Undone Page 5

  “You’re insane, or a goddamn saint,” I mumble as I finally let the two dogs pull me toward Reagan’s car. They know exactly where they’re going.

  We load all four dogs into the back of her SUV and I take the passenger seat again while she navigates the bumpy dirt road.

  “So, how did you find this place?” I ask curiously.

  She lets out a little laugh. “Let’s just say that I spent a lot of time here growing up.”

  “You know Mrs. Fitzgerald?”

  “Yep. Gemma and my Uncle Mac used to be married. They divorced the second summer that I was here. Gemma has always been wonderful to me, so I help her out when I can.”

  “Seems like you help everyone out.”

  “I try to. I really do. Mac and Gemma were so kind to me… and… just… I have a lot to thank them for. I’ll always help them.” I notice her grip the steering wheel a little tighter and blink her eyes as if she’s fighting back tears. She takes a deep breath and glances at me. “Gemma has the kindest heart. She was always taking in strays, so a few years ago, she finally decided to open a small rescue group. Mac built her that kennel. Even though they’re divorced, he still pretty much does everything for her.”

  “It’s a little unusual,” I mention. “But hey, if it works for them, so be it.”

  “I don’t disagree with you and yes, it works for them,” she says as she pulls into a small parking lot that is set off from the beach. Putting the car in park and killing the ignition, she looks at me with her bright blue eyes.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I grumble. Walking dogs was not what I envisioned doing with Reagan today, but if it means spending time with her, I’ll fucking walk some mutts. We meet at the back of the SUV and, as she opens the back door, the four dogs come bounding at us.

  “Grab the leashes,” she yells as we both scramble to collect the tangle of leashes. Once we’re all sorted out, we walk through the thick sand down the beach.

  “I walk them for a couple of miles; hope you’re up for a walk.” She smiles again. Twisting the leash around her wrist, she shortens the length on Ollie.

  “This one,” she tugs at Ollie’s leash, “is my trouble maker.” She rubs his long ears and down his neck. “He doesn’t listen and does everything he’s not supposed to do. I swear he’s untrainable—until he’s worn down, then he listens.” I laugh at her description of Ollie; if she wasn’t describing this beagle, her description could fit me. “Here, I’ll let you take Ollie today.” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a sarcastic smile.

  “Jeez, thanks.” I take the leash from her hand and that of one of the smaller fluffy dogs. Ollie knows the routine. He pulls me down toward the water line, and Reagan and the other dogs follow us. It’s warm and humid, but the breeze off the ocean keeps it from being unbearable.

  “So you mentioned you spent summers here growing up, but when did you officially move here?” I ask, eager to learn more about her.

  “Actually, just about six weeks ago. I’m still really just getting settled.” The wind is whipping her long, dark hair all around and it’s giving me a perfect view of her neck. “I couldn’t pass up this job—it was basically handed to me on a silver platter, and I love North Carolina and the ocean.” She pauses. “It’s always been my home away from home, I guess,” she says, smiling. “So how old were you when you became a police officer?”

  “Is this your way of asking me how old I am?” I laugh.

  A light blush sweeps across her face and chest. “Maybe,” she says, tucking some hair behind her ear.

  “I was almost twenty-four when I started and I just turned thirty, if that’s what you really wanted to know,” I smirk. “Speaking of age, you seem really young to be in a private practice,” I observe.

  “Is this your way of asking me how old I am?” She laughs and bumps her shoulder into mine. She pauses, and I can see her thinking.

  “I’m thirty-one,” she says quietly, pausing again. “I graduated from high school when I was seventeen.” What is it with me and girls that are so ambitious with their schooling? “I spent the next three years and those summers working on my undergraduate degree in biology, and I was accepted into medical school when I was twenty-one. I’ve done my time when it comes to school and my residency.” She laughs.

  “You don’t look like you’re thirty-one,” I remark. She doesn’t. I pegged her for mid-twenties.

  “Well, thank you for the compliment,” she jokes.

  “I don’t know how I feel about dating an older woman,” I say, just as she snaps her head to look at me.

  “Who said we were dating?” She raises her eyebrows at me.

  “No one. I’m just saying I’ve never dated an older woman before.” She doesn’t say anything, but just stares at me with narrowed eyes. I can see her thinking.

  “Landon, I told you I don’t really have the time to date anyone right now,” she says quietly. “But… I like you…”

  “I like you too, Reagan,” I interrupt her, “but I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not really a relationship kind of guy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Shrugging, I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess I just like to have a good time, without all the seriousness of a relationship.”

  “So you like to fuck around,” she states matter-of-factly. “Relationships are too difficult for you to manage, so you fuck who you want when you want, and since there’s no commitment, it doesn’t complicate things, am I right?” It sounds so harsh when she says it, but yeah, that’s exactly what it is.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what it is.” Why am I so embarrassed to admit that to her?

  “I’ve done the friends with benefits things in college,” she says. “It never works out. Someone always develops feelings. Always,” she says, kicking at the sand. We’ve slowed down considerably and the dogs are tugging at the leashes.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. That’s why I’ve never slept with the same woman twice.”

