back into my life.

He was clearly feeling well enough to leave. Crumpling the note up. I tossed the paper in the trash and washed my dishes.

The rest of the afternoon moved slowly. Chores occupied most of my time. When I waited for laundry, I was folding and putting away clean laundry as I caught up on one of my shows.

Living by myself and working as much as I did, I didn't make much of a mess. I didn't have a pet to clean up after or worry about and there were no kids.

Standing in my closet, I put the last of the folded laundry away when I heard my phone's ringtone in another part of the house. I'd misplaced it again, but I was fairly certain that it was in the laundry room, off the kitchen. I had no interest in talking to the person calling. I was feeling extra introverted and almost nervous about my evening.

Ashton Sullivan had been trying to go out with me for the last year and a half. My excuses didn't dissuade him. Coffee, lunch, breakfast at the small cafe at work, a snack from the vending machine, Ashton had tried all the ways to tempt me to say yes. I continuously turned him down but at a recent fundraiser, he promised he wouldn't push anymore if I agreed to just one night out with him.

Head of Pediatrics, Ashton was sweet and nothing like anyone I'd ever dated before. He was strong, kind, blond, and probably belonged to a fraternity. He didn't smoke or drink and while working with kids, he didn't curse either.

What was I thinking?

My phone rang again.

"Fuck! Okay, I'm coming," I groaned as I made my way towards the sound.

As soon as I stepped into the small room, the phone stopped. As suspected, it was from Ashton. With a buzz and a chime, a notification popped up that he had left me a message. His message was short and sweet but to the point.

"Hey Sarah, it's Ashton. I have been called into the hospital for an emergency. Looks like it's me who has to cancel," he let out a humorous chuckle. "I'll see you later. I'm sorry, Sarah. I do hope we can take a rain-check on our dinner."

I let out a big breath, thankful that things fell through. Leaning against the dryer, I thought about whether or not I needed to send him a text or call him. Deciding on a less personal approach, I started writing out a message back to him. My thumb hovered over the send button when a knock at my front door interrupted me.

I could feel my forehead pinch and I wondered who the fuck was knocking at my door. The only person I had been expecting, had canceled.

"Coming," I yelled.

Living on the outskirts of town, no one really visited. I'm not sure who I should have expected, but I wasn't ready for him.

Wes Dalton.

Shaking my head with a disbelieving, tight, smile, I looked him over from collar to shoes. He looked damn good, but I wasn't letting my guard down with him. The night before had been too close. We had been too close.

"Wes."

"Sarah," his amused smirk was annoying.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see my doc." He touched his side, and my eyes followed the movements of his hands.

"Are you okay?" Pushing closer to him, I was concerned about his injuries. The caretaker in me wanted to check him over to make sure that he hadn't ripped stitches or re-injured his wounds on his side.

He lifted one side of his shirt to show me his freshly bandaged side. His tone turned cocky, "I'm taking good care of your handy work."

I swatted his non-injured shoulder and said, "Only the stitches are my handy work. If this," I pressed my thumb into the irritated skin below his bullet wound, "was mine, you'd need to ask why I missed."

With gritted teeth, he hissed his breath. "Hey! Injured here!"

"Playing the victim doesn't suit you. What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I'm here to see my doctor. I think I may have popped a stitch in my shoulder." He had dipped his head and gave me a guilty grin.

"Seriously, Wes?" It would be my luck to have Wes Dalton as a patient! The man rarely sat still. "Fine. This time, the kitchen will do better." I opened the door and let him pass through. I wasn't about to have him in bed. There was too much temptation with him.

The biggest problem was I didn't know who I distrusted more, myself or him. The kitchen would be neutral, and I knew I had good light there.

"Thank you, sweetness."

"Go get settled in one of the chairs in the kitchen. Shirt off. I'll grab my pack." He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his chest as I closed the door. "Wes?" His gorgeous silvery-blue eyes looked down at me. It looked like there was something he wanted to say but didn't.

"Just, thank you." He kissed my hand and left me standing in the entryway of my small home. I wasn't going to think about it. If I thought about it, it would mean something.

Running to my room, I grabbed my kit, rubbing alcohol, and more gauze. Walking back to the kitchen, Wes sat in a chair, still fully clothed.

"I know you're hard-headed but didn't take you for hard-of-hearing. Shirt off, Wes. I need to see the stitch you popped."

"So demanding," he joked before adding, "but I didn't pop one."

"But you said..." I stopped and shook my head, finally understanding. "Why are you really here, Wes?"

In one fluid motion, he was out of his seat and pressing his body against mine. Pinning me between the hardness of his body and the farm sink. My head spun as my gasp brought his masculine musk into my lungs.

"I'm here to thank my doc," speaking as he lowered his head to my neck. Skimming his lips along the skin beneath my ear, my nipples hardened and I let out a moan.

It had been way too long since I'd let anyone touch me and everything in me was screaming to give in. Gripping the counter, my bag dropped to the tiled floor, and my leg raised to better press him where I ached.

My head was no longer in charge of my actions as I greedily sought his mouth with mine. I found it. Hot and all too familiar. Coming together in a hot rush of need and want. His taste of sharp mint and something addictively Wes was maddening.

His hands slid lightly over my hips. The feather-light sensations caused every hair on my arms to stand on end and the world to fall away. Threading my hands around the base of his neck, I needed to get grounded. Attempting to gain purchase, I gripped at his shoulders. The hiss of pain he released into my mouth was sobering.

"I'm okay. Only a little bit of pain. It's to be expected when I'm around you," he said before leaning in for another kiss.

I smacked the same shoulder. Another hiss. "What the fuck, Dalton?"

"Ow! That one hurt, sweet—" I didn't wait for him to finish.

As he backed up, I threw the plastic bowl that was sitting on the counter, smacking him in the arm as he flinched to block it. "Now, wait a minute—" There went a wooden spoon. "Sarah," his tone turned grim.

"What!?" The dish towel was next, but it wouldn't do as much damage and knew I needed something heavier. I glanced over my shoulder at the glass Tupperware.

"Don't you dare!" Wes scolded.

"What are you doing here Dalton?"

"I told you. I was coming to—" He got cut off as he ducked out of the way of an apple from my decorative bowl.

"Don't you fucking lie to me asshole!"

"Fine," holding up his hands in surrender, I readied another apple. "I came by hoping I could take you out to dinner."

"With your tongue down my throat?"

"Well, I recall you initiating that one." He shrugged and looked damned sexy as he gave me a guilty shrug. The apple I threw this time, he caught. "I am pretty good with self-control, except when I'm around you, Sarah."

Closing my eyes, I didn't let him see my eye roll this time. "So, dinner?"

"Please. I'd like to catch up. It has been a while since you and I have seen each other and being that we are both here," he spread his arms to his sides, "it only seems right."

"No."

"No?" It was clear by his echo that I'd caught him off guard.

"No. Get out."

"Sarah, please?" He took a cautious step closer. "Let me take you out to dinner tonight. Chat, catch up, and see where the night takes us."

The thought was tempting, but he was causing waves in my little world. Breaking me from my thoughts of turning him down, his firm hands turned me towards the bedroom.

"Go get changed. We're going out," he directed.

"But, I'm—"

"Nope! I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. Go change. I'll meet you out front." He gave me a light shove and sent my feet moving down the hall.

One night.

How bad could one night be? I knew there was a history between us. I knew we had been good together. What I didn't know was why I felt the need to fight this so damn hard.

"Fuck," I groaned as I opened my closet to find something to wear. This man was not in my plans. "Leave it to Dalton," I whispered to myself as I slid out of my yoga pants.