Dr. Hottie crosses her arms, staring at me suspiciously. Okay, so she has no idea who we are. I smile, fold my hands in prayer, and say, “Almost a saint.”
Her lips press together, hiding what I’m guessing is a beautiful smile. “Sure, you seem like the guy who goes to church every Sunday.”
Leaning closer I say, “I do like to do some worshiping.”
Mane slaps the back of my head. “Stop it.” He gives her an apologetic smile. “Ignore him. He’s full of shit. We don’t usually let him interact with newbies. My bad.”
“Control your language in front of our new doctor,” I scold him.
Her frown is ridiculously cute, just like her. “What makes you think I’m the new doctor?”
“Other than the fact you’re parked at the back of the medical practice? I’m guessing the stethoscope pendant is a present from your parents.”
She touches it, sliding it along the gold chain as she sucks on her bottom lip. She stares at the practice, then back at me. “My grandfather gave it to me when I graduated from med school. He’s the only one who came to see me.”
I try not to panic. This chick is about to cry. If there’s one thing I can’t handle, it’s people crying.
“So, can we help, Dr. Hottie?” I redirect her attention.
Her eyes dart to my chest. “What did you call me?”
“I’m just offering my help,” I assure her.
She sighs, but the scolding stare is on point. “I need to talk to either Dr. Westbrook or the landlord before I can move in.”
“Dr. W. is out of town,” I inform her.
“You know a lot about this place. Are you the mayor or the town gossip?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “I can be whatever you need me to be.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs.
“We’re the landlords,” Mane interrupts, sucking the fun out of this moment. “How can we help you?”
She studies us. “You want me to believe that you own this place?”
“We bought it last October and fixed the entire thing. You can ask anyone in town,” Mane says reassuringly.
She opens her palm and wiggles her fingers. “Then, can I have the keys to the practice and my apartment?”
I flinch. Oh fuck, I forgot to tell the guys about Dr. Westbrook’s good deed.
“Apartment?” Mane gives her a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look.
I snap my fingers. “Oh, by the way, Dr. W. offered the new doctor the apartment upstairs.” There, I passed on the message.
Is it too late? Probably.
Mane exhales loudly. He’s about to kill me. Hopefully, he’ll wait until we’re done with Dr. Hottie. “You can’t live up there. It’s not an apartment.”
“Dr. Westbrook assured me that the accommodations were part of the lease. I’m counting on it.”
“If what you need is a place to live, I have a room for you,” I tease her.
She scowls and pokes my arm with her delicate finger. “Listen, buddy. I don’t know what makes you think it’s okay to flirt with me, but it’s not. Keep your innuendos”—she moves her wrist a few times, as if she’s brushing something in the air—“Or whatever it is that you’re doing, to yourself. I’m not interested. I just want to get into my new apartment and rest. It’s been a long trip.”
Instead of arguing with her, I say, “Follow me. We’ll tour the place so you can understand why you need to find different accommodations.”
She gives me a distrustful glare. I ignore her and walk toward the back door of the coffee shop. I enter the code, push the door open, and keep it that way so the hottie can enter. I try hard not to stare at her round, tight ass, but it’s impossible.
She’s beautiful, feisty, and hot—exactly my type.
Mane shakes his head as he steps into the building. “This is a bad idea.”
“Listen, I can be careless, but this isn’t on me.”
“Yes, but—”
He’s interrupted by a loud gasp and a screechy voice. “The stairs are too—”
I finally look at her and answer, “Narrow?”
“Who adds a spiral staircase? It’s unsafe. I’m not going to be able to carry my things upstairs.”
I give Mane a look that says she’s-about-to-jump-back-in-her-truck-and-leave.
She scans the area and scrunches her nose. She’s beautiful, but she’s a little uptight. I’ll have to loosen her up.
“I don’t remember this place being so…”
“So much fun?” I grin. “You’re going to have the time of your life. There’s a sliding pole on the other side of the building.”
Her dark, whiskey-colored eyes stare at me, horrified. I try not to laugh as I make my way upstairs.
She climbs the stairs slowly. It’s like watching Bambi take his first steps. You’d think that I asked her to hike the tallest peak in the Northwest. It’d be easier to carry her, but I wait patiently until she reaches the top. “Are you okay, Doc?”
“It’s Dr. Brennan to you. Not Dr. Hottie or Doc.” She lifts her chin and enters the room.
Mane glares at me. “Stop taunting the fuck out of her. She’s not your type,” he insists.
He knows I’m being annoying as fuck. It’s the best way to figure out her limits. If I push too far, I’ll grovel. Women love a groveling man.
She steps into the living room and sighs. “This is lovely. The couches look comfortable.”
Mane shakes his head.
“Fine.” Why isn’t he leaving for Fiji now? I can take care of everything, including Dr. Hottie.
The same person who is frowning as she stares at the two closed doors. When she opens the first one, she sighs. “That’s a nice bedding set. Thank you.”
She’s delusional if she thinks we furnished the place for her. What did the good doctor tell her? I hope he gave her the four-one-one about the practice and the town. Does she think this pays just as much as a family practice in high-priced New York?
Finally, after scanning the small area, she asks, “Where are the kitchen and the bathroom?”
“Not here,” I say innocently.
Daggers come from her beautiful eyes. Behind the anger, I can see the concern—the fear. Things aren’t working out the way she expected. Is she regretting this trip?
Is she going to jump back in her U-Haul and leave? Or does she need to stay?
What’s your story, Doc?
I’m intrigued.
“Isn’t it illegal to rent an apartment without basic plumbing?” The poor woman is about to have a stroke.
“Listen, darling—”
“I’m not your darling.” She pokes my chest. “I demand that you fix this immediately.”
“Dr. W. gave you the wrong information. This apartment—”
“Dr. Westbrook assured me that it was available—that you’d furnish it before I arrived.”
Can she stop interrupting me?
I touch the poker table. “It’s been furnished since we finished it.”
“Who lives here? And without a bathroom?”
“We have one in the common area downstairs,” Manelik announces.