  She stops abruptly. “Are you kidding me?” I shake my head to answer her. “Shit,” she whispers. “So, you’ve never been in a long-term relationship?”

  “Nope. I’ve never been in a relationship, period.”

  “Have you ever loved a woman? Sorry, I know that’s a personal question.”

  “That’s okay. I had feelings for someone, and I cared about her—a lot, but I wasn’t who she loved—who she needed.” I think back to Jess, and how it was the first time I ever felt compassion or cared for a woman and her feelings. It was the first time I’d felt the instinctual need to protect someone other than Lindsay and the first time I felt another person’s pain.

  “What happened?” Reagan asks.

  “I pushed her back into the arms of the man she needed.”

  “That sounds like love,” she whispers. “Or complete stupidity.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry,” she says.

  “No, it was for the best. What about you?” I ask. “Ever been in love?”

  “Just once. It didn’t work out. End of story.” I can tell this is a sore subject for her.

  “How long ago was this?”

  I see her swallow hard. “It was a really long time ago. First love. You know, the one you think you’re going to be with forever, the one who will never hurt you. Yeah, that’s a bunch of shit. It just didn’t work out.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  “I’ve got all day.”

  “Not today, Landon. Not something I’m ready to talk about.”

  “Got it, okay. Such serious conversation we’re having and we met, what, like thirty-six hours ago?” I joke with her.

  “Here.” She reaches for the leashes in my hand and unhooks Ollie and Mo. When she unhooks Henry and Curly they all take off running down the beach. A small pack of dogs, barking, yipping, and running together. She walks up to where the sand is dry and sits down as she watches the dogs
race down the beach.

  “They’re tired enough that they’ll run for a bit, but won’t run away. They always turn around and come back,” she says, nodding at them. I take a seat in the sand next to her. Our shoulders are almost touching.

  “So you’re like a modern-day saint,” I say. “Saving people, dogs… what else do you have up your sleeve?”

  She laughs. “Ha! Hardly. I don’t save anybody or anything, I just like to help.”

  “I like that about you, Reagan. I like that you like helping people—even dogs.” She picks up a small handful of sand and lets it run through her fingers. “And I’d like to see you again, but I’m not sure I could give you what you want or need.”

  “How do you know what I want or need?”

  “I guess I don’t. But what I do know is that I like talking to you.”

  “You’re breaking your own rules, Champ. You’ve seen me twice—yesterday and today. You said it yourself you don’t see someone more than once.”

  “Ah, you’re wrong. I don’t sleep with them more than once, not see them more than once.”

  “Oh, that’s right; as long as we don’t sleep together, we can be friends—hang out, and see each other again and again,” she says sarcastically. Turning toward me, she leans in too close, her nose pressed against the side of my face. I can feel her lips hovering just next to my ear. “But what happens when one of us wants more?” she whispers. “Because one of us will, it’s inevitable. What happens then? You fuck me and leave me—never see me again?”

  I turn to meet her crisp blue eyes. She’s leaning in to me—staring at me.

  “Do you want to fuck me, Reagan?”

  “Not if I can’t see you again—no.”

  Goddamn, this woman is going to drive me insane. I let out a frustrated laugh. She rests her hand on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I want to see you again, Landon, so there will be no fucking, understand?” I drop my head back and close my eyes.

  “Got it, Doc.”

  “Good, now let’s get these dogs back to Gemma.”

  She gives out a whistle and all four dogs come bounding down the beach. She stands up with all four leashes while I sit and watch her. What the hell is it about her? Why do I suddenly want something I’ve never had before? Why do I want her?

  “Ready, Champ?”

  “Ready.”

  I reach over and shut off the water just as the bubbles reach the top of the bathtub. Sliding into the hot water, I glide down the back of the porcelain tub and rest my head on the edge with a rolled up towel propped under my neck to keep me comfortable. I could lie in this water forever. Baths are my escape, my place to decompress and let go, except tonight, I can’t stop thinking about Landon. Something about him makes me question everything I think I know—everything I think I want.

  He’s dangerous… he admitted it. But damn if I’m not attracted to that danger—knowing that if I succumb to it, it would be nothing but heartbreak for me. “Shit,” I say out loud. I can’t do this. Not now. I need to keep my head clear and focused on my job. I’ve studied and worked too hard to get this far to let myself get distracted by a man, by Landon.

  “Focus,” I tell myself. “Remember how far you’ve come.” I push thoughts of Landon to the back of my head and try to relax. I let the warm water carry away the stress and anxiety as I relax, but my thoughts are never far from the dangerous man who has me hooked. I see every line and every color of the tattoos that cover both of his arms—wondering what it would feel like to lie in those arms, wrapped around him.

  “Let him go, Reagan,” I tell myself as I climb out of the bathtub. The bath was hardly relaxing, as all I could think about was him. Drying off, I pull on my negligée and let my hair down, running a brush through my long hair. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see successful and accomplished—a doctor, but not far hidden behind the façade is the scared, weak girl I once was, afraid of love, of letting someone into that place within—only to have them disappoint me and leave me broken again.

  I plug my cell phone in to charge and set it on my nightstand, glancing at it one last time to see what time it is, eleven o’clock exactly; that’s late for me—yet I’m not tired. I thumb through the book I’ve been reading for the last few nights, finding I can’t stay interested in the story as my mind wanders back to him. I see his lips, his muscular tattooed arms, his chiseled face… and I can’t seem to think of anything else.

  Reaching over, I shut off the bedside lamp and open the drawer, pulling out my vibrator. I slide it under the covers and between my legs and with the press of the button, it hums to life as I guide it to the spot that’s been throbbing since this afternoon.

  Pressing and gliding, it doesn’t take long for me to orgasm, my legs twitching and my breathing rapid as I recall the sight of his face. It’s been far too long that I’ve let that little piece of plastic and AA batteries bring me pleasure, and not a man. Tossing the vibrator aside, I curl up into a ball. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the thought of those piercing blue eyes and inked skin lying next to me—touching me.

  Tuesdays are always busy for me—I see more patients on Tuesdays than I do any other day of the week. When I close the door to the exam room as I exit, there is a small group gathered around the horseshoe-shaped desk in the back office. This is where the medical assistants chart, and where pharmaceutical reps tend to make themselves at home.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, wondering what I’m missing out on. There is a group of girls huddled around, looking at a cell phone.

  “Look, I snapped a picture this time,” Melissa says, handing me her iPhone. Melissa is my medical assistant and is absolutely hilarious.

  “Who is this?” I scan the picture briefly.

  “That is Tony. Tony Puchello—or affectionately known as the Italian Stallion.” I can’t help but laugh at their reference. “What do you think?” Melissa asks as all the girls goo and gah over him.

  “I think he looks like a nice, good-looking young man… who also happens to be one of our pharmaceutical reps… which means he’s off limits.”

  “You’re just saying that because you want him, huh, Reagan.”

  “Uh, no. I’m not interested in Mr. Italian Stallion, thank you very much.” The girls all laugh at me using their reference to him.

  “Are you dating anyone?” Ashley asks. Ashley is Dr. Gerard’s medical assistant and your true Southern belle. Her Southern accent is extremely thick, so much so that I really have to focus on what she’s saying to be able to understand her. I know I’m new here, and I know the staff is trying to get to know me, but my personal life is off limits.

  “Not right now.” I leave it at that. Short and sweet. Saved by the buzz of the intercom from Sally at the front desk. “Dr. Sinclair, you have a delivery up front that needs your signature.” I look at the group of girls still eyeing the cellphone and shake my head.

  “Melissa, would you mind going to sign for my package. I’m going to try and eat something really quick before my next patient.”

  “Sure thing.” She hops up and strides through the door to the front waiting area. The rest of the medical assistants scatter and make themselves busy around the back office.

  Before I can even make it to my office to grab my sandwich, she’s shouting down the hall, “Sinclair, they need your signature. They won’t accept mine as proof of delivery.” She giggles and wags her eyebrows at me.

  Frustrated that my ten-minute lunch is being taken up by the UPS man, I shove the door open and am met by the beautiful blue eyes I dreamt of last night.

  “Hey, Doc,” he says as he pushes himself away from the reception counter. The lean muscles in his arms flex as he pushes himself back from the front counter. Megan, who manages the phones up front, blushes as Landon smiles at her before sauntering over to me. I hold my breath for a second when he begins walking toward me. He is wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a black polo shirt, and his bright blue eyes stand out against his tan sk
in and light brown hair.

  “What are you doing here?” I question him suspiciously.

  “On my way to work, but wanted to drop this off.” He points to a giant vase of flowers on the counter. “They’re for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He smiles at me. My eyes fall to his lips and I fight thoughts of his mouth all over me. My heart races as I stand watching him. Glancing away, I look around the waiting room and it’s full of patients. One lady has set her magazine down and is listening to us and Megan pretends to busy herself while watching us out of the corner of her eye.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as he steps in closer to me. Standing almost too close, he pulls at the stethoscope I have hung around my neck.

  “You look sexy in scrubs,” he whispers back with a quick wink. “Have a good day, Doc,” he says, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. Instinctively, I reach out and place my hand on his chest as I inhale the light scent of him.

  “Be safe, Champ.”

  “Always am,” he says as he pulls away and walks toward the door. “Bye, ladies.” He waves to Sally and Megan at the front desk.

  “Bye,” they both say in unison. I walk to the counter and grab my vase of flowers, making a hasty retreat to the back. Entering my small office, I set the flowers on my desk and stand there admiring them while I think of him. I take my time and smell each flower, smiling because he remembered—peonies.

  I slide the small card out of the plastic holder and open the envelope. The card is simple, but it’s the words that melt my heart.

  “Just because I think you’re beautiful.” I press the small card to my lips as I stare at the giant bouquet in front of me.

  “And who in the hell was that,” Sally screeches as she pushes her way into my office. “That man was simply beautiful,” she says, fanning herself.

  “I know,” is all I can manage to say.

  “So who was it?” she asks again.

  “Out!” I point at the door, laughing. I’m not sharing anything with these gossipy ladies. “And close the door behind you.”

  “I want details,” she says as she closes the door